Crazy Demon

Seven Sins System Chapter 272. Crazy Demon

I used my teleportation skill. A dark aura enveloped me like a shroud, transporting me instantaneously to the front of the mysterious tower. As I materialized in front of the tower, I immediately sensed something unusual about this place.

The tower stood defiantly, casting an eerie shadow upon the surroundings. It was a stark contrast to the resplendent elegance of the palace it was connected to. The blackened stones of the tower seemed to absorb the light around it, giving it an almost ethereal appearance. A faint, mossy texture clung to its surface as if nature itself was attempting to reclaim the tower from the grasp of civilization.

A sense of neglect hung in the air, and I could almost taste the ancient secrets that lingered within its walls. This tower was unlike any other part of the palace, and its existence seemed deliberately hidden from casual onlookers.

'I can only hope he's not as crazy as before,' I thought. As I approached the imposing structure, a feeling of foreboding washed over me. The tower exuded a malevolent energy that made even my demon heart shudder.

Nonetheless, my determination drove me forward. I stepped through the threshold and into the tower, greeted by a chilling silence. The first thing that struck me was the towering stairway, seemingly endless in its ascent. My teleportation skill was rendered useless here, thwarted by the tower's potent enchantments. This left me with no choice but to ascend the stairs the old-fashioned way. Walk!

I couldn't help but grumble to myself as I began the seemingly never-ending climb. "Why couldn't this accursed tower be a bit more welcoming? All these stairs, a prince like me should never have to endure such drudgery," I muttered, my frustration growing with every step.

The further I climbed, the more I became aware of the tower's true nature. Faint whispers seemed to echo in the shadows as if the tower itself was alive and whispering secrets to those who dared enter. The grumbling in my mind continued, serving as a stark contrast to the eerie silence enveloping me.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of relentless ascent, I reached the summit. The room that greeted me at the top was unlike anything I had encountered before—a chamber pulsing with an ethereal glow. The walls were adorned with intricate symbols, each marking appearing to hold a sliver of ancient wisdom.

I raised my voice and called out to him. "Baelthor, can I come in?" I tried to mask the animosity in my tone with a polite veneer. After all, we needed him more than he needed us, and showing outright hostility wouldn't bode well for negotiations or information exchange.

For a moment, the air hung heavy with silence, and I wondered if he would even bother responding. Then, like a chilling breeze, his voice echoed from within the room, sending a shiver down my spine. "Who?" he whispered, his words carrying an eerie undertone that sent shivers down my spine.

"It's Azrael," I replied, keeping my voice steady despite the unsettling atmosphere. I knew better than to let my emotions betray me in front of someone as cunning as Baelthor. He fed off fear and uncertainty, and I refused to be his prey.

My patience was tested as he feigned ignorance, asking again, "Who is Azrael?" His haunting voice felt like a cold caress against my skin, sending an involuntary shiver down my spine. 'I hate this guy,' I thought, clenching my fists in frustration. Dealing with Baelthor was always an exercise in self-control, an intricate dance of restraint and veiled hostility.

With a sigh, I took a moment to steady myself. I knew he never acknowledged me by that name. The bitterness in his tone was palpable, and I suppressed the urge to unleash my anger upon him. Despite the urge to kick down the door and confront him head-on, I knew that approach would only lead to a dead end. Instead, I chose to be diplomatic and somewhat polite, though it tasted like bile in my mouth.

"It's the reckless tentacles bastard kid," I retorted with forced calmness, using the moniker he often threw at me.

"Tentacles bastard kid?" he answered me with confusion.

I rolled my eyes, suppressing the urge to groan aloud at Baelthor's apparent forgetfulness. 'Oh, c'mon! Don't tell me he forgot that nickname too,' I thought, my frustration simmering beneath the surface. Dealing with him always tested my patience, but I had little choice if I wanted to access his knowledge and power.

His voice echoed from within the room once more, this time with a tone of recognition. "Oh, you… Yes… You…" he mumbled, seemingly piecing together the fragments of memory that made up my identity. It was exasperating to witness his slow realization, but at least he finally got it right. "Come in, tentacles kid," he greeted me with an air of nonchalance.

I pushed the door open, entering the dimly lit room that bore the unmistakable signs of Baelthor's sinister presence. It creaked loudly since it hadn't been opened at least for centuries.

A reeked stench assaulted my senses, catching me off guard. It was a foul combination that made my nose scrunch up in disgust - a pungent blend of the smell of sweaty socks that hadn't been washed in years, mixed with the acrid stench of stale fart. It was enough to make anyone's eyes water and stomach churn, but I forced myself to maintain a smiling face as if nothing happened.

I tried my best to keep my composure, though it was a real struggle. Baelthor seemed unfazed by the odor, almost as if he reveled in the discomfort it caused. He continued to go about his business, seemingly oblivious to the discomfort he was subjecting me to.

"Hello, Baelthor. Long time no see," I greeted him, my voice laced with a mix of forced civility and underlying tension. It had indeed been quite some time since I last crossed paths with the enigmatic creature, and the memories of our previous encounters were far from pleasant.

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