Reincarnated in a novel: I am the villain!-Chapter 261: Vane!

With the death of the sirens the journey to the lighthouse was much smoother. After a few hours of drifting the soon made their way to the source of the light

Fortunately, they had more than enough food stored in the void gem.

"We’re finally here!" Damien sighed

The makeshift raft of driftwood and rotting lily pads bumped against the jagged black rock with a hollow thud.

Damien stepped off the wobbling platform onto solid stone.

He didn’t stumble. His trench coat, protected by a thin layer of his Will Armament, was perfectly dry, repelling the freezing sea spray that soaked Elian and Isabelle.

"Solid ground," Elian wheezed, kissing the rock. "Thank the gods."

Damien looked up.

The Lighthouse of the Damned was a crooked, needle-like spire of natural rock that pierced the darkness.

At the summit, a fortress clung to the stone like a barnacle, its rotating beam of white light cutting through the eternal gloom.

Around the base of the spire, the water churned violently.

Millions of Sunken Stars, the bioluminescent abyss jellyfish swarmed the rock, drawn to the light. But as they approached within ten feet of the shore, the air sizzled.

ZZZT.

A jellyfish touched an invisible barrier and disintegrated into blue ash.

"A Domain? Or is a special kind of Field," Damien noted, watching the sparks.

"Probably the only safe zone in the entire layer."

He walked toward the winding stairs carved into the rock face.

"Let’s go, hopefully we can find some information here."

With that said, they climbed the brutal staircase and pushed open the massive, rusted iron doors of the fortress.

CREAAAK.

The interior was a chaotic cavern of lost history.

It smelled of ozone, old paper, and dried herbs. Shelves stretched from the floor to the vaulted ceiling, packed with the gear of dead Drifters: rusted swords, cracked abyss mana crystals, grimoires bound in monster skin, and diving suits from civilizations that had perished centuries ago.

"We’re closed," a voice rasped, sounding like gears grinding against rust.

"Come back next century."

CLICK-WHIRR.

From the shadows of the ceiling, a figure descended on a chain.

It was a monstrosity of brass and bone. The torso was withered and undead, but four mechanical brass arms were stitched onto its sides.

Its face was a smooth porcelain mask with multiple rotating lenses.

The Keeper.

The weird figure hung upside down, its lenses zooming in on Damien.

"Living?" The Keeper tilted its head. "Rare. Most who knockon here are ghosts."

It dropped to the floor with a heavy metallic clank, scuttling behind a counter made of dragon bone.

"Flesh? Or Currency?" The Keeper asked, its four hands moving independently, one counting coins, one polishing a lens, two resting on the counter.

Elian stepped forward, bowing slightly.

"My Master wishes to trade," Elian explained quickly. "But be warned, Keeper. We do not carry Abyss currency."

He turned to Damien.

"Master, your surface Gold is worthless here. In the Abyss especially the Noble Realms below, metal means nothing. The currency is Power. Cores. Souls. The denser the mana, the higher the value."

The Keeper sneered. "No souls? Then get out. I run a business, not a charity."

Damien didn’t speak. He stepped up to the counter, towering over the hunched construct.

With a slight pause, he simply raised his hand.

THUD.

He slammed a fist-sized crystal onto the bone counter. 𝓯𝙧𝓮𝓮𝒘𝓮𝙗𝙣𝒐𝒗𝒆𝓵.𝓬𝓸𝒎

It glowed with a violent, toxic green light, pulsing with the heat of a volcano and the stench of decay.

The mana pressure radiating from it cracked the varnish on the counter.

[Item: Imp Lord Core (Tier 6)]

The room went silent.

The Keeper’s lenses widened, clicking rapidly as they focused on the gem.

"Tier 6," the Keeper hissed, greed leaking into its mechanical voice.

"A Quality one at that, most likely extracted... recently."

It looked up at Damien, reassessing the masked figure. To find a Tier 6 core in the upper layers was rare. To kill the owner was even rarer.

"I am listening," the Keeper’s voice became silky smooth.

"What does the wealthy gentleman require?"

Damien leaned in, his metallic mask reflecting the Keeper’s lenses.

"Two things."

"First," Damien said. "I am going to Layer 4. I need a way to survive the Great Whirlpool without being crushed into paste."

The Keeper nodded, its brass fingers tapping the core.

"The drain. Yes. Swimming is indeed suicide."

The construct rummaged under the counter and pulled out a large, strange object. It looked like a black, armored chrysalis or a coffin made of beetle shell.

"Void-Submersible," the Keeper explained.

"Organic hull. Reinforced with leviathan bone. It expands upon contact with water. It seats four and will survive the pressure of the drop."

"Acceptable," Damien said. "Second."

He pointed a gloved finger at Elian.

"My guide tells me that humans are treated as cattle in the Noble Realms. I have no intention of being livestock."

Damien’s King’s Intent flared slightly, making the air in the room heavy.

"I need status. I need papers that will let me walk through the front gate."

The Keeper hesitated. "Forgery is dangerous. If the Dukes find out..."

Damien tapped the Imp Lord Core. "The price is right."

The Keeper snatched the core. "Sold."

It reached into a hidden drawer and pulled out a heavy iron medallion and a scroll of black parchment.

"These belonged to a minor Demon Noble lineage that went extinct fifty years ago. No one will check the bloodline too closely if you have the aura to back it up."

The Keeper slid the items across.

"Title: Wandering Baron. It grants you the right to travel, trade, and own slaves in Layers 4 through 6. As long as you hold this, you are not human. You are Nobility."

"Plus, since most advanced demons have human-like features, be just don’t do anything suspicious and you should be fine"

Hearing this, Damien nodded as he swept the items into his Void Gem.

"Pleasure doing business," Damien turned to leave.

"Wait," the Keeper called out.

Damien stopped. "Is there a hidden fee?"

"No fee," the Keeper leaned on its four elbows, its lenses whirring.

"Just a... bonus. For a high-paying customer. You should know what you are dropping into, Baron."

The Construct pointed downward, toward the floor.

"Layer 4 is currently a slaughterhouse."

Damien turned around. "Explain."

"Civil War," the Keeper rasped.

"Two Great Clans are fighting for dominance of the Red Plains. The checkpoints are tight, and the streets are bloody."

"Who is fighting?" Damien asked.

"On one side, the Iron-Blood Clan. Demonic Orcs. Brutes with armies of steel."

The Keeper paused for dramatic effect.

"And on the other side... House Vane."

Damien froze.

"Vane?" he repeated, his voice low.

"Vampiric Demons," the Keeper explained. "Masters of blood magic and shadows. They have been ruling the Red Plains for centuries."

The name echoed in Damien’s mind.

House Vane.

"Surely it can’t be the same Vane as Elise and Duke Vane right? If it is then, this abyss trip might take a whole different turn"

Putting his hand on his chin, Damiens eyes behind the mask narrowed slightly