I Died and Became a Noble's Heir

Chapter 389: Welcome to Tartarus Spire

He activated Demonhand.

Black scales erupted across his right arm, spreading from fingertips to shoulder in a wave of transformation. His hand grew larger, fingers extending into claws that gleamed in the torchlight. The scales overlapped like armor, and beneath them, his muscles swelled with enhanced strength.

George’s eyes widened. ”What—what are you...”

Jack’s clawed hand shot forward, gripping George’s jaw with inhuman strength. The prisoner screamed, trying to pull away, but his grip was absolute.

”Open your mouth,” Jack ordered.

George tried to keep his jaw clenched, but Jack’s demonic strength overpowered him easily. His mouth opened, and Jack’s other hand, still human, reached inside.

He grabbed George’s tongue.

And ripped it out.

A gurgling, blood-soaked scream erupted from him. Blood filled George’s mouth, pouring down his chin and soaking his filthy clothes.

He thrashed against the chains, his body convulsing with agony that overrode every other instinct.

Jack dropped the severed tongue onto the stone floor. It landed with a wet sound that echoed in the silence.

S ate another segment of tangerine, his red eyes tracking the blood pooling beneath the chair with the mild interest of someone noting a particularly stubborn stain on expensive carpet. ”Not bad, but I think you can do better,” he observed quietly.

Jack stepped back, raising his demonic hand. Red lightning crackled across the black scales.

The lightning bolt formed between his clawed fingers, growing brighter until it illuminated the entire cell in crimson light.

George’s muffled screaming intensified as he understood what was coming.

Jack drove the lightning bolt forward.

It struck George’s groin perfectly. The electricity disintegrated flesh and bone; the heat was so intense that it cauterized everything it touched. The smell of burning meat filled the air. Leaving a sickening acrid smell in the air.

George’s scream turned into something inhuman. His body arched against the chains, every muscle locked in absolute agony.

He was nothing more than a shell of his former self.

Jack deactivated Demonhand. The black scales receded, his arm returning to normal. He studied his work with detached interest. George’s groin was gone, replaced by a cauterized wound that still wept blood in certain spots despite the damage.

He would bleed out.

S finished his tangerine, wiping his fingers clean with a handkerchief produced from his jacket. ”The cleanup will be tedious,” he remarked, his tone carrying the same mild disappointment one might express about rain ruining outdoor plans. ”But I suppose that’s what makes it memorable.”

Jack turned and walked toward the stairs without another word. S followed, his footsteps silent against stone.

Behind them, George’s muffled screaming continued, echoing off the cell walls.

Jack climbed the stairs and pushed open the door. Finn and Alaric stood in the corridor above, waiting.

”Is it done?” Alaric asked.

”He’ll die shortly,” Jack replied, his voice carrying no emotion. ”Let the trash bleed out.”

He walked past them both, S following behind. Neither looked back.

Finn stared at the closed cell door, his single eye wide. When the screaming finally faded to wet gurgling, he turned to Alaric.

”What happened to Jack?” Finn’s voice carried genuine confusion. ”He’s like an entirely different person.”

Alaric’s golden eyes tracked his son’s departing form. ”He’s the same person. He’s just understood what it means to be an heir to a powerful duchy. And what must be done to stay in power.”

Jack and S walked through the manor corridors in silence. The contract demon maintained his characteristic composure, his red eyes gleaming with satisfaction at a job well done.

”S,” Jack said without looking at him. ”What floors have decent beasts I can bind to my army.

S’s expression didn’t change, but his tone carried an air of interest. ”Floors eight and nine have some decent specimens. Nothing extraordinary, but adequate for initial contracts. The creatures there are strong enough to be useful without minimal upgrades needed.”

”And?”

”Floor twelve has unique monsters,” S continued. ”Particularly in the eastern cavern systems. Several species exist nowhere else in the tower. Floor twenty-six also hosts unique variants, creatures that have evolved in isolation for centuries.”

Jack filed that information away. ”We’ll start with the lower floors. Work our way up.”

