Orson remained unmoved, fully aware of the true power behind the Master-Servant Contract. It not only forced subordinates to obey but also subjected them to horrific hellish tortures.
“Orgod… you can’t do this to me!!”
Veijander’s eyes widened in terror as he let out a screeching wail, his mouth pulling forth a white mist.
The demonic souls within the Master-Servant Contract began tormenting him on a spiritual level.
If you refuse to obey… then you will be beaten.
And this beating would continue until he finally submitted.
“NPCs of lifestyle type can only operate within set boundaries, so…”
Orson smiled lightly, pausing before adding, “As you said, you will serve me until death.”
“No! Not now… I will restore the Dwarven Empire!”
Veijander’s face had gone pale as he shook his head. Right now, if he left, it would mean certain death. Facing the combined forces of two empires, even his King-tier status wasn’t enough to save him.
“Please, give me the divine fragment, and I will repay you with everything I have!”
Veijander desperately needed more power—power to slay those who dared stand in his way and, most importantly, to become a god-level being and break free from the contract’s shackles!
Only then would his grand dreams come true.
He would become the legendary god-demon supreme of Infinite Dimensions, the subject of endless epic ballads, feared and revered by all!
A flash of resentment crossed his eyes, but Orson coldly smiled.
Such petty schemes could never fool him.
Veijander had grown arrogant, and he had clearly forgotten what it meant to be truly powerful.
He still needed more lesson.
Veijander’s screams once again filled the air, his soul being ripped apart by the torturous binding. He writhed in pain, the brutal punishment taking its toll.
After a while, Veijander, now completely defeated, looked at Orson with a hint of fear.
Orson looked at the monster he had created, shaking his head with a smile.
“Without me, you are just a stinky blacksmith. Without me, you would have amounted to nothing.”
Veijander lowered his head, unable to meet Orson’s cold, piercing gaze. His soul shuddered, wailing in agony.
The pressure he had once felt under Ashen King was nothing compared to the overwhelming fear he felt before Orson.
“Now, stay here and forge the equipment for me.”
Orson smiled again, his fingers absentmindedly playing with the Rune Sigil Stone of Ashes in his hand. “You’ll get it when I’m satisfied.”
With the blood contract punishment finished, Veijander had lost all his kingly pride, carefully following Orson as if he were a mere servant.
Orson summoned the Crimson Lizard King and began heating the Divine Forge, addressing Veijander:
“Disassemble this item.”
“You have submitted an Artifact fragment.”
“You have successfully extracted Flame Astris x1.”
Having absorbed numerous Rune Sigil Stones, Veijander’s forging abilities had reached new heights, easily breaking down the Artifact’s core materials.
“Mighty Orgod, what should we do with this elf?”
Veijander asked, forcing a sycophantic smile as he stepped on the unconscious elven prince.
Orson glanced over, noting that the prince’s health had dropped to less than a million. Killing the elf prince would be easy, but the item drops were another story.
After all, the prince’s fine gear had been destroyed.
And Odin’s failed legendary bow materials were still in his possession. Killing the prince might not guarantee that they would drop.
Besides, with True Sight, Orson knew that part of the Elf Queen’s Statue was also with Aelon.
These items were vital to him.
Perhaps there was another way to handle this.
Kidnap + Threats = Profit.
Perfect.
Orson smiled slightly and raised his hand, summoning a massive water sphere that he slammed onto Aelon’s face.
Aelon, who had just been through a nightmarish ordeal, woke with a start.
“Am I saved?”
He muttered in confusion, his beautiful eyes wide open, still lost in his thoughts.
“Yes, Your Highness, we’ve saved you. How do you intend to thank us for our great assistance?”
Orson leaned forward with a friendly smile.
Veijander raised his hand, placing Artifact Thunderfire across Aelon’s neck, causing the prince to panic and scramble backward.
Then, a huge head appeared, dripping saliva as it neared the prince.
“It’s you! That despicable adventurer!” Aelon glared at Orson, his face a mix of anger and fear.
Orson feigned surprise, sighing deeply.
“Don’t be so harsh. If it were any other adventurer who saw a nearly-dead boss, they would have taken a knife to your skull already.”
Veijander chimed in, agreeing.
“Yes, yes, mighty Orgod is merciful! If it were me, I would have chopped you into pieces by now!”
Aelon’s instincts screamed, and he reached for his sword, intending to strike at Orson, but he awkwardly ended up grabbing a soft thigh instead.
His pants were nearly burned off by the Cursed Fiend’s flames.
The scene turned into an awkward mess.
Orson clicked his tongue. Elves were known for their beauty, especially the Light and Wind Elves.
Back in the day, players adored elf NPCs, spending a fortune on them.
Aelon, though an elf prince, seemed almost feminine under closer inspection.
Orson felt a chill run through him.
Ever since the Crimson Lizard King had become more attractive, his standards had shattered.
“Look at me. I’ve been so good to you.”
Orson continued his manipulative speech, trying to brainwash Aelon.
“I helped remove Odin, saving both of us from being used as pawns. You should be grateful.”
“Indeed, Your Excellency is right!”
Veijander chimed in, helping to convince the confused Aelon.
Then—
“No! You killed my Trina!”
Aelon’s expression shifted, and suddenly the memories of Trina’s death flooded back.
It was this adventurer who had been responsible!
“Ah? You’ve remembered, huh?” Orson said, slightly surprised.
It seemed Aelon had developed a soft spot for Trina, the Domain Lord elf.
This new realization took away Orson’s interest in manipulating him further.
“I’ll kill you, you damn adventurer!”
Aelon’s rage exploded as he tried to stand and strangle Orson.
“How dare you disrespect Orgod!”
But Veijander, being the loyal worker, would never let that happen.
With a swift motion, he stomped on Aelon’s perfect face, his massive foot landing with a crushing force.
Aelon’s mouth bled, and in the pain, some semblance of rationality returned.
This giant dwarf was even more terrifying than Ashen King.
“Do you want to live, noble prince?”
Orson smiled brightly, while Veijander, in the background, nervously swallowed, feeling a cold sweat form on his back.
He, the first dwarf demon god, had been created by this man, who was more terrifying than any demon.
It was a lesson he had learned well.
“Return Trina! Give her back to me!”
Aelon’s eyes were bloodshot, as he struggled and shouted angrily.
Orson shrugged, saying, “You’ve been shouting for a while now, but your survival instincts seem lacking, Veijander.”
“On it!”
Veijander grinned evilly, raising his axe.
Aelon screamed, as Veijander’s blow came down.
SWISH!
Disabling Strike -500,000!
The horrific scream echoed through the forge.
Orson turned around in confusion, hearing a bizarre cry—it sounded nothing like the cry of a Saint Lord-Class.
“Wait… I told you to cut his leg, not—”
“Yep, I cut his leg.”
Veijander’s smile was savage, as he looked down at Aelon, who was writhing in agony.
Orson stood there, stunned, speechless.
Aelon’s once handsome face was now a twisted mess of pain.
[Aelon has proposed a negotiation.]
“If you spare him, he will do anything to meet your demands.”
The notification rang in Orson’s ears. He stood there, still processing, as Veijander’s smile twisted into a grin.
It was clear—he had created a true monster.