The Golden Toad paused—mid-rant—and glanced toward Josh's position. It had felt a killing intent from that direction, it seemed to be directed at him. He looked....
Just for a breath.
His bulbous eyes narrowed faintly, blinking once with a slow, wet slide. It was as if he had felt someone preparing to make a move. A faint whisper of killing intent brushing the edge of his senses. But try as he might, he couldn't isolate it. The crowd was too dense, the masks too uniform, and the stench of ambition too overpowering.
He didn't care about the flicker of killing intent he'd felt earlier. Let them glare. Let them seethe. He hadn't earned the title Legendary Toad God by trembling at shadows.
He was Xerm—the Enigma of the Swamp, the undisputed overlord of Ruma's rot and ritual, and the nightmares that slithered in its murk whispered his name like a curse.
Anyone foolish enough to defy him?
He would crush them—
Grind them into pulp beneath his gilded webbed foot,
And feed their bones to the vines.
Let them dare.
He was waiting.
On the other hand, that momentary flick of the golden Toad's gaze left Josh wondering—did the toad hear me?
But the Toad gave no sign. It simply croaked again and pressed on with its vile sales pitch.
"Now," the Golden Toad croaked, his voice oozing with ceremonial grandeur, "let us proceed to the heart of your purpose… the potion-making ritual."
This wasn't just another rite. It was business—and business was booming.
Through this grotesque enterprise, Xerm had amassed a fortune so vast, even imperial tax collectors dared not approach him. He had grown bloated not just with magic, but with wealth, influence, and a network of fear that twisted through the underbelly of the empire like roots from a cursed tree.
And now… it was time to gather more.
More gold.
More loyalty.
More fools willing to trade their souls for shortcuts.
In time, half the empire would kneel—whether in awe or in agony, it didn't matter. He would rise as a force nearly equal to the emperor himself. A god in flesh and mucus.
With this delightful vision pulsing in his monstrous mind, he opened his arms wide, smiling with teeth too white to be trusted.
His voice softened—syrupy, inviting—like a sweet offered by a serpent.
"You will each receive a vial of power…" he purred.
**"But—power, my dear children—is never free."
The crowd stiffened.
"I hope you brought enough gold." The Toad chuckled, a greedy rumble echoing off the walls. "My efforts are priceless, and the ingredients? Extremely rare. The children you brought—bless their unconscious little hearts—have earned you a generous 20% discount."
He waved an oily hand toward the left side of the arena, where a makeshift accounting booth had been set up. Behind it sat several masked mages, silent as death, counting stacks of coins and scribbling on bloodstained ledgers.
"Each potion would cost you: Three hundred gold pieces," the Toad announced, his voice rising theatrically,
"From the treasury of the Nazare Blade Empire. Per potion."
Silence.
Then—gasps.
A ripple of horror passed through the crowd like wind through dead trees.
Three hundred gold NBE?
Not silver. Not bronze. Gold. Enough to feed a family for a year—gone in a single transaction. For a potion. A rumored potion. The price was daylight robbery dressed in ritual.
Murmurs erupted.
> "Three hundred?! Is he insane?" a mage muttered beneath his mask, his voice tight with disbelief.
"I was invited here based on 'reasonable terms,' not to empty my family vault…"
"This is extortion. I could get three knock-offs for ten silver each—and still have change for ale."
"With his exaggerated theatrical entrance scheme, He killed a man just for sitting. And now this? This isn't a cult, it's a scam!"
The golden toad didn't respond immediately, but he heard everything.
The tension was building. Boiling.
And then—it boiled over.
The Toad froze.
His body twitched slightly, like a predator catching scent.
He frowned—then hissed.
The murmur died instantly.
But it was too late.
He had heard them.
Without warning, the Toad transformed. His bloated form twisted, popped, and contracted—morphing into a humanoid shape with grotesque ease. The crowd watched, frozen in dread, as the golden skin retracted into smoother flesh.
He now stood as a man—tall, thickset, and obscenely smug. His skin retained a strange yellow sheen, like he'd been dipped in oil. His bald head gleamed, and his eyes—still bulbous—protruded unnaturally from his skull.
He smiled.
"So… there are snakes among my children?"
He stepped forward—then leapt. Midair, a glowing glyph formed beneath his feet, catching him like a phantom chariot. He hovered above the crowd, robes swirling, casting his long shadow like a scythe.
With a wave of his hand, three razor-edged talisman disks burst from his fingers. They spiraled into the crowd like birds of prey.
"Let's see if your tongues taste as sweet when silenced," he crooned.
Three screams erupted—short, sharp, then gone.
Three figures fell. Slumped. Lifeless.
The rest of the initiates didn't dare move. Even the unconscious children seemed to whimper.
Josh's hand flexed instinctively toward his blade. But he stopped himself.
"Not yet," he thought.
"Not until I've seen the full rot of this cult."
The Golden Toad, now blood-satisfied, drifted back to his exalted platform. There, in full view, he reverted to his monstrous form. Limbs shrunk, flesh ballooned, and the sickening slither resumed.
He settled into his throne-like perch, his wide, wet mouth curling into a pleased smile.
"Good" he nodded, noting the silence and fearful gazes.
"Now that we're all in agreement…" he said, his voice thick with mockery,
"Proceed to the accounting station. Pay promptly… or bleed eventually."
He turned his back on the crowd like a god too bored to witness the struggle of mortals, and turned to walk away.
The crowd dispersed toward the booth—silent, obedient, furious. They didn't murmur anymore, but their eyes blazed with frustration. Their shoulders sagged with quiet rebellion. No one wanted to be next.
But Josh knew.
The seed of mutiny had been planted.
And it was already growing. It would soon be time to end this once and for all.