Chapter 1017 - 1016: Fall Off My Wrist?

"May I have permission to say something?"

"Speak," Grand Elder Dread Crown said.

Joren straightened, keeping his attention on the higher seats.

"Grand Elder Dread Crown, I ask that you reconsider admitting him into the Abyss. His talent doesn’t change what he’s done to our people."

Simon watched him calmly.

"He killed my younger brother. Merath barely survived him. Are we to reward that by giving him our protection and resources?"

Merath lifted her head, then she glanced at Simon before speaking.

"He brought trouble wherever he went in Shadowgrave Academy. Within days, he had students fighting him, factions turning against him, and weaker demons paying him to leave them alone."

Her voice grew sharper as she continued.

"He threatened anyone who got in his way. You saw how he spoke to the council without respect. He’s a walking calamity."

"There’s also the Shadow Monarch’s descendant," Joren added. "Thorgan. According to Merath, they were close. Thorgan even called him his brother. Then Blackmoon killed him."

Simon’s expression didn’t change.

He wasn’t going to explain Thorgan to these two.

Ancestral Elder Black Tide leaned his head on a fist.

"What are you proposing?"

"That we stop negotiating with him. Take the bloodline evolution method, then kill him. His blood and corpse can strengthen Daemons who actually serve The Abyss."

Joren bowed slightly.

"Let that be his repayment for my brother and the Shadow Monarch’s descendant."

Before anybody could respond, a laugh escaped Simon.

Joren turned toward him. Above them, Grand Elder Golden Tyrant’s eyes shifted to Simon, while Merath looked at him with a frown.

"Are you as stupid as your brother, or is that a family trait?"

A vein rose beside Joren’s forehead.

"What did you say?"

"The elders were about to make an offer for my bloodline evolution method. I can accept it or ask for something else. I can’t force them to empty the treasury for me."

Simon glanced toward the raised seats.

"They decide what they’re willing to pay. But you want them to abandon that, dirty their hands, and hope whatever they tear out of my head is complete and whole."

"The elders have ways-"

"And what if there’s something about the method that only I can explain even after extracting the method from me? How exactly do you expect me to respond when I’m dead?"

Joren’s mouth tightened, and Ancestral Elder White Death’s lips curved.

Simon looked back at Joren.

"Grand Elder Dread Crown offered to negotiate. Are you explaining his mistake to him?"

"I never said that."

"Then ask for revenge. At least that would be honest."

The Lie Eater’s tongue moved between them. Joren glanced toward Grand Elder Dread Crown, but the elder made no attempt to rescue him from the exchange.

Merath stepped forward.

"Do you actually expect them to trust that you’d have the Abyss’ best interests at heart? After what you did to Jorra and Thorgan?"

Simon turned toward her.

"Tell them what you thought you were doing when you held him in front of that attack."

Her expression darkened.

"You made me see-"

"Me. You thought you were holding me."

"You placed me under an illusion!"

"Yes. You thought you were killing me. Being bad at it doesn’t make you innocent."

Merath’s left hand clenched.

"He would be alive if you hadn’t interfered!"

"And I would be dead. It’s as simple as that."

She took another step, then stopped when Grand Elder Golden Tyrant looked at her.

Simon hadn’t denied arranging Jorra’s death. There was no need to waste words disputing something the council had already verified.

He simply wanted them to remember what Merath had intended.

"You’re trying to distract us," Joren said.

"From you asking twelve elders to avenge your brother?"

"From the danger you pose to The Abyss."

Simon’s smile thinned.

From the moment Joren entered, his Seed of Wrath had responded to the hatred directed at him. The careful bows and respectful words hadn’t hidden it.

"You’ve wanted to kill me since you walked in. Stop pretending this is about anything else."

Joren’s pale eyes hardened.

"Then stop asking them to do it," Simon added. "Do it yourself."

The ring on Joren’s right hand caught the light in the hall as his fingers curled.

"You forget who you’re speaking to. I’m one of the Abyss Blessed."

"I heard. Does that mean someone else fights your battles too?"

Joren drew a slow breath through his nose.

"With the council’s permission, I challenge you to a battle to the death."

Enigma turned toward him.

Simon looked almost pleased.

"A Superior Demon Lord challenging a Prime Greater Demon," Grand Elder Night Widow said. "Are you certain, Joren?"

The smile beneath her veil was audible.

