Harem Startup : The Demon Billionaire is on Vacation-Chapter 668: Old Debt

Chapter 668 – Old Debt

The Abyss Overlord didn’t nod.

Didn’t breathe.

Just existed.

Like a ledger.

One that didn’t forget.

Lux stood tall again.

"But Zoltarin is gone," he said clearly. "His contracts died with him. And any claim tied to his essence has been closed and nullified under both Sin Law and Interrealm Compact."

The creature shifted.

The scroll burned.

Then... new symbols appeared.

[Clause 9A. Blood Inheritance: All unclosed debts revert to next Greed-line male.]

Lux’s stomach dropped half a beat.

Even Lullaby exhaled.

"Oh... that’s not good."

Lux hissed, "Thanks, sweetheart."

Corvus snorted behind him. "Guess you’re a little too good at inheritance."

Lux tilted his head, voice still calm.

"And if I reject the debt?"

The creature finally moved.

Just a single tilt of its hand.

The ground cracked.

The mansion’s magical defenses whined.

Infernal glyphs flared to life along the perimeter.

And Lux knew, in that exact heartbeat, what kind of stakes they were dealing with.

This wasn’t about Vincent.

Not about fame.

This was ancient capital.

Old debt.

The kind that bought wars and cost empires.

Lux took another breath. Then smiled. Wider.

Sharper.

"Well," he said, opening his arms casually. "I do love a good hostile acquisition."

Lullaby blinked up at him. "You’re insane."

"Legally insane?" he asked.

She nodded. "If this goes wrong, yes."

Corvus muttered, "It’s already going wrong."

Lux cracked his knuckles.

"Then let’s make a counter-offer."

And with that, he stepped forward into the pressure. Into the gravity. Into the open maw of the Abyss.

Not to bow.

But to negotiate.

Because this wasn’t just debt anymore.

This was opportunity.

The air clung to his skin like molasses, thick with the weight of contracts never signed and oaths whispered in blood. With each step forward, the world dulled, color bleeding into grayscale, the sound of the wind disappearing as if someone had pressed mute on the mortal realm.

But before the darkness swallowed him whole...

Lux dropped something.

A tiny crystal. Round, smooth, etched with a swirling sigil only he could read.

[Saved Point Crystal.]

[One-use only. High-level dimensional anchor. Planted precisely at the threshold of the mansion gates.]

Lullaby noticed it the moment it hit the grass.

Her sleepy eyes widened.

Corvus whispered, "Smart bastard."

Because yeah.

Lux always had a plan B.

Always.

The darkness folded in, closing around him like a velvet bag, and he was gone.

Just like that.

Silence.

Then...

Everything exploded in soundless motion.

Lux landed not with a step, but a ripple. The surface underfoot felt like obsidian mist, solid, but untrustworthy. The sky above him pulsed in slow waves of ink and amethyst, like an ocean suspended upside-down. Stars were replaced with blinking infernal runes. Time didn’t pass here. It looped. Twisted.

This was the Core of the Abyss Overlord.

Before him, the shadow shifted.

And then it moved.

The creature that once loomed as a faceless force on his front lawn began to condense. Black liquid darkness retracted into itself, slowly forming a body. Legs. Torso. Arms. The robes tightened and changed, draping into an older style, sharp, formal, regal in a way that screamed pre-hell foundation. Like what demons wore before they even understood the concept of luxury.

The face that emerged wasn’t beautiful. Not ugly either. Just raw. Ageless. Its features were cracked like stone and carved like a statue too proud to crumble.

It looked at Lux with pale, dead, ember-lit eyes.

A humanoid.

But still very clearly an Overlord.

"Lux Vaelthorn," it spoke at last, voice layered in harmonics. Like a thousand voices under the ocean all speaking through one mouth. "Son of Greed. Grandson of Lust."

Lux adjusted his collar. "You know my name."

The Overlord gave a slow, shallow nod. "We know all names that sign the ledgers of fate."

Lux took a few steps closer, careful but unafraid. The gravity still crushed the edges of his aura, but he stood tall.

"So let’s talk," he said, tone even. "What’s this debt actually about?"

The Overlord didn’t blink. Just gestured. And suddenly, a projection appeared in the air between them.

Zoltarin.

Looking younger. Harsher. Proud. His infernal cloak flared as he stood before the Abyssal gate, eyes wild with ambition.

"Request: Strategic support," the Overlord intoned, watching the replay with no emotion. "Project: Overthrow of Kaelmor, King of Hell. Compensation: A fraction of realm control."

Lux stared. "So. My dear, sweet uncle promised you a slice of Hell itself if you helped him kill our king?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"Support was granted. Shadow-guard. Soul-forging runes. Curse fractals seeded in the inner court."

Lux crossed his arms. "But Kaelmor didn’t fall."

The projection flickered.

Zoltarin’s plan failed.

He was dragged. Chained. Sealed.

Then dead.

Lux raised an eyebrow. "So... failure. No throne. No coup. No power seized."

He leaned forward slightly, eyes sharp.

"No success, no payment. That’s how contracts work."

The Overlord’s gaze didn’t shift.

"But the attempt was honored. A fee must be paid. Even failure has cost."

Lux scoffed. "Then charge him."

"He is dead."

"Then bill his estate. I don’t see why it defaults to me."

The projection shimmered again. Zoltarin’s last infernal binding, his death, etched in runes.

[Clause 9A: Lineage Responsibility Transfer.]

"You have his core..."

Lux growled under his breath. "Who wrote that clause into infernal law?"

"Your grandfather."

Of course.

Of course, that old bastard would bind bloodlines with retroactive clauses just in case someone important failed gloriously.

Lux exhaled slowly. "Fine. So what’s the price?"

The Overlord tilted its head.

"Fifty million soul credits. Payable in bonded souls, territory claim rights, or bloodline artifacts."

Lux blinked.

"Excuse me?"

"That was the original valuation."

Lux barked a humorless laugh. "That’s not a debt. That’s a hostile acquisition attempt."

The Overlord didn’t even twitch. "It is the price."

Lux paced for a second, shoes clicking softly on the not-ground, hand dragging through his hair.

"You want me to pay for Zoltarin’s mistake," he said slowly. "With enough soul-capital to buy an entire low ring of Hell?"

"Yes."

"What if I just say no?"

"The ledger will remain. And others will come. Older. Less polite."

Lux stopped.

And looked back at the projection.