Lucian woke up to the pale, anemic glow of the artificial sun shining faintly through the cracked window. His neck ached, his limbs felt stiff, and the wooden chair beneath him groaned protestingly as he stretched, a symphony of creaks and pops. Apparently, he'd fallen asleep right where he sat last night, crashing hard from the immense emotional toll of what had happened, the violent culmination of a lifetime of resentment, the shocking acquisition of power, and the terrifying, exhilarating act of taking another's essence.
He stood slowly, a little shaky, dragging himself through his sparse morning routine, splashing cold water on his face, the frigid shock a welcome jolt to his still reeling senses. He then pulled together what little food he had left, cobbling together a meager breakfast from stale bread and a few shriveled, forgotten fruits.
Under normal circumstances, he would have already been out the door, fueled by a gnawing hunger that went beyond mere sustenance, looking for any group desperate enough to take a low-class devil along on a perilous daemon hunt, just to earn a few measly scraps or a handful of money.
But not today.
Today, he just sat back down in that rickety chair in his tiny living room, the meager light doing little to dispel the shadows clinging to the corners. And he stared.
His eyes drifted, almost involuntarily, to the withered, desiccated corpse still lying in the middle of the room, Marcus, his former betrayer and now, in a twisted, macabre sense, his unwilling benefactor. The sight was grotesque, a testament to the brutal efficiency of his newfound power. He really needed to get rid of that, he thought with a detached practicality, the logistical problem briefly cutting through his reverie.
Still, the grisly sight anchored him firmly in reality, a stark reminder that this wasn't some fever dream brought on by exhaustion or lingering pain.
It wasn't a dream.
He really had it now. His cheat, His ultimate ability, the very foundation of what will make with unmatched.
The Essence of the Merchant.
His lips curled into an excited grin, a flash of genuine, unadulterated joy that rarely touched his hardened features. He wanted to jump out the door and start gathering power, schanging everything about his miserable life, but reality, as it always did in the Underworld, swiftly cooled his surging enthusiasm.
He was still just a child in the eyes of others, not even a century old, hell not even an adult by human standards, which meant he wasn't different than a baby in the eyes of all these old devils.
A poor, low-class devil with no house of note, no inherited wealth, no established status within the rigid hierarchy. No one, absolutely no one of any consequence, would even consider making a deal with him, let alone one that would be worth his precious time and the burgeoning potential of his Essence.
He couldn't even leave the Underworld. As a low-class devil, he wasn't permitted to cross over to the human world Only high-class devils, or those specifically summoned by human mages or other entities, could bridge the realms. And he didn't think anyone would be summoning him anytime soon. Besides, he didn't want to go there yet, not to the familiar, vulnerable human world.
Where the enemies of devils were, angels, fallens, and exorcists were, not to mention the beings of other pantheons roaming around.
Not yet. But where could he go? Where could he even begin to leverage this power when he was so utterly constrained?
Suddenly, as he was lost in thought, an idea, brilliant and audacious, popped into his head. He could get anything with this Essence, absolutely anything. The only limitation was the price, the value required for the exchange. And that value, he realized with a jolt, didn't have to be paid in just money or physical objects.
His power could accept anything he owned, anything of value, as long as it matched the worth of what he desired. And what he wanted to do now, to escape the confines of the Underworld and explore other realities, would cost him more money than he could ever dream of accumulating in this lifetime. No money, no items to trade… But he had something else, something intrinsically valuable to creatures that live and breath and that made it more valuable.
His lifespan.
Devils, if he remembered correctly, were said to have an average natural lifespan of 10,000 years. That was only because no devil had actually been known to die of old age, their lives were usually cut short by conflicts or the harsh conditions of their existence.
So it could be more, but he'd work with the information of 10,000 years as a baseline. That would be easy to calculate with, ensuring he didn't make a mistake in his audacious transaction.
He was still young, less than even half a century old, meaning he had over 9,900 years remaining of his own. And Marcus, who had been around 300 years old, had contributed a substantial 9,700-odd years from his own life force when Lucian drained him. Adding that to his own reserves, he now possessed nearly 20,000 years of accumulated lifespan.
That was value. Real value. Enough for what he wanted to do.
His heart pounded with a renewed thrill. He didn't know how he knew what to do, but the process came to him instinctually, as if the Meta Essence itself was guiding him. He reached inward, focusing on the vibrant energy pulsing inside him, and made an offer, to trade a portion of his lifespan in exchange for the ability to travel to another world.
