Martial Arts Vs Magic - Chapter 132

Chapter 132: The Devil's Coin

The modest hut felt smaller with three people crowded around the low table, but somehow warmer for it. Steam rose from bowls of lamb stew—Rafin's specialty, seasoned with desert herbs that made my tongue tingle. Through the open door, the irrigation channels caught the late afternoon sun like veins of molten gold.

"And then the Baron turned into this massive lizard thing, Father! Scales the size of dinner plates, teeth like daggers—"

"Lailah," Rafin chuckled, spooning more stew into his bowl. "You're making it sound like a fairy tale."

"It was like a fairy tale. The terrifying kind where people actually die."

"So then," Lailah gestured wildly a minute later, nearly knocking over her water cup, "this massive serpent spirit just... dissolved into me. Like I was some kind of spiritual sponge!"

Rafin's weathered face cycled through expressions. Pride, worry, disbelief. His daughter recounted our adventures. Near the window, Vyrn preened his spectral feathers while a shimmer in the air marked Azahira's presence. Now that my Demonic Sphere was back, I could perceive the wind spirit clearly, a translucent figure of swirling sand and gentle breezes, watching over Lailah with protectiveness.

The sight brought an unexpected smile to my lips. Even spirits, it seemed, craved companionship.

"But Father, you should have seen me fight!" Lailah continued, her voice bright with pride. "I created wind blades sharp enough to cut stone, and I could feel the water calling to me from miles away. The power... it was intoxicating."

Rafin's weathered face creased with worry. "Power often is, my dear. Your mother used to say the same thing. Don’t let it sway you away."

"Speaking of power," I interjected, reaching for another piece of bread, "you might want to sit down for this next part, Rafin."

Lailah grinned, practically bouncing in place. "Father, guess what level I am now."

"Well, when you left you were... seven? So now, you’re perhaps fifteen since the journey was dangerous?" Rafin scratched his graying beard. "Twenty, maybe?"

"Sixty-six."

The spoon clattered from Rafin's hand, splashing stew across the floor. "W-what?! You're Level 66? I-isn't that 6th Ascension?"

Lailah laughed, the sound bright as temple bells. "No, father. Fifth Ascension. Sixth starts at Level 75." She reached across to squeeze his hand. "I know it sounds impossible—"

"Impossible?" Rafin rubbed the back of his head with a nervous laugh, disturbing his thinning hair. "My daughter, who used to cry when she scraped her knee, is now..." He turned to me, eyes wide with a father's concern. "Then what is your Level?"

I looked up from the flatbread I'd been methodically destroying, mouth full. After a moment's chewing, I swallowed and shrugged. "Oh, Level 100. Reached it two days ago."

The silence that followed was profound enough to hear sand shifting outside.

"No way." Rafin's voice came out strangled. "How old are you?"

"Uh, twenty."

"You're younger than Lailah?!"

"You're younger than me?!"

Both father and daughter stared at me with identical expressions of shock. I couldn't help the laugh coming from my throat.

"How did I not know this?" Lailah's voice pitched higher with indignation. "I pride myself on knowing things! Didn't you say you were a student at Waybound?"

"Well, I am. A first-year student. Kids my age are usually twenty, some twenty-one." I tore off another piece of bread, using it to soak up the rich stew. "What, did you think I was lying about that too?"

"I thought you'd be a fourth year or something!" She threw her hands up. "You act so... so..."

"Mature? Worldly? Incredibly Humble?"

"Mhm, all of the above," she finished with a sweet smile. "But you're telling me you're barely out of your teens and already...?" She gestured vaguely at all of me.

"Aren’t you just twenty-one? Stop pretending. And honestly, age is just a number when you've died and come back as many times as I have." The joke came out darker than intended, but Rafin's nervous chuckle broke the tension.

Rafin spoke next. "Twenty years old and Level 100. In my day, reaching Level 20 by thirty was considered remarkable." He shook his head in wonder. "The world has certainly changed."

“Seems like it.”

"Speaking of change," the old farmer said, his voice carefully neutral, "it feels very odd, knowing Sahlizar is gone. So many years that man cast a shadow over our lives, and now..."

"Now he's fertilizer," Lailah said with savage satisfaction. "I killed him myself." Her silver-blue eyes flicked to me. "Even if Iskandaar helped."

