This was a typical border town—taverns, cottages, and a small square dominated by a lonely cross.

But the once vibrant and bustling life had long since faded. The people of the town were now nothing more than decaying bodies strewn across the ground, their only companions the maggots and flies.

Two figures, one tall and one short, approached from the town’s edge, their forms shrouded in coarse linen cloaks, concealing their faces.

As they entered the town, the taller figure instinctively raised a hand to his nose, gently covering it. The stench was unbearable.

Without breaking stride, they walked along the gray cobblestone path, heading straight for the white cross at the center of town.

The taller one pulled back his hood, revealing a face carved with rugged determination.

"More than two hundred people, and not a single survivor. All dead from the plague," he stated, his tone firm as if delivering a final verdict. But his companion quickly corrected him.

"No, Oliver. These poor souls did not fall to the plague." A voice, rich with compassion, sounded from beneath the cloak. "They perished from the breath of demons. I can smell the stench of those foul creatures here."

Oliver frowned, puzzled. "You mean... witches?"

The cloaked figure shook his head slowly. "No, Oliver. I’m not speaking figuratively."

Oliver’s pupils shrank, his breath catching. A demon? Could it truly be one from the Abyss?

"Your Eminence Elijah, it’s been half a month since we followed the Holy Oracle’s guidance to this place. So far, we’ve encountered over a thousand corpses. If I may be so bold... what exactly did Her Holiness see in her Eye of Prophecy?"

Oliver hesitated for a moment, then finally voiced the question that had gnawed at him for days.

Elijah, his face still hidden beneath his cloak, spoke softly, "The heavens falling in crimson flames, the earth weeping in despair, God’s glory desecrated. A demon crawls from Hell, bringing with it its minions to devour the world."

Elijah turned his head, revealing piercing blue eyes that glinted like shards of ice. "That is what Her Holiness saw in the Eye of Prophecy."

Oliver’s voice rose, filled with urgency. "Then what are we waiting for? If the demon is still weak, we should hunt it down and destroy it!"

Elijah shook his head. "It is because the demon is weak that I cannot yet trace it. But..." He paused, his voice growing firmer. "Now, it can be found."

Elijah reached into his cloak and drew out a crystal ball, its surface gleaming. He began to chant a long incantation, his words weaving ancient magic. The crystal ball glowed with a soft white light, but soon, a dark mist formed inside, twisting like a venomous snake.

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In a heartbeat, the mist cracked the ball. With a sharp crack, the crystal shattered into a thousand pieces, scattering like tiny shards of glass across the ground.

A deep cut appeared on Elijah’s pale hand, crimson blood dripping down his fingers, a startling contrast against his ghostly skin.

"Your Eminence..." Oliver began, concern filling his voice, but Elijah’s calm reply cut him off. "I have found it. Now, it is up to you, mighty Knight of the Holy Light."

Oliver bowed slightly, his right fist thumping against his chest in a gesture of solemn duty. "I shall not fail the Light."

…

"Master, there’s a city ahead." Talia’s voice dripped with deference, though her eyes gleamed with madness and cruelty.

Carlo snapped his fingers in delight, teasing, "Let’s go take a look then. I’ve never been inside a city before."

At the gates, a guard glanced at Talia’s twisted face, his expression twisting with revulsion.

He skipped over her entirely, turning to Carlo with a sneer. "You, take off your hood."

Carlo grinned, obliging cheerfully. His young, fair face emerged, strikingly handsome and innocent.

A week earlier, after slaughtering three towns using the Plague spell, Carlo had ascended from a mid-level demon to a high-level one.

His body had matured further, now resembling a boy of fifteen or sixteen. He had cast a small Disguise spell, altering his appearance to that of a healthy, sun-kissed youth with flaxen hair.

The leap in power from mid-level to high-level demon had brought a significant boost to his strength. His speed and physical prowess were now beyond what they had been. Even a mid-level knight like Rot, whom he once needed the Weakening spell to handle, could now be easily dispatched with his bare hands.

Upon reaching this level, the system had awarded him another lottery draw, though he hadn’t used it yet. The store also unlocked more items, but Carlo still couldn’t afford any of them.

After five town massacres, his evil points had accumulated to around fifteen thousand. He had originally planned to exchange them for the "Demon God’s Legacy Seed," but realizing it was a growth item with no immediate power boost, he instead spent ten thousand points to upgrade his basic martial arts and magic.

Both skills had advanced from "Basic" to "Proficient."

He also used five hundred points to learn the Necromancy spell.

Once you advanced past the basic level, dark magic branched into numerous schools. Necromancy was an advanced spell from the Necromantic path.

Carlo had taught Talia the spell as well. To his surprise, he discovered that when his servant killed, he too gained evil points and experience. The stronger Talia became, the greater the benefits for him.

"Get in, brat," the guard barked, giving Carlo a rough shove from behind.

Talia’s gaze turned icy, but Carlo simply smiled, completely unfazed.

The city, nestled deep within the kingdom’s heartland, was thriving. The streets bustled with life—mercenaries lugging heavy swords, scantily clad women drifting through the crowds.

Carlo’s eyes sparkled with wonder, like a country bumpkin seeing the city for the first time.

People parted before them, quickly stepping away from Talia’s ghastly visage.

"Get out of the way, ugly woman!" A bearded mercenary shoved Carlo aside, spitting at Talia.

Carlo pulled her gently to the side. These mercenaries looked fresh from battle, their bodies reeking of sweat and blood, their clothes torn and ragged.

"Follow them."

Carlo whispered softly to Talia.

Necromancy would allow him to harvest experience and evil points faster, and he needed a suitable place for his next experiment.

The mercenary tavern seemed just right.

Following the group, Carlo slipped into a cramped little tavern. The stench of feet and ale hit him, but he didn’t flinch as he walked in.

"Damn it, Babbit. You still haven’t died in the Lost Forest? What a shame!" A boisterous voice rang out, followed by roars of laughter from the crowd.

The bearded mercenary from earlier shot back, "Marcel, I’m keeping myself alive just so I can enjoy your sister’s company. You wouldn’t believe how sweet she sounds when she moans!"