"New flavor!"
Amid garbled roars, Nocturne, together with the young boy he had possessed, was swallowed whole by Tahm's gaping maw.
Leaping out of the river's vortex, Tahm landed before Fossien's grave mound. His jaws clamped tightly shut, his cheeks bulging grotesquely as something inside thrashed violently, fighting to break free.
"Got him?"
Duke stepped down from Gluttony's shoulder and strolled toward Tahm. The demon hurriedly nodded, though his eyes darted nervously toward Gluttony.
For in Tahm's perception, Gluttony was like a living disintegration engine, dissolving everything around her just to fuel herself.
If Tahm had faced Gluttony head-on, he knew very well who would have ended up devoured.
What kind of monster has Duke created this time?
He's already so strong, yet he still feels the need to craft more of these… is it really necessary?
Though he dared not voice it aloud, Tahm's grumbling thoughts were as clear as day to Duke, who saw through him with ease.
Ignoring the greedy demon's resentment, Duke stopped in front of him and drew a small, transparent vial from his inventory, barely ten centimeters tall.
It was the sole prize of arcane nature he had drawn last time.
"Spit the boy out first!"
Duke's gaze hardened. "I know you can separate them. You've existed far longer than Nocturne. If you can't even handle a fledgling born at the end of the Rune Wars, who's only been around a few centuries, then prepare to be reforged."
"I get it, I get it."
With a muffled grumble, Tahm spat the boy out. The child was squeezed from his mouth in a pitiful heap, for Tahm was still busy imprisoning the restless shadow demon inside.
Duke crouched down, carefully checking the boy. He was still breathing, though weak, his life force greatly drained under Nocturne's control. Worse still, the magical talent he had once possessed seemed nearly exhausted.
Duke glanced at Fossien's grave. He could guess what had happened: a boy who had discovered, by chance, his latent magical gift, frightened of it and desperate for guidance, had come to seek the blessing of the city's most praised hero. But fear had left an opening, and Nocturne, upon awakening, had seized it.
"Poor little wretch."
Lifting the boy by the collar, Duke carried him to Gluttony. Steam still coiled from her body.
"Original Sin Release, disengage!" he commanded, voice sharp. "Return to normal operations!"
Obeying Duke's order, the blood-red glow in Gluttony's eyes quickly receded. The boiling steam sank back into her body, and in a blink she had shifted from combat mode into her quiet vehicular form, parked obediently in place.
After settling the boy gently into the passenger seat, Duke turned back to Tahm. The vial was still in his grip.
"Spit him out. Into this."
Uncorking the bottle, Duke held out its mouth. Tahm leaned forward reluctantly, then spewed forth a stream of black smoke darker than night. It writhed and clawed as it was sucked into the bottle.
Yet no matter how much poured out, the bottle never filled, its depths swallowing endlessly, as though containing an infinite space within.
At last, when the final wisp of shadow had left Tahm's throat, Duke swiftly jammed the cork back in place.
Shaking the bottle lightly, he smirked.
"Boss, can that little vial really hold a thing like him?" Tahm peered curiously at the container.
Duke weighed it in his hand, confidence shining in his eyes. "Rest easy. This bottle was made for binding creatures like Nocturne."
"How strange…"
Tahm studied it for a while longer, realizing Nocturne's presence was utterly trapped inside, not a trace leaking out.
"What kind of bottle is this?"
"You probably wouldn't know."
"Impossible! My lifespan is longer than the waterways of Runeterra themselves. There's nothing I don't know!"
Tahm puffed up proudly, slapping his belly. His origin was indeed ancient.
In the lore it is said: The rivers of Valoran have flowed since time immemorial, but the demon Tahm Kench predates even them.
No one knows how long Runeterra's rivers have existed, but Tahm was already there before them. That alone proved his ancient pedigree.
Which is why he referred to Nocturne as a mere "child." The Rune Wars had ended only a few centuries ago, and Nocturne was born in their dying days.
For Tahm, he truly was a youngster.
Perhaps only the scarecrow, Fiddlesticks, could rival Tahm in that regard.
But Tahm's greed and arrogance were his undoing. His long years had bred not only knowledge, but also conceit.
That was why he had fallen into Duke's grasp.
"Homunculus in a bottle," Duke said suddenly, a term Tahm had never heard before. "Ever heard of it?"
"Uh…" Tahm scratched his head blankly. No, he hadn't.
"This vessel once contained such a being. That's why it's perfect for holding demons like you."
It was indeed Duke's only true prize from the mysterious side of fate's lottery. A vessel that had once housed the Homunculus, and retained a fragment of its power. A bottle that could imprison any existence in the world… provided one had first defeated them.
Duke's smile grew meaningful. Tahm shivered. It seemed Duke had gained yet another weapon against demons.
"Let me out, mortal!"
Nocturne's icy voice hissed from within, echoing in both their ears. Duke and Tahm turned toward the bottle.
"Small fry, once you're sealed, you're not coming out," Tahm sneered, slapping his belly with relish.
For once, he was ecstatic. Long oppressed by Duke, he had nearly forgotten what joy felt like. Seeing another demon trapped was cathartic.
Duke too gazed at Nocturne with interest. Having tested his power on Neeko, Tahm, Zyra, and others, he understood one truth:
He was the nemesis of all demons.
Direct contact allowed him to inject his mana into them, seize control, and bend them to his will.
That was how Tahm had fallen to him.
"Silence, fat catfish! I am Darkness! I am Nightmare! I am Fear! I am Nocturne!"
"Ha! 'Little one,'" Tahm leaned closer, jaws stretching wide. "What gives you the gall to roar before me?"
"Call me demon! Call me king!"
Tahm's deafening bellow rattled the bottle, sending Nocturne shuddering within. Only then did he look closely at his captor, and his dread deepened.
This bloated catfish was no fool. He radiated savage might, echoes of countless wails clinging to his form.
"You feed on fear, little one," Tahm sneered. "From now on, it will be your own fear that devours you. Struggle within it. Forever."
His enormous face filled Nocturne's vision.
"Who… who are you, demon?!" Nocturne stammered.
Duke arched a brow. He had meant to tame Nocturne himself, but it seemed Tahm was doing the work for him.
Satisfied, Tahm stroked his whiskers, boasting of the "glorious" future Nocturne would endure: endless torment under Duke's control, unending anguish gnawing at his soul.
Soon Duke noticed Nocturne's body twitching erratically within the bottle.
"What's happening to him?" he asked.
Tahm scratched his chin. "Looks like he's overeaten."
"Overeaten?"
Duke's eyes widened. Of course, Tahm had fed him fear, and Nocturne, who gorged on fear, had stuffed himself too full.
Tahm, ever since signing that unequal contract, had lived in fear of Duke. He knew better than anyone the man's cruelty. If something caught Duke's interest, even gods might find themselves dissected on an operating table.
And Duke had discovered the very roots of demonkind: they lived off human negativity. If humans could be freed from fear, despair, or hatred, demons would wither like rootless trees, no matter how imposing they seemed.
That alone was enough for Tahm to fear him.
And now, Nocturne had overeaten on Tahm's terror.
"What do you plan to do with him, boss?" Tahm asked cautiously.
Duke stroked his chin. He had no second Absolute Contract parchment, but his growing mana allowed him to sow seeds of power over time, to eventually claim absolute control.
"For now… let him rot in solitary. I'll break him in later."
He injected the first thread of his mana into the bottle, then lifted his gaze.
From the east, golden light spilled across the land. The sun rose slowly into the sky.
Dawn had come.
End of chapter....
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