"When Aragon Roland arrived here, it was aboard a dilapidated ship. Tragically, that vessel should never have docked on this island. As a result, the entire ship was devoured… and Aragon himself was brought here by me. It was here that we reached certain agreements." Chris spoke cryptically, his tone deliberately ambiguous.
Yet, such veiled hints were more than enough.
Du Wei, well-versed in the history of the Roland Empire, recalled it vividly. In fact, during his first few years in this world, his tutor—assigned by Count Raymond—had taught him much, including the life of the empire's founding emperor. Du Wei had read it more as a fanciful novel than a historical biography.
Aragon Roland. The architect of the great Roland Empire. His life, in Du Wei's eyes, unfolded like the plot of a grand, self-indulgent adventure tale.
Like many fictional protagonists, Aragon possessed extraordinary luck and a string of improbable encounters. As a modern saying might describe it, his fortune bordered on the miraculous, his resilience comparable to an indestructible cockroach.
The biographies depicted the founding emperor's journey in exhaustive detail. Aragon was born into a declining noble family, neither a firstborn nor heir but the third son of his father. Denied any inheritance rights, he grew up enamored with the thrill of adventure.
At sixteen, Aragon left home to embark on his own ventures. He joined mercenary groups and quickly became a young man consumed by dreams of adventure.
It was a time when the continent thrived on the spirit of exploration—a stark contrast to the current era, dominated by the singular thorn-flower banner of the Roland Empire.
In those days, the continent was fractured, a patchwork of countless nations embroiled in perpetual strife. Wars, conquests, intrigue, and betrayals characterized the landscape, shaping an age ripe for heroes and legends.
After a few years as a mercenary, sixteen-year-old Aragon developed an obsession with seafaring exploits.
By the age of twenty-one, he had become a skilled swordsman and amassed a modest fortune through his mercenary work. He invested all his savings into a merchant ship, venturing into maritime trade.
But his maiden voyage ended in disaster. His ship met with a catastrophic accident, and while the vessel was lost, Aragon miraculously survived, escaping death by a hair's breadth.
Historians agree: had it not been for that shipwreck, Aragon—the great founding emperor—might have ended up as nothing more than a prosperous maritime trader.
But fate had other plans. With his dream of maritime trade shattered, Aragon returned home to find his father deceased. The family estate was divided among the sons, with Aragon receiving the smallest share.
His father, a minor noble of meager means, had left little behind. Yet Aragon made a decision that baffled everyone—he sold his inheritance and used the funds to raise a small private army.
This reckless gamble drew ridicule, as Aragon's homeland was a peaceful corner of the continent, far removed from the chaos of war. A private army seemed unnecessary, if not outright wasteful.
But Aragon's gamble paid off. Within six months, war erupted. His once-peaceful homeland was swept into the larger conflict between two great powers, and within a month, the small kingdom was conquered and torn apart in the tug-of-war between empires.
Aragon's two elder brothers perished in the ensuing chaos, and their estates were razed by marauding forces.
Aragon, however, joined one of the warring nations with his private army, quickly rising to a prominent military rank.
From there, his brilliance began to shine.
Displaying unmatched martial prowess, he personally slew a famed enemy general—a knight renowned across the continent—and accumulated countless accolades in battle.
By the war's end, Aragon was granted a noble title and a vast fiefdom, dwarfing the modest lands his father had once held.
Then, to everyone's astonishment, Aragon declined further military service. Instead, he turned to the Mage Guild and, within a year, earned the title of mage.
Three years later, war broke out again. By then, Aragon had already ascended to the rank of high mage.
In the annals of history, no one had ever achieved such feats.
When asked why he chose to become a mage, Aragon, the young noble, once replied, "My army requires the support of mages in battle. Sadly, mages are too rare, so I had no choice but to learn magic myself."
When war engulfed the land once more, Aragon's kingdom found itself on the brink of destruction, its capital besieged for three months. A royal decree summoned all nobles to lead their private armies in defense of the realm. Aragon's forces arrived last.
