Chapter 7: Nothing Comes for Free

  Two days later, on the Mountain of Plague and Misfortune, Justinian listened intently to the words of Ignatius, who was explaining the basics of the path to immortal cultivation.

  "All around us is an energy that allows living beings to grow in strength, called ki," the devil lectured.

  His tweed suit, complete with elbow patches, went wonderfully with his lush hairstyle.

  "Cultivation is the assimilation of this energy, to later use it for one's own purposes."

  The boy listening to him nodded his head.

  "Where does it come from?" he asked, genuinely curious about the mechanism behind it.

  Ignatius looked at him, narrowing his eyes and… answered only with an awkward silence.

  ‘How the hell am I supposed to know?’ – the last two sentences had practically exhausted all the theory he remembered.

  He had never been interested in academics himself, and knowledge had never been required of him before.

  ‘But that’s no problem…’ – he smiled broadly.

  After all, he had gotten out of worse situations in his life, so despite his humiliating ignorance, he once again adopted the posture of a majestic mentor. He looked at Justinian with a serious gaze, as if disappointed that his adept was asking him such banal questions, and theatrically shook his head.

  "And what do you think?"

  The young man, of course, had no clue.

  He felt the pressure of Ignatius's gaze, however, and believing these were basics he should know, he strained his brain to the point that sweat appeared on his temples.

  "Is it the effect of good and evil?" he finally asked, unsure of himself.

  He had been raised in the faith of the Great Order and Justice, so his thoughts naturally gravitated toward that.

  Hearing this answer, the devil mysteriously shook his head, as if deliberately leaving him with his uncertainty.

  "The first stage of cultivation is Ki Gathering, which consists of five marks. Each mark symbolizes the amount of ki absorbed and the level of power wielded by the cultivator," he finally said in a sinister tone.

  In reality, he was feeling increasingly bored with the lecture.

  ‘This is just a backup option anyway, in case I can't find a better representative adept before the start of the holy pilgrimage...’ he thought. – ‘If I go with this naive boy, it will be a catastrophe.’

  In his heart, he still held out hope that he would soon get rid of his wretched nickname and bribe someone actually good to represent him.

  At the moment, however, he had to rely on this human, so he instructed him on how to begin his training.

  "Swear to the stone that you will cultivate with it, so that it may reveal its secrets to you."

  Justinian nodded and spoke the incantation.

  In response, the stone twitched and began to shimmer with a bright light. It didn't take long for it to start changing its form. To the consternation of both, however, it was not the expected scroll with wise advice, but... a completely empty notebook.

  Inside, it contained an elegant fountain pen, and the title page read "The Ledger of Transgressions and Redress."

  ‘What is this supposed to be?!’ Ignatius puzzled.

  He thought so intensely that sweat soon appeared on his back.

  ‘Alright, that's enough!’ he finally got irritated. – ‘There’s clearly something wrong with this boy, and let's leave it at that.’

  Affirming his decision that it was time to look for someone new, he cleared his throat loudly and put on his typical, haughty expression.

  "My congratulations. You have now entered the path of immortality and should focus on hard work," he said, after which… he turned and gracefully floated into the air.

  He wanted to get out of there immediately, but he felt the boy was still watching him expectantly. Thus, to avoid losing face, he added some empty words.

  "Cultivation is a powerful tool. To understand it, you must learn the essence of life and walk this path on your own. The pool of wisdom will help you with this," he pointed to the useless, dried-up fountain.

  He knew full well that the only thing it could cause now was insomnia.

  "But..." Justinian wanted to say something else.

  The devil, however, simply waved his hand.

  "If you really turn out to be too weak to pass this test alone, you can always just give up… or look for help in the volunteer labor corps for devils, between the mountains," he threw out carelessly, then disappeared completely.

  Of course, he only did this to discourage the boy, so that he would give up on his own. He pointed out the labor corps because the regulations gave extra points for it in the mountain rankings.

  Bewildered by the situation, Justinian sat down in front of the pool. Problem number one was the issue of starting cultivation.

  ‘There's no way I'm giving up!’

  The previous night, he had again been tormented by nightmares of his burning home. Of Sister Teresa's death. Of the necessity of administering justice so that the world could be as it should be.

  Motivated by a thirst for revenge, he decided to recall everything he knew about cultivators. ‘Don't they absorb energy from their surroundings to do great things?’

  It was easier said than done, however. Despite trying to completely clear his mind of thoughts, and visualising breathing in the energy, he felt no change.

  What's more, his head soon began to ache from excessive concentration.

