Silence.
Dead silence.
Only the dripping of Azazel's sweat on the ground and the chattering of his teeth could be heard.
The ghost no longer spoke.
He just floated there quietly, staring at Azazel.
"Will you sign?"
The ghost broke the silence first.
"Sign! Of course, I'll sign!"
Azazel almost jumped up, forcing a fawning smile that was uglier than a cry.
"My dear Creator! My great Father! Serving you is the only meaning of my existence!"
The ghost ignored this exaggerated performance.
He opened the last page of the demon book, then pulled out a new bone pen from his translucent body and handed it to Azazel's trembling short hand.
Azazel took the pen, quickly signed his name on it, then respectfully presented the pen back to the ghost with both hands.
The ghost took the pen and, at the signature line, also signed the name he had chosen for himself.
Azazel leaned over and looked at the name slowly solidifying on the contract.
Upon seeing it clearly, he looked at the ghost with a strange expression.
"Nios Chaos?!"
"How is it?"
Nios said with a mischievous grin.
"Isn't this name awesome?"
"Awesome?! If this were the Warhammer universe, just because of your name, we'd both already be burned to ashes by the Inquisition with white phosphorus fire!"
Azazel retorted almost reflexively.
"Wait a minute!"
After retorting, he himself was stunned for a moment, covering his head with a pained expression.
"What is Warhammer? What is the Inquisition? How much private stuff did you mix into the memory fragments you gave me? And why does it feel incomplete?!"
"That's how it's set up."
Nios spread his hands, his tone relaxed.
"You just need to be responsible for the retorts. As for what those words mean… don't worry about it, that's your factory setting."
"You… are you sick?!"
Azazel felt like crying over Nios's mischievousness.
"Alright, go enjoy your sacrifice."
Nios closed the demon book and tucked it back into his body.
He gestured to the center of the summoning circle, where the lamb leg was still frozen solid like a stone pillar.
Azazel looked at the icy lump, which was almost as big as himself, and his mouth twitched.
"Eat this thing? Are you sure the Bureau of Cultural Relics and the Food Safety Bureau won't team up to put me in a museum glass case for display? This is Britain; they have a habit of doing that."
"Hurry up."
Nios's tone carried an undeniable urgency.
"Alright…"
Azazel sighed and walked over with his short legs.
He picked up the heavy frozen lamb leg and bit down on the part that looked the tenderest!
"Crunch!"
A teeth-grinding crunch.
"Ah!!!"
Followed by Azazel's heart-rending scream.
"My teeth! My teeth!!!"
Azazel rolled frantically on the ground in pain.
Nios pulled out the demon book again, quickly flipping through it, his fingertips tracing the twisted words, muttering to himself.
"Strange… the spell is correct, the process is correct, and the authority fusion is very stable… how could it be so… weak…"
He glanced at Azazel, who was still rolling on the ground, and chanted a spell from the demon book to heal demons.
"How would I know! You're the genius who made me!"
Azazel roared in grief and indignation, kicking the frozen lamb leg away in the process.
"Forget it."
Nios seemed to give up thinking and casually tossed a small ball of ghostly blue fire at the frozen lamb leg on the ground.
The flames licked silently, and the solid ice and frozen meat quickly melted and collapsed. Finally, the lamb leg turned into a turbid, red and yellow, highly pungent, viscous liquid.
Nios waved his hand, and this liquid floated steadily above Nios's palm.
He turned to Azazel and commanded.
"Open your mouth."
Azazel looked at the liquid in Nios's palm, which was almost as big as him and exuded a hellish aura.
He covered his mouth in terror, shaking his head frantically and backing away.
"Don't joke around! Such a big blob! If it goes in, I'll break! And the smell… ugh…!"
"Be good, just for a moment, it'll be quick. It's lamb soup."
Nios pressed closer, his tone gentle but with an irresistible chill.
His left hand steadily held the swirling liquid, and his right hand shot out like lightning, precisely grasping Azazel's short hand that was covering his mouth.
"This is the… last step of the contract. Hold on, grit your teeth and it'll be over!"
"No!!!"
Azazel struggled desperately.
"Whoosh!"
The moment he opened his mouth to retort, Nios flicked his wrist.
That huge, greasy, pungent lamb soup all poured into Azazel's mouth at once!
"Ugh… cough cough cough… ugh…!!!"
The intense lamb smell, like biting into a live sheep's butt, instantly exploded in Azazel's mouth, throat, and even nasal cavity!
Nios's ghost fire could only change the form of objects, not their temperature, so… Azazel actually drank a frozen lamb leg that had turned into liquid.
Azazel's eyes immediately rolled back, his body convulsed violently, and he retched, trying to spit out those hellish liquids.
"Very good."
Nios clapped his hands in satisfaction, ignoring the horrifying scene before him.
"The last step of the contract, the demon accepts the sacrifice, complete."
His tone was relaxed, as if he had finally unburdened himself.
Azazel, this demon representing two primal forces.
Because of a threat and an old lamb leg that had been frozen for who knows how many centuries, he sold himself permanently.
Nios patiently floated by until Azazel had nothing left to vomit.
He lay on the ground like a dead fish, staring at Nios, gasping as he spoke.
"From now on… please… please never prepare… anything… related to sheep for me again…"
Azazel weakly raised a hand, pointing to his own leg, and said with hollow eyes.
"Now… just looking at my own leg… makes me want to vomit…"
Nios ignored Azazel's complaints, his gaze sweeping over the messy basement.
Viscous blood and sweat… pungent vomit…
The entire space was filled with a terrible smell, a mix of a slaughterhouse and low-quality lamb offal soup.
"So…"
Nios's voice broke Azazel's gasping.
"What do you need to do now?"
Azazel followed the direction of Nios's finger and instantly understood what he meant.
"You're too much?!"
He looked at Nios with indignation, his voice cracking.
"Too much?"
Nios's voice carried a self-satisfied pleasure.
"I am your creator and contract master."
"Moreover, which primordial demon gets the honor of personally cleaning for their master?"
"Do you have no shame?! I'm a primordial demon! And you're making me do this?!"
Azazel felt his dignity shatter into pieces.
"Otherwise?"
Nios's head seemed to flicker, his tone carrying a hint of malicious amusement.
"Or, shall we try out the spells in the demon book?"
"…I'll go get the mop."
Azazel resigned himself, climbed off the ground, and with heavy short legs, began his first housekeeping service as a primordial demon.
Fortunately, the summoning circle on the ground, composed of countless holy relics, was of extraordinary material, and defilements could not taint it in the slightest.
Otherwise, Azazel had no doubt that Nios would use all the spells from the demon book on him.