The bloodless wound and its numerous golden threads wrapped around themselves, and pulled taut.

  And magically, the dismembered arm started to unravel like a ball of yarn, as if its very existence was being torn apart into thin strips of gold.

  Even Aurelius, a half-rate mage, found himself frowning at this strange sight. This application of wind magic was completely foreign to him. And the barkeep, who was slowly inching towards the door with a terrified expression, also stopped for a brief moment.

  The golden wool unraveled itself and started to… knit itself.

  “Wha-” Old Coot said in a daze, momentarily forgetting his pain.

  After less than a minute, what emerged was a contract, a dull yellow from the sheer density of the golden threads that crafted its shape.

  “Sign here please.” Pultris said with a smile, manipulating the contract towards Old Coot expertly.

  As Old Coot's face scoured the lines, his brows furrowed in confusion.

  “...I don't understand. Yer’ letting me go just with the signin’ of the contract? A-Are you sure, ya won't kill me after I sign this or something?” Old Coot asked.

  The contract that he had just been given had no clauses other than a secrecy clause. It was a glorified non-disclosure agreement. Of course, the contractor was a literal angelic entity, and that made for up plenty in the uniqueness department.

  Old Coot, as old as he was, understood that the most terrifying deals were deals that were too generous to be true. It often meant that the cost was… hidden.

  Free things cost the most!

  “You offend me with the suggestion that you could possibly be worth killing. But if you insist, I can write it into our contract that I won't kill you.” Pultris said, smiling widely now, as the remaining few threads pulled taut as a new clause outlines itself on the yellow ‘parchment’.

  Old Coot glanced at the new words forming on the contract and immediately nodded vigorously, indicating his willingness to sign.

  With a click of Pultris’s tongue, the shadowed seal moved once more, but this time, it merely nicked Old Coot's other finger, letting a small droplet of blood form on his fingertips.

  Old Coot grimaced slightly, and immediately proceeded to scribble his name onto the page…

  “Done.” Old Coot declared. And the contract began to glow a deep, crude gold, resonating slightly in the air like an instrument.

  Golden chains as thick as Aurelius’s arm emerged from the contract, wrapping itself around Old Coot like a viper.

  It shrank, and squeezed the air out of the old man's lungs like toothpaste.

  This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  And just as it appeared, the length of chains dissipated mysteriously, dissolving into the air like nothing had happened.

  Old Coot broke out in a coughing fit, catching his breath as he fell pathetically to the ground.

  However, he quickly recovered, and gingerly pressed against the stub that stood where his arm had just been with a fearful look.

  The flesh was cut comically flat against the man’s top bicep, with the precision of a butcher’s knife. And shockingly, the bone that protruded from the tip of the fleshy mess showed its porous insides without shame, and the bloodless flesh that surrounded it looked extremely bizarre to all who saw it.

  Being the experienced survivalist that he was, however, Old Coot immediately bowed deeply and reverently to Pultris’s ‘face’ in gratitude.

  “Yer’ clearly a bein’ with immense power beyond ma’ comprehension, sir. I thank you for your unendin’ mercy.” He thanked, deeply and shamelessly.

  Pultris was clearly amused by this.

  “It has indeed been far too long since people sucked up to me. Very good.” Pultris commented, nodding Aurelius’s hand awkwardly once more in satisfaction.

  “Now, if you wish to thank me, what would be an appropriate show of ‘compensation’, do you think?” Pultris asked greasily, smiling widely with Aurelius’s hand.

  Old Coot trembled at this comment slightly, but as a well-versed elderly coward, the man immediately reached into his pockets to pull out his wallet.

  “I know it ain’t much, sir, but I implo’ you to take this as my offering of thanks.” He said expertly, navigating his tone between reverence and praise.

  Even Aurelius felt second hand embarrassment from that comment. If he had heard this out of context, he would not have been surprised to find the man to be gay, given that he was sucking Pultris off so expertly with his words.

  Of course, Aurelius was also learning plenty. In fact, he was considering adopting this man’s strategy to survival the next time that he encountered some ridiculous showdown against beings like the Fae Queen.

  He suspected that his chances of survival, or an easy death was certainly higher that way…

  “Very good. I like your attitude.” Pultris said with a rather disturbing amount of masturbatory pleasure, manipulating Aurelius’s other hand to reach and take the wallet.

  What this psychotic trashy Djinn wanted with an old man’s wallet, Aurelius could not imagine, but he decided to keep his comments to himself for now…

  “But I do not think that you have shown me enough thanks yet.” Pultris said greasily.

  Old Coot’s face fell immediately at the statement as he recalled his own axiom.

  Free things cost the most!

  “Kill the barkeep.” Pultris commanded.

  Quinn and the three pirates’ faces paled instantly, as they looked with a solemn, hateful expression towards the barkeep.

  “Fuck.” The barkeep said under his breath in horror, making a mad dash for the exit.

  He knew this was coming! He was the one that tipped Quinn off about the bundle of misfortune that had walked in today.

  He had run his mouth because of that tiny tip! So he had taken an initiative to allow others to engage in a bit of ‘wealth redistribution’. What was wrong with that?!

  When he noticed Aurelius sauntering in minutes prior with the fearsome pirate, Quinn, the barkeep immediately knew that something was wrong.

  A robbery usually didn’t involve taking your victim to a tavern after all.

  The barkeep now regretted not running earlier. He had stayed to avoid offending that horrifying talking hand that had displayed the insane showcase of magic, but it was clear that his fate had been sealed the moment he had approached Quinn the previous night…

  Old Coot glanced over at the barkeep, and grit his teeth, and thought to himself silently, At least a price’s been quoted…

  After all, he would not possibly have made it to his age without a little bit of a positive mindset. Stress was a killer too!

  Hobbling unsteadily, Old Coot lunged towards the barkeep without hesitation.

  “Click.” Pultris clicked his tongue, as a shadowy prison of the seal immediately spread itself around the room.

  Old Coot leapt over a few tables and chairs, wobbling in the process of adapting to the loss of an arm.

  “Click.” The shadows shrank.

  Old Coot rushed like a madman, bloodlust leaking from the aged but lean figure of the old sailor.

  “Click.” The seal imprisoned the barkeep on the third leisurely click, Pultris smiling throughout the process.

  As Old Coot reached the barkeep, he murmured a frank, sincere and direct apology.

  “Snap.”

  The barkeep barely had time to scream as the old, experienced figure snapped the man’s neck.