"For mere human women? I won't need force," Rothgar replied dismissively.

"Then I'll be waiting for your good news!" Balian laughed as he opened a teleportation array. He gave Rothgar a meaningful look before departing with Katherine.

Once the light of the array vanished, Katherine whispered to Balian, "What if he actually wins?". Balian didn't care. He flew her back toward their bedroom, distracted. "He's bound to lose. With that foul mouth of his, he doesn't know a single kind word. What woman would ever want to marry him?".

On the other side, Rothgar returned to the depths of his citadel. He knew Balian had offered the seed because Balian didn't value it as much as he did, and because Balian was certain he would lose. Balian had often told him that even if Rothgar truly fell in love, he could never pursue a lady because his words alone were enough to turn love into hatred.

But even Balian didn't know the full extent of Rothgar's talent: Host Possession.

Every Abyssal Lord received a unique gift when they climbed out of the Abyss. Balian knew that Rothgar could turn his body into a soul-like form to inhabit and perfectly manipulate the body of a sentient being. What Balian didn't know was that Rothgar could also randomly acquire portions of the host's memories.

To Rothgar, the wager was simple: find a playboy and use his memories to win the hearts of human women. Since humans were vain and greedy, victory was assured.

There was no direct passage between the Abyssal and Human Realms; the environment of one was toxic to the inhabitants of the other. Only a few powerful individuals could survive the crossing using secret arts or artifacts, and even then, their strength would be severely suppressed. Rothgar frequently visited the Human Realm to find clues to break his Abyssal Curse—the price for his gift—and he had a permanent cross-realm array set up beneath his castle.

He stood in the center of the array and flicked a finger. Black flames struck the center, filling the array instantly. After a flash of purple light, he appeared in a mountain forest ten miles outside a human city.

As the light faded, Rothgar frowned. The Human Realm always made him feel uncomfortable. Though an Abyssal Lord could resist the environment, he was not unaffected. His strength was currently suppressed to less than half of its original state.

Voices drifted from ahead—screams mixed with arrogant laughter. Rothgar made no effort to hide himself as he approached.

"Who are you!" a man shouted.

Rothgar didn't even spare him a glance, continuing on his way. A woman's voice screamed, "Help me! Please, save me!".

"Shut up!" followed by the sound of a slap. A rough male voice barked, "I asked you a question! Halt! Dammit, brothers, get him!".

Several men picked up weapons and rushed Rothgar. In the dim light of the forest, blocked by branches, they didn't realize what he was until they had surrounded him.

"A demon! It's a demon!" they shrieked in terror. They turned to flee, but it was too late.

Rothgar flicked his wrist. Black flames manifested out of thin air. The moment they touched the men, they spread like oil. The roaring black fire engulfed them, reducing them to ash in an instant.

Rothgar didn't even break his stride.

Behind him, the woman who had witnessed this horrific scene trembled in terror. She hugged herself, weeping silently, not daring to make a sound as she prayed desperately to the Goddess of Light. Having narrowly escaped death, she immediately decided to treat this as a nightmare and tell no one.

Rothgar Valemont soon discovered a suitable target for possession: Patrick Wilson, the son of the Bluestone City Lord, who was currently returning to the city in a luxury four-wheeled carriage. Patrick was not a mage and possessed weak mental strength; aside from him, the carriage held only a coachman and a valet, both of whom were feeble, ordinary humans. Rothgar succeeded in his possession with ease. This host was young and handsome—capable, Rothgar felt, of making at least ten human women accept a marriage proposal in a single day.

Rothgar's possession did not kill the original host. Instead, the host's soul was forced to curl into a ball and fall into a deep sleep, leaving the body entirely under the demon's control. As the carriage rolled slowly into Bluestone City, Rothgar opened the window and looked out with cold indifference. These lowly, incompetent, and weak humans were as loathsome as ever.

The carriage came to a sudden, jarring halt. The coachman shouted in a rage, "You peasant! How dare you block Lord Patrick's carriage! Do you wish to be hanged?".

Rothgar retracted his gaze as a soft, panicked female voice replied, "I'm sorry... someone pushed me... I'll get out of the way immediately!".

A clumsy excuse, Rothgar thought. He remembered seeing such dramas centuries ago—a poor but beautiful girl falling before a wealthy young master's carriage, hoping for a shortcut to high society. Hmph. Women.

Rothgar pushed open the door and stepped down. The girl was propped up on the ground, struggling to stand, but she collapsed back in pain from an injured knee. Onlookers had already begun to gather and whisper.

Quite a performance, Rothgar thought maliciously as he walked toward the girl who couldn't stand. Much to her astonishment, he leaned down and swept her up into his arms. His action drew gasps from the crowd. Most recognized the Lord's son and were stunned to see a noble carry a commoner.

In Rothgar's eyes, humans were lower than the most basic slimes in the Abyssal Realm; in his true form, he wouldn't let a human woman touch so much as a thread of his cloak. But for the sake of the Abyssal Tree Seed, he didn't mind enduring it for a moment. Accessing Patrick Wilson's memories, he wore a smile and gazed affectionately at the girl, who looked no more than sixteen or seventeen.

"Beautiful lady," he said, drawing on the flowery words of the playboy Patrick, "I have fallen in love with you at first sight. Seeing you injured cuts my heart like a blade. How could I bear to see you suffer so? Please, come home with me; I will see to your injuries personally".

Patrick had been a popular playboy thanks to his background, and his head was full of sweet talk that Rothgar could now select from at will. The girl had long, curly red-brown hair and was fair-skinned. Her sky-blue eyes held a thin layer of tears from the pain, and her lips were a full, healthy red, though her faded grey dress made her look like a pearl covered in dust.

Before she could react, Rothgar carried her into the carriage, igniting a wave of gossip among the crowd.

"Wow, Lord Patrick is so gentle. I wish I was the one who fell in front of his carriage!". "That girl is so lucky. Merciful Goddess, why couldn't this happen to my daughter?".

Rothgar heard their envy and let out a cold, knowing sneer in his heart. These inferior humans never failed to meet his low expectations. Contrary to his thoughts, he placed the girl gently on the seat and sat across from her. Looking at her with eyes full of tenderness as she wiped away her tears, he spoke in a magnetic voice: "Beautiful lady, you are like the rising sun to me, illuminating the path ahead. Without you by my side, I would not know where to go. Please, marry me!".

Rothgar opted for a quick resolution. Since this human woman had fallen before the carriage with the goal of social climbing, he assumed she would accept with ecstatic joy. He saw the girl's hand freeze. She looked up at him, her eyes wide with what he assumed was overwhelming surprise, her lips trembling slightly.

Rothgar's disgust deepened; this display of greed was revolting. The moment she agrees, I'll kill her, he thought. He lowered his gaze slightly, his hand resting casually on the dagger at his waist, waiting for her answer.

Instead, he heard a soft but firm voice: "I refuse.".

Rothgar snapped his eyes up, his reaction uncharacteristically slow. ...She had actually rejected him?.

That was impossible!.