Oswald didn't go this far just to back down. He knew what he had to do. “I’m ready to do whatever I can… within reason.”

  “Within reason, yes? How very reassuring.” Zvarah said.

  “Yeah, well, I ain’t makin’ any commitments ‘til I’m sure what I’m gettin’ into. You’re a demon, after all.”

  “Ah, you do have some sense, after all. I was beginning to wonder.” She lifted a hand, and suddenly, something shifted in the air between them.

  [Displaying Skill Shop]

  1 New Pactbound Skill [Cost: 300 Souls]

  Note: Pactbound Skills always start at a minimum of Tier 3!

  Oswald raised an eyebrow as his eyes flicked to the floating text hovering in front of him. "This it? Don’t look all that impressive to me."

  Zvarah let out a sharp scoff, wings shifting behind her in irritation as her red eyes narrowed. "Any skill granted through me will be at least Tier Three. That is a considerable leap above those pitiful Tier One scraps you currently rely on, yes?"

  Oswald frowned, jaw tightening. She’s got a point, but still... "Can’t I just train my way up to Tier Three skills on my own?"

  She tilted her head, almost pitying. "Please. Skills acquired through mundane effort will plateau at Tier Three, yes? The skills I offer start there. And unlike your self-taught abilities, mine have the potential to grow far beyond."

  "How far we talkin’?"

  "There are nine tiers in total, each one vastly more powerful than the last."

  "Alright... so I just hand over 300 souls every time I want a new skill?"

  "Three hundred souls is merely the starting price, yes. As the number of your skills grow, so too shall the cost."

  "What? That’s bullshit. Why do you get to just up the price whenever you feel like it?"

  "Because I am the one bestowing power, boy. Therefore, I decide the price. If you disapprove, you’re welcome to stumble about and find your own skills, yes?"

  "Can’t you at least lower it a bit? Three hundred’s a steep ask."

  "My price is final."

  "I just don’t like feelin’ like I’m bein’ scammed."

  "And I don’t enjoy having my services treated as common favors. But I will promise you this, whatever skill you acquire from me, it will be worth the price."

  A long silence stretched between them. Then Oswald sighed and muttered, "Fine."

  For a moment, Oswald studied the floating text again, but the longer it lingered, the more it pressed against his mind, like an itch he couldn’t scratch. He waved a hand through it, but nothing changed. Damn thing ain’t going away on its own, huh?

  “Anyway, how do I get rid of all this system stuff? Feels like it’s just sittin’ in my head now.”

  “Tsk. Just will it to vanish. The system is yours to control.”

  Oswald did as she said, focusing on making the text disappear. In an instant, it faded away completely.

  "Huh, guess it really is that easy."

  Zvarah let out a sharp breath, rolling her eye. “Now, we shall formalize this contract, yes?”

  Oswald nodded. “Yeah, let’s get this over with.”

  Zvarah lifted her black blade and sliced a shallow cut across her palm. Thick, black blood welled up against her skin as she extended her hand toward him. “Now, you must do the same.”

  Oswald drew his own blade, pressing the edge to his palm. He hissed as he dragged it across, crimson welling up against his skin. He moved to shake her hand, but stopped at the last moment.“Hold on. Say the full terms of the contract again.”

  Zvarah’s expression darkened. “Do you doubt me?”

  Oswald smirked. “Damn right, I do. You ain't gonna catch me signin’ somethin’ without readin’ the fine print.”

  Zvarah let out a slow breath, but she relented. “Very well.”

  “You shall owe me one soul per day, to be paid in full at the end of every thirty days, yes. In exchange, I shall cease draining your soul for sustenance.”

  “Furthermore, I shall grant you power in exchange for a set number of souls, the cost increasing with the strength of the skills you wish to obtain.”

  Oswald listened carefully, nodding along. It was fair enough. But there was one more thing.

  “Add this, you stop tryin’ to take over my mind whenever I use my right eye.”

  “Oh, come now. I help you fight better. You should be thanking me, yes?”

  “I hate it when I ain’t in control of my own body. That’s not negotiable.”

  Zvarah clicked her tongue, a flicker of irritation crossing her face. “Then if you do not wish for my guidance, perhaps you should at least take on more of my power.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You shall grow stronger. Faster. Sharper. In addition, you will feel a greater… appreciation for battle."

  Oswald scowled. “I ain’t tryna turn into some starvin’ bloodhound.”

  Zvarah let out a quiet chuckle. "Oh, hardly. You will not lose yourself, boy. Rather, you'll simply come to appreciate the thrill of combat, just as I do. As you can plainly see, I'm perfectly capable of speaking, reasoning, and negotiating, yes? You shall remain yourself, merely enhanced."

  "So, you're sayin' I'm gonna start likin' fightin' a bit more?"

  "Precisely. Your mind will not be lost to blind bloodlust. You'll merely find greater enjoyment in battle, yes?"

  Oswald sighed lightly. "Alright, fine. Guess I'm okay with that."