Rafin's eyes were warm as he looked at his daughter, and then at me. Lailah smiled, seeing her father’s expression, before it dropped. "Not everything is safe though." Lailah's expression sobered. "The Prince will definitely come for us. We can't stay here."

The fear that crept into Rafin's eyes made my chest tighten. This man had sheltered me, fed me, and treated me like family when I was nothing but a broken stranger. Now my very presence endangered everything he'd built.

"Where could we go?" His voice was small, lost. "This land, these fields... they're all I know."

"Father," Lailah leaned forward, excitement replacing worry. "There's a place. A city that floats in the sky, filled with wonders you can't imagine. Gardens that tend themselves, fountains that sing, and—"

"You're welcome in Nevaramis," I interrupted gently. "As Lailah's father, you'd have a place of honor. The growing districts need someone who understands the earth."

Rafin's laugh was awkward, disbelieving. "A floating city? Like from the old stories?"

"Better than the stories," Lailah assured him. "It's real, father. I've walked its streets, drunk coffee in its shops, and bathed in its royal tubs!"

"Since you're used to living away from civilization," I added, "the isolation shouldn't be a problem, right?"

"No, of course not." His excitement was palpable now, eyes bright with possibility. "To see such wonders before I die..." But then his expression shifted, growing serious. "But, uh… Since things have come this far... since Lailah has grown so strong..." He stood abruptly. "There's something I must show you."

Lailah and I exchanged curious glances as Rafin moved to his simple bed. With effort, he began dragging it aside.

"Let me help—" Lailah raised her hand, water beginning to coalesce.

"No." His voice was firm. "This is something I must do myself."

We watched in silence as he cleared the space and began digging with his bare hands. The earth came away easily—this was clearly not the first time he'd accessed whatever lay beneath. Finally, his fingers found purchase on something solid.

A small wooden box emerged, ancient and worn smooth by countless touches. Rafin's hands trembled as he opened it.

Inside, nestled in faded silk, lay a single gold coin. But this was no ordinary currency. The metal seemed to pulse with inner light, and the serpent coiled across its surface appeared to move when I wasn't looking directly at it.

"This," Rafin's voice was reverent, "is a Devil Coin. Your mother left it with me before... before she left."

"What does it do?" Lailah leaned forward, mesmerized.

"It allows me to establish a connection with her." He paused, swallowing hard. "Though only once."

"...Huh?"

The word hung in the air like a prayer. I set down my bowl, suddenly understanding where this was heading.

"Your mother isn't dead, Lailah." The words fell like stones into still water. "Well, she is—she was killed—but she mostly chose to die. She had to return to the Underworld, and the only way was to shed her physical body and return in spiritual form. In human terms, yes, she died. I haven't been acting these years, being sad. But it's like how people believe they'll meet loved ones in the afterlife and still grieve. Except I know for certain your mother is out there, in the Underworld."

"F-father..." Lailah's voice broke. "Are you serious?! Why didn't you tell me before?!"

"I did tell you we'd meet her in the afterlife," he defended weakly. "But yes, your mother asked me not to tell you unless you were strong. She didn't want to force this blood on you, Lailah. But now that it's awakened..." He held out the coin. "We can call her once. From what she mentioned, she wanted you to call her once you became strong, so the Cult of Leviathan Devils could take you in. You'd be their Holy Saintess."

Holy Saintess? I kept my expression neutral, but my mind raced. That wasn't a title given lightly. Lailah's mother wasn't just some escaped devil; she was nobility, possibly royalty. The political implications were staggering.

"I..." Lailah looked at me, lost. "S-should I?"

I shrugged, keeping my tone casual despite the magnitude of the moment. "Do it. Your mother... I think she's a big shot if her blood alone can elevate you to Holy Saintess of the Leviathan Church. That position would benefit you immensely. They'll teach you about your lineage, your true capabilities."

She drew a shaky breath, closed her eyes, and nodded. Taking the coin from her father's weathered hands, she channeled her energy into it.

The effect was immediate and spectacular. The coin blazed with light, levitating from her palm. The golden glow intensified, coalescing into the translucent torso of a woman so beautiful it hurt to look at her directly. Scales like black pearls traced her cheekbones, and her eyes held depths that had never known sunlight.

