CHAPTER 35: CH-35-GETTING AN ID

So, with reluctant determination, Cisco led Baelgor down the busy street, weaving past cars, buses, and clusters of pedestrians. His destination: the government registry office. His reason: survival and profit.

Baelgor, however, was less concerned with the bustling crowd and more fascinated by the human "structures" surrounding him. Tall buildings lined the streets, steel and glass rising toward the heavens like crude imitations of ancient towers. He studied them with faint disdain, as though a single flick of his hand could reduce the fragile constructs to rubble.

"These are the strongholds of mortals?" he muttered under his breath, his golden eyes scanning the flow of humanity. Men and women hurried past without acknowledging one another, eyes glued to glowing screens, expressions blank. "Hmph. Futile creatures... rushing about as if their tiny existences mattered."

Yet, despite his contempt, Baelgor did not linger on such thoughts for long. His true mission here was clear: to indulge in the earthly ritual known as "sex," and to acquire as many beauties as his immortal stamina could handle. The rest? Irrelevant.

He turned to Cisco, his deep voice carrying an almost casual menace. "This ID you speak of, human... is it not simply a slave tag? A leash your leaders place around your necks? Tell me, why must I wear such a mark?"

Cisco’s eyelid twitched. Good heavens, he really doesn’t know a damn thing about this world, does he? A grown man walking around like a clueless child... No, worse, like some overgrown noble who thinks money falls from the sky. Perfect. Absolutely perfect. The easier he is to manipulate, the fatter my purse will get.

Cisco forced a patient smile and cleared his throat. "Well, my lord, it isn’t exactly a slave tag." He gestured broadly at the crowd, his words smooth and deliberate. "Think of it instead as... a necessary token of existence. Without it, you cannot function in this society. No place will accept you, no service will be given to you. Food, lodging, even travel, none of it will be accessible without that small card. With it, however..."

He leaned in slightly, lowering his voice conspiratorially, "the government will indeed have information about you. They’ll know your name, your birthdate, even your face. But for someone like you, my lord, that is a good thing. It makes you invisible. To them, you’ll just be another ordinary man, blending seamlessly into the herd."

Baelgor’s brows rose, a flicker of intrigue crossing his face. "So... it is a mask. A disguise."

Cisco smiled wider. "Exactly. And without it, my lord, your presence will stand out. You’ll be questioned, perhaps even hunted. But with it... no one will suspect your true identity."

Baelgor chuckled, a low, thunderous sound that made a nearby passerby flinch and hurry along. "Excellent! To think humans willingly carry their shackles and call it freedom. Hah! Truly, your kind are more amusing than I expected."

Cisco chuckled weakly, his mind racing. Amusing? If you call being tracked and taxed amusing, sure. But as long as you keep smiling like that, rich boy, I’ll keep reeling you in. This is going smoother than I imagined.

"Come, my lord," Cisco said, gesturing ahead. "The registry office is just around the corner. Soon, you’ll have your mask... your ’ID.’ And once you do, your life among commoners will begin."

Baelgor’s golden eyes gleamed with satisfaction as he strode beside him. So be it. Let the games of mortals begin. Once I acquire this ’ID,’ nothing will hinder my conquest of pleasures.

Baelgor’s expression darkened slightly as Cisco’s explanation lingered in his mind. He understood now, at least on the surface, what this "ID" represented a badge of existence, a key to human society. Yet the thought of willingly submitting to any form of control stirred something primal within him. His kind were rulers, not ruled. Shackles were for slaves, not for Baelgor, Lord of Ten Thousand Flames.

Still... he had chosen this form. He had chosen to walk among mortals. And if blending in required him to wear their chains, then so be it. A mask is not a shackle. It is a tool. And tools serve the master, not the other way around.

With that thought, he allowed Cisco to guide him further into the city.

The government registry building rose before them a massive block of concrete and glass, sterile and lifeless compared to the sprawling towers of Baelgor’s memory. The entrance buzzed with people, each carrying papers, muttering complaints, or glaring at the long lines. Baelgor wrinkled his nose at the scent of sweat, frustration, and bureaucracy all mingling into one choking perfume.

Cisco gestured for Baelgor to wait outside, but the demon lord’s sharp eyes narrowed. "You would leave me here, human? Alone? Surrounded by these... restless cattle?" His voice dripped with irritation.

Cisco froze, sweat beading at his temple. If I push him, he’ll walk off and this whole plan collapses. He forced a smile and said quickly, "Of course not, my lord! Come, come. It will be faster if you walk with me."

And so the two entered together.

Inside, the air was stale, buzzing with the hum of old ceiling fans. Behind counters sat rows of weary officials in dull uniforms, their faces trained into masks of indifference. In the corner, a malfunctioning machine spat out receipts like confetti while a janitor sighed.

Cisco ignored all that, weaving his way confidently toward a desk at the far end of the hall. The man seated there looked up, and instantly his tired face broke into a grin.

"Cisco, you bastard!" the man said, rising from his chair.

He was a stocky fellow in his early thirties, with broad shoulders that suggested farm work in his youth. His hair was cropped short, his skin sun-darkened, and his brown eyes carried both warmth and the weariness of one who had seen too many years of government service. Despite the drab uniform, his smile was genuine.

Cisco clasped his friend’s hand firmly. "Mike, old dog! Still chained to the desk, I see."

Mike laughed. "Better chained here than chained to debt collectors. What brings you in? Don’t tell me you finally decided to register legally?"

Cisco leaned in, his grin sharpening. "Something better. I’ve got a client. Gold, Mike. Pure gold. I just need you to slide his record into the system and print him an ID he can carry everywhere."