  “Good. Then have we settled all your demands, or do you wish to waste more of my time?”

  Oswald rolled his wrist, shaking a bit of the blood from his cut palm before extending his hand. “Nah, we’re good. Pleasure doin’ business with you.”

  Zvarah snorted, her lips curling into a smirk. “I cannot say the same.”

  Still, she clasped his hand in hers, sealing the deal. The moment their bloodied palms connected, a force unlike anything Oswald had ever felt surged through him.

  Heat and cold crashed together, as if fire and ice had entwined within his veins. His breath hitched as dark energy coiled around their joined hands, twisting and writhing.

  The ground beneath him cracked, veins of abyssal blackness splintering through the stone, pulsing with ancient power. A deep, resonant hum filled the space, vibrating through his bones, shaking the air with a power that was neither sound nor silence, but something in between.

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  Strange symbols carved themselves into the back of his hand, burning like molten iron pressed against his flesh. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to stay still even as the pain licked up his arm, searing itself into his very being.

  Then, just as suddenly as it had started, the air grew still. The ground quieted as the symbols on Oswald's hand vanished, sinking deep into his flesh.

  Zvarah pulled her hand away, tilting her head slightly as she inspected him. “It is done.”

  Oswald flexed his fingers, shaking off the lingering sensation. His palm still tingled where their blood had mixed. But regardless, the pact was sealed. No goin' back now.

  “Alright. So, how do I get outta here?” He asked.

  Zvarah’s smirk widened. “Oh, I do know of a way, yes.”

  “Why are you smilin’ like that?”

  “Do you wish to leave, or not?”

  Oswald clicked his tongue. “Yeah, but you better not try anything funny.”

  She lifted a hand to her eyepatch. “I would do nothing of the sort.”

  Then, without another word, she pulled it away. The instant her eyepatch slipped free, Oswald’s breath caught in his throat.

  The eye beneath was the same as his own. Red, with an X-shaped pupil carved into its depths, pulsing with an eerie, undeniable power.

  His own right eye burned the moment it met hers. A violent shock tore through his skull, as if his mind had been split open from the inside. His vision blurred into a storm of red, the world around him shattering apart like broken glass.

  [You are now pactbound with Zvarah Soulbane]

  [You have gained a new Tier 1 skill: Ascended Physique]

  [A Previous Skill has Evolved! "Exalted Trance" has evolved into "Slaughterborn"]

  ***

  A faint crackling reached Oswald’s ears, the slow, steady pop of burning wood. His mind drifted in a haze, caught between the edges of sleep and wakefulness, thoughts sluggish, body heavy. The scent of roasting meat lingered in the air, rich and smoky, coaxing his senses back into focus.

  His fingers twitched, pressing against the ground. The rough texture of dirt and scattered leaves met his touch. How am I outside?

  With a low groan, he pushed himself up slowly. His vision swam for a moment before sharpening, and the world around him settled into view.

  Towering trees stretched high above, their thick canopy swallowing much of the night sky, leaving only fractured slivers of moonlight to filter through the leaves. To his left was a large wooden cabin, its windows catching faint reflections of the bonfire’s glow.

  Oswald’s fingers twitched as a stray thought struck him. He reached up, brushing his hand over his right eye. His eyepatch was still there. Did I put this back on?

  A wave of relief coursed through him, but unease followed close behind. He had no memory of putting it back in place. His last clear recollection was of Zvarah and their… enigmatic encounter. Guess Selene must have put my eyepatch back on.

  Turning his gaze toward the center of the clearing, he found the bonfire crackling steadily within a ring of stones. Around the fire, logs had been arranged as makeshift seats.

  Just beyond the glow, Selene sat while cooking several tantalizing meat skewers. The juices dripped onto the burning wood below, sending up wisps of fragrant smoke that curled into the night air.

  Oswald's stomach grumbled loudly, cutting through the quiet night air. The scent of the roasting meat had firmly hooked him now, drawing him closer like a starving wolf.

  He looked toward Selene, watching the flames flicker gently across her features. The amber glow illuminated her pale skin and set her violet eyes sparkling with a soft intensity. She turned a skewer slowly over the crackling fire, juices sizzling as they dripped down onto the wood below.

  Oswald shuffled toward her. "Did you… uh, bring me here?"

  Selene glanced up briefly, her eyes softening at his approach. "I did, you were unconscious for quite a while. Three days, to be precise."

  Oswald froze mid-step, shock rippling through him. Three days? Nah, that can't be right.

  "Three days?" Oswald repeated incredulously. "Damn, felt way longer than that."

  "Time flows differently in that place. You'd do best not to dwell upon it." Selene said, turning over another skewer.

  Oswald chuckled softly at the absurdity of it all. He took another slow step forward, nearly reaching the log beside Selene when a sudden thought pierced him like a knife.

  His pulse quickened, the pleasant fog shattering instantly. Vivi. The last time he'd seen his feline companion had been in the city. Ah shit, don't tell me we left her behind.

  Selene, sensing his discomfort, raised her gaze again. "Something troubling you?"