  ‘This is like banging my head against a wall!’ he finally concluded, irritated. – ‘That devil doesn't seem very trustworthy either...’.

  From time to time, the boy noticed a strange clumsiness and panic in his eyes.

  Ultimately, he sighed heavily. He needed more information, and on top of that, he was starting to get hungry again. After some hesitation, he concluded that it would be best to see this labor corps the devil had mentioned.

  After descending from the mountain, which took him half an hour, he easily spotted the job office building. It was a quite modern structure with large windows, reminiscent of human cafes. Various types of devils—from those with claws instead of fingers to very horned ones—were talking, sitting on chairs and enjoying the day's smoggy weather.

  "Adept's card?" the older she-devil at the reception asked in a dry tone.

  He was clearly not welcome here. The boy, however—to everyone's surprise—nodded and handed over his card.

  "This is… a representative's card?" the shocked receptionist managed to stammer. She had never heard of a representative looking for work at the VLC.

  "Yes." Justinian, of course, did not know any of this.

  "Preferences and skills?" the she-devil asked, with a now faintly detectable note of respect in her voice.

  The young man thought for a moment.

  "The client should be a cultivator."

  ‘Only from someone like that can I learn more…’ he thought.

  He quickly received a folder with available jobs, which he reviewed at a table.

  The first one, unfortunately, confirmed his fears about hell.

  ‘: hiring for pranking innocent humans of the dimension!’

  Special rewards were given if one threw fishermen into ponds, and if drunkards lost their way home in the dark. Devils were known for such atrocities in his kingdom.

  Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.

  The second offer concerned representation in a duel of words and required creativity, which he felt he lacked.

  To his surprise, however, he soon found something that did not offend his sense of justice.

  ‘Junior Matchmaking Specialist for an Infernal Nobleman?’.

  The boy knew nothing about matchmaking, but he preferred it to shameful deeds.

  ‘But these requirements are a bit out of this world…’ he noted. – ‘On the one hand, they want someone young, but with several years of experience… plus references? Also good command of 3 romantic languages? Are these requirements for a junior matchmaker or the head of diplomacy?!’

  When he informed the reception which job he was choosing, he caused some surprise, but ultimately, he was put in touch with the nobleman's entourage.

  After a quarter of an hour, a stylish black carriage, upholstered inside with dyed leathers and pulled by two black horses with fiery manes, arrived in front of the building.

  "Which one is it?!" shouted the old coachman driving the carriage. He had ptosis in one eye. – "Who dared to accept the commission of Lord Seweryn the Sarmatian?!" he shouted again, outraged.

  Justinian got a little scared.

  ‘Maybe I should back out?’ he wondered, but the devils around him quickly pointed him out.

  ‘What snitches!’ he gritted his teeth but stepped forward.

  "What do you think you're..." the coachman was already shouting when he saw the young, skinny human.

  The devil looked him up and down, then… burst out laughing loudly.

  "Get in, boy, my master is waiting!"

  To the young human's surprise, the coachman seemed quite friendly on the way. Unfortunately, talking about the weather proved difficult, as for Justinian the suffocating smog was something awful, while for the devil—a wonderful atmosphere. Eventually, however, they found common ground.

  "Did you know that Lord Seweryn spent his peregrinatio academica* in the human world?" the devil asked.

  Justinian was a bit surprised, but curiosity got the better of him.

  "And how did that affect him?"

  The coachman sighed heavily. "In two ways. He's supposedly gentler, so he doesn't train us with sticks like the previous master. But these new fascinations of his... For example, this mission. The master has decided that only women and infernal minorities can be admitted to it. He says it's a policy of diversification and equality, and also exclusion? Well, something like that anyway…"

  As he was pondering, they soon arrived at their destination. Justinian was greeted by the sight of a great castle that climatically matched old human buildings. Nevertheless, the scale of the building was impressive.

  "Have you ever seen a more beautiful manor, boy?" the old driver asked in parting.

  The guest had to answer truthfully that he had not. "It seems a bit neglected, though," he noticed. Splinters of wood were scattered in the courtyard, and the walls were soiled with bird droppings.

  "Well..." the coachman just shrugged. The boy, meanwhile, was led before the so-called Seweryn the Sarmatian XVI.

  As he walked through the old corridors, he noticed that the fields surrounding the castle shimmered in the sun with grain. Among them was also the local kind, used to make medicines. If Justinian had looked at it more closely, he would have been shocked. It was the exact same grain he had found abandoned in the Kingdom of Peace on the day of the cathedral explosion.