“Ah…” a confused, ethereal voice came from the hologram. Then recognition settled in her eyes, emotions filling them. “My child?”

Lailah and Rafin became a crying mess in a second. I stood smoothly, recognizing a private moment when I saw one. "I'll give you some family time."

****

The desert evening painted everything in shades of amber and shadow. I sat cross-legged near the irrigation channels, cracking pistachios between my fingers and watching the sun die. The sound of crying drifted from the hut, joy and sorrow mixed until they were indistinguishable.

Twenty minutes later, footsteps approached. 

Both Lailah and Rafin emerged, eyes red-rimmed but smiling. Without warning, Lailah launched herself at me, arms wrapping around my neck.

I stiffened, catching Rafin's eye over her shoulder. The old farmer nodded, a small smile playing at his lips. Permission granted, apparently. I relaxed, returning the embrace and running a hand down her back in what I hoped was a comforting gesture.

"Did the talk go well?" I asked against her hair.

"You should have been there," she mumbled into my shoulder, voice thick with recent tears. "I wanted to introduce you."

The thought of being formally introduced to a Devil Noble as... what? Lailah's friend? The man who'd led her into danger? I chuckled. "Who knows, we might visit the Underworld someday. I'll meet her then."

She pulled back slightly, and I was struck again by how the tears made her eyes shine like quicksilver. Before either of us could speak, my Demonic Sphere pulsed a warning.

Multiple presences, approaching fast. Disciplined movements, practiced concealment. Professionals.

I was on my feet before the first robed figure crested the dune, positioning myself between them and Rafin. My hand didn't go to my sword—not yet—but Demonic Qi coiled ready beneath my skin.

They surrounded us with military precision, two dozen figures in sand-colored robes that made them nearly invisible against the desert backdrop. I tensed, ready to unleash hell, when one stepped forward and raised empty hands.

"Caution is needless, Heavenly Demon." A woman's voice, cultured and calm. She pulled back her hood and dropped to one knee, not before me, but facing Rafin. "Husband of our Lady. You have finally used the coin."

Rafin's tension melted into recognition. "Senna? Is that really you?"

The woman smiled as she stood. She was completely bald, with serpentine features that marked her as lizard-blooded, perhaps Jinn, as scales traced her jawline like jewelry, and her eyes held that distinctive reptilian cast. But unlike Lailah's aquatic features, hers spoke of sand and stone, a different breed of leviathan entirely.

"The Lady sounded excited for the first time in years when she reached out to us," Senna said warmly. "She's happy to see your face after so long, Lord Rafin." Her gaze shifted to Lailah, and something like reverence entered her expression. "Such purity... It seems the time has come." She bowed deeply. "It's an incredible fate to meet you here, young lady. I am Senna Korthalis, Hierarch of the Cult of Leviathan."

[Senna Korthalis, Leviathan Worshipper, Level 151]

Looks like I can see some extra attributes now. But that’s not the important bit. She said Hierarch, right? Not just any cultist, but their highest-ranking member.  It was impressive that this cult had an 8th Ascension leader, meaning Lailah’s mother had to be 9th Ascension. Then those golden, serpentine eyes found me, and her expression shifted again.

"And you..."

"Hello." I kept my tone light, though every instinct screamed readiness.

"It's an honor to meet the Heavenly Demon, Slayer of the Outer God." She bowed so deeply her forehead nearly touched the sand.

That caught me off guard. "Slayer is a stretch, but thank you. How did you—"

"The Underworld watches the Mortal Realm with great interest, especially when it involves Gods, be it of this world or others. You’re someone who managed what should be impossible." She straightened, studying me with those unnerving eyes. "You interest many parties below."

"Delightful," I muttered, then louder: "Lailah is my dear friend, my savior. So I want details about this 'Saintess' role she's to play."

Senna's expression flickered—surprise that I'd dare demand information, calculation as she weighed her response. "Normally, we wouldn't discuss such matters with an outsider, but the Lady has given us permission to speak freely before you."

