Reincarnated in a depressing erotic world but living a normal life (right?) The Story of Baron Glutt

A long ti ago, long before the man known as Baron Glutt beca a successful rchant, accumulating wealth capable of buying influence and loyalty, and reaching his current position as a central figure in the comrcial city of Argol, his life was an exercise in futility.

All because Glutt had been born into a minor noble house, but unlike his older brother, he was the shadow and the disappointnt.

The difference between the brothers was abysmal, almost cruel: the older brother was the personification of what the nobility admired: intelligent, attractive, with impeccable manners and a natural talent for politics and the sword; and he was even blessed with magical gifts.

Glutt, on the other hand, possessed none of those redeeming qualities. He was a man of unpleasant appearance and awkward proportions, whose only ambition seed to be imdiate satisfaction. Therefore, the path for him was clear and disheartening: he would never inherit his father's title.

His destiny was to be a minor parasite, living off the crumbs of the family inheritance, underestimated by others, being a re mockery compared to his brother.

His rejection was not limited to his family, as Glutt was a man with a vicious lifestyle, his ti consud by excesses and reckless gambling that only aggravated his already precarious situation.

This behavior, added to his appearance and repulsive conduct, caused him to be universally condemned.

Glutt was rejected by the nobles, who saw him as a shaful stain on their circle, and disdained by the commoners, who felt disgust for his arrogant, unearned petulance and his depraved habits.

Thus, his existence was solitary, marked by the silent contempt of everyone around him.

But Glutt, unable to cope with the contempt and the certainty of his lack of future, only plunged deeper into destructive hedonism. His only constant and passionate investnt was in alcohol and carnal pleasure, seeking in montary gratification an escape from his own diocrity.

However, this unrestrained pursuit soon translated into disastrous financial managent.

The debts he contracted not only ruined his own prospects but, due to his position, began to burden and increase his family's debt and, by extension, denigrated the status of the territory they supposedly defended.

And in response to the precarious situation he had caused, Glutt, far from hiding his depravity, reveled in it. His actions were like a public insult to the honor of his lineage.

However, the situation finally reached an unsustainable point that not even his father's patience could endure, and Glutt ended up being quietly but definitively expelled from the family.

Thus, he was stripped of all financial support and left to his own devices, with no possession other than his useless last na.

But, unfortunately, despite the catastrophic lesson, Glutt was foolishly incapable of learning.

He refused to accept his new reality as an indigent commoner, and tried to use his last na and his old noble connections as a ans of intimidation in the city's slums, a tactic that, being completely illegal without the backing of his house, only earned him beatings and cruel mockery.

In this way, his descent was swift and painful.

Glutt fell to the very bottom, losing all dignity. He found himself alone, without financial support, plagued by the debts that were now solely his, and rotting in the most marginalized areas of his hotown. Sleeping among rats, eating scraps, and reeking of the stench of his misery, a stench as repulsive as his behavior.

It was in this way that in the darkness and mud of the sewers, he let the rejection and resentnt slowly stew, transforming his desperation into a concentrated hatred against the world that had cast him out.

(SNAP!!)

But it was at that mont, suddenly, that a voice resonated in the filth:

"Those emotions..."

"... Are my favorite."

It was a voice that did not belong to the misery of that place, but was too clean, too... fascinating.

At that mont Glutt, who had been wallowing in his self-pity and fury, froze, for upon lifting his head in the fetid alley, what he saw was sothing his mind was incapable of even comprehending.

That was neither a human, animal, nor known form. Instead, it was a distorted mass of impossible colors, a geotry that defied logic, a contour that pulsed with a strange gravitational force and projected a shadow that seed to absorb the little surrounding light.

"...."

And the re attempt by his brain to process the vision was a throbbing pain.

"Hey..."

But while Glutt froze between fear and confusion, he heard the thing in front of him ask, with the sa enigmatic and resonant voice:

"Do you desire power?"

The question was simple, direct, but it went to the core of his resentnt.

"I..."

It was then, after a microsecond of silence, that Glutt's accumulated revulsion and hatred overca his instinct for self-preservation.

"YES! I WANT POWER! I WANT POWER TO TRAMPLE EVERYONE WHO REJECTED !"

He shouted with his voice, broken and desperate, articulating his deepest and most violent desire:

"PERFECT"

Thus was the pact sealed in the mud and despair.