By then, the opposing armies were battered and exhausted.
Unquestionably, Aragon's entry into the fray came at a pivotal moment.
In the decisive battle, Aragon not only slew the enemy's commanding knight but also unleashed a forbidden-level spell, obliterating the rival kingdom's chief court mage.
The tides of war shifted dramatically. Victory was sealed, and the war's aftermath left the kingdom's weakened government under Aragon's control. Reluctantly, the king elevated Aragon to the rank of duke.A year later, the king passed away—a turn of events that has long been debated by historians. Many privately suggest that the timing of his death was far too "coincidental," occurring just as Aragon's prestige reached its zenith. With no direct heirs to the throne, the kingdom found itself plunged into a leadership vacuum. Though no historical records explicitly state it, subtle insinuations abound, hinting that the great founding emperor may have been intricately involved in this matter.
The ultimate beneficiary, without a doubt, was Aragon.
He married the late king's niece, elevating her to the position of queen. Three years later, the queen died, and Aragon officially ascended as His Majesty the King.
In the annals of history, Aragon Roland is immortalized as an invincible commander. Leading his army from victory to victory, he annihilated countless nations, uniting the entire continent under the banner of the Thorned Flower in a mere fifteen years. Thus, he single-handedly established the grand Roland Empire that endures to this day.
Does it not resemble the perfect tale of a legendary epic?
Duwei's mind raced as he pieced together every fragment of the emperor's storied life he could recall.
Clearly, as per Chris's account, Aragon's encounter with this demon's servant during his first failed maritime adventure marked a turning point. Following that fateful meeting, Aragon ascended like a blazing comet across the war-torn lands. Undoubtedly, the founding emperor had gained something extraordinary through his pact with this infernal agent.
Reflecting on Aragon's seemingly miraculous life and unparalleled achievements, Duwei felt a strange stirring in his heart.
And now, as this demon's servant uttered the word "bargain," Duwei could feel the calm he had nurtured for over a decade begin to falter.
"Dear little noble, your heart is racing," Chris remarked with a perfectly timed, enigmatic smile.
Taking a deep breath, Duwei responded, "Respected Mr. Chris... my heart races because I am being tempted by a devil."
Chris's smile deepened, growing more sinister. With a simple wave of his hand, both Vivian and Joanna collapsed softly to the ground, unconscious.
"Our deal will remain between us," Chris said with a grin. "When they awaken, they will forget everything that happened here, even my existence."
The opportunity lay before him.
Duwei's breathing quickened. "A deal, you say? Tell me, what can you offer me, and what do you intend to take from me?"
Chris did not answer directly. Instead, he spoke slowly, "Aren't you curious about what I once gave Aragon?"
"I think I can guess," Duwei replied thoughtfully.
What had Chris bestowed upon Aragon?
Duwei's first thoughts turned to Aragon's unparalleled strength—his martial prowess rivaling that of a saintly knight, and his mastery of high-level magic. These abilities elevated him to the pinnacle of power, making him an unstoppable force on the battlefield. Soldiers revered him, willing to follow him unto death.
At the same time, Duwei harbored another suspicion.
Historical records noted that, despite countless battles, Aragon seemed to have never suffered serious injuries. Even in old age, he was free of ailments and passed away peacefully in his sleep one night. His life was, in every sense, perfect.
"Did you grant him, beyond extraordinary skills and magic, an almost immortal body?" Duwei ventured.
"Not immortality," Chris corrected with a smile, "but a body without fatal flaws. When Aragon left here, I extracted his heart. Though his body departed, his heart remained with me. This made him nearly impervious to harm. Even the deadliest injuries or poisons could not threaten him, as his heart—his core—was beyond their reach."
Duwei's eyes twitched involuntarily. His heart?
"You're not planning to take my heart as well, are you?" Duwei asked, eyeing Chris warily. "What would you even do with it? Fry it, or roast it perhaps?"
