A few minutes before Mia and Baal found the children, the Boogeyman stood calmly amid the chaos as the desperate children launched their attacks.

  Xavier’s hands crackled with icy energy as he hurled a barrage of ice shards toward the Boogeyman. Each shard sliced through the air with lethal precision, only to vanish when the Boogeyman casually flicked his wrist and absorbed them into nothingness.

  Theo, his face set in grim determination, whispered a focused burst of aura in an effort to blind the creature. For a brief moment, the Boogeyman’s eyes glazed over—then, as if nothing had happened, they snapped back to their piercing intensity.

  Celia, aware of her limitations, could only watch in horror as she flung nearby objects in a vain attempt to help. The Boogeyman’s laughter echoed through the hall as he effortlessly deflected her makeshift projectiles with a casual flick of his hand.

  In a frantic bid to protect her friends, Alice conjured a single jagged sword and thrust it at him. The Boogeyman moved with unsettling grace, dodging the blade and catching it mid-air before casually sending it clattering to the ground.

  Jacob, feeling useless without his dolls to guide him, remained on the sidelines, his frustration visible as he watched his friends’ futile efforts.

  With a widening grin, the Boogeyman suddenly lashed out—a powerful kick sent Xavier sprawling across the floor. Theo, attempting another attack, barely had time to react before a swift, almost lazy kick slammed into his ribs, forcing him to crumple in pain.

  Celia wasn’t spared either. A merciless strike kicked her aside, leaving her dazed on the cold floor. Then, with little regard, the Boogeyman grabbed Jacob by the neck and carelessly threw him. He landed heavily on a mangled corpse, the grotesque sight of broken limbs and blood failing to cushion his fall as pain overwhelmed him.

  Finally, Alice stood alone, her eyes fierce with determination. She summoned her sword once more, but every swing barely grazed the Boogeyman’s seemingly impenetrable form. With each deflected attack, his calm demeanor deepened her desperation, and tiny tears of blood formed at the corners of her eyes as her energy rapidly drained.

  The Boogeyman regarded her with a mixture of curiosity and amusement, his gaze clinical—as if he were a spectator to a grand performance rather than a participant. He advanced with unnerving calm, each deliberate step savoring the impending climax of their confrontation.

  In one swift motion, he seized Alice by the hair, hoisting her off the ground with a brutal grip. Forcing her to meet his gaze, their faces came within inches of each other—the contrast between her desperate, tear-streaked expression and his cold, indifferent stare was jarring.

  “Wait a minute,” the Boogeyman said, his voice taking on a sinister edge. “I recognize you. Your father was an interesting man. It was a shame what happened to him.”

  Alice’s eyes widened in horror; she had never known her real parents—only the cruel lies that she was abandoned by a family that never loved her. His revelation shattered the fragile world she had clung to.

  “I’ll have to keep an eye on you,” he continued, voice dripping with malice.

  Then, his finger twisted grotesquely, morphing into an elongated worm that wriggled toward her ear. The sensation was horrifying and alien—blood began to drip as the creature slithered inside her ear canal. Within moments, Alice’s eyes glazed over and she slumped unconscious, her body going limp.

  The Boogeyman dropped her unceremoniously to the ground among the other unconscious, mangled bodies scattered around. He paused, contemplating the fallen class with detached curiosity.

  Suddenly, an electric sensation surged through him. His head snapped to the side, eyes narrowing as he sensed something critical.

  “Excalibur… Excalibur!” he roared, his voice echoing with a dangerous edge. Without another word, he took off with blinding speed, leaving the ruined hallway and its tragic scene behind.

  In the eerie silence that followed, the class lay scattered and vulnerable amid the macabre remnants of battle, their fate uncertain in the wake of the Boogeyman’s sudden departure.

  Back in the present, Baal stretched, his long, gangly limbs cracking like ancient bones disturbed after centuries. His casual air—almost nonchalant in its cruelty—sent a chill down Mia’s spine.

  “Now, what to do next?” he mused aloud, his tone teetering between a childlike sing-song and something darker, more predatory. “There are a lot of powerful individuals here. But, to be honest, after that meal, I’m feeling rather tired. Besides…” He glanced down at Mia, his missing eyes somehow focusing on her, his lips curling into a mischievous grin. “I don’t want to go anywhere without you. And you’re clearly attached to your little students, aren’t you?”

  Baal’s tone was unsettling—a predator toying with its prey. Mia’s stomach churned; she had no idea what this demon truly wanted or how much longer she could endure his presence. For now, she was powerless to resist.

