Jansen paced back and forth in his opulent office, frustration etched across his face as he grappled with the ramifications of Ralmas's sudden absence.
The financial reports laid out on his desk painted a grim picture—a sharp decline in revenue, soaring expenditures, and a stock market nosedive that seemed relentless.
His hands clenched into fists, and his once meticulously organized office bore the brunt of his wrath. Expensive ornaments and trophies were flung aside, and the air echoed with the crash of shattered glass and splintering wood.
"Darn demon! Where has he disappeared to? Why isn't he putting in the effort when I need him the most?!" Jansen's voice reverberated through the lavish room, his frustration materializing in the destruction of anything within his reach.
The absence of Ralmas, the demonic force that had been the bedrock of Jansen's success, left a void that the business magnate struggled to fill. The decisions made in those tumultuous times could either salvage or further jeopardize his business empire.
As he surveyed the wreckage of his office, Jansen's mind raced with questions and concerns. The relentless pressure of maintaining his father's legacy and the weight of expectations from his affluent peers intensified the turmoil within him.
The spiraling financial downturn became a metaphorical storm, and Jansen stood at its center, grappling with the chaos. The demon's departure seemed to coincide with the worst possible timing, adding another layer of complexity to the challenges Jansen faced.
Amid the shattered remnants of his office, Jansen sank into his chair, contemplating the uncertain future that loomed over his business kingdom.
The once-sturdy foundations of success now seemed shaky, and the absence of Ralmas cast a daunting shadow over the once-thriving empire.
Jansen's pent-up rage exploded in a cacophony of screams that reverberated through the expansive room. His voice, strained and guttural, carried the weight of deep-seated resentment and a burning desire for revenge.
"Why hasn't that old devil bothered to update me on Viktor's fate?! I NEEDED TO HEAR THAT HE WAS DEAD! I CRAVED TO WITNESS HIS BODY TORN APART, TO SPIT UPON HIS LIFELESS CORPSE!"
With every uttered word, Jansen's voice carried the weight of years of resentment, a relentless desire for retribution fueled by a burning hatred.
Turning his attention to a meticulously placed poster of Viktor, an intentional reminder of his perceived nemesis, Jansen unleashed his fury upon the visual representation of his adversary.
"I hung this wretched image to etch your arrogant face into my memory! You were nothing without your wealth, just a fortunate pup basking in undeserved favor! WASN'T THAT UNJUST? I WANTED TO GRASP WHAT YOU POSSESSED! I WANTED TO STRIP IT AWAY!"
The room bore witness to a storm of emotion as Jansen's cries reverberated off the lavish surroundings. His injured leg didn't deter the ferocity of his assault on the symbolic target.
The grandeur of his chamber served as a backdrop to this spectacle of anguish, the walls standing as silent spectators to the tumultuous unraveling of a tormented soul.
As Jansen's cries subsided, the room hung heavy with the residue of his unleashed fury. The shattered remnants of decor and the crumpled poster on the floor attested to the intensity of his emotional tempest.
After downing two glasses of hard liquor and voraciously inhaling the smoke from an expensive Chinese cigar, Jansen found a modicum of tranquility.
He rang a bell to summon two attendants standing outside his chamber.
"Hey, you two, ever experienced getting hit really hard?" Jansen asked bluntly.
The two attendants exchanged puzzled glances, uncertain about their master's intent.
After indulging in two glasses of potent liquor and relishing the rich aroma of an exquisite Chinese cigar, Jansen sought refuge in a semblance of serenity.
Summoning his attendants with a ring of the bell, he gestured for them to enter his opulent chamber.
"Have either of you ever experienced the impact of a strong blow?" Jansen inquired with blunt candor, his frustration evident in his tone.
The two servants exchanged puzzled glances, uncertain of their master's intent or how to respond to such an unusual question.
"Is there something specific you require, Sir? We are at your service and can fetch whatever you need," one of the attendants ventured cautiously.
Jansen waved off the offer with impatience. "No, no. What I need is something to channel my anger."
The attendants exchanged nervous glances, beginning to understand their master's intentions as he unfastened his long black belt with deliberate intent.
"Please, Sir, we assure you, any inconvenience caused will be promptly addressed and compensated," the other servant stammered, sensing the impending ordeal.
As Jansen's actions became clear, the room filled with the sounds of cries and pleas for mercy, mingling with the oppressive atmosphere of tension and apprehension.
Meanwhile, in another part of the story's universe, Viktor stumbled upon a revelation that, while not entirely unexpected, shed new light on recent events.
