Armen's Acquisition Contract

In the dimly lit chamber of Armen Sasounyan's private study, the air was thick with the scent of ancient parchment and arcane incense. The room was a sanctuary of secrets, where the walls themselves seemed to whisper tales of clandestine deals and forbidden knowledge. At the center of it all was a desk, cluttered with scrolls and artifacts, but tonight, it held something far more enigmatic—a contract, or so the rumors would have you believe.   Litigax Contractus Infernus, the devilish lawyer from the bowels of Hell, stood across from Armen, his eyes glowing like molten Gold. "Are you certain you wish to proceed, Armen Sasounyan? Contracts of this nature are not to be taken lightly."   Armen looked up, his eyes meeting Litigax's. "I've never been more certain of anything," he said, but his voice wavered ever so slightly, as if betraying a sliver of doubt—or was it anticipation?   Litigax grinned, revealing a row of unnaturally sharp teeth. "Very well. Let's get on with it, shall we?"   A quill appeared in Litigax's hand, seemingly conjured from the air itself. With a swift motion, he sliced his palm, letting his infernal blood drip onto the quill's tip. Armen followed suit, using a ceremonial dagger to draw his own blood. The two mixed their life essence in a small, obsidian bowl, and Litigax dipped the quill into the concoction.   As he began to write, the room seemed to darken, as if the very walls were closing in to bear witness to this unholy alliance. The characters on the parchment glowed briefly, etching themselves permanently into the fabric of reality—or so it seemed.   When the last clause was inscribed, Litigax looked up. "It is done. The Ritual of Infernal Sealing is complete. This contract is now bound in both mortal and infernal realms."   Armen nodded, a sense of relief washing over him—or was it regret? "Then we are in agreement."   "Indeed, we are," Litigax said, rolling up the parchment and tucking it into a hidden pocket in his robe. "But remember, Armen Sasounyan, contracts with Hell are like playing with fire. Sooner or later, you're bound to get burned."   And with that, Litigax vanished, leaving Armen alone in his chamber, pondering the cost of his newfound alliance. The room seemed to breathe a sigh of relief, as if glad to be rid of the Devil's presence. But the contract—or the idea of it—lingered, like a dark cloud hanging over the House of Sasounyan.  

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  Did the contract truly exist? Was it just a figment of Armen's imagination, a desperate gamble for power? Or was it something more, a binding agreement that could either elevate the House of Sasounyan to new heights or plunge it into infernal ruin?   The truth, as it often is with matters of Hell and high finance, remained shrouded in mystery, a rumor whispered in hushed tones among the elite of Tatharia Capitolina. But one thing was certain: Armen Sasounyan had ventured into dangerous territory, and only time would reveal the true cost of his audacious gamble.