He felt a vague sensation of the Essence considering his proposal. He tried for 1,000 years first, a cautious initial bid. A sharp pulse, a distinct mental "thunk," immediately followed by the intuitive understanding that his offering was dismissed instantly.
"Guess I can't be cheap when trying to cross realities," he muttered, a wry smirk on his face. The stakes were high, and so was the price.
He tried again, this time offering 5,000 years. He felt a sense of acceptance, a resonant yes from the depths of his power. He focused his will, his thoughts coalescing on the specific world he wanted to visit, the Type-Moon verse, the world of the Fate series, specifically an era where he could meet a certain arrogant King.
There was a brief, blinding flash of light as the world around him seemed to ripple and distort like disturbed water, the familiar contours of his grimy room dissolving into a maelstrom of color and sensation.
And when the light faded, he was standing in a lush, green forest.
The air was fresh, carrying the clean scent of damp earth, blooming flora, and ancient trees. The gentle chirping of unseen birds, the rustle of leaves in a soft breeze, the distant murmur of a stream, these were things he had long forgotten, suffocated by the grim, artificial atmosphere of the Underworld.
For a brief moment, he stood there in awe, breathing in the unblemished beauty of this new, vibrant world, a stark and welcome contrast to the perpetual twilight he'd known.
Then he felt it.
A presence behind him. Not like the usual daemon beast's crude hunger he wwas normally famuiliar with, nor a devil's magic, but something bright, vast and overwhelmingly powerful.
He turned quickly, instincts sharpened by years of relentless survival, and saw him.
A young man, perhaps in his early to mid-twenties, stood silhouetted against the dappled sunlight filtering through the canopy. He possessed impossibly shining golden hair that seemed to catch and refract the light, and eyes, crimson, arrogant, and piercing, that bore into Lucian with an unsettling intensity. He was dressed in ornate golden armor that practically glowed with regality and untold power, a kingly aura emanating from him like a physical force.
Lucian didn't need a second guess. He had specifically asked for this world to meet him. This was the King of Heroes, Gilgamesh. And not just any Gilgamesh, this was the living king, years before his death and eventual ascension as a heroic spirit and rise in the Grail Wars.
This was him during his transformative journey for immortality, just before it had ended not in success, but in a tragic enlightenment that would temper his boundless pride.
Just as Lucian expected, the arrogant king took one look at him, his crimson eyes narrowing as he no doubt sensed Lucian's devil nature, a foreign presence in his domain. Instantly, his signature Gate of Babylon shimmered into existence behind him, a myriad of golden portals opening. Dozens of weapons, each a legendary artifact, some even holy gleamed wickedly as they materialized, aiming to end the audacious intruder who dared trespass in his sacred garden.
Lucian braced himself, but he didn't move, nor did he flinch.
Because his power would protect him. He knew it.
The instant Gilgamesh unleashed his barrage, an invisible force, like the very laws of creation descended. All the weapons, mere inches from Lucian, vanished into nothingness, dissolved by the inviolable rules of the deal.
It was also a part of the power. When appearing for a bargain or a bargain was underway, neither party could harm the other, and while the deal itself hasnt started, him being here infront of who he wants to make a deal with counts so this is a protective bubble of negotiation that the Meta Essence enforced and it was a bargain he was here for so it activated.
Gilgamesh narrowed his eyes, his arrogant gaze deepening with genuine intrigue, a flicker of surprise passing through his regal features.
Lucian stepped forward using this chance to introduce himself, placing a hand over his heart and offering a respectful, yet confident, bow. His voice, surprisingly steady, carried clearly through the forest.
"My name is Lucian Lux Raum. I am a devil, and I have come to the great King of Uruk… to make a deal."
Gilgamesh scoffed immediately, his voice dripping with disdain, a contemptuous curl of his perfect lips. "A deal? With a mongrel like you? How dare you even suggest such insolence."
More weapons flickered to life from the Gate of Babylon, a majestic, golden spray, but vanished once again upon firing, dissipating harmlessly before they could reach Lucian. Lucian stood firm. He had his opening.
"I offer no threat, great King. Nothing that would harm you, your people, or your glorious kingdom. I ask only that you hear this lowly creature before you pass judgment, before you dismiss a potential opportunity that even you might find… intriguing."
The King of Heroes stared him down for a long moment, his discerning eyes assessing Lucian with a predatory intensity. Then, with a lazy, almost bored wave of his hand, he conceded.
"Speak. But know that your words had best be worth my time, mongrel. My patience is not infinite."
Lucian took a deep, steadying breath. This was it.
"I know of your journey, great King. Your arduous search for immortality."
