Chapter 208: Slave Crest

"Are you out of your mind?!" Eristasia's voice rang with anger inside the private room that she and Percival shared. "Such a thing like that, how do you think it would be okay? I'm a noble woman!"

Percival pressed his head with his index finger as if he was fighting a migraine. "I don't really see what the issue is here, Lady Windwhisper."

"Pfft! I'm not surprised!" Eristasia spat. "You're obviously blind which explains a lot. But like I said, I'm a noble! A noble can't go into dangerous Gate Worlds like that."

Percival placed Lightpiercer on the pillow, then looked at her over his shoulder. "Why not? There's no law that prohibits it."

Eristasia's breath lurched, eyes wide as she stared at him. 'Does he really have no regard at all for nobility?!'

"Besides," Percival continued, "you're still an Awakener aren't you. You're a very powerful Wind Mage last time I checked, isn't that right?"

He turned fully to face her, his tall muscular frame standing over her like a legendary statue. Eristasia looked up, her eyes quivering at how terrifying he suddenly seemed.

"Haven't you cleared Gate Worlds before?" Percival asked her.

"I.. I have," she stuttered. "When I was younger."

"You're not that old," Percival bluntly told her. "So what is the problem?"

Eristasia looked away to her left, her eyes narrowing uncomfortably as she thought of how to answer the question. "That Gate World, you heard them, it isn't like any ordinary Gate World. Before I came after you I heard people talking about these new types of Gate Worlds. Demon Gate Worlds."

Percival remained apathetic. "Yes. So what?"

Eristasia snapped her head up at him, forgetting all of her earlier fear. "So what? Didn't you hear what I just said? I'd die in a place like that!"

Percival folded his arms as if admonishing a child. "Someone has to do it. All the younger Awakeners who have died already, do you think they wanted to?"

Eristasia tightened her jaw, glaring up at him. "That's why there's a difference between commoners and nobles. I am a noble and I'm the one meant to be protected."

Percival scoffed, allowing his hands to fall to his sides again as if intentionally letting her see just how far his reach was. "Do you really feel like a noble right now, Lady Windwhisper?"

Eristasia's eyes widened with fear and she looked up at him, skin crawling.

"Nobility," Percival whispered, "is just a title enforced by power. But right now, the person with power between you and me is I. So calling yourself a noble in this situation is quite pathetic, don't you think?"

Eristasia was completely frozen, not knowing what to say.

"At this moment, think of yourself as a slave. If that doesn't suit you, then think of yourself as a partner," Percival glared down at her with his dark blue eyes. "Titles mean nothing here."

Eristasia stared at him for a while longer, wondering what she could do to someone like him as her heart hammered uncontrollably in her chest.

"Very well then." Her head fell in submission. "Since I can't proudly call myself a slave, I'll agree to be a partner."

"Good," Percival said. "Don't get it confused. I'm not too excited to partner with you either. I just can't leave you here and go Gate World clearing."

Eristasia narrowed her eyes. "Understandable."

Percival turned halfway, just about to walk away when he stopped. Eristasia froze. "I have one last question," the Necromancer uttered.

The noblewoman looked up. "What is it?"

Percival lowered half his body until his chiseled face was at eye-level with the elf. "When were you going to tell me that you've escaped from the ropes?"

"Hngh!" Eristasia gasped.

There was no time to waste. She suddenly burst from the chair, using a gust of wind to push Percival backwards.

Percival blocked his face with both hands, blinded for a blink of a second. That time was all Eristasia needed. She made for the door with only three steps, using the wind to hasten her stride.

But when her hand reached for the door handle, they touched the steel of Percival's obsidian armor.

Percival was standing there, glaring down at her with those dark blue eyes of his.

"Hah!"

Eristasia stepped backward, overwhelmed by the fear. Saying nothing else, Percival pushed forward his hand and landed a quick blow that knocked out the elf right on impact.

—---—

Hours passed and the day was nearing its half. Eristasia was finally waking up. She let out a ground, her head thumping with an ache. Trying to sit up, she discovered how difficult it was as her limbs felt like they were made of lead; heavy and unresponsive.

