“I AM SHAL’KAGOR NOBLE OF THE MARROW EATERS, SECOND SWORN OF THE COURT OF ETERNAL VIVISECTION, BREAKER OF THE RA-ZAZHUL OF SHEGOL, AND HERALD OF THE SEVEN HUNDRED AND SEVEN AGONIES. I WAS OLD AT THE DAWN OF THIS WORLD, AND I TELL YOU THAT THERE IS NO SUCH THING AS AN ARBY’S FRENCH DIP SUBMARINE,” said the furious demon.

Shal’kagor, now having revealed himself to be a titanic humanoid with the head of a flayed goat, did not like me.

The feeling wasn’t mutual.

Once I realized the demon couldn’t hurt me, and that we were both frozen in time until he repaid me, I began to really open up. It was the first time I’d had a conversation with a sentient being in this world. There were a lot of questions, and a lot of emotional issues I had to get off my chest. Sometimes, just talking about your problems was enough to make them better. I’d learned that bit of wisdom from my previous life.

I shouldn't have told you the word sub was short for submarine. No one calls a French dip sub, a French dip submarine. Who would want to eat that? I mentally projected.

To keep deals fair, Shal’kagor could only read thoughts from my mind that I projected. A good thing too, otherwise this interlude would have concluded a long time ago.

“I TIRE OF YOUR DELUSIONS, MAGGOT. I WILL VISIT UNENDING WOE UNTO EVERYONE YOU EVER LOVED.”

Not really trying to tell you how to do your job, but if you keep threatening me, it really loses the sting. Besides, I don’t even know the names of everyone I ever loved. Those people are long gone for me. Do I need to explain it all again?

“NO! HOW ABOUT I GIVE YOU A FAMILIAR? A DEMON FROM MY PERSONAL LINE? SWORN TO OBEY YOUR EVERY COMMAND!”

So I can have an evil little shit following me around and mucking up my life? No thanks. Back to the sandwich. If you can read my mind, then you can see—

“A DEMONIC CLASS?”

I could tell the demon thought I was deranged. He probably dealt with that type of person a lot from summoners. After I’d tried to show him images and memories from Earth, he’d lost a lot of enthusiasm for trying to corrupt my soul. Demented people probably usually ended up in the abyss, so for him I was like eating a turkey sandwich. That is to say, just another “soul meal” that he eats every day of the week. I guess that after a few eons, that kind of fare really got to him.

Let’s talk about that. Am I going to get a bunch of soul stains and mutate into a skinned goat like you?

“IT IS POSSIBLE.” Shal’kagor admitted. Taking a moment to think through things before continuing, he pointedly did not look at me. Another facet of the negotiation that I uncovered was that he had to answer all of my questions truthfully. That didn’t stop him from trying to say as little as possible, though.

How can I have a class, anyway?

“YOU HAVE A MONSTERCORE. IT IS POSSIBLE TO INTEGRATE WITH A DEMONCORE, GIVING YOU THE OPTION TO CHOOSE CLASS ABILITIES AT EACH TIER AND LEVEL.”

I didn’t know that. Err, well, I guess Oran didn’t know that. That brought the total number of cores I knew about up to four. Manacore for classers, monstercore for monsters, demoncore for demonic classers, and soulcore for godly classers. Everyone of them apparently had important differences. At least I finally had an explanation for why my core differed from a regular manacore. It turned out that Oran still didn’t have one. I’d just received a monstercore for being undead!

But choosing those class abilities would give me soul stain?

“... YES.”

Well, what classes can you offer?

The demon’s purple eyes flared in anger. We both knew that I would not take a demonic class, but he had to answer me.

“DEMONOLOGIST, WARLOCK, WITCH, CORPSE-EATER—”

Ew. What’s a Corpse-eater?

Shal’kagor huffed in frustration. “CORPSE-EATERS STEAL A PORTION OF THE POWER FROM ANY ENEMY THAT THEY CONSUME.”

What else have you got?

“HOW ABOUT WEALTH? GOLD AND JEWELS TO FUND YOUR AMBITIONS?”

Will that money let me taste the salty wonder of au jus sauce?

Shal’kagor pretended he hadn’t heard my question, since it wasn’t a genuine inquiry. Sure, I could have just told him “no”, but I was still sore that he couldn’t provide me with a bag of infinite French dip subs. Or rather, that he didn’t believe me that Arby’s was a real thing. I couldn’t taste the sandwiches right now, but who knew what evolutions would be in my future? A worthy gamble if there ever was one.

“MAGIC ITEMS? THE SACRIFICE OF A CULT PRIEST AND THREE INITIATES WILL DEMAND A POWERFUL ITEM.”

