Organ rental company in another world

Duke Angre sat in his villa in the Backlanza district, with three empty wine bottles on the mahogany table in front of him and several empty glasses lying haphazardly beside him.

He poured himself another glass, brought it to his lips, but didn't drink it. He just stared blankly at the dark red liquid in the glass.

His left hand unconsciously groped between his legs, as if he were reminiscing about something.

"Damn it..." Angre slammed his glass on the table, splashing wine all over his hands.

People only forget their desire to reproduce when they are busy. Now that everything is going according to plan, he is so bored that he wants to find some fun.

In order to kill Dante, he had already sold most of his territory and invested all the money in the tumor in the wine cellar.

Now, all he owns are this villa in the Backlanza district and the manor outside the city; he even sold the few mixed-breed unicorns that the kingdom had given him.

But it was all worth it.

Once Dante dies, the Kingdom of Eton will be able to completely break free from the control of the Papacy.

He would then be a hero of the entire kingdom, and his name would be engraved on a stone tablet in the central square of Basel, to be passed down through generations.

As Angre thought of this, the gloom on his face eased slightly. He picked up his glass and finally drank it all in one gulp.

"Once I succeed, I'm definitely going to bring that brat Norn back!"

There was a sudden knock on the window.

Angell put down his wine glass, struggled to sit up from his chair, and walked to the window.

Fala's pale face was pressed against the glass, his two eyes, one red and one black, anxiously peering inside.

Angre quickly opened the window, and Falley jumped in, his black robe covered in dust, his chest heaving violently, clearly having run all the way here.

"My lord!" Farai said, panting heavily, his voice even hoarser than usual, "The evil god is ready!"

Angre's pupils dilated suddenly, and the fat on his face jiggled with surprise: "Really!? Wasn't it supposed to take three days? How come it's so fast?"

"There were some unexpected issues, but the result was... better than expected," Farley said, panting.

Upon hearing this, Angre paced excitedly back and forth in the study, his obese body pounding on the floor. "I'll go tell the King right now, and have him send someone to tell Dante this news so he can go and face his death!"

"Won't your bluntness arouse his suspicion?"

"Suspicion? That old fox already noticed something was amiss. Even if he knew there was a trap here, he would still go and take a look," Angre said confidently.

"Go back immediately and tell them to leave. That evil god won't just kill people indiscriminately, will he?"

"Don't worry, sir. Each of us carries a piece of blood crystal. The evil god won't attack if it smells the same aura as us."

"Alright, then I'm relieved. Take care, and I'll bestow titles upon you after this is accomplished!"

Fala nodded, then jumped out of the window, his black robe flashing in the night wind.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

As night fell and the streets of Basel were dimly lit, Dante received a letter bearing the royal seal shortly after finishing his dinner.

The document stated that they had captured a dark sorcerer yesterday, and through torture, they learned of the sorcerer's conspiracy.

They attempted to resurrect the evil god to declare war on the theocracy, and their infiltration of the canon candidates was also intended to delay Dante and his companions' return, planning to target them first after the evil god descended to earth.

The letter also clearly stated the location of the dark sorcerers' stronghold. Although it did not explicitly say that Dante was to go there, the meaning was very clear.

"Hmph, so they've finally decided to make their move on me." Dante slammed the letter down on the table.

What kind of bullshit torture and forced confession is this? If they really caught someone, why didn't they notify me so I could use magic to extract information?

This king can't even make up a story.

This, however, aroused Dante's curiosity, making him wonder what kind of conspiracy the Kingdom was brewing.

Dante did not tell the other brown-robed men about this; he planned to go alone to see for himself.

There was a king before who plotted to harm him, but Dante saw his supposedly foolproof plan as a joke.

Now that he possesses the magic of "Peaceful Era", even an evil god cannot harm him.

"Saint Oran, you fool, do you want to repeat your grandfather's mistakes?"

Dante casually donned a brown robe, cast High Magical Movement on himself, and leaped out of the window.

His figure darted across rooftops at high speed. Thanks to the blessing of the "peaceful era," he felt no fatigue and was able to move forward at top speed at all times.

Dante soon arrived at the wheat fields outside the city and, based on the description in the letter, found Angre's manor.

Vines climbed all over the dusty stone wall, and a faded wooden sign hung at the door with illegible writing. Several carriages were parked in the yard, and the horses, whose reins had been untied, were leisurely grazing on the grass.

Dante pushed open the gates of the manor and entered the main house.

The room was empty; the fireplace was not lit, a thin layer of ash covered the furniture, and the air was filled with the smell of rotting wood.

Although it looked like no one had lived here for a long time, the three carriages that were out of the ordinary inside the house indicated that something was wrong.

A magic circle spread out beneath Dante's feet. He closed his eyes, and the probing magic brought the visible and invisible surroundings to his mind.

"Underground," Dante said, raising his hand and unleashing a blast of wind at his feet.

The powerful impact blasted a large hole in the floor, and smoke and dust filled the entire room. Dante fell down.

After manipulating wind magic to disperse the surrounding smoke and dust, Dante raised his right hand, and a soft white light appeared in his palm, illuminating the surroundings.

The empty wine cellar was pitch black, and the stench of blood reached Dante's nose.

He had only taken two steps when the sticky feeling under his feet made him look down.

A large mass of rotting flesh lay on the ground, and an eyeball was at Dante's feet.

Continuing to look along the puddle at his feet, he found the entire wine cellar in a mess.

Dark red blood smeared almost the entire floor, and human limbs were scattered everywhere.

These remains were dressed in black robes, which, judging from the fabric and style, were the attire of a dark sorcerer.

Dante's gaze shifted from the wreckage to the incomplete altar in the center of the cellar.

Beside the altar was a large expanse of shriveled flesh, covered in a thick, bloody liquid, with footprints left by this liquid nearby.

"It seems these people played with fire and got burned; they were slaughtered by what crawled out of there."

The horrifying scene before him did not frighten Dante; he simply raised the orb of light high into the air.

"Let me see what you look like, little monster."

The sphere of light suddenly brightened, illuminating the pitch-black wine cellar as if it were daytime, and a sharp scream suddenly rang out.