Chapter 1919 Worship
Date- -/-
Time- -/-
Location- Dark Realm, Diya Valley, Diya Tribe, Old Patriarchal Manor (Cuth Diya's Residence)
In the heart of the Diya tribe's ancient manor stood a grand hall with marble columns and crystal chandeliers. Its walls held forgotten secrets, while its floors bore the weight of generations.
At the center was an altar crafted from rare spirit gold, adorned with priceless titled demon cores reflecting the color of the souls they once held. On the altar was a small ruby gem that pulsated with crimson light at its heart. It appeared to hold the secrets of creation and destruction. It was a pseudo-calamity soul gem.
Kneeling before the altar was Cuth Diya, a humanoid demon with midnight skin and glowing eyes. He patiently awaited his master's arrival in the Dark Realm.
Soon, the crimson glow at the center of the ruby gem grew radiant, enveloping the entire hall in its fiery embrace as the gem transformed into a demon from the Diya tribe.
Wyatt's choice to manifest as a demon from the Diya tribe had a specific purpose: to conceal his true soul signature and records. He guarded against accidental exposure, recognizing the perilous implications. The encounter with the Elder Anesthesia Dragon had illuminated harsh truths: his life-saving abilities, once seemingly formidable, paled in comparison to the might of rulers—those above the ordinary demigods and devils.
Wyatt, standing atop the ornate altar, scrutinized his new form. It was satisfactory, yet he furrowed his brow—he hadn't anticipated such a reception. His searching gaze swept across the opulent hall, finally settling on Cuth Diya. With a measured tone, he spoke, "You've done well, but next time, refrain from such rituals."
Wyatt struggled to adjust to the reverence bestowed upon him by Cuth Diya. He'd already cautioned his calamity daughter gems against such displays, especially among the public. The dark race's culture, however, differed markedly from that of the card apprentices—here, strength was venerated, and worship was reserved for the mighty.
"Master," Cuth Diya began, "forgive my impertinence, but this is merely the bare minimum. I've exercised considerable restraint, heedful of your earlier warning. Please understand, I do this not only for your sake but also for my own." His words were carefully chosen a delicate balance between respect and self-assertion.
Cuth Diya was aware that Wyatt harbored no disdain for the reverence bestowed upon him. Yet, Wyatt's discomfort with being worshipped was palpable. So, risking offense, Cuth Diya continued, "The ritual, Master, is more than a display of loyalty. It is my way, my solemn path, to honor you—my dear master."
"..." Wyatt stared at Cuth Diya, rendered speechless by the unexpected confession. His calamity daughter gems, loyal to the point of fervor, had always revered him. Yet, Cuth Diya was the first to articulate it aloud.
"Fine," Wyatt conceded, but with a caveat. "Do not let it escalate." He acknowledged Cuth Diya's sentiments, permitting this unique expression of devotion. His calamity daughters, unobtrusive in their requests, never demanded much. Now, Cuth Diya merely voiced his feelings, leaving the choice to Wyatt—to allow them the freedom to worship and revere him, privately, among themselves.
Having clarified matters, Wyatt turned his attention to matters regarding Cuth Diya's father, Devil Muth Diya. "What are your father's current intentions?" he inquired. "Is he diligently fulfilling the mission I assigned, or does he harbor ulterior motives?"
Cuth Diya, ever loyal, responded, "Fear not, Master. For now, rebellion is far from his thoughts. His recent failure in subduing the Chaos Dwarf Ezra has severely tarnished his reputation within the faction. Belphegor, once his staunch supporter, now regards him less favorably. His former rivals, seeing his fall from grace, view it as an opportunity to reclaim authority—authority he had once wrested from them.
Without Belphegor to dissuade his adversaries, my father faces challenges both within and beyond the faction. And so, he contemplates an alternative path, the Chaos Dwarf Ezra's enticing offer. Should you provide hope and assurance, he may switch allegiances sooner. Furthermore, he'd be willing to remain, gathering intelligence on your behalf, if you can guarantee his life to a certain."
"I appreciate the update," Wyatt replied. "Should he deliver the information I've requested, and maintain his inclination to switch allegiances during our next encounter, I'll consider granting the assurance he desires."
Wyatt emphasized, "However, remain vigilant. Regardless of his present mindset, he remains a sycophant. Belphegor's favor, or lack thereof, could sway him. We must exercise caution."
"Master," Cuth Diya replied, "I'll bear that in mind." He assured Wyatt that he would proceed with caution, remaining vigilant until the very end.
"Now, I shall take my leave," Wyatt declared, ready to return to the card world. However, Cuth Diya's voice halted him. "Master," he called, "I've arranged a banquet in celebration of your arrival at the Pearl Plaza, complete with entertainment. And, since you've assumed my tribe's form, there's no need to worry about others discovering your true identity or our connection."
"What did I just say?" Wyatt's voice thundered, a tempest of authority. "Did I not caution against escalation?" His words, sharp as obsidian, pierced Cuth Diya—the first calamity daughter gem to receive such reprimand from Wyatt.
Cuth Diya's fervor, his eagerness to express devotion, had unwittingly betrayed him in Wyatt's presence. The master's warning, a stern reminder, echoed in the calamity daughter gem's consciousness.
Having admonished Cuth Diya, Wyatt invoked his devil merchant code privilege. Without waiting for a reply, he slipped back into the card world, leaving behind a lingering tension.
As Wyatt's soul transferred to a pseudo-calamity soul gem within the card world, his Diya demon tribe body dissolved, leaving behind a ruby pseudo-calamity gem that descended to the ground.
Before the gem could make contact with the earth, Cuth Diya seized it, handling it with utmost reverence, and placed it atop the altar. Kneeling before the sacred stone, he repeatedly struck his head against the floor in deep repentance. The floor, soon stained with his blood, bore witness to his anguished devotion.
After several hours, Cuth Diya wiped the blood from the floor, healing his self-inflicted wounds before departing from the hall.
The sourc𝗲 of this content is fre(e)webnovel