  The lord of the manor greeted him with a smile from the start. "Aren't you a bit too young for such a mission, little fish?" Seweryn asked cheerfully, stroking his freshly shaven chin.

  Shaving was a new fashion he had picked up in the human world, and one he was fighting—with poor results so far—to introduce in hell.

  "I was intrigued by the content of the ad. Whether I'm too young, we shall see," Justinian replied.

  The man nodded and told him about his problem. He had his eye on a chosen lady, with whom he had exchanged fleeting pleasant glances for several years, but their relationship could never advance. "The heart wants what it wants," he claimed, patting his chest.

  "What do you want as a reward for your help?!" Seweryn asked with a serious eye.

  "I need help with cultivation," Justinian said, going into detail. Lord Sarmatian listened to the story, and they quickly agreed on payment for a successful resolution of the matter.

  "May I ask, what is so special about her?" Justinian asked about Miss Wachowska.

  "You may, but this is a good occasion for a feast!" the nobleman answered cheerfully.

  He whistled for the servants, who began to prepare the table. Soon, mead and food were brought. Justinian had never participated in a feast, but seeing how lavishly they served, he wondered why the manor looked neglected.

  ‘Even some of the forks seem unwashed...’.

  Soon, however, sugar sculptures were brought, which diverted his attention. It didn't take more than an hour until the nobleman, the boy, and the servants were completely drunk.

  "Have you ever seen a better feast?" the Sarmatian asked, proud of himself.

  "N-never," the boy, barely coherent, answered truthfully.

  "Ha, that's because feasting is our most beautiful tradition!" the lord of the manor explained. – "In other hells, there's nothing like it! The devils there are so disgusted by each other's faces that they have no regard for the community of the table!"

  "But getting back to your question..." his interlocutor burped. "Miss Wachowska is a decent she-devil and a hostess known throughout half the dimension! And she's not that old either, who wouldn't want someone like that?!"

  The informal atmosphere of the drinking party was interrupted by the agitated voice of a newly arrived lackey: "My lord! An adept from Greedius's mountain requests an audience!"

  "Then what are you waiting for, you fool?! Bring her in here immediately!"

  The servant nodded, and shortly thereafter, the adept appeared in the hall. She was about twenty years old, had blonde hair, prominent features, and a direct gaze, which together made for an impressive beauty.

  ‘Aside from her red skin and a slightly sharp face, she's not particularly different from human girls…’ the boy noticed, blushing a little from the mead.

  "Greetings to the honorable Seweryn XVI the Sarmatian. I am Belisara, and I come here as an adept from the Mountain of Envy and Conflagration" the she-devil bowed according to etiquette. – "I would be happy to take on the task of being a matchmaker."

  The lord of the manor nodded in approval. ‘Clearly, the teaching on Greedius's mountain is of a high standard. Wonderful behavior, not like that Empty-headed fool's adept...’ he concluded in his mind.

  He hesitated for a moment whether to send the human away, but ultimately, he clapped his hands with a smile.

  "That's fantastic, I was just sending this young man to represent me," here he pointed to Justinian. – "You will join him. I see you have already reached the first level in cultivation, so your reward will be guidance on Ki Gathering."

  The she-devil looked genuinely moved and bowed once more.

  "And don't even try to come back here if she serves you a black liqueur!" the drunk Seweryn added after a moment of thought.

  "Liqueur?" Justinian asked, surprised.

  Here the master of the house looked expectantly at Belisara, who, clearly surprised, shook her head.

  "I-I'm too young to know something like that!" she said, blushing.

  So the nobleman sighed at the quality of today's youth's education.

  "It's a symbol of refusal. If she pours a black-colored alcohol into your glass, it means your mission has failed."

  Soon, so as not to waste time, the adepts were led out by the servants.

  "Wachowska's estate is further in this direction," the lackey pointed with his hand. – "A day or two's journey before you enter her lands. Then another day until you reach the homestead."

  "Has this matchmaking business been going on for a long time?" the boy asked.

  The lackey looked at him. "It's been about a month since Lord Seweryn decided. He has rather specific... requirements. But no, two people appeared before you who accepted the commission and disappeared."

  Belisara frowned. "What happened to them?"

  The lackey just shook his head.

  "Who can know? Maybe they just ran off with the gift, or maybe Wachowska gave them a hard time? Or maybe..." – he paused. – "...the old legends about the ghostly forest have some truth to them?"

  On the way, Justinian cast shy, furtive glances in Belisara's direction.

