"I will have Hyde escort you back to the world you came from," Belmuth said.
"Bring back the empty vessel—and the two bodies that now house the fragmented souls."
"Once the girl has reversed time on the fragment that lost Grace's memories, I will personally conduct the soul fusion ritual and bind the restored soul to Grace's body."
Belmuth's voice lowered.
"When everything is complete, you will surrender your body to me."
"And how am I supposed to trust you?" Alastair asked.
"What guarantees do I have that you won't use Grace's soul—or her body—as leverage to force my hand?"
If Belmuth held Grace's soul or her body, he would possess absolute advantage.
If Alastair refused afterward, Grace would be endangered.
It was a gamble.
His original plan carried only a seventy percent success rate, and Grace's memories would never be complete.
But if Belmuth betrayed him after performing the ritual, it would be the end.
Alastair fell silent, weighing his options.
In the end, he chose instinct over probability.
He had never trusted Belmuth. Not even for a moment.
Alastair glanced toward Hyde and Vera, already preparing to escape with them.
As for Carla and the others—if he left now, they would be left to die.
But he could not save everyone.
Even escaping with Hyde and Vera alone would be difficult against a Soul Sovereign, chains or not.
"If you doubt my sincerity… then bind me with a soul contract."
…A soul contract?
Alastair stiffened.
A soul contract was an oath engraved directly into the souls of both parties.
Should either side violate its terms, their soul would shatter.
It was the strictest and most absolute form of contract.
Once signed, there was no escape.
"You would agree to a soul contract with me?" Alastair asked, surprised.
"Correct," Belmuth replied, nodding.
If they entered into a soul contract, there would be nothing left to fear—
provided the terms were flawless.
But there was one more problem.
"If I give you my body," Alastair asked,
"what body will I inhabit?"
"Heh,"
A faint laugh echoed from the throne.
"As long as you surrender your body, any vessel you desire can be arranged."
"…Then," Alastair murmured,
"which body should I take?"
His gaze swept across the four men present—Hyde, Elijah, Milo, and Henry.
Henry and Elijah were visibly tense.
Hyde and Milo remained as indifferent as ever.
Henry and Milo were out—too weak.
Hyde's abilities were tempting. If Alastair could open spatial gates, escape would be effortless.
But he had never trained in spatial and temporal arts.
Even with Hyde's body, he would not be able to use its full potential.
That left Elijah.
Elijah was a spellblade—adept in both magic and swordsmanship.
Vera had said as much, and his stance alone confirmed it.
His body lacked soul affinity, which meant Alastair's own soul arts would be weakened.
He would have to relearn everything.
But if that was the price for standing beside Grace—whole, complete, herself again—
…it was worth it.
Alastair's gaze settled on Elijah.
Elijah broke into a cold sweat, his face draining of color.
Henry let out a breath he had been holding.
"My lord—" Elijah turned to Belmuth, panic flashing in his eyes.
"Silence," Belmuth snapped.
"I have given my word. The vessel is his to choose."
Elijah trembled, his face flushed with suppressed rage.
Hyde said nothing. He studied Alastair with a contemplative gaze.
Alastair met Elijah's eyes without emotion.
He understood, to some extent.
After all that ambition, after scheming to become a demon—
to have his body taken instead—
There was nothing he could do.
Such was the cruelty of the world.
Still… Alastair did not have to choose from this place alone.
"If I wish to select my vessel from the other world," he asked Belmuth,
"would that be acceptable?"
"Of course," Belmuth replied.
"Choose whoever you like. I can grant you anything."
Alastair gave a faint nod, ignoring Elijah's visible relief.
Then… him.
The image of the man who had interfered days ago—
the one who had prevented Sybil from devouring Charlotte's soul,
forcing Sybil into another's arms—
flickered through his mind.
Wait for me, Grace.
Charlotte.
Sybil.
And… Talis.
A cold smile ghosted across his lips.
......…..
Just as the soul contract was about to be forged, Carla stepped forward.
"You've lost your mind!" she shouted.
"Why would you give your body to him? He'll set the world on fire!"
"This makes you the very demon of the apocalypse the warriors of Thaubia fear," she continued.
"Are you really okay with that?"
"Carla," Alastair replied,
"this is not my world."
"I don't care what happens to it."
"As long as Grace returns to me, I will give up anything—
even my own body."
"Why should I concern myself with a world I do not belong to?"
He met her gaze without flinching.
He admired her courage. Her conviction.
But nothing mattered more than Grace.
"Damn it," Vera snarled.
"You're insane. Completely insane. A lovesick idiot. A dumb demon!"
"Don't blame him," Simone said, resting a hand on Vera's shoulder.
"A broken demon will do anything."
"But he'll drag us all to hell with him!" Vera snapped.
"Silence," Belmuth roared.
A surge of power struck Vera, sending her flying as she coughed up blood.
"That is enough," Belmuth said.
"Let us proceed with the soul contract."
Alastair and Belmuth drafted the terms until both were satisfied.
The contract stated:
Belmuth would resurrect Grace with her memories fully restored, as Alastair desired.
Alastair would then transfer his soul into the body of Talis.
Belmuth would claim Alastair's original body in return.
"I engrave this contract upon my soul," they said in unison.
"Should I violate its terms, may my soul shatter for all eternity."
A blinding blue light erupted, engulfing them both.
It did not burn the flesh—it seared far deeper, carving its sigil into the core of their souls.
Soul Contract Complete.