Gilgamesh sneered, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. "Let me guess. You, a devil, wish to offer me eternal life in exchange for something. As if I'd believe the empty promises of a creature such as yourself."
Lucian shook his head. "No, King of Heroes. I can't give you immortality."
That stopped Gilgamesh cold. His expression shifted a subtle widening of his eyes, an almost imperceptible twitch of his lips. He had expected a trick, a grand deception, and Lucian's immediate honesty disarmed him.
"What?" Gilgamesh demanded, his voice a low growl of disbelief.
"I cannot give you what you seek directly, King," Lucian clarified, pressing his advantage while Gilgamesh was off balance, "but I can give you time. Four hundred years. A true extension of your life. No tricks. No hidden costs.No soul deals either. Four hundred years, to continue your quest. I am confident that in that extended time, you, the mighty King of Uruk, will surely find the immortality you so ardently seek."
Gilgamesh folded his arms across his chest, a calculating glint entering his crimson eyes. He was genuinely curious now. "And what is it you, a lowly devil, want in exchange for such a… generous gift?"
Lucian didn't hesitate. "Your Gate of Babylon. A full copy of it. And two treasures, from your past, present, or future, so long as they are undeniably yours at some point in your life, even if you do not yet possess them."
of course even his power couldn't do future things but this was just to not make him focus on what he might want.
The silence stretched, heavy with the audacity of Lucian's request. Then came the laugh, deep, resonant, and regal, echoing through the forest.
"You dare ask me for my greatest treasury, mongrel?" Gilgamesh asked, his voice laced with amusement and a touch of genuine outrage.
"I understand the weight of what I ask, great King. That is why I will add one more condition to this pact, I will never use what I gain from you against you, against your people, or against your beloved kingdom of Uruk. Ever. It will be a binding clause within the contract."
Gilgamesh's red eyes glinted with deep thought, his gaze intense as he scrutinized Lucian, weighing the devil's sincerity and the astonishing proposal. He was clearly intrigued by the sheer audacity and the unexpected terms.
Lucian stood perfectly still, every fiber of his being willing the arrogant man to say yes. His entire future, his very freedom, hinged on this moment.
And finally, the King nodded a slow, deliberate movement that carried the weight of ages.
"Very well. You have the pride to speak boldly, and the respect to tread lightly. Such a direct and uncomplicated offer, with terms so readily understood, is rare from you kind. I accept."
A faint, almost imperceptible golden glow briefly encompassed them before dissipating.
Gilgamesh didn't need proof to know that it had worked, he could feel it and Lucian could also feel what he had gotten.
He moved back and bowed to the king a fair well before he vanished, getting the hell out of there before the King decided test him in some way.
Moments later, Lucian stood once again in his home, the faint glow of the artificial sun filtering through his window, the stale air a stark contrast to the verdant forest.
He slumped into his rickety chair, breath catching in his throat, his heart still pounding a frantic rhythm from the immense gamble he'd just taken.
It had worked.
He had truly made a deal with Gilgamesh at the very peak of his legendary prime, before his enlightenment, at a time when he was still searching desperately for immortality.
It was a risky play, aiming for a point in Gilgamesh's life where the king, despite his arrogance, would be desperate enough to consider a deal that offered a tangible shortcut to his ultimate goal. He had gambled 5,000 years of his lifespan on a hunch, a desperate maneuver, and it had paid off beyond his wildest dreams.
And the rewards…
A personal Gate of Babylon, his own subspace vault.
And within it, his two chosen treasures, the power of which sent a shiver of exhilaration down his spine.
The Chains of Heaven, Enkidu's divine restraints, A binding artifact capable of restricting even gods. Its power was absolute against divine beings, a perfect counter to many of the powerful entities he might encounter in the future, far beyond anything available in the Underworld. The more powerful the divinity, the stronger the chains were.
Ea, the Sword of Rupture, Gilgamesh's ultimate weapon, a divine construct capable of creating a spatial-tearing attack that split Heaven from Earth itself. This was raw, apocalyptic power, a blade beyond comprehension.
Weapons and artifacts beyond anything the Underworld had ever seen, were now at his disposal.
Lucian exhaled, a wide, triumphant grin tugging at his lips.
With just these two things, he when from Mid-Mid class that he had become after adding Marcus' power to his to a legit threat to even satan class being, thou that didnt mean he would win, a good weapon need to be known how to be use.
Still, he was no longer just some street rat devil, scuttling for scraps, constantly fearing death.
And this... this was only the beginning. The Underworld, and perhaps other worlds, had no idea what was coming.
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