"Yes, Grand Elder Night Widow. I don’t believe he’s nearly as capable as he wants us to think."

"Did you miss the report about the God of War?" Ancestral Elder Bone Prophet asked. "Blackmoon drove him into retreat."

Joren faltered.

For a moment, his gaze moved to Enigma.

"The god was inside a mortal vessel," he said. "He couldn’t use his full strength."

"No," Enigma replied. "But I fought him. You should consider that before you continue."

Joren could feel everyone looking at him.

He had already asked for the battle. Withdrawing now would mean doing so because a Greater Demon frightened him.

His ringed hand tightened.

"If Blackmoon could fight that vessel, so could I. The reports may have exaggerated what happened. Perhaps the god retreated for reasons nobody understood."

Enigma’s expression lost its concern.

"I was there."

"I’m not questioning what you saw, Fourth Lord. But I’ve received the Abyss’ Blessing. I know what I can do."

Ancestral Elder Bone Prophet shook his head. Ancestral Elder Silent Plague released a quiet sigh, her antennae lowering.

Joren noticed both reactions. He lifted his chin rather than reconsider.

Grand Elder Dread Crown looked at Simon.

"Do you accept?"

"Yes. But I have a condition."

Grand Elder Golden Tyrant shifted one golden hand in her lap.

"What do you want?"

"Make it public. And once the battle begins, nobody interferes."

Simon looked around the gallery.

"Not even the council."

Grand Elder Golden Tyrant’s hand stopped.

Enigma stared at him with slightly wide eyes. Merath’s anger gave way to confusion, and Joren looked briefly toward the elders before catching himself.

They had expected a demand for compensation, or perhaps something to reduce the difference in cultivation.

Instead, Simon wanted witnesses and nobody to save him.

"Why make it public?" Ancestral Elder White Death asked.

Simon smiled.

"I haven’t been here long. It would make a good debut, wouldn’t it?"

A deep chuckle came from the higher seats.

Grand Elder Red Calamity showed his fangs.

"That would be an introduction worth watching."

Simon met his gaze for a moment.

Grand Elder Red Calamity possessed the Seed of Wrath, and Simon was not surprised that the Grand Elder was most interested in seeing blood.

Grand Elder Dread Crown rested both hands on his armrests.

"Your condition applies to both of you. Once the duel begins, nobody steps in to save either participant. The winner is either determined by the death of the opponent or if the opponent surrenders. The survivor will not be punished for the other’s death."

Simon nodded.

"Good."

He had his reasons for wanting the battle to be made public, and he had a feeling that the elders or some of the elders knew why he wanted to make the duel public.

Grand Elder Dread Crown looked between them.

"Then do you both agree to a public battle to the death under those terms?"

"I agree," Simon answered.

Joren hesitated.

The hall had become very quiet. Merath was watching him, along with Enigma and every elder whose approval he had sought.

He looked at Simon’s relaxed expression and felt his anger rise again.

"I agree."

Grand Elder Dread Crown nodded.

"Then it will be arranged."

Simon turned fully toward Joren.

"Need time to prepare?"

Joren’s jaw tightened then he gave a cold smile.

"Worried already?"

"Not particularly. But if you need to pet your little spirits and tell them to be brave, go ahead. Just don’t take all day."

Beside Joren, the Lie Eater lifted its head. Its divided tongue withdrew between its teeth as Joren’s demonic energy began to stir.

Simon glanced at the spirit, then back at its master.

"Try to keep me entertained longer than your brother did."

Merath’s eyes widened.

Joren stepped toward him, his control finally slipping. Pressure spread across the floor, and his coat lifted around his legs.

"You think you can speak to me like that? I am a Blessed of the Abyss. You will show me-"

Simon took a step forward and disappeared from his sight.

Joren felt the air shift.

Grand Elder Dread Crown’s eyes followed the movement. His hands never left the armrests.

SMACK!

Joren’s head snapped sideways.

He staggered, one foot scraping across the pale floor. Blood appeared at the corner of his mouth before he understood what had happened.

Simon stood beside him, his raised hand covered in plain black wraps.

The Lie Eater twisted toward him. Merath recoiled half a step in shock.

She hadn’t seen Simon’s movement at all.

Joren slowly turned back.

Simon looked at his own hand and flexed his fingers.

"And I just slapped a Blessed of the Abyss. Did my hand fall off my wrist?"