”Good, hopefully you’ll find some things worth your time.” S acknowledged.

They reached Draven’s shrine. The memorial stood in its usual place, a simple yet elegant structure of stonework with inscriptions carefully carved.

Rhys, Sylph, and Father Caelen waited nearby. Rhys looked nervous, his winter-ice eyes carrying uncertainty. Sylph hovered near his shoulder, her tiny form outlined against the afternoon light.

”Ready?” Jack asked.

Before anyone could respond, footsteps echoed from the corridor. Jack turned to see Octavia approaching, her expression carrying that particular combination of concern and exasperation that only an older sister could muster.

”Jack,” Octavia said, her tone carrying warning. ”You’re leaving for five days? Without proper coordination? What about the mana potion distribution? What about...”

Jack laughed. ”Octavia, relax. Seraphina knows everything. It’ll be fine.”

His sister’s eyes narrowed. ”Seraphina is capable, but...”

”It’ll be fine,” Jack repeated, his grin widening. ”Trust me.”

Octavia opened her mouth to continue lecturing, but Jack had already turned away. He raised one hand, mana flowing through his fingers as space itself began to tear.

A portal opened before them, swirling darkness that led to somewhere they had never been before.

”Let’s go,” Jack said, glancing at Rhys, Sylph, and Father Caelen. ”I have something important to show you three.”

Rhys’s eyes widened. ”What...”

Jack stepped through the portal without waiting for questions. Father Caelen followed immediately; his trust in his master was unyielding. Rhys hesitated for only a moment before Sylph pushed him forward, and they both disappeared into the swirling darkness.

The portal collapsed behind them, leaving Octavia standing alone in the corridor, staring at empty air where her brother had been.

She sighed. ”That boy is going to give me gray hair.”

The transition was disorienting for those who had not yet traveled by portal.

One moment surrounded by the Kaiser manor, the next standing on stone floors that felt ancient beneath their feet.

”Where are we?” Rhys asked, his voice carrying confusion and growing alarm.

Jack walked forward, his footsteps echoing. ”Tartarus Spire.”

Sylph’s tiny form went rigid. ”What is that?”

”Tartarus Spire,” Jack repeated calmly. ”A giant prison meant for demons, beasts, and strong creatures that could destroy the world if they ever got out. It exists outside normal space, accessible only through specific portals.”

He gestured around them. They stood in a massive chamber with walls carved from black stone.

Rhys moved toward the nearest window, his winter-ice eyes wide with curiosity that overtook his fear. ”This is... this is beautiful.”

Beyond the glass, a landscape spread that shouldn’t exist within a prison.

Hills glowed with bioluminescent grass, creating waves of light that rippled outward in patterns that defied natural law.

Flowers dotted the terrain, each one burning with colors that transcended the typical spectrum. Blues deeper than sky, reds that pulsed like living hearts, purples that made looking at them feel like peering into infinity.

Spirits floated everywhere. Humanoid shapes made of light, glowing white, gold, and silver, drifted through the air with impossible grace. Hundreds of them, maybe thousands, weaving between trees and rock formations like living constellations.

And above it all, the sky burned in shades of yellow, orange, and red that shifted constantly, creating an aurora that never quite repeated its patterns.

”It’s incredible,” Rhys breathed, pressing closer to the window.

Then came the boom.

A sound like thunder compressed into a single instant. The entire chamber shook, dust falling from the ceiling stones, as the protective barriers on the windows flared bright, absorbing the impact.

Rhys stumbled backward, his eyes searching for the source.

Something massive moved beyond the glass.

Easily twenty feet across, and an amber iris with a slit pupil that contracted as it focused on the window. The eye was close enough that Rhys could see individual blood vessels.

Rhys’s scream as he threw himself backward, crashing into Father Caelen, his entire body trembling as the eye stared at him profusely.

The dragon’s pupil dilated fractionally, and somewhere beyond their vision, Rhys heard a sound like laughter. A deep, rumbling laugh.