"Neither," Chris answered calmly, unfazed by Duwei's sarcasm. "I kept his heart as a memento. A king's heart—a king's heart—is there anything more fascinating to collect?"
Duwei sighed. Though he suspected Chris's explanation was far from the whole truth, there was little he could do about it.
"So, you only kept Aragon's heart?" Duwei frowned. "No other conditions?"
"None," Chris replied simply. "Just his heart."
Seeing the confusion in Duwei's eyes, Chris added with a sly smile, "Creating a king with my own hands and holding his heart in my grasp... the thrill of it is something you can't begin to fathom, my dear little noble."
Duwei could only sigh.
"Alright then, what do you want from me?" he asked with a wry smile. "If it's my heart you're after, I can't promise you'll have it."
"No, no," Chris chuckled, "one king's heart is enough for my collection. I'm not fond of redundancy. Besides, time has worn me down. My powers are waning. I can't offer you the kind of strength I once granted Aragon. When he left this place, he took half of my magic with him. Otherwise, do you think it would have been so easy for a knight to become an exceptional mage?"
No wonder, Duwei thought, letting out a low whistle.
"Moreover," Chris continued, "Aragon eventually broke our agreement. There were terms he failed to fulfill. That experience taught me a lesson: a one-time deal is too risky. If you leave this place and disregard our terms, I'll be powerless to stop you. I am, after all, a prisoner confined to this island. Thus, I've devised a new approach: future deals will be divided into installments rather than granting everything at once."
"For instance?"
"For instance, I'll give you a small taste of what you desire, dear little noble. Then, you'll fulfill certain tasks for me. When you return, having completed them, I'll grant you further rewards," Chris said with a sly grin.
"A taste? What kind of taste?"
"Anything you wish," Chris replied, his smile now almost wicked, his voice dripping with temptation.
"I can give you anything your heart desires. Though not overly powerful, it will be enough to seduce anyone. If you crave women, I can gift you a pair of 'Eyes of Enchantment.' With a mere gaze, any woman will fall hopelessly in love with you. These two sorceresses, for instance—if you wish, one glance from you would have them undressing to dance before you. Even a saintly maiden sworn to the gods would cast aside her holy robes under your gaze, offering herself to you without hesitation."
A tempting prospect, admittedly...
Duwei sighed. While an enticing offer, it wasn't quite enough to sway him.
"You see, I'm a nobleman," Duwei said diplomatically. "I don't think I'll find myself lacking in female company. Besides, I'm not the type to indulge in excessive lust."
"Very well," Chris mused. "If you're not drawn to such pleasures, how about the heart of a dragon? Your frail body would transform into a paragon of strength. With a dragon's heart, you'd possess unparalleled physical might, becoming an invincible warrior on the battlefield. I might even throw in a small bonus—perhaps limited access to Dragon Magic."
Duwei envisioned himself as a hulking brute, a mountain of muscle...
No, thank you.
"I must decline," Duwei said politely. "War and brute strength hold no appeal for me. In truth, history shows that most powerful warriors are little more than pawns for those who wield real authority."
"Then I'll offer you power," Chris suggested after a moment of thought. "The ability to see through lies, to peer into the hearts of others, to hear their innermost thoughts. Such a gift would give you unparalleled advantages in the political arena. With your keen mind, you'd ascend to power in no time."
"I am the eldest son of the Deputy Commander of the Imperial Military," Duwei said with feigned indifference. "The first in line to inherit the Roland family name. Do you truly think I'll ever need to worry about my position or influence? My father will soon rise to the highest ranks of the empire, perhaps even becoming its Chancellor. As his heir, I stand to inherit everything. So, I'm afraid your offer doesn't quite move me."
In truth, Duwei was lying.
Chris, confined to his island prison, had no way of knowing that Duwei had already been stripped of his inheritance.
Even so, the ancient, cunning Chris found himself growing impatient.
"Little noble! What is it you truly want?"