The last woman who made a proposition dragged him into a conflict with the temple that was still a work in progress. He had no idea what this woman was selling, but he wasn’t buying it.
Her proposition was obviously going to involve whatever the hell that goblin was.
He wanted none of it if he could help it, though his gut told him it was inevitable.
She glanced at him with a calm expression.
"For soone with noble blood you certainly do speak your mind..."
Damon sighed over the crackling of the flas.
"What gave you that impression..."
She glanced at him from head to toe. He was still wearing the crown from earlier. She couldn’t imagine anyone but a noble who would have the audacity to wear that.
’Though ... I’ll have to admit he is outrageously audacious...’
"I can tell from your gait... however allow to get straight to the point..."
Damon was getting tired of this woman and was not in the mood to deal with hidden sches.
"Let guess... I’ll offer you wealth and power beyond your wildest imagination... I’ll also forgive all your transgressions against ... all you need to do is follow my will."
He glanced at her, adding:
"Is that about right..."
She smiled with a gentle gaze, one that was far from her earlier rage.
"Not how I would word it exactly, but I like working with intelligent people..."
Damon shook his head.
"Not interested, so no..."
She sighed softly.
"That’s not what I was expecting..."
He rolled his eyes.
"Actually you were... this is the part where you use the stick in your carrot-and-stick approach. Let guess... if I don’t help you, you’ll say I’d be making an enemy of Abellona of Valtheron blah blah blah..."
Damon smiled lightly, seeing her eyes twitch.
"You’ll make life difficult for if I don’t help... you’ll use your power to pressure my family or whatever else, make lose my standing in noble circles..."
He moved his hand, pulling the chains on his wrist and grabbing her arms.
"None of that matters... actually, if anything, you have more to lose, miss chaste princess of the empire. You have a standing, a reputation, too much to lose in a competition against your siblings for the imperial throne..."
Abellona grew quiet, her eyes cold. She didn’t say anything more.
"I on the other hand have nothing to lose... you want to pressure , go ahead. Let’s see how far your authority as princess of the empire holds up. Maybe against nobodies it ans sothing, but against ... it’s nothing..."
Abellona smiled strangely, almost satisfied.
"Thank you for confirming your standing, mister stranger..."
Damon didn’t say anything more. He had created the illusion of a high noble who didn’t fear imperial authority—not that of a re princess, no matter how talented and influential she was.
However, the truth was far more mundane than what she was imagining in her head.
He was just a commoner. He only had the backing of the academy, which would not let him be passed on to any governnt—unless he committed a grave cri.
"I’m not a noble... and I didn’t confirm anything... if anything, I’m just a lowly commoner..."
She scoffed. Did this man take her for a fool, or did he think her juvenile?
Damon suppressed the urge to smile. Having the advantage was quite amusing.
He raised his shackled wrist.
"Do you mind removing these..."
She shook her head.
"I wish I could, but I can’t... this will stay on until the threat to my life is neutralized... that’s just the nature of the artifact..."
Damon sneered. His skill Eye of Veracity showed that she really wasn’t lying.
He was trapped with her. If she died, he died. If he died, she died. However, she would not die.
As for why, it was simple: if she died, Damon died. And Damon wanted to die. Therefore he could not die. His second class skill [Deathless] would never allow that.
---
Skill – [Deathless]
The more you desire your own death, the more improbable events happen to prevent it. Death will follow when you least desire it.
---
He would not die.
Fine then. He raised his hand, and with it a broken sword she had not even seen him pull out of the shadows around him. Like a beast trying to escape a death trap, Damon pressed the sword onto his own wrist and sliced it off, the blood spraying in wide arcs as steel grated against bone.
His expression didn’t even change. Abellona’s eyes widened as blood splattered across her face.
Was... what was wrong with this man... the decisiveness and ruthlessness to cut off his own arm...
She wanted to tell him it was pointless. And sure enough, the shackle glowed golden and like a flash of lightning, it moved along his arm and clamped down again, as if daring him to cut off another part of his body.
"It’s pointless... even I can’t take it off, and cutting off our limbs would not work..."
She had been more worried he would pin her down and cut off her arm... but he didn’t. She glanced at his face, expecting to see so frustration or helplessness from such a grave sacrifice.
The blood was still gushing out from his wrist, the fishy, tallic sll of it heavy in her nostrils.
Damon nodded.
"Hmmm, well, it was worth the try..."
That was all he said. Reaching into the shadows, he pulled out a vial of potion and drank it. With his other hand, he grabbed his severed arm and pressed it to his bleeding wrist.
With soft sounds of flesh nding, the potion knit his arm back together. Abellona stared at the vial in disbelief.
"What... kind of potion is that, effectively..."
He didn’t even look up.
"The good kind."
He didn’t have ti to entertain her, so he got straight to the point.
"I’ll work with you... however, I want a formal contract."
She nodded.
"I have an oath scroll..."
She smiled, her eyes lingering on his blood-soaked wrist that had now healed.
"If you get out of this ordeal alive... I will forgive your transgressions against my person. You will have the favor of Abellona of Valtheron—"
Damon sneered, his face full of unmasked disdain.
"I don’t give a damn about that. Bitch, pay ... how much is your life worth..."
She blinked in complete and utter shock.
"Wha... excuse ..."
"You’re excused."
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