Chaos Warlord: Reincarnated in Eldrich with the Devil System!

Alfred swaggered up to Marshall, a smug grin on his face as he presented the severed head of the Direwolf. He tossed it onto the table, the force causing the various items atop it to clatter.

Marshall’s eyes widened in shock as he examined the head. He had never expected Alfred to come back alive, let alone complete the challenge. “How did you kill it?” Marshall spat, his voice filled with disbelief and something akin to fear.

Alfred’s smirk only widened at the question. “By being resourceful and cunning.”

“You think I’m a fool?” Marshall retorted, his face reddening. “You better tell me the truth or else—” 𝑂𝓋𝐥xt.𝑐𝗈𝑚

“Or else what?” Alfred cut him off, his tone icy. “What are you going to do? Hit me again? Don’t forget what house I belong to. A simple complaint to my father will be enough to bring this matter up to your lord. This time, you’ll be in the wrong. I’ve passed the trial by fire and deserve to enter the Frontier, but you’re stopping me. You should know how the Lord of Thunder treats those who dare to go against his words.”

He left the words hanging in the air, as tense as a drawn bowstring. The rules established by the Lord of Thunder, who was also known as the Overseer of the Northern Frontier and the lord of the Thunderspear tribe, were straightforward: anyone who passed the trial, no matter the means they employed, was allowed entry into the Northern Frontier. The Lord of Thunder was notorious for his fierce protection of his own rules. To disregard them, to challenge his authority – it would be an act of monumental folly, and even Marshall knew better than to risk such a thing.

At Alfred’s biting words, the color drained from Marshall’s face. He knew he was cornered. He may not like Alfred, but he valued his life more than his animosity. Thus, with a heavy sigh, he relented, “Fine. You can enter the Frontier.”

His eyes, however, were venomous as they bore into Alfred.

“But I’ll be keeping my eyes on you, kid. You better not cause any trouble.”

His voice was low, laced with the unsaid threat of retribution should Alfred step out of line.

Marshall’s words of hostility were but whispers in the wind to Alfred as he, with an audacious flair, extended his hand towards the older man.

Immediately, bewilderment painted itself on Marshall’s face as he questioned the silent request, “What do you want?”

Alfred, with an air of detached nonchalance, replied, “You are well-versed in the customs of the northern frontier, Marshall. Cease this pretense and hand over the talisman and my contribution points.”

Humiliation pricked Marshall, his weathered face flushing red as he had been caught playing the fool. Wordlessly, he handed over a talisman along with a card marked ‘300’.

With a triumphant air, Alfred took his rightful possessions and sauntered off into the lower city of the Frontier, leaving a seething Marshall in his wake.

After a while, Val came to Marshall with the severed head of the Icefang Lynx in his hand. He had taken it out from the pocket dimension of his cursed artifact in a secluded spot, far from prying eyes. He lived by the age-old wisdom that a pauper perished not from the treasure he gained, but from the audacity of flaunting it without possessing the strength to guard it. He didn’t want to attract trouble so he made sure to not flaunt his wealth in public.

Marshall gave Val an approving nod as he spotted him. “Well done, lad.” He then proceeded to explain the rules to Val as he had done for Alfred. “Since you have passed the trial, you have proved yourself worthy of entering the Frontier and obtaining a talisman. Because you defeated an Icefang Lynx, you will also be rewarded with 200 contribution points.”

He handed Val a talisman, a seemingly ordinary black rock suspended from a string, and a card marked ‘200’. Val was left wondering what they did.

Sensing Val’s curiosity, Marshall added, “Feel free to ask any questions.”

“What is the purpose of the talisman and contribution points?”

Marshall took a deep breath before starting to explain, “The talisman is akin to an unranked cursed artifact, mass-produced and issued to every individual with the right to enter the Frontier. It’s a mark of your identity and can be bound to you with a drop of your blood. Its most important feature is that it can provide you with protection against devils. Just hang it on your door, and no devil will be able to enter your house without your permission.

The talisman is also a conduit for crucial messages, specifically warnings of impending danger. For instance, a sighting of devils in the forest would trigger an alert, so you can evacuate the forest as fast as possible. An advice from me. You’d better keep it with you at all times.”

“As for the contribution points,” Marshall continued, “they’re the only currency used in the frontier. You can check your balance on the card. The 200 points I gave you will help you do more than just get settled in the Frontier.”

Val processed everything he had been told. These were the rules of this new place, and he had to play by them if he wanted to survive among the northerners. “I see. That’s good to know. Thank you, Sir Marshall. Your explanation has been truly enlightening,” Val expressed his gratitude, his voice perfectly mimicking the warmth of a gentleman in debt.

When in public, Val had the habit of wearing the mask of a socialist. He understood the importance of being cordial with others. He did not feel emotions like the others, but he knew how to pretend. This ability to mimic societal norms was born out of necessity and honed to perfection over time. Not to mention, Marshall, being a petty man, would likely cause trouble if he was not thanked for his explanations, and Val did not want any unnecessary conflict at this point. Thus, although he didn’t feel grateful and thought that Marshall was just doing his job, he expressed his gratitude.

Marshall’s face broke into a smile at Val’s words, “Welcome to the Northern Frontier, lad!”

It seemed as though the warmth of Val’s words had thawed a small part of the man’s frosty demeanor. Marshall found himself liking the boy. Val was pragmatic, understanding, and sensible, qualities which were far too rare among the novices. He may not have known of Val’s emotional impairment, or his ability to mimic human emotions, but for now, Marshall was content with the mask Val wore. He hoped, for the lad’s sake, that the Frontier would be kind to him.