Mike’s laughter faltered. His brows furrowed as he glanced past Cisco at the towering figure of Baelgor, who stood with arms folded, radiating quiet menace. His golden eyes scanned the room like a predator deciding which prey to devour first. The other clerks gave him a wide berth without realizing why.

Mike lowered his voice. "Cisco... you know I can’t just do that. There are protocols. Vetting, interviews, background checks. The government wants to know exactly who’s who. Especially now. Ever since the guilds started pulling unknowns out of dungeons, the higher-ups are scared stiff about losing control. If I slip a stranger in without clearance, it could come back to bite me."

Cisco’s grin never wavered. He clapped Mike on the shoulder, his tone smooth as silk. "Relax, my friend. He’s not some shady mercenary. Just a pampered heir from one of the big families. You know how they are always sneaking out of their gilded cages to play at being ’commoners.’ This one wants to taste normal life for a while. Nothing dangerous, nothing political. Just harmless indulgence. You help me now, and I’ll make sure you’re not forgotten when his family rewards loyalty."

Mike studied him, torn between suspicion and the weight of old friendship. Finally, he sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "You always drag me into the kind of mess that could end my career, you know that?"

Cisco smirked. "And yet, somehow, I always make it worth your while."

Another sigh, heavier this time. Then Mike relented. "Fine. I’ll do it. But this is the last time, Cisco. The very last. You hear me?"

Cisco’s grin widened like a cat who had cornered the fattest mouse. "Crystal clear, brother."

He turned and waved Baelgor over. "My lord, it is time. Step forward. Your mask of mortality awaits."

Baelgor strode toward them, each step measured, regal. His presence seemed to press on the air itself, and Mike unconsciously straightened, as though saluting an unseen general.

And in Baelgor’s mind, a single thought burned bright: Let this farce begin. If this ’ID’ is what hides me from the gaze of gods and men alike, then let the humans bind me in their system. For soon, this world itself shall kneel.

Mike cleared his throat and adjusted the papers before him. His tone was professional, but the way his eyes flicked between Cisco and the towering man beside him betrayed unease.

"So then," Mike said slowly, "what is your full name, sir?"

Baelgor straightened, pride swelling in his chest. At last, a mortal dared ask his name his true name, perhaps?. He could not reveal "Baelgor, Sovereign of Eternal Flame, Devourer of Realms." That would draw too much attention. He had already chosen a disguise more cunning than any mortal could pierce.

With supreme confidence, he announced, "I go by Taxi Normalhuman."

The room fell silent.

Mike blinked. "...Taxi. Normalhuman?"

Cisco’s heart plummeted into his stomach. This fool. This absolute, irredeemable fool. He actually kept that ridiculous name! His mind raced with images of Baelgor strangling clerks, burning down the registry, or worse, forcing Cisco himself to "take responsibility" for exposing him.

"Sir, that doesn’t..." Mike began, but before he could finish, Cisco leapt forward, cutting him off with a nervous laugh.

"Haha! Oh, don’t mind him, Mike. You know how rich heirs are. Always playing games with their names. Keeps the mystery alive, you know?"

Mike raised an eyebrow. "Mystery?"

"Yes, mystery!" Cisco leaned in, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. "Listen, just put him down as James Demonson. He’s demon-hearted, trust me, but at least it sounds normal."

Mike snorted, biting back laughter. "James... Demonson? That’s your idea of normal?"

"Better than Taxi Normalhuman!" Cisco hissed through gritted teeth.

Mike chuckled but, out of loyalty to his old friend, complied. His fingers clacked against the keyboard as he entered the fabricated data, slotting "James Demonson" neatly into the system as though he’d been there all his life.

Meanwhile, Baelgor stood tall and utterly oblivious, thinking, They are so easily fooled. My cunning is unmatched.

Then came the photograph.

"This is standard procedure," Mike explained, setting up the camera. "Just look here and smile."

Convincing Baelgor, however, proved an ordeal. He regarded the strange contraption with deep suspicion, muttering under his breath. "A soul-stealing device. They wish to capture my essence."

"It’s just a picture," Cisco whispered urgently, tugging at Baelgor’s sleeve. "Trust me, my lord. Just stare at it and... try not to look like you’re plotting humanity’s extinction."

Baelgor frowned but eventually complied. When the shutter clicked, the result was... terrifying. His golden eyes gleamed with an unnatural light, his smile was more a predator’s baring of fangs than a human expression, and his posture radiated the authority of an emperor on the verge of conquest.

Mike glanced at the screen and shivered. "Uh... good enough."

At last, after stamps, signatures, and a nervous exchange of whispers, the ID card was produced. Mike handed it to Baelgor with a shaky smile. "Congratulations, Mr. Demonson. You are now a fully registered citizen."

Baelgor took the card with great satisfaction, staring at his new identity. James Demonson. A name mortals will soon tremble to speak. How fitting.

Cisco exhaled heavily, wiping sweat from his brow. Phase one was complete. Against all odds, the demon lord now existed in the human system.

But Cisco was already scheming. He remembered the strength of Baelgor’s grip from earlier, the raw power that had nearly shattered his bones. This wasn’t just some pampered heir this was a walking mountain of strength, a weapon in human form.

And weapons had value.

"My lord," Cisco said with a respectful bow, "now that you are officially a citizen, it is only proper we introduce you to the true backbone of this world the hunters. With your strength, you will stand above them all. Shall we?"

Baelgor’s eyes gleamed, excitement burning behind them. "Hunters... so they are the warriors of this world? Good. Let them bear witness to my glory."

Cisco smiled, though inside he muttered, Glory, my ass. Just make me rich, you overgrown fool.