  ‘No wonder the church warns so often against temptation by the devil!’ he thought, a bit ashamed to reach such conclusion.

  Since they were traveling in silence and he was happy to take the opportunity to talk, he struck up a conversation: "Are you from the Mountain of Envy and Conflagration? What's it like there?"

  The she-devil looked at him with one eye, not very interested. "Hell is hell. It could be worse."

  Seeing her lack of interest, he scratched his head and told her something about himself.

  "I'm from the Mountain of Plague and Misfortune, but I'm new to hell, so I don't know the local customs."

  This time, she didn't even grant him a glance, which made him a little irritated.

  ‘Who does she think she is?’ Justin thought, indignant.

  He was all the more embarrassed because he hadn't had many opportunities to chat with girls.

  So they both walked in silence for a good two hours, until a village appeared on the horizon. Then Justinian spoke again:

  "I'd like to talk to these villagers."

  "We don't have ti—"

  "Something is not right with our task. An engagement embassy seems like a trivial matter. Seweryn himself and his servants looked pessimistic. And then there are those two missing matchmakers...".

  Belisara, who had come to similar conclusions, agreed after a brief hesitation.

  "Lord Seweryn? Why, he's a fantastic gentleman!" "A devil like him is the salt of the earth!" the infernal villagers crowed in delight, even though the village looked neglected.

  "And Miss Wachowska?" Justinian asked.

  The atmosphere immediately cooled. The woman he asked this question even spat: "Pah on that old demoness! So picky that she doesn't want any devil, and soon she'll have three hundred years on her neck!" The crowd immediately began to complain.

  "Everyone lives well under Lord Seweryn, but under her?! Just skinny things, with no fat on their bones!" someone shouted.

  Justinian watched this, slightly scared. "And you, young migrant, what are you sweating for?! Have you heard that nonsense too?!" someone asked him. The boy, smiling stiffly, shook his head and retreated, clearly panicked.

  "Hahaha!" Belisara laughed quite unexpectedly upon seeing this.

  "And what about the other matchmakers?" the she-devil inquired.

  "Oh, there were some here," an old woman spoke up. – "But when they heard they had to go through the ghostly forest, they vanished immediately…".

  Much more quietly, she added: "Sometimes a demon just eats someone there...".

  They found a hole in a field for the night. Justinian, experienced in camping, gave a few tips to the lost Belisara. "See this grain? You can twist it into a pretty comfortable pillow."

  Soon, they both had a makeshift shelter. The awkward silence was broken by the she-devil. "I saw you panic earlier." Justinian just gave her an indignant look. "How do you like the sky here?" she asked quietly.

  Justinian looked up. One glance was enough for his eyes to widen. There were far, far more stars in the infernal dimension than in the human world. The sky, studded with so many shining points, filled him with awe. At the same time, he felt uneasy that he liked the terrible hell so much. "Quite, quite nice..." he said very slowly.

  Belisara easily sensed his actual admiration. "Have you ever seen a prettier one?" she asked provocatively. Silence answered her.

  "What do you think about this ghostly forest?" Justinian brought up another topic.

  "The villagers didn't know what exact demon it was, so maybe we'll get lucky. But the whole thing doesn't sound very good...".

  "And Wachowska?"

  "She doesn't seem to be very liked around here, but Seweryn seemed sincere to me."

  Silence fell again for a moment. "You asked earlier about the Mountain of Envy and Conflagration..." the she-devil took up unexpectedly. – "Adepts are accepted here without any requirements, which is why there are more of us than anywhere else in the dimension." She paused for a moment, sighing heavily. – "Due to the lack of resources for everyone, the easiest target is to prey on the weaker ones."

  "What country in the human dimension are you from?" she asked him after some time.

  "From the Kingdom of Peace," he gasped, then yawned at length. He didn't notice how, for a split second, the she-devil's face froze. He soon fell asleep.

  An hour later, when Belisara was sure that Justinian was asleep, she rose from her bedding and silently approached the sleeping human. Hostility flashed in her eyes as a knife slid out of her sleeve. Nevertheless, she hesitated a little as she raised it, ready to plunge it into Justinian's neck. Before she lowered the blade, the conflict on her face became even more pronounced. It looked as if two concepts were fighting for leadership.

  'Preying on those weaker than me... is not my path.'

  Ultimately, she backed away, sighed quietly, and hid the blade back in her sleeve.

  *Peregrinatio academica - educational journey undertook by Polish nobles ('szlachta') during their youth. Mostly to top universities abroad.