Thus, in response to Glutt's fervent cry, the incomprehensible "entity" manifested an appendage.

"And I will grant your wish"

It was not an arm of flesh or bone, but an extremity made rely of condensed darkness, a materialized shadow that seed to absorb the light and hope around it.

(PULSE-HUM!!)

In this way, with a gesture that lacked emotion but exuded authority, the entity offered its "hand" to Glutt.

"Gulp..."

The form was tempting, a tacit promise of everything he yearned for.

(ZIIING-CRACKLE!!)

So Glutt, blinded by hatred and desire, took it without thinking, causing a cold but powerful discharge to run through his body the instant his fingers touched the materialized darkness.

Thus, Glutt gained "power," becoming an agent of despair, a pawn in a ga much larger than he could ever comprehend, but with the ability to manipulate the misery of others at his will.

In this way, the initial gift granted to him was twofold:

First, he gained Immortality: A resistance to death and a durability that would protect him from the blows of fate that had once struck him down.

The second was Supernatural Objects: Artifacts imbued with powers that defied comprehension, perfect tools for manipulation and subversion.

With these gifts, Glutt did not return to the light. Instead, he started a business in the darkness, trafficking in the longings and shadows of others. His services were not for honest nobles or commoners, but for those seeking the forbidden, the illegal, or the impossible.

His new "profession" fed on corruption and despair, a perverse reflection of his own past.

In this way, Glutt gained reputation and influence as ti went on. His business prospered in the shadows, where he moved with the security of his immortality and the impunity granted by his artifacts.

He did not traffic in common objects, but in things that broke all logic and morality: items that allowed one to control the minds of others, usurp identities, or trample the dreams and longings of others.

Thanks to this, his clients were those with vile hearts who enjoyed the misery of others, whom Glutt gladly served.

Glutt did not care about the morality of his buyers. As long as they paid him in one way or another, he agreed to sell his objects even to monsters like goblins, centing his reputation as a power trafficker with no scruples or limits in the underworld.

And so, ti passed, carrying with it the mories of his misery. Sixty years passed since his expulsion, and Glutt, transford and enriched, returned to his old "ho" to claim his revenge.

There, Baron Glutt, who had purchased the title that once belonged to him, presented himself at the family mansion.

"But look at the state you're in, dear brother"

He did not do it with unrestrained anger, but with cold, thodical satisfaction.

He entered the room where his forr brother, the brilliant and handso heir, lay on his deathbed.

"Gahahah! You should see how pathetic you are now!"

Glutt observed him: he was alone, without fortune, without friends, and without family. The curse of loneliness that had haunted Glutt was now his brother's burden.

All because Glutt, pulling the strings from the shadows for decades with his supernatural artifacts and corrupt influence, had taken everything from him.

Now, Glutt claid the family's power in a way that noble honor would never have allowed.

"I hope you have sweet dreams!"

And in this way, he stood by the bed, smiling at his brother's pathetic state in his final monts.

"...Why has this happened?"

In response, the dying man, consud by illness and desolation, still wondered, his voice barely coming out as a whisper.

"...."

Glutt did not reply with words. His smile, filled with sixty years of vengeance, was the only and final answer his brother received.

After that, he claid the title and the family fortune, while ti continued to pass in a manner incomprehensible to a mortal.

During that span, Glutt remained hidden, watching the birth and fall of empires, kingdoms, and even entire eras. His life extended beyond the limits of recorded history, turning him into a silent observer of the evolution of human corruption.

Nevertheless, despite his immortality and imnse influence, Glutt remained extrely weak in terms of personal power. His strength resided solely in the objects he sold and the despair he harvested, not in his own fists or intellect.

Therefore, his life strategy focused on extre caution: maintaining a low profile, hiding his true identity and age, and continuing his clandestine operations under the perfectly polished facade of a respectable rchant, a businessman whose only flaw was perhaps a fondness for luxury.

Although, despite his efforts, he was not able to completely eliminate every dark rumor that haunted him—for the wickedness he sold always leaves a trail—he at least ensured he never left concrete evidence that could link him to his cris.

In this way, his life beca a masterpiece of manipulation, where his existence was a constant whisper of suspicion, but never a verifiable condemnation.