I Died and Became a Noble's Heir

Chapter 462: Brutus

The minotaur nodded slowly. ”Fragments. I remember leading my clan. Remember the wasteland on Twenty-Three. Remember...” Its expression darkened. ”Being hunted. Herded like prey toward a killing field. Then Master’s blade, and darkness.”

”And after?” Rhys pressed. ”What’s it like being bound?”

”Strange,” the Alpha admitted. ”I know what I was. Clan leader, warrior, survivor of hundreds of battles. But those memories feel distant, like they happened to someone else. What’s clear, what’s absolute, is my purpose now. Master’s will is my will. His commands are my reality.”

It paused, then added, ”But Master has given me to you. Which means your survival is now my purpose. Your commands carry his authority.”

Rhys glanced at Jack, who nodded confirmation. ”He’ll follow your orders as if they were mine within reason. If you tell him to attack me, that’s not going to work. But for everything else? He’s yours.”

”Everything else,” Rhys repeated slowly, the weight of that responsibility settling onto shoulders already burdened by the blood contract and Pho’s brutal training regimen. ”I’ve never commanded anyone before.”

”Then you’ll learn,” Pho declared. ”Leadership under pressure is part of becoming stronger. Consider this another aspect of your training.”

The Deathfrost Demon observed the Alpha with professional assessment. ”You can fight?”

”I led my clan for decades,” the Alpha replied. ”Killed everything from rival minotaurs to pray foolish enough to enter our territory. Yes, I can fight.”

”Good,” Pho said. ”Because Floor Four is going to make Floor Three look gentle. Rhys will need all the help he can get.”

Rhys felt a spike of alarm at that casual declaration. ”Wait, what? Floor Four is worse than a Nightmare-rank Ice Drake?”

”Different challenges,” Pho clarified. ”Floor Three was a single powerful enemy in a controlled environment. Floor Four has...” He paused, as if considering how much to reveal. ”More variables. You’ll see.”

Jack was already moving toward the portal that had appeared near the throne room’s exit.

The gateway back to Floor Twenty-Three, where Loryn and Kaedor waited with his demon army. Death had vanished at some point during the conversation, presumably back to whatever cosmic office he maintained to file his endless paperwork.

”I need to return to Twenty-Three,” Jack said. ”Stormfang is still alive, and I want that wyvern bound before it has time to fully recover from the wing damage.”

He paused at the portal’s edge and looked back at Rhys. ”Good luck on Floor Four. Try not to die. I’d hate to waste Pho’s training investment.”

”Reassuring,” Rhys muttered, but there was no real heat in it.

Jack’s smile widened. ”Oh, and one more thing. The Alpha doesn’t have a name anymore. The binding stripped that along with some other memories. You can name him if you want, or keep calling him Alpha. Your choice.”

With that, Jack stepped through the portal and vanished, leaving Rhys alone with Slyph, Pho, and his new minotaur companion.

The silence stretched for several seconds before the Alpha spoke. ”Do you want to name me?”

Rhys blinked, caught off guard by the question. ”I... hadn’t thought about it. Do you want a name?”

The minotaur considered this with an expression that embodied the concept of personal preference, which was still somewhat foreign after the binding. ”I don’t know. What I want feels... secondary to what serves Master’s... Your purpose.”

”That’s disturbing,” Slyph said quietly.

”That’s soul binding,” Pho corrected. ”It rewrites fundamental nature. Free will becomes service. Independence becomes loyalty. The creature that was the clan Alpha died when Jack’s blade took its head. What stands here now is something different.”

The Alpha didn’t dispute this assessment. ”Accurate. Though fragments remain. Echoes of who I was.”

Rhys studied the minotaur.

He really looked at it for the first time beyond the initial shock. Eight feet tall, heavily muscled, carrying that massive battle axe with casual ease despite the weapon’s size.

Scars covered its arms and torso, old wounds that had been recreated during the binding process. Eyes that burned with red lightning but still showed intelligence beyond simple obedience.

A warrior. A leader. Now bound to serve because Jack had decided Rhys needed support.

”Brutus,” Rhys said suddenly.

The Alpha’s head tilted slightly. ”Brutus?”

”It means ’heavy’ or ’muscular’ in an old language,” Rhys explained, feeling somewhat self-conscious about the choice. ”Seemed appropriate. Unless you hate it, in which case...”

”Brutus,” the minotaur repeated, testing the name. ”It’s... acceptable. Better than ’Alpha’ or ’the minotaur,’ at least.”

”Brutus, it is then,” Slyph said, her green aura brightening slightly. ”Welcome to the team, I suppose. Try not to accidentally crush Rhys while you’re protecting him.”

”I’ll be careful,” Brutus rumbled, and it might have been Rhys’s imagination, but the minotaur’s tone carried something that resembled dry humor.

Pho stepped toward the stairway leading down to the Floor Four portal, his movements indicating it was time to continue. ”Touching moment concluded. We have forty-nine days remaining, and Floor Four won’t clear itself.”

Rhys took a deep breath, feeling the exhaustion in his bones but also a strange sense of... readiness. He’d just killed a Nightmare-rank creature. Had survived fifty days of Pho’s brutal training. Now had a bound minotaur warrior at his side.

”Right,” Rhys said, starting toward the stairs. ”Floor Four. What could possibly go wrong?”

”Many things,” Pho replied cheerfully. ”Which is why you’ll learn faster than you did on Three.”

Brutus fell into step beside Rhys, the minotaur’s heavy foot steps echoing through the throne room as they descended the stairs together.

Slyph flew ahead, her green aura illuminating the stairway’s darkness.

At the bottom, the portal to Floor Four shimmered with blue energy, its surface rippling like disturbed water.

Rhys paused at the threshold, one hand on Tempest’s Edge, the other unconsciously checking his remaining mana reserves.

”Ready?” Slyph asked from the portal’s edge.

Rhys glanced at Brutus, who nodded once, battle axe held ready. Then at Pho, whose blank white eyes showed nothing but cold expectation.

”Ready,” Rhys confirmed.

And stepped through into whatever Floor Four had waiting.

-----

Meanwhile, Jack emerged from his portal back onto Floor Twenty-Three’s wasteland, the perpetual twilight and constant lightning strikes created a familiar environment after the Ice Oasis’s frozen halls.

Loryn and Kaedor stood exactly where he’d left them, his demon army maintaining their positions around the battlefield’s perimeter.

The Hydra had fully regenerated, all thirty-five heads alert and tracking Jack’s return with coordinated attention.

The bound creature had grown comfortable in its new existence, the initial confusion of rebinding fading into acceptance of its purpose.

”Master returns,” the Hydra’s voices harmonized. ”What are your commands?”

Jack looked toward the distant tree. The massive structure where Stormfang had fled was wounded and desperate.

The wyvern would be recovering, trying to heal the damaged wing, preparing for either fight or further flight.

”We’re going after Stormfang,” Jack announced, his voice carrying across the wasteland. ”I want that wyvern bound before it has a chance to evolve or escape to another floor.”

Loryn’s purple eyes gleamed with anticipation. ”The hunt continues then.”

”Always,” Jack confirmed, already walking toward the tree.

Behind him, three hundred sixty-two bound souls followed their master’s will, ready to bring down a Blessed One and add it to the Soul Warden’s growing collection.