"Do you recall the incident where the demon owned by a man named Jansen was defeated in an accident a few days ago?" Viktor inquired, seeking confirmation from his companion.
With a thoughtful nod, Viktor continued, "I suspected that this event had some correlation with Jansen and his demon, given the timing and circumstances."
Malphas, impressed by Viktor's astuteness, applauded him five times in recognition of his correct deduction. "One hundred points for your insight. Regarding the involvement of the child, it appears that there is another party at play this time. The abilities of the demon in question are undoubtedly above average, warranting further investigation."
"Someone else? Above average?" Viktor furrowed his brow in deep contemplation, his mind racing to connect the dots amidst the chaos of recent events.
"Yes, indeed," replied Malphas, his voice carrying a hint of intrigue. "The child sought assistance from an external source. Although the specifics evade my memory at this moment, it is clear that the manipulation of humans like puppets requires the expertise of a high-tier demon with formidable abilities."
Viktor's expression tightened with resolve, his jaw set in determination. "No! I refuse to succumb to fear and resignation, especially when...," the memory of Vela's tragic demise flashed vividly in his mind, igniting a fierce fire of determination in his heart. "...when he, who was entirely innocent, met such a cruel fate!"
The weight of Vela's unjust death bore down on Viktor's conscience, fueling his determination to seek justice and vengeance against those responsible.
"Ah, yes! Now it comes back to me," exclaimed Viktor, his eyes alight with newfound understanding. "The name of the man who aided Jansen, who harbors that powerful demon... it's Octavius!"
The mention of Octavius sent a chill down Viktor's spine, as memories of their past encounters resurfaced, each interaction dripping with malice and deceit.
"Father and son," Viktor muttered bitterly, the names of Jansen and Octavius burning like acid on his tongue. "Their connection runs deep, entrenched in a web of treachery and betrayal."
The temporary silence that followed was shattered by Malphas's booming laughter, a sinister sound that echoed through the chamber, taunting and mocking Viktor's plight.
"Truly like a hyena," Viktor retorted, his voice laced with icy disdain. "Feasting on the carcass of their victims, consuming every last shred of dignity and honor until nothing remains but ashes."
***
As the two sedans glided gracefully onto the expansive grounds of Jansen's opulent estate, their sleek, blood-red exteriors gleaming in the sunlight, heads turned and whispers of admiration filled the air. With the tops down, the wind tousled the hair of the two stunning women behind the wheels, adding to their allure as they navigated the vehicles with effortless poise.
Dressed in attire that left little to the imagination, the two women exuded confidence and sophistication, their every move calculated to captivate and enthrall. Their meticulously applied makeup accentuated their features, enhancing their natural beauty and adding an air of mystery and allure.
As the sedans came to a stop, Jansen's eyes widened in disbelief at the sight before him. Were these ethereal beings truly standing before him, or was it merely a figment of his wildest fantasies brought to life?
"Oh, my word. Is this heaven?" Jansen breathed, his heart pounding with exhilaration. "How am I blessed to lay eyes upon such divine creatures while still among the living?"
With a mixture of awe and disbelief, Jansen approached the two women, his steps quickening with each passing moment. And as he reached them, he couldn't resist the overwhelming urge to envelop them in a warm embrace, their laughter mingling with his own as they reveled in the intoxicating atmosphere of luxury and indulgence.
"Ah, Sir! You flatter us too much," replied one of the women with thickly coated lipstick, her voice dripping with a hint of playful modesty.
"Ah, but I speak only the truth, my dear," Jansen countered with a charming grin, his eyes sparkling with admiration as he surveyed the two women before him. "You both are the epitome of beauty and grace, a sight to behold in this vast world."
The women exchanged knowing glances, their lips curling into amused smiles at Jansen's flattery. They were well aware of their allure and the effect they had on men like him.
Meanwhile, amidst the tranquil darkness of the night, bathed in the silvery glow of the crescent moon, the horned figure stood in silent contemplation.
Its presence exuded an air of quiet confidence and authority, a stark contrast to the lively scene unfolding in the estate above.
As they watched Jansen and the two women from the shadows, a subtle smirk played upon their lips, betraying a sense of satisfaction at the unfolding events.
For them, everything was proceeding precisely as planned, each step carefully orchestrated to achieve their ultimate goal.
"You're fortunate indeed, my child," the figure murmured softly to themselves, their voice barely audible above the rustle of the leaves.
With a final, enigmatic smile, the figure melted back into the darkness, leaving behind only the whisper of the night breeze as a reminder of their presence.