  Oswald opened his mouth, fumbling awkwardly over his words. "Ah… yeah. Look, this is gonna sound kinda weird, but did you happen to see a black cat when you picked me up back at the inn?"

  He wasn't expecting much. Truth be told, the question sounded ridiculous to his own ears. Ain't no way Selene Whiteheart of all people had time to worry about some stray cat.

  Yet, to his surprise, Selene raised one graceful hand and pointed calmly just beyond his shoulder, saying, "Do you mean that one?"

  Oswald whipped his head around so fast he nearly toppled from dizziness. His heart thundered against his ribs as he stared into the shadowy darkness between two towering trees.

  From behind the rough trunk of an ancient oak, a pair of familiar golden eyes glimmered softly in the moonlight. Vivi stepped casually into the clearing, whiskers twitching in mild curiosity.

  "Vivi?" Oswald whispered in disbelief, kneeling down instantly. "Where did you come from, girl?"

  The cat padded silently over the uneven ground toward him. With an elegant leap, she landed beside him and began winding around his legs, purring warmly.

  Oswald chuckled softly, running gentle fingers over her fur. "Scared me half to death. Thought I'd lost ya for good."

  Selene watched quietly, amusement softening her features. She reached over, plucking one of the skewers from the fire, and held it toward Oswald. "She seems quite attached to you. Perhaps more than a mere cat should be."

  "Eh, guess we both got lucky then." Oswald said.

  Taking the skewer, Oswald bit into the tender meat, savoring the rich, smoky flavor. It tasted like home, simple yet comforting, easing some hidden tension he'd forgotten was there.

  He glanced back at Selene, curiosity piquing once more. "So, uh, where exactly are we anyway?"

  Selene adjusted herself comfortably on the log as she turned another skewer over the flames. The meat sizzled gently, a trail of fragrant smoke spiraling upward into the cool night air. "We're in a forest west of Loria. My forest, to be precise. No one will disturb us here."

  Oswald paused mid-chew. He swallowed quickly, blinking at her in surprise. "Wait, your forest? As in…?"

  "As in, I quite literally own this entire forest."

  Oswald stared at her for a long moment, eyebrows raised, mouth half-open in astonishment. Well, ain't that somethin'. Though, thinking about who exactly sat beside him, he figured this revelation shouldn't shock him too much.

  "Guess with your reputation, I shouldn't really be surprised."

  Selene chuckled softly in response. "Perhaps what should truly surprise you is that your feline friend managed to follow us all this way without me noticing her presence earlier. When I took you to the inn, I was certain we were alone."

  Oswald glanced down at Vivi for a second. Then, he lifted his gaze back to Selene, a playful grin spreading across his lips. "Ah, speaking off forgot. Selene, meet Vivi. Pretty sure she's smarter than your average cat."

  Selene tilted her head slightly, scrutinizing Vivi with sudden intensity. Her deep violet eyes narrowed, gleaming with an unreadable depth as she studied the feline. Seconds ticked by, stretching longer than comfortable, and Oswald found himself shifting awkwardly beneath the strange silence. What's she doin'? It's like she's tryin' to look into her soul or somethin'.

  Finally, as if satisfied with whatever she'd been searching for, Selene turned back to the skewers cooking gently above the flames. "You would do well to keep a close eye on that cat."

  "Uh, why exactly?" Oswald asked.

  Selene didn't look at him immediately, carefully rotating another skewer as though considering her words. Eventually, she raised an eyebrow, offering Oswald a faintly amused, enigmatic smile. "Tell me, Oswald, how often does a simple cat slip past someone like me unnoticed?"

  Oswald opened his mouth to answer, then promptly closed it, thoroughly perplexed. He frowned slightly, looking down at Vivi again. The feline stretched lazily, utterly unconcerned by the gravity of the conversation.

  "I don't get it. You're sayin' she's more than just a regular cat?"

  "You'll understand in time."

  Oswald shrugged, hunger overriding his lingering confusion. He reached out eagerly for another skewer, only for Selene's fingers to swiftly intercept, gently swatting his hand away.

  "If you want more, you'll have to earn it," she said lightly.

  Oswald stared incredulously, giving her a sideways glance, "Hold up, didn't you already give me food? Why're you suddenly makin' this difficult?"

  "I have my reasons, Oswald, since I hunted the meat and cooked the skewers, I believe it's only fair I decide whether you get more."

  "Alright, fair enough. What exactly d'you want me to do?"

  For some reason, Selene’s lips curved upward into a wider smile than usual. The expression stirred an uncomfortable sense of foreboding deep within Oswald's gut.

  She inclined her head toward the surrounding trees. "Go punch a tree."

  Oswald blinked at her, his mouth dropping slightly open. He glanced at the looming trunks encircling them—ancient and solid, their bark gnarled and rough like weathered stone. She's kiddin', right? But the amused gleam in her eyes offered no reassurance.

  "Punch…a tree, you're serious?"

  "Indeed, I am quite serious."