But Jones wasn't satisfied with that answer.
"No! You have to promise you won't kill me after I tell you!"
Clayton sneered.
"You think you're in any position to negotiate?"
Jones fell silent, finally realizing just how close he was to death. But he wasn't ready to give up. In his mind, the word "secret" still held power—especially in a world ruled by magic and sword. He clung to it like a bargaining chip, hoping it would be enough to make Clayton spare him.
"I only have one request. If you want the secret, you'll have to make a blood contract with me!"
Clayton frowned. He'd heard of blood contracts before—magically binding agreements witnessed by arcane forces—but he didn't know how to create one himself.
Jones believed his gamble was working. If he could secure the contract, he'd buy enough time to recover—and maybe one day take revenge for the humiliation he'd suffered.