Percival sat by the window, his silhouette shadowing the room against the afternoon light. He was sharpening Lightpiercer, the metallic shing-shing the only sound in the room.

"You're awake," he said without looking up.

"You... What did you do to me?" Eristasia rasped. She reached for the wind, trying to call a gust to knock him off his chair, but her mana felt dammed up behind an invisible wall.

She looked down at her wrist. Beneath the skin, a faint, pulsing violet glow traced the shape of a circular brand.

She froze. "A Crest?"

"A Slave Crest to be precise," Percival intoned. "I thought it would be comical seeing you didn't want to be a slave."

The elf's eyes widened with murderous rage. "You truly are evil! Percival, you are a wretch! How did you even do this? High-grade crests like this require the consent of the wearer. I never gave you anything but my hatred."

Percival finally looked at her. His blue eyes were cold, devoid of the malice she expected, which somehow made it worse. "Not if you have enough gold, Lady Windwhisper. You should know this."

Eristasia glared hatefully at him, not even knowing what to do. She just watched him sharpen his blade.

"So you just bought my soul?" she whispered, her voice trembling with a mix of fury and genuine terror.

"I bought your compliance," Percival corrected, standing up and returning Lightpiercer to the swordcase. "I have my souls and I do not want yours. What I want is to get you out of my hair, but I know what will happen if I just release you."

He looked at her for a while. "There's not much that can be done. The moment we reach the border province, I'm putting you on a ship back to Eldermoor. Once the hull clears the harbor, I'll release you from the Crest and we'll never see each other again."

"I will kill you the moment it's off," she spat.

"Stand up," Percival said calmly.

Eristasia's eyes widened as her body moved against her will. Her legs swung over the side of the bed, her back straightened, and she stood at attention. She fought it, her muscles twitching with the effort to remain seated, but her bones seemed to be controlled by invisible wires.

"Stop it!" she cried, her face flushing a deep red.

"Walk to the door," he commanded.

She marched forward, her gait stiff and robotic. She looked like a puppet being jerked along by a novice.

"Stop it, you pervert!"

Percival watched her for a moment before sighing.

"I'm not doing this for fun. As you know, there's a Demon Gate outside. A Werewolf hive. I can't leave you here tied to a chair and that's why you're coming with me. Partner or slave. Whichever."

"I hate you," she hissed, her body finally relaxing as he released the active command.

"I know that already," Percival said. He sat back down on the floor, crossing his legs. He closed his eyes and started… meditating?

Eristasia watched him, her breath hitching. At first, she thought what he was doing was weird but then she saw the mana beginning to stir around him.

She watched as thin veins of blue light began to glow beneath his skin, tracing his mana channels. He was manually recalibrating his output, preparing his body for the high-intensity strain of a Demon Gate.

The discipline required to move mana with that level of mechanical precision was something she knew only the most experienced Awakeners could do.

'He's only been here for not more than two months,' she asked herself. 'How does he know so much?'

—---—

Meanwhile, a thousand miles away in the kingdom of Eldermoor and the province of Dusktell, it was finally time to set sail.

Corisande stepped onto the gangplank of the Seabreaker. The ship groaned against the docks of Unigarry, its masts tall and skeletal against the horizon.

As usual, she ignored the murmurs of the sailors and the lingering stares of the locals. Her mind was fixed on Valoris and Percival.

"Steady there, Princess," Norwick the sailor called out, nodding as she stepped onto the deck. "We cast off when the tide turns. Make yourself comfortable in the stern cabin."

"Thank you, Norwick," she said.

As she moved toward the back of the ship, a heavy thud of boots on wood made her turn. Emerging from the fog on the docks was the party she had encountered in the alehouse.

Xayx, the Weapon Summoner, led the way with a cocky grin. Behind him, his teammates—a hulking man with a tower shield and a twin-daggers rogue—carried their gear functionally.

Xayx caught Corisande's eye and gave a mock salute. He didn't say a word, but the mischievous glint in his eyes told her to be careful.

The princess let out a sigh and gazed beyond the sea. 'Don't be too hard to find, Mr. Percival.'