I Died and Became a Noble's Heir

Chapter 221: Nothing goes to waste

Two corpses lay in spreading pools of blood. One pinned to the ground with a sword through his shoulder, head severed cleanly. The other crumpled near the entrance, neck crushed and head rolling in the wrong direction.

Jack stood among the carnage, his armor pristine despite the violence, his red eyes visible through the visor as he looked across the assembled demons.

”My helmet stays on,” he said, his voice carrying clearly across the silent chamber. ”Anyone else who wants to test that can join them.”

No one moved.

No one spoke.

Then, from somewhere in the back of the chamber, a demon’s voice broke the silence.

”Fuck yeah, Jakar!”

The shout seemed to break the spell.

Other voices joined in, demons who’d witnessed the training yard fight and now this, another demonstration of brutal, uncompromising violence delivered with cold efficiency.

”Did you see that neck crush?”

”I Fucking love this guy!”

”JAKAR! JAKAR! JAKAR!”

The chant started again, smaller than in the training yard but no less enthusiastic.

Demons respected strength.

Not everyone joined the chanting.

Some demons looked troubled. Trying to decide if it was best to serve a general or the demon in front of them.

But enough joined in that the sound filled the courtyard, echoing off the black ice walls.

Jack turned and walked back to his spot against the wall, stepping in the blood pools without looking down.

He settled back into his position, his back against the ice, his red eyes dimming slightly as he returned to his peaceful state.

The chanting continued for several more minutes before gradually fading.

Conversations resumed, though more subdued now. A few demons approached the corpses, beginning the process of removal and cleanup.

But a wide space remained around Jack. Wider than before, more respectful, carrying the absolute certainty that approaching him uninvited was a death sentence.

-----

Dawn came to Floor 24 the same way it always did, which was to say it didn’t come at all.

The crimson sky remained unchanged, the perpetual twilight casting its bloody glow across Pho’s fortress as Jack opened his eyes.

The barracks had settled into an uneasy quiet during the night.

Demons still gave Jack’s section of wall a wide berth, the two corpses from earlier having been removed but the blood stains remained as a reminder.

Jack stood, his armor making soft sounds as he moved.

Around him, other demons were beginning to stir, starting their routines, preparing for whatever duties awaited them.

Several demons glanced his way, their expressions ranging from wariness to reverence.

Word of the helmet incident had spread beyond just those who’d witnessed it.

Jack walked through the barracks toward the exit. Conversations died as he passed, demons stepping aside to give him room.

No one dared to speak to him or approach him.

The flesh factory was located in the eastern section of the fortress, a complex of buildings that stood apart from the main structures.

Even from a distance, Jack could see the smokestacks rising into the crimson sky, belching black clouds that never seemed to dissipate.

The walk took perhaps fifteen minutes, long enough for Jack to observe the fortress’s morning rhythms.

Demons moved with purpose, each one seemingly aware of their place in Pho’s hierarchy.

Guards nodded to officers, officers shouted at common soldiers, and everyone ignored the slaves. Unless they have to be put into place.

The flesh factory’s entrance was marked by a massive archway carved from black ice, reinforced with the same silvery metal that seemed to appear on all of Pho’s important structures.

’Flawed Sight’

[Reinforced Steel]

[A metal that has been reinforced with magic to withstand most damage]

’Wait... why is steel in Tartarus Spire. This makes no sense.’

Runes glowed faintly along its surface, pulsing with a steady rhythm.

Loryn stood waiting at the entrance, his skeletal frame somehow more pronounced in the crimson light.

His hollow eyes tracked Jack’s approach, and had a wide smile on his face. Satisfaction was written across his gaunt features.

”Right on time,” Loryn observed as Jack stopped in front of him. ”I appreciate that. Time wasted is an opportunity lost, and I have very little time to waste these days.”

His skeletal fingers tapped against his robes in that rhythmic pattern Jack had noticed before.

”I heard you made quite the statement last night in the barracks,” Loryn continued, his hollow voice carrying a note of approval.

”Two demons died for the crime of attempting to remove your helmet. They thought it would be amusing, I’m told. A harmless joke among soldiers.”

Jack said nothing, his red eyes visible through his visor as he met Loryn’s gaze.

”But you showed them there are no harmless jokes when boundaries are clearly established,” Loryn’s lips curved into something approximating a smile.

Loryn turned toward the factory entrance, gesturing for Jack to follow.

”Come. Let me show you what real creation looks like.”

They passed through the archway, and immediately the atmosphere changed.

The temperature remained cold, but there was a weight to the air here, a thickness that suggested that the magic was so concentrated it became almost physical.

The entrance hall was surprisingly clean, walls of black ice polished to a mirror shine, the floor free of debris.

Magical lights hovered near the ceiling, casting a pale blue glow that made everything look slightly corpse-like.

But beneath the clinical appearance, there was something else.

A smell that no amount of cleaning could completely eliminate.

Blood, decay, chemicals, and something organic that didn’t have a name but made Jack’s instincts twitch with unease.

”The factory serves one purpose,” Loryn explained as they walked deeper into the complex. ”Creating demons for Master Pho’s army. I do not breed them, or summon them from other realms, but build them from raw materials. It’s a process I’ve perfected over decades of experimentation.”

They reached a stairwell that descended into the factory’s depths. Loryn started to walk down without hesitation, his skeletal frame moving with surprising grace.

”Most demons are born,” Loryn continued, his voice echoing off the walls. ”They inherit power from their parents, develop abilities through bloodlines, and grow stronger through combat and consumption. But that’s inefficient. It takes time, resources, and there’s no guarantee of quality.”

The stairwell opened into a massive chamber that made Jack pause despite himself.

The space was easily a hundred feet across and three stories tall, carved directly from the black ice beneath the fortress. But unlike the clean entrance hall, this place made no attempt to hide its purpose.

Demon corpses lined the walls, stacked in organized rows like cordwood.

Hundreds of them, maybe thousands, all in various states of preservation. Some looked fresh, their features still recognizable.

Others had been reduced to parts, sorted into categories that Jack’s mind struggled to fully process.

Slaves moved through the chamber in complete silence, their movements mechanical and precise.

Each one wore a thick metal collar that glowed with faint runes, and their eyes carried the empty quality of those who’d given up on the concept of hope.

”The lower levels handle collection and initial processing,” Loryn explained, moving into the chamber without apparent concern for the grotesque display surrounding them.

”Every demon that dies in Pho’s service comes here. Accidents, executions, training mishaps, combat casualties. Nothing goes to waste.”