I Died and Became a Noble's Heir

Chapter 677: Answer my Questions

Day three, Jack returned to Meira’s stall alone and asked more specific questions. About her nephew, the one she’d mentioned. About the job opportunity he’d been offered. About who had recruited him, and what kind of mark or sign he’d left behind.

Meira’s voice grew quieter as she spoke. Her nephew had disappeared three months ago. He was healthy, strong, and had good potential.

One day, he was approached by someone offering excellent pay for temporary work. The next day, he was gone.

Jack asked more questions. How many others? Did she know any other families with missing relatives? Were there patterns?

By the end of the day, Jack had names of a dozen disappearances. All from the working-class districts. All targeting individuals with strong physiology. All vanishing without a trace.

Daysour and five, Jack narrowed the source to a specific area. A fog-laden sector on the district’s periphery where the streets grew quieter, more isolated, where fewer people walked, and fewer merchants set up stalls.

Where normal elves didn’t go after dark because they knew better.

The warehouse manifested from the fog like a haunted mansion.

It was massive, easily the size of three noble estates combined.

Dark stone, no windows, heavy reinforced doors that looked capable of resisting siege weaponry.

The architecture screamed of suffering. The kind of structure built specifically to hide something that the world wasn’t meant to see.

Jack’s enhanced senses picked up the demonic signature before he’d walked fifty paces toward the entrance. A heavy, oily, malevolent presence. Completely out of place in an elven city, yet somehow perfectly suited to what was happening inside.

He didn’t hesitate to enter.

The interior was vaulted and shadowed, lit only by scattered magical lights that cast more shadows than illumination.

The air smelled of blood and something worse. The distinctive reek of dark mana being used for purposes that violated natural law in fundamental ways.

A figure materialized from the gloom like smoke taking form.

The demon was crimson-skinned, its body lean and corded with muscle, despite being smaller than Jack. Jagged wings curved along its back, their edges serrated like knives.

A short tail swung beneath it with a rather agitated, energetic demeanor. Its teeth were too sharp, filed to cruel points that gleamed in the dim light like weapons.

The creature looked at Jack and laughed. A sound like breaking glass.

"How WEAK you are," it sneered, its voice dripping with absolute contempt. "You have no aura. No power. No presence. What are you? Some failed adventurer wandering into my territory? Some human lost in the districts?"

{Oh. OH. No no no no NO. This is bad news for this particular demon.}

’Yes.’

He’s about to experience what happens when he mistakes silence for weakness. When he assumes invisible power means no power. This is going to be glorious for your odyssey!}

Tharaxis’s ancient voice carried neither warning nor approval. Just a casual observation. ’The creature’s senses are defective. It cannot perceive your mastery. It has never encountered mana wielded with perfect control. Let it continue its misconception.’

Emberion’s presence erupted with vicious delight. ’LET LOOSE! Show this creature what mana truly means! Show it the cost of its arrogance! Show it that there are things it should have feared!’

’Don’t kill it,’ Tharaxis added, his voice carrying absolute authority despite his measured tone. ’We need information. Interrogation requires a living subject.’

’I’ll try.’

{Wait, wait, wait. Hold on. I need a moment to process what I’m seeing in here.} Oscar’s mental voice shifted from comedic to genuinely horrified. {These are... these are people. Chained. In vats. In VATS, Jack! What is this? WHAT ARE THEY DOING?}

The warehouse interior revealed its true purpose as Jack’s eyes adjusted further to the darkness.

Vats lined the walls, massive containers filled with a crystalline fluid.

Within each, a partially submerged figure was present. These were the missing elves, alive but in a critical state. They were connected to a network of tubes, apparatus, and drainage mechanisms that appeared cruelly designed to extract substances from their bodies.

Bloodrush.

The life force of the elves is being harvested like fruit from a tree.

The Bloodrush drug. The combat enhancement that Faye had mentioned in the palace a month ago. That refined, concentrated blood essence that made fighters stronger, faster, and more resilient. That addictive compound is worth more than gold in Caeloria’s wealthy districts.

’This is the source,’ Jack thought with cold clarity. ’Someone in Caeloria is farming blood essence from the low-class districts. They’re harvesting people like crops. But that doesn’t explain the Orc.’

The crimson demon grinned wider, completely unaware of the danger it was approaching. Completely unaware that it was speaking to someone whose aura was so perfectly controlled that even masters of dark magic might have missed it.

"What’s wrong, weak thing?" the demon taunted, stepping forward with supreme arrogance. Its jagged wings spread as if that demonstration of feathered menace might intimidate someone who’d faced Soul Wardens and consumed demon hearts.

"Did you come here to beg for your life? Did the rumors of the blood extraction facility finally reach your pathetic ears?"

It took another step, and another, with the absolute certainty of a creature who had never experienced genuine danger.

"I am Vexkril," the demon announced with complete confidence in its voice. "Guardian of this operation. Servant of the greatest power in..."

There was no warning. Just absolute, silent, controlled motion that happened faster than thought.

His hand shot out and wrapped around the demon’s throat, cutting off its words mid-sentence.

Vexkril’s eyes widened in shock as it finally felt the presence it had completely failed to perceive.

Dark mana wrapped around the demon like a leash, controlled mana output pouring through its system with the weight of absolute mastery.

The creature’s legs kicked uselessly. Its wings fluttered with panicked desperation.

"You have no idea what weakness actually is," Jack said flatly, his voice carrying the same cold authority he used with Faye.

The demon tried to scream, but Jack’s grip tightened, silencing it.

{He’s drooling! Oh my god, he’s drooling like a pathetic creature! This is embarrassing! You took away his ability even to speak, and he’s just... trembling in your grip like a scared child!}

Emberion’s presence burned with approval so intense it felt like Jack’s bones were heating. ’YES! This is dominion! This is what happens when inferior creatures challenge power! Show it the cost of its arrogance!’

Tharaxis remained silent, his ancient mind observing.

Jack held the demon suspended, its feet leaving the ground, its jagged wings fluttering uselessly against the dark mana wrapping around it like chains.

Vexkril’s mouth opened and closed without sound, its eyes bulging with realization and terror.

Only then did Jack lean close, his voice dropping to something barely above a whisper.

"You’re going to tell me everything. Who organized this operation? Who’s extracting the blood? Who’s buying the refined essence? And what role does the Council of Caeloria play in all of this?"

The entity’s gaze shifted urgently towards one of the vats, a movement that provided a sufficient response to at least one of his inquiries.

However, Jack had further questions.

The illumination in the warehouse continued to diminish.