  “I’ll assist you in bringing them somewhere safe,” Baal continued, his voice oddly cheerful, as if discussing a mundane task. “Then, I think I’ll take a nice, long nap.”

  With a snap of his fingers, the air shimmered with surreal energy. Slowly, the unconscious bodies of Mia’s students lifted off the ground like rag dolls caught in an invisible tide. Mia felt herself rise, weightless and helpless, her body drifting toward Baal, who opened his arms in mock tenderness. She landed gently, collapsing into his grasp like a puppet whose strings had been severed.

  “I don’t want anything bad to happen to you,” Baal said, his voice a mockery of kindness as he cradled her, his smile too wide, too knowing. “So I’ll protect you.”

  A tremor of disgust rippled through Mia. Her mind screamed at her to resist, but exhaustion and despair left her with little choice. Was she really meant to trust this… thing? His limitless power was terrifying. Swallowing hard, she gathered what little courage remained.

  “You don’t know where you’re going,” Mia muttered, her voice hoarse, the last remnants of defiance flickering. “Just set me down. I’ll lead the way.”

  For a moment, Baal stared at her, his expression shifting into exaggerated disappointment—as if a child had been denied a treat. “Oh, fine,” he sighed, sounding almost sad. Gently, he set her down, though his presence still loomed like a dark shadow.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Baal then followed her with mock regal air, his gaze sweeping the facility as if it were a trivial amusement park. Mia, now shaky on her feet, led the way with her mind racing. She needed to find the others—and fast. Every second with Baal felt like walking on a razor’s edge.

  As they moved through the cold, dim corridors, the oppressive silence was punctuated only by Baal’s soft, eerie humming, which grated on her nerves. Behind them, the unconscious students trailed like a grotesque parade.

  After what felt like an eternity, they turned a corner. Relief washed over Mia as she caught sight of Wallace, his ever-diligent expression clouded with concern, flanked by Iris and Charles. Wallace’s eyes widened at the floating students, her exhausted form, and Baal—standing tall and ominous behind her—a sight that felt like a lifeline in the encroaching darkness.

  “Charles, Iris, I’m so glad you too are alright, when all this chaos happened, I was worried something happened to you,” Mia said.

  “Mia, what happened?” Wallace asked, his tone firm but wary.

  Before Mia could respond, Baal waved cheerfully. “Hello, hello! No need to be alarmed. I’m just here to help, after all. Your friend here was in a bit of a bind. I’ve taken the liberty of helping her and her dear students out of a… tricky situation.”

  “Who are you?” Wallace demanded, stepping forward.

  With a theatrical bow, Baal replied, “Baal Zebub. Second Monarch of the Abyss. Gluttonous Monarch, if you prefer. But please, no need for formalities. I only wish to protect my new bride.”

  “Bride?” they all echoed in unison.

  “Yes, of course! I’ve decided to make you my bride. So, won’t you please marry me?” Baal said, his tone light and mischievous.

  Mia blinked, then sputtered, “We’ve only known each other for at most half an hour! We can’t just get married!”

  Wallace sighed deeply. “So much is happening today. Listen, the whole facility is a mess, I almost got poisoned, and now we have a demon proposing marriage. Let’s just focus on surviving, alright?”

  Mia nodded. “We were thinking of heading to the Bookkeeper’s library after we found you.”

  “The Bookkeeper? He might let us in, especially after today. He even took down a member of Noir,” Wallace added.

  “That’s unlike him,” Mia replied. “I also killed one of the Noir members. Baal handled the other.”

  “Oh, that’s right!” Baal interjected with a disturbing cheerfulness. “I ripped her head off.”

  Wallace winced slightly. “Yeah… that’s nice, Baal. Just don’t get too graphic in front of the kids. Anyway—Hey, Bookkeeper, I know you’re listening. Let us into your library.”

  A moment later, the Bookkeeper’s smooth voice greeted them as a door opened to his library, “Well, well, it seems you’ve had quite the eventful day.”

  The Bookkeeper leaned back in his grand, leather-bound chair, his fingertips tapping rhythmically as if to the unheard pulse of time itself. His sharp eyes, glinting behind black-rimmed glasses, carried a curious amusement, like a puppeteer examining his marionettes. The endless library around him—an infinite maze of towering shelves—held secrets in every dusty tome, each book a thread in the vast tapestry of forgotten histories and hidden truths.

  Butterflies, vibrant and delicate, danced through the air, their soft wings a serene contrast to the faint coppery scent lingering in the room. The floor, though pristine, bore a small, dark stain—blood, still glossy under the dim candlelight. The body it had belonged to was gone, erased as if it had never existed, yet the air hummed with the echo of its violent end.

