Became a Demon with Pregnancy System-Chapter 124: Bargains and Bloodlines
He glanced at his hands. If I unleash the Lone Star Wolf or the Curse Demon spells now... he mused, I might go toe-to-toe with a mid-tier Monarch creature.
That realization made him grin. Normally, bridging such a gap in so little time was unheard of. But his entire existence flouted the norms.
His reverie was broken by movement in a corridor across the courtyard. Two figures emerged, shadows stretched under the soft glow of the academy’s lampposts.
Even from a distance, Luke recognized them by their wings and unmistakable silhouettes: Perola and Laura Adams, the very Fallen Angels who had just parted ways with him hours earlier.
They walked close together, speaking in hushed voices. Luke smirked, guessing they were each still somewhat "drained" from that day’s...activities.
He could see the faint tiredness in their postures, the slight stiffness in the way they stepped.
No wonder they only offered me a single day, he thought, I might’ve truly exhausted them if they’d stayed longer.
He half-expected them to glare upon noticing him, but they merely inclined their heads in a silent, mutual acknowledgment.
We parted on decent terms, Luke thought, remembering the final conversation:
"Fine, you can keep the undead creature somewhere safe," he’d said. "I’ll summon it when I need. As for the dark matter and cursed materials—just let me know when you have them ready."
Perola, flustered and still trying to maintain composure, had stammered, "F-fine. We’ll send word. Or you can stop by our quarters in the staff wing...."
"Right. Don’t forget the day we spent together," Luke had teased, giving a playful pat—okay, a smack—to each of them, leaving faint red prints.
Laura Adams had bitten her lip, stifling a retort, but simply nodded in grudging acceptance.
The recollection made Luke smile. Well, that was an interesting arrangement. A faint part of him wondered if the entire escapade might complicate his relationship with Hazel Ross—if she ever found out. But he decided that was a problem for another day.
Letting the Fallen Angels pass by without further conversation, Luke turned down a different path.
The lamp-lit walkway led toward the campus’s main gate, beyond which the busy metropolis of Arcadia stretched.
Now where to? he pondered. I can’t see Hazel right now—she’s...unavailable for a week. He cracked a rueful grin at that thought.
Elias Vaughn is locked in a lab, playing with venom from the Totem Serpent and searching for a cure to his grandfather’s illness.
Tanya Reed is busy dealing with the old arcane guardians... He paused, recalling the name: Victor Hale—the man who once insisted on suppressing the serpent’s threat. Tanya was locked in arguments with him, likely.
He exhaled. Life in Arcadia sure is calmer if I’m not leading students off to demon-infested areas.
But that calm left him restless. He drifted across the campus lawns until something else caught his eye.
Down a side street beyond the academy gate, he spotted a garish neon sign advertising a private club. A small crowd of well-dressed individuals milled around the entrance.
Luke squinted, then recognized a familiar face: Walter Murphy.
The scion of the Murphy Family was shaking hands with a rough, broad-shouldered man who exuded an air of underworld menace.
As Luke inched closer, he overheard snatches of conversation:
"Walter," the rough man was saying, "this year’s blood agent contract from the military is being handed to your Murphy Family. Don’t screw it up."
Walter nodded eagerly. "Don’t worry, Mr. Lane. Our workshop can handle the production. We’ll make sure everything’s top quality."
The man—Quentin Lane, apparently—gave a grim smile. "You’d better. If anything goes wrong, not even Councilor Laurence Mann can save you."
Luke blinked. Blood agent contract? That was a big deal—lab-synthesized solutions for bridging special magical vulnerabilities, sometimes used by the military.
The profits could easily reach hundreds of millions.
Clearly, Walter Murphy was no longer the bumbling rich kid who nearly got himself killed.
He was forging deals that could solidify his family’s standing.
A flicker of memory tugged at Luke.
The last time I saw him, he was trembling in fear, thinking I’d take revenge for the stunt he pulled with those goons.
Luke had humiliated him then, but ultimately spared him.
After sobering from that near-death scare, Walter must have turned to focusing on his family’s business. Guess he learned his lesson.
He watched as Walter accompanied Quentin Lane a short distance, all smiles and nods, practically oozing flattery.
Once Quentin Lane left, Walter Murphy lingered by the club’s entrance, obviously basking in the afterglow of what he considered a major triumph.
Luke strolled over casually. "Walter," he said, letting his voice carry across the last few feet.
Walter jumped at the sound of his name.
Then his eyes landed on Luke, and a sudden spark of old fear lit them.
"L-Luke...!" He fumbled backward, nearly stepping on the doorman’s polished shoes.
Even though time had passed, he still remembered how helpless he’d been against Luke’s powers.
Luke offered a disarming smile. "Relax, I’m not here to pick a fight. Looks like you’re doing well for yourself."
Swallowing hard, Walter forced a laugh. "Y-yeah, it’s all right. Just a small business arrangement."
He brushed imaginary dust from his suit lapel, trying to regain composure. "Anyway, can I, uh, help you with something?"
Luke eyed the lavish club behind them. "I was just passing by, saw you were with...that fellow. You’re getting a contract to produce blood agent?"
Walter nodded vigorously, a note of pride in his voice. "Yep. If all goes well, the military will rely on the Murphy Family for this crucial item. We stand to make a fortune." He paused, squinting at Luke. "What about you? I heard you got stripped of your field instructor role. Sorry about that."
Luke shrugged, unbothered. "I’ll manage. The academy wants me on a short leash, so I’m taking it easy for now."
Walter let out a guarded chuckle. "Taking it easy, huh? You sure it’s not a sign that your luck’s run out?"
Something in the question hinted at residual bitterness, like he wanted to see Luke suffer a bit.
But memories of nearly dying at Luke’s hands tempered that impulse.
"Luck has never been my strong suit," Luke replied mildly. "But I make do."
Walter fidgeted, torn between courtesy and old grudges. In the end, he forced a smile.
"Well, if you ever want a job, I suppose I could spare one for you in the Murphy Family ranks."
The offer was half-sarcastic, half-nervous—he needed to maintain a veneer of benevolence.
Luke gave a low laugh. "I’ll keep that in mind. But I doubt I’ll want to trade demon hunting for...assembly lines."
Before Walter could respond, the club door swung open, releasing a burst of music and cigarette smoke.
A couple of Walter’s associates stumbled out, saw him chatting with Luke, and quickly moved on, muttering about private dealings.
Walter cleared his throat. "Anyway, I have to head in. A meeting. It was...nice seeing you, Luke." He gave a small nod and retreated inside, the door shutting behind him.
Exhaling, Luke let the last strains of muffled music fade. "Murphy Family, huh?" he murmured. "Guess some folks get that second chance to turn their lives around."
Truth be told, Luke felt a flicker of curiosity about the arrangement with the blood agent.
That contract was a big deal. But that’s not my concern, he reminded himself.
I’ve got bigger fish to fry.
