I could also enslave him. Break his mind and turn him into an obedient puppet.
Or I could do something more interesting.
I let my aura settle, retracting the oppressive weight. The mage gasped as if he had been underwater.
"Calm down," I said, and put power behind the words.
This was where Tempter came into play.
The ability activated almost without conscious effort, like flexing a muscle that had always been there. I felt my magical energy flow in a different way—not destructive like Annihilation Magic, but persuasive, seductive, manipulative.
Tempter was not crude mind control. That was inelegant, easy to resist for strong minds, and honestly boring. No—Tempter was an art.
It worked in layers.
The first layer was emotional influence. I could amplify or dampen the target's emotions. Make fear turn into paralyzing terror, or dilute it into manageable apprehension. Turn anger into blind fury, or calm it into mild irritation. It was subtle—the target still felt their own emotions, just… intensified or dampened according to my will.
Right now, I was dampening the mage's fear. Not eliminating it—that would be too obvious—just reducing it enough for him to think clearly. I watched his breathing steady, his hands stop shaking so violently.
The second layer was supernatural persuasion. When I spoke under Tempter's influence, my words carried weight. They didn't force belief—again, that would be crude—but they made my arguments sound more reasonable, my logic more convincing, my offers more attractive. It was like speaking with charisma amplified a thousand times, where every word was exactly right, every tone perfectly modulated.
"Breathe," I told him, my voice sounding comforting, almost friendly. "I'm not going to kill you. At least, not yet."
I saw him relax slightly. It was his own decision to relax—Tempter only made my words seem more trustworthy.
The third layer was mental resistance weakening. This one was more aggressive. I could erode the target's mental defenses, make their convictions waver, turn their certainties into doubts. It didn't rewrite their thoughts—it made them more malleable, more susceptible to suggestion.
I wasn't using it at full power now. Just a touch, enough to make sure the mage wouldn't try anything heroic and stupid.
And the fourth layer was the power of demonic contracts. This was the most dangerous part. With Tempter active, I could create binding pacts that were almost impossible to break. Words became magical chains, agreements became geas etched into the soul itself. But unlike traditional contracts that required genuine consent, Tempter allowed me to… tilt the scales. Make acceptance seem like the only reasonable option.
I wasn't creating a contract yet. First, I needed information.
"So," I said, my voice still carrying that persuasive weight, "let's talk civilly. What's your name?"
The mage swallowed. "M-Marcus. Marcus Aldrich."
"Marcus." I nodded. "Good. Now, Marcus, I'm going to ask you some questions, and you're going to answer them honestly. Do you understand?"
I subtly amplified his desire to cooperate, making compliance feel like the safest option.
"Y-yes," he replied, and I saw some of the tension leave his shoulders.
"Excellent. First question: What year is it?"
Marcus blinked, confused by the question. "The year? It's… it's the year ???? of the Imperial Calendar."
I processed that. Noir's memories weren't specific about human calendars—demons didn't measure time the same way. But based on what I knew from canon, this meant I was about two hundred years before Rimuru's arrival.
Perfect. More than enough time.
"Why did you summon me?"
Marcus hesitated, and I felt his resistance rise. A secret he didn't want to reveal. I applied a little more pressure with Tempter, eroding that resistance.
"I… I was researching ancient magic in the archives of the Ilumnos Academy," he confessed, the words coming faster now, driven by Tempter's influence. "I found references to demonic summoning rituals. My thesis was that… that demons could be controlled if the ritual was strong enough."
"And they expelled you for forbidden research," I finished.
"Not just that." His face twisted with bitterness and fear. "My research attracted… unwanted attention. There's a cult operating in the shadows of Ilumnos. They worship an ancient entity. When they discovered my work, they thought I could help them. When I refused…" He swallowed. "They marked me for death. I've been running for weeks."
Interesting. A cult. That could be useful—or dangerous—depending on what they worshiped.