  The Bookkeeper chuckled softly, his voice a silken thread woven with subtle mockery. “Ah, my apologies,” he said, his tone light and almost whimsical. “A minor incident, nothing to concern yourselves with. And in the spirit of hospitality, I won’t charge you for that one. Consider it a favor.”

  Wallace, standing across from him, remained still. His expression was a mask—neutral, unyielding. His gaze shifted to the bloodstain, but his face betrayed nothing, not shock, not fear, only a calculated indifference.

  “You killed Callum, right?” Wallace asked, his voice even. “I must thank you. He was making things rather difficult for me.”

  The Bookkeeper’s smile widened, his amusement deepening. “Ah, yes. Callum.” He drew out the name slowly, savoring it. “Such potential, such promise… and yet, potential is so often squandered. He made a rather unwise decision, you see. Attempting to steal from me.” He gave a slight, dismissive shrug. “I simply couldn’t allow that.”

  A pale blue butterfly settled on his hand, its fragile wings a stark contrast to the weight of his words. His voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, as though sharing a private jest. “If I’m honest, he didn’t prove much of a challenge. An underwhelming end, truly. Such a pity. But then, that’s the nature of the game, isn’t it? Some pieces fall far too easily.”

  Wallace raised an eyebrow, his expression a blend of curiosity and disbelief as he scrutinized the man before him. “You’re someone who seems to have three of everything,” he began, his tone measured but probing, “what could be stolen from you that would actually anger you?”

  The Bookkeeper's smile remained, though a shadow of darkness flitted briefly in his eyes. Leaning forward slightly, he drummed his fingertips against the armrest of his grand chair. “I'm sorry,” he purred, voice as smooth as velvet, “but that's a secret, one that I refuse to tell, no matter how much you’d pay me.”

  Wallace narrowed his eyes, suspicion deepening. The Bookkeeper was notorious for selling any tidbit of information, no matter how sensitive, so his refusal was rare—and highly suspicious.

  Mia, standing nearby with her arms crossed, shot a sharp glance at the man. “You’ve offered to tell us how the world would end,” she said, her tone laced with accusation, “yet time and time again recently, you’ve been keeping secrets. What is it you’re hiding?”

  The Bookkeeper chuckled—a low, ominous sound. “Ah, Mia,” he said softly, “you’ve always been the inquisitive one. But some knowledge is too… delicate for those who might misuse it.”

  From the shadows beside Mia, Baal grunted in annoyance, his voice guttural with strange amusement. “Hey wife,” he said, his monstrous form shifting slightly, “this human smells weird. What’s wrong with him?”

  Mia’s eyes flashed with irritation as she shot him a cold glare. “Don’t call me 'wife,' you demon,” she retorted.

  Before anyone could react, the Bookkeeper snapped his fingers theatrically. In an instant, a golden spear materialized, gleaming with radiant energy as it shot toward Baal’s head. With casual speed, a grotesque, massive mouth appeared on Baal’s hand, its teeth gnashing as it devoured the spear, leaving only a fading trail of light.

  Baal licked his lips, his monstrous grin widening. “Woah,” he growled, voice dripping with sinister delight. “The mana in that spear—it's delicious. Please, try to kill me more.”

  “Mana?” Mia questioned, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.

  The Bookkeeper smiled casually, as though discussing the weather. “It's the demon’s equivalent of aura. In the Abyss, that’s what they call it. Many creatures have their own names for it—angels, for instance, refer to it as holy power.”

  Baal’s eyes glinted with mischief in the dim light as he leaned in close, his voice low enough for only the Bookkeeper to hear. “Human, you smell weird….you smell like that girl,” Baal muttered under his breath.

  The Bookkeeper’s expression darkened, his tone icy as he replied, “I’d appreciate if you keep silent, mutt. I will kill you in this domain I have the power to do so.”

  Baal stepped even closer, his tone turning mockingly conspiratorial. “Alright, I’ll keep your secret child hidden from the rest of these humans. Though I heard you like to make deals, the same as how humans describe us demons. I’d like a favor for keeping your dirty little secret,” he chuckled.

  The Bookkeeper’s eyes narrowed, and with disdain, he responded, “What is it you desire, o lord of gluttony?”

  “Just an I owe you, something I can cash in at a later time, that sound good to you o lord of books,” Baal said mockingly.

  The Bookkeeper sighed, his voice heavy with reluctant authority, “Fine, so be it, I’ll add this to my ledger; what a pain. I dislike having to owe a mere demon.”