What followed was a crash course in Devil politics and religious hierarchy. The Cult of Leviathan, one of several organizations similar to the Churches of the 72 Devil Pillars, required a new Saintess to perform specific rituals and serve as a bridge between realms. The training would be intensive—

"Three months of seclusion," Senna explained. "Complete isolation while we attune her to the deeper mysteries. But once complete, she'll be able to communicate with her mother at will. The connection, once established, is permanent."

Lailah's face was a study in conflicting emotions, excitement at the prospect of speaking with her mother warring with something else as she glanced at me.

"That's actually good timing," I said, cracking another pistachio. "She does need a break from me."

Her scowl could have curdled milk. "You just want me gone. Admit it."

I laughed, amused by her accusation. "You're a Councilwoman of my Nevaramis." The cultists stirred at that revelation, whispers rippling through their ranks. My next words silenced them completely. "Plus a member of my Cult. How can I let you go?"

"I am a member of your cult?"

"She's a member of your cult?"

Lailah and Senna spoke in perfect unison, equal parts confusion and alarm. I let a whisper of my aura unfurl—not threatening, just present. Demonic. The cultists stepped back instinctively.

"The Heavenly Demon Divine Cult," I said calmly. "It's synonymous with the City of Nevaramis, as I'm the owner of both."

Lailah's expression went through several fascinating permutations. She clearly hadn't agreed to any such thing, but she was kind enough not to contradict me publicly. Her jaw worked silently for a moment before she settled on glaring. A safe, neutral response.

Senna's face was a masterwork of diplomatic control. Having their prospective Saintess already claimed by another cult was... problematic. But after a long moment, she sighed. "That's... acceptable. The Lady mentioned you might be complicated."

"I prefer 'multifaceted.'" I stood, brushing pistachio shells from my robes. "Anyhow, like I said, the timing works perfectly. I need to visit the Gold Dragon Clan to check on a friend. Obviously, I can't take Lailah there. I heard Gold Dragons and you Leviathans have a complicated history."

"Complicated," Senna repeated flatly. "Like 'war that lasted three centuries' complicated?"

"Exactly that complicated, yes."

The negotiations that followed were surprisingly straightforward. The Cult would take Lailah for training, I'd pursue my own business, and we'd reconvene in three months. Lailah would have to fulfil her role as the Saintess from time to time, but outside that, freedom was the reward her mother promised. Simple, clean, no emotional messiness.

"Once you're ready," I told her as the cultists prepared to depart, "just call for Nevaramis. Stratos will send me a prompt asking for permission, and you'll be teleported in."

She nodded, then hesitated. "Iskandaar..."

"Don't." I kept my voice gentle but firm. "Three months will pass quickly. Focus on your training, learn about your heritage. When you return, you'll be stronger than ever."

"I know." She squared her shoulders, and I saw the farm girl who'd saved a dying stranger in the desert, now transformed into something altogether more dangerous. "Try not to collect too many more girlfriends while I'm gone."

That sounded strangely like a girlfriend thing to say. "I make no promises."

Her laugh was rueful as she joined the cultists. At the edge of the group, she turned back one last time. Our eyes met across the cooling sand, and I felt that familiar pulse of Soul Fire in my chest. Her faith in me, burning bright despite everything.

Then they were gone, vanishing into the desert like mirages.

Which left me with Rafin, who was looking at me with an expression I couldn't quite read.

"Ahh, so," I said, suddenly feeling awkward under that paternal gaze. "Take him in, Nevaramis."

"Wait, wha—"

The teleportation caught him mid-word. One moment he stood there, the next—gone in a flash of golden light that showered from the sky like Bifrost. I made a mental note to apologize later. Or not. He'd love Nevaramis too much to stay angry.

I stretched, joints popping in sequence. Vyrn materialized from wherever he'd been lurking and settled on my head like the world's most pretentious hat.

"Well, buddy," I said, looking up at the stars, "it seems we're back to just the two of us. Ready for another adventure?"

Vyrn's only response was to ruffle his ethereal feathers and settle more comfortably on his perch. I let out a laugh, patting his feathers.

The Photon Ring blazed to life, and I launched skyward. Below, Rafin's hut grew smaller and smaller until it was just another speck in an ocean of sand. I turned east, toward the mountains where dragons made their homes and old friends waited.

The world would tremble indeed. But first, I had promises to keep.

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The Veiled Man Note: The GOLD DRAGON ARC IS HERE! 🔥😩