At the end of the corridor, the entire Le Domas family advanced, shotguns and every kind of weapon gripped tightly in their hands, their killing intent thick enough to choke on.
Soren raised an eyebrow. His gaze swept over the bloodthirsty nobles and he gave a light laugh.
"Looks like your game of hide-and-seek isn't going very well."
Before the patriarch at the front could speak, Helen burst forward with her battle axe raised and snarled:
"Where the hell is Grace?! Where did you hide that bitch?!"
"A very safe place."
Soren remained seated, fingers tapping the armrest lazily. "She should be having the time of her life right now."
The middle-aged patriarch forced down his rising panic, took a deep breath, and said, "Mr. Soren, you are a guest my son Alex brought here."
"But this is a private family affair—a sacred contractual ritual. You have no business interfering."
"Hand Grace over and we'll pretend none of this ever happened. You'll still be our honored guest."
"You'll have to take that up with your precious son, Alex."
Soren looked straight at him, tone calm. "He paid me ten million dollars to keep Grace safe."
"Strictly speaking, the one breaking your precious family tradition is him."
Seeing that Soren refused to budge no matter the carrot or the stick, the patriarch's face turned thunderous.
He raised the double-barreled shotgun in his hands and growled, "Since you insist on dying for her, we'll happily oblige!"
At that moment, a flushed woman suddenly lunged out from the back of the group.
No wasted words—she simply lifted her gun, aimed at Soren, and pulled the trigger.
Bang!
The gunshot exploded through the corridor.
Soren didn't even blink. He casually raised one hand into a perfect guard stance.
[Royal Guard]
A purple shield flashed into existence in front of him and vanished just as fast.
The instant the bullet struck the shield, it reversed direction and shot back at triple the speed.
Whoosh!
The woman's expression froze. A bloody hole appeared between her eyebrows. She toppled backward, crimson soaking the priceless carpet.
The corridor fell deathly silent.
After a split second of shock, the Le Domas family erupted in terrified, furious roars.
"Emily! Damn it!"
"FUCK!"
Soren slowly stood up, straightened the hem of his suit, and spoke in the same indifferent tone: "Don't get so worked up. She attacked first—I didn't do a thing."
"Go to hell, you monster!"
Helen's eyes turned blood-red. She let out a shrill scream, raised the battle axe high, and charged like a rabid animal.
Soren's gaze stayed flat. He lifted his right hand and gently closed his fingers in the air.
Violent lightning crackled in his palm. The demonic sword [Alastor] instantly materialized.
Everyone only saw a blinding flash of thunder and heard the sharp crackle of electricity.
Helen froze mid-swing, axe still raised.
A straight line of blood ran from her forehead all the way down to her crotch. The air suddenly smelled of charred meat.
The next second, her body split cleanly in two and collapsed forward and backward.
After delivering the slash, Soren paused for half a beat, as if something had clicked in his mind. Then he stopped hesitating. Gripping the lightning sword, he charged straight into the crowd.
Screams, curses, and misfired gunshots echoed through the mansion. A few seconds later, everything fell quiet.
Only Soren remained standing in the corridor.
He looked down at the middle-aged patriarch, who was stretching out a trembling hand for help, and calmly delivered one final slash.
Standing in the pool of blood, Soren flicked the remaining gore off Alastor. The demonic sword dissolved into lightning and vanished into thin air.
At that moment, Alex—drawn by the gunshots and screams—came sprinting over, drenched in sweat.
When he saw the mutilated corpses littering the floor and the dead, wide-eyed stares of his closest family, his legs gave out. He dropped to his knees.
"I paid you to protect Grace! Why… why the hell did you kill them all?!"
Alex lifted his head, eyes bloodshot, body shaking with despair. His voice cracked with hopelessness.
Soren's tone stayed cold. "Even if Grace survived until dawn and the game failed, the contract backlash would have killed every last one of them anyway."
He pointed at the surveillance camera on the ceiling and added,
"Plus, they attacked me first. Pure self-defense. If you don't believe me, go check the footage."
Watching his parents and relatives die in front of him—with not even one intact corpse left—Alex's mind completely shattered. He clutched the bloody remains and broke down sobbing.
Soren didn't spare him another glance. As far as he was concerned, the client's only job was to pay on time; mental breakdowns weren't part of the service package.
He stepped over the severed limbs and walked into the room where they had drawn the card earlier.
Before he had started the slaughter, he had actually weighed whether wiping out all the game participants would anger the demon god Belial lurking behind the scenes.
With his current strength, conventional methods still weren't enough to go head-to-head with a complete demon god.
But then Soren realized: even Valak had needed Constantine and Papa Midnight's summoning array just to force its way into the human world.
Belial, being another demon god, had most likely left behind nothing more than a wisp of consciousness attached to the contract. It couldn't cause any real trouble.
He pushed the door open. On the main seat at the round table in the center of the room, a blurry human-shaped shadow flickered in and out of view.
"Should I call you Belial, or Mr. Le Bail?"
Soren asked.
The shadow wriggled slightly. An ethereal voice echoed: "Are you Dante? No… that's not right."
"This bloodline aura is so thick it almost rivals that lord from back then. Yet why is your strength still so weak?"
The shadow paused, suspicion creeping into its tone. "And why do I smell Valak on you?"
Soren rolled up the sleeve of his right arm, revealing the venomous snake tattoo coiled around his forearm.
He wasn't worried the demon would seek revenge for Valak.
To these demons, rivals were enemies. One less demon meant more souls for the rest to harvest.
They'd be delighted if their own kind went extinct.
The black shadow fluctuated violently. Wariness entered its voice: "It actually died? No wonder Hell has been in such upheaval lately over its territory."
It re-examined the young man in front of it, attitude far more serious now. "You killed my toy and summoned me here. What do you want?"
"Two questions."
Soren said,
"First—regarding Mammon's descent into the human world, who exactly is involved and what is their goal?"
"Second—how exactly are the demons smuggling themselves past the Angelic Council's inspection to reach the human world?"
Hearing this, Belial fell silent.
After a long moment, it spoke slowly: "I can tell you these things, but we must sign a contract."
"What are the terms?" Soren asked.
"I give you the intelligence. In exchange, you will no longer interfere with or destroy my games. I want to harvest the souls of those who fail."
"Deal."
Soren nodded.
The moment the words left his mouth, a sheepskin scroll reeking of sulfur appeared in mid-air and floated toward him.
Soren glanced at the Hellish script but made no move to touch it.
"A paper contract isn't necessary. Verbal agreement is fine. I don't have time to babysit suicidal rich people anyway."
Not only did he not recognize Hell script, even if he did, he wouldn't dare accept it.
Who knew whether demonic contracts activated by touch or signature?
Who knew what invisible clauses were hidden in the fine print?
When dealing with demons, caution was never excessive.
Belial fell silent again, weighing the deal.
Moments later, the shadow let out a low chuckle. The scroll burst into flames in mid-air and turned to ash.
"As you wish. The verbal pact is formed."
"I will not utter a single word about Mammon's affairs."
Belial's voice carried a cunning edge. "That lord's schemes are not something you can casually pry into."
"As for your second question…"
The shadow gradually turned transparent, its voice growing faint:
"How do demons bypass the Angelic Council's inspection to descend into the human world?"
"Perhaps you should take a look at Haddonfield town. There… you might find the answer you seek."
With those final words, Belial's shadow completely dissolved from the seat.