"So you thought summoning a powerful demon would give you protection," I said. "Or at least, revenge."
"I… yes."
I studied Marcus carefully. He was weak by this world's standards—an academic with barely competent magic. But he had knowledge, access to information, and most importantly—he was desperate.
Desperation made people malleable.
"Marcus," I said, letting Tempter flow freely now, my voice becoming almost hypnotic in its persuasion, "I'm going to make you an offer. One you'd be wise to accept."
His eyes focused on me, and I watched Tempter work—his resistance eroded, his fear managed, his mind open to suggestion.
"I'll save you. I'll eliminate your problem with this cult. I'll give you protection, and even some power—enough to defend yourself." I paused, letting the words sink in. "In exchange, you'll become my agent in this world. You'll gather information for me. Keep me informed of important events. And when I call, you'll answer."
I saw the conflict on his face—the last spark of resistance fighting against Tempter's influence.
"Think about it," I continued, my voice soft but irresistible. "You're alone, hunted, without resources. Rejecting my offer means I leave you here, and that cult eventually finds you. Accepting means you live, you gain power, you have a purpose." I smiled. "It's not really a difficult choice, is it?"
Tempter amplified every logical point, made every argument sound perfectly reasonable. I wasn't forcing him—that would be inelegant. I was simply… presenting the most attractive option in a way that was impossible to refuse.
"I…" Marcus swallowed. "What kind of contract?"
"A fair one," I lied gently, though technically it would be fair by my standards. "You serve as my eyes and ears. In return, you get my protection and occasional benefits. I won't ask you to sacrifice your soul or do anything that violates your fundamental principles." I paused. "Unless it's absolutely necessary, of course."
I said the last part with an almost playful tone, and I saw him register it—but Tempter softened the impact, making it feel more like a joke than a threat.
"Deal," Marcus finally whispered, and I felt Tempter secure his acceptance, engraving it deeply into his psyche.
I smiled. "Excellent choice."
I extended my hand, and dark energy flowed from my fingers, forming runes in the air between us. These weren't the crude runes of his ritual—these were a true demonic contract, amplified by Tempter's power.
"Repeat after me," I ordered, my voice resonating with supernatural authority. "I, Marcus Aldrich, voluntarily accept a contract with the Primordial Demon Noir."
"I, Marcus Aldrich," he repeated in a monotone, "voluntarily accept a contract with the Primordial Demon Noir."
The runes flared brightly.
"I will serve as his eyes in the mortal world, reporting information as required."
He repeated it.
"In exchange, I will receive his protection and benefits as he sees fit."
He repeated again.
"This contract is sealed in magic, binding until Primordial Noir dissolves it or I cease to exist."
The final words left his lips, and the runes exploded into black flames, enveloping us both. I felt the contract take hold, engraving itself into Marcus's soul, binding him to me with demonic magic threads reinforced by Tempter.
When the flames faded, Marcus collapsed to his knees, gasping. I could see the contract mark— invisible to normal eyes, but clear as day to me—etched into his soul.
He was mine now. Not fully enslaved—that would be counterproductive. But bound strongly enough that betraying me was nearly impossible, and disobeying me physically painful.
"Stand up," I ordered, and he obeyed instantly, the contract amplifying his willingness to comply.
I studied my work with satisfaction. Tempter had worked perfectly—turning a potential enemy into a useful asset without resorting to violence or crude mind control.
It was elegant. Efficient. And completely on my terms.
"Now," I said, my voice returning to a conversational tone, "tell me more about this cult that's hunting you. It's time to demonstrate why serving me was the best decision you've ever made."
Marcus nodded fervently, Tempter ensuring his enthusiastic cooperation.
And as he began to explain, I couldn't help but smile.
My first agent in the material world. My first step toward building something of my own.
The original Noir would never have thought to do this—he was too obsessed with finding the perfect master.
But I wasn't that Noir.
And this world was about to discover just how different a Primordial could be when he decided to write his own story.