Liquidation: From Big Boss to Bloody Demon Sauce Chapter 10: Chapter 10: Miserable Job

Read chapter 10 of Liquidation: From Big Boss to Bloody Demon Sauce by Magic on NovelPedia.

High up in the obsidian towers of the castle, Luriel watched with narrowed eyes as Visthal battled with the Bihound in the courtyard below. The feral creature had been mindlessly wandering the outer edges of the glades, and she had pragmatically assumed that throwing the useless slime to it would be more than enough to permanently kill him. It would have saved her the minor effort of doing it herself. But as she watched the engagement unfold, that was clearly not the case. Her crimson eyes widened in genuine shock as the red-and-white puddle suddenly manipulated its own density, rapidly forming a lethal spike out of thin air. An even deeper, highly begrudging surprise followed as she clearly witnessed the incredibly successful, tactically perfect impalement of the massive, charging beast. "Interesting," she murmured softly, her hushed, silken words reverberating faintly against the cold stone of the massive, empty hall of her castle. Leaning over the balcony, watching intently as Visthal quickly recovered and began to aggressively spread his viscous form over the wounded beast, seemingly absorbing its very life force, Luriel found her dark amusement steadily growing. Sure, the pathetic, puddle-like remnants of the arrogant human man she’d much rather forget entirely were highly unsightly, but his sheer, unadulterated cunning and ruthless persistence were undeniably admirable. He fought with a desperate, dirty pragmatism that most newly born demons lacked. It was, without a doubt, quite entertaining to watch. In fact, this was probably the absolute most interesting ten minutes she had experienced in her incredibly monotonous, frustratingly stagnant month of exile. It wasn't until the massive Bihound suddenly started violently changing color, adopting Visthal's specific red-and-white aesthetic, and then physically bowed down in total submission to the slime, that Luriel finally broke into half a genuine grin. "So... the little puddle seems to actually have some fight in him," she mused quietly to herself, her eyes glittering with a sudden, renewed spark of predatory interest. But just as quickly as the smile appeared, she violently scorned herself for the momentary lapse in judgment. She tightened her grip on the stone railing. Even if the pathetic little puddle was somehow able to violently defeat this mid-tier monster, and even miraculously convert it to his side, Visthal was still, at the end of the day, nothing more than a bottom-tier puddle of raw Ether. He was an incredibly arrogant slime at that, and this minor victory in the courtyard was mathematically nothing more than a statistical anomaly—sheer, dumb luck against a feral dog. Once Visthal actually entered the true, highly competitive ecosystem of the Dark Glade, he would surely be torn apart and killed by something far worse. And so would start the agonizing cycle of his rebirth, over and over, until the proud man was finally forced to break and beg for her protection and help. But even then, she vindictively noted, she might not actually give it to him. She enjoyed watching him suffer. Squeezing her clawed hand into a tight, white-knuckled fist, she stared down at the courtyard as Visthal and his newly acquired, heavily muscled pet began to move. She watched as the slime arrogantly crawled up and perched itself on the terrifying creature's back. The highly unusual duo confidently left out the front iron gate, stepping into the unknown. Luriel turned, fully intending to silently follow them from the air to watch the inevitable slaughter, but a sudden, highly volatile stir in the ambient Ether on the absolute opposite end of the Dark Glade aggressively drew her attention away. She froze, her wings twitching. As much as she would deeply like to spend the evening watching Visthal be violently torn apart by the local flora and fauna, shirking her assigned warden duties would result in a fate vastly much worse than any torture she could possibly dream up for the slime. Ma