For me, that was the most interesting part of the whole fiasco. Since I’d interrupted the ritual and killed the cult leader, the “backlash” had made their souls up for grabs. Sort of like a Craigslist ad for demons with me as the seller. Shal’kagor was a bitter rival of the demon lord the idiots had called, and by getting here first, that meant he got to steal their souls away from their rightful master. Best of all, I knew that if he walked away now, I’d just get to do this all over again with another demon. I had him bent over a barrel and we both knew it. Despite my needling him, Shal’kagor would still walk away with a win if he just kept the course.

Now that you are no longer trying to take me for a ride to hell, I think we can finally get somewhere. What kind of magic stuff did you have in mind?

“THE WHIP CALLED WILLBREAKER FLAGELLATES THE SOUL OF ALL WHO ARE STRUCK.”

No thanks. Whips are for people with unresolved parental trauma.

“THE SCYTHE OF THE MAD WARLOCK MALAKOCH—”

I need an item that I can use with one hand.

Shal’kagor paused again to look me over, then gave another suggestion. We continued back and forth like this for at least a hundred items, and I learned about all kinds of super horrible shit that demons and people made. The only items that sounded promising were a ring of undead flesh regeneration, an amulet of illusion, and a walking stick that could turn into a magic snake. I banked them in my mind, but still had to see if there was a better offer.

Anything that we haven’t covered that you would consider offering?

“YOU ARE INTERESTED IN NON-CLASS ADVANCEMENT?”

Assuming there is no soul stain, that sounds interesting.

I was glad I could barely move my facial muscles. The promise of progression stoked my ambition. If there was a way of having a more functional body, I was going to get it.

“I HAVE TWO FINAL OFFERS. FIRST IS A GRADE D MANA STONE. WITH IT, YOU WILL ADVANCE TO LEVEL FOUR.”

I almost shouted “sold” right there on the spot. It took every ounce of willpower not to.

“SECOND, IS THE TOME OF THE MAD PROPHET DERZAHLA. READING THE TOME WILL CONFER SPELLS FOR YOU TO TAKE ALONG WITH YOUR TRAITS AT EACH LEVEL.”

That rocked me back on my heels, metaphorically.

What spells are we talking about? I don’t want any gross demon crap.

“THE ONLY MAGIC COMPATIBLE WITH YOUR MANA TYPE. NECROMANCY.”

That really hurt me to hear. I was in a world with magic and had the potential to become a powerful being, but I’d never throw a fireball? I had no desire to fondle risen corpses like Pollina.

But…

The options the Naram-Sin offered me the last couple of times hadn’t been that great. I’ll concede the poison ended up being a better bargain than I’d originally thought, but I still had no inclination to go around biting and clawing people. Raising corpses to do it for me was a much better outcome.

Alright, consider me interested. Now, tell me what is the drawback of taking this tome of the mad prophet?

“HA! I WOULD NOT LET YOU TAKE SUCH A VALUABLE RELIC FOR THE PALTRY SACRIFICE YOU’VE GIVEN. NO, WHAT I OFFER IS A CHANCE TO READ ITS PAGES ONE TIME ONLY. THE NECROMANTIC WISDOM THAT IS COMPATIBLE WITH YOUR PERSONALITY AND CORE WILL EITHER ASSIMILATE OR NOT.”

What happens if none of it works, then?

“THAT IS HIGHLY UNLIKELY TO HAPPEN. IT IS THE MOST COMPREHENSIVE SPELL BOOK EVER WRITTEN ON THE SUBJECT OF NECROMANCY. THERE IS BOUND TO BE MAGIC THAT WILL WORK FOR YOU.”

Ultimately, it really wasn’t a tough decision for me. After I headed back into the Ossuary, I figured I’d be able to find enough undead to sneak attack my way to level four. Failing that, I’d figure out some other way to kill stuff. That was just a matter of time. The tome, on the other hand, had no obvious drawback besides leaving with nothing. An outcome I didn’t fear, simply because I’d had to kill four people to get this deal. Stopping them from whatever nefarious activity was the true reward. Talking a demon’s ear off and taking his things had just been a bonus.

Alright Shally, I choose the book.

“SO BE IT.”

A black tome with a cover of bones opened before me, and a rotting eye peered at me from within the pages.

“Yes, yes, I see,” said an ethereal voice. Accompanying it was a mental probing that was both comfortable and pleasurable at the same time. When it ended, I felt a sensation of power building; not all that different from the ritual I’d just stopped. Mad whispers and gibbering voices sounding like an ASMR video at the Texas Chainsaw Massacre farm came with it. Green flowing death mana leapt off the pages of the book, turning into arcane words before shooting directly into my core.

Then the world went black.