Against Rowan Mercer, Jason Belial had never stood a chance.
Even at the height of his abyssal transformation, even when he unleashed every infernal trick he possessed, the so-called desire apostle had gone down to a single casual strike.
Weak.
Disposable.
But Jason's true value hadn't been in his strength.
It had been in his memories.
While tearing through what remained of Jason's mind, Rowan uncovered something far more interesting than cult dogma or blood-soaked rituals.
Jason had recently accepted a contract.
A mysterious patron had commissioned him to assassinate Duke Nigan.
Under normal circumstances, Jason would have rejected the job outright. He had spent more than a decade crafting the perfect civilian identity. A public assassination of a political titan would erase that life in an instant.
But the payment had been irresistible.
A Blasphemy Card.
Not just any card, but one containing the complete abyssal path from its lowest beginnings to its final apotheosis.
For Jason's family, this was salvation.
They possessed fragments of that path, but only up to a certain point. The higher knowledge had been lost long ago. Without it, their clan had withered under relentless purges by the churches.
Most of their strongest members were dead.
The survivors scattered across cities, hiding like rats.
So Jason gambled everything.
He released his demon hound into the streets, letting it slaughter civilians to draw attention away from himself. While the churches hunted the monster, he planned to strike Duke Nigan.
Afterward, he would disappear forever.
The plan died before it began.
Rowan looked down at Jason's corpse.
"Then you'll serve me instead."
With a single motion, he forced Jason's half-escaping soul back into its body.
Jason's eyes snapped open.
"I'm alive—!"
The realization lasted less than a heartbeat.
His body locked up.
His will evaporated.
Jason Belial became nothing more than a puppet.
Rowan seized control.
Moments later, the puppet stood on open air above Duke Nigan's estate, overlooking the sprawling grounds.
Rowan had no moral hesitation about what he was about to do.
From what he had seen during his nights wandering Beckland, most of the upper nobility deserved a gallows.
Duke Nigan more than most.
As leader of the conservative faction, Nigan represented everything stagnant, cruel, and rotting inside the kingdom.
Rowan had once killed an assassin who targeted Nigan, but only because it had been a paid request.
If left to his own judgment?
He would have let the blade fall.
Nigan's death would weaken the conservatives and clear the path for reformist policies that, while far from noble, at least eased pressure on ordinary people.
The kingdom was divided between two major camps.
Old blood nobles clinging to privilege.
Industrial capitalists pushing rapid change.
Neither side was virtuous.
But one side crushed peasants under tradition.
The other crushed them under factories.
At least the second offered cheaper food, broader employment, and marginally better living conditions.
Rowan suspected he already knew who stood behind this contract.
Not petty businessmen.
Not small-time mystics.
Only forces with terrifying depth could casually use a Blasphemy Card as payment.
The royal family fit that profile perfectly.
They had long supported the reformists.
They also controlled one of the most complete judicial mystical traditions in existence, with top-tier experts hidden in their ranks.
If anyone could acquire one of Roselle's cards and quietly put it to use, it was them.
And if they wanted Duke Nigan dead, they would never dirty their own hands.
Hiring a cultist created the perfect smokescreen.
Rowan activated his perception, surveying the estate.
Guards.
Mystics.
Hidden wards.
Duke Nigan himself was a low-level mystic, but he was never alone.
More troubling was the final layer of protection.
After the previous assassination attempt, the Church of Storms had gifted Nigan a relic. If activated, it would summon their archbishop in seconds.
A safety net Rowan had no intention of testing.
He withdrew the puppet.
"Not enough," Rowan said calmly.
If Jason went in as he was, he would be erased before reaching the target.
Rowan needed to rebuild him.
Strengthen him.
Reshape him.
Tonight, Duke Nigan would still die.
But first, Rowan would turn a failed cultist into a proper weapon.