From outside, the sounds of the victims were coming. Damian tried to keep himself in the closet but couldn't bear the pressure.

He slowly opened the door and crawled out.

He slowly moved through the corridor of the building and looked at the first floor. There was a large, Deathwing-shaped hole leading to the pantry in the basement, and the vapor was rising from clumps of corrosive goo.

"At least it left me alone." He murmured.

Unable to find what he wanted from the first floor, he moved between rooms until he entered the master bedroom, which had a window perfectly aligned to watch the situation.

Damian slowly made his way there and peeked outside.

"This is not a hunt. It is a massacre!" He wanted to shout, watching hopeless guards get decimated as they tried to protect the townsfolk.

"But why there are so many Deathwings here? They never leave Wastelands and never hunt in packs." He said.

His eyes locked on a man trying to sneak out of the town. He got up, ready to shout this place was safe, but stopped. "But what if they hear me." He thought. "But still, I have a chance-"

"Mercy!" A scream pierced through his mind before he finished his thought.

A Deathwing had spotted the man and quickly went for the kill.

Beast slammed the man to the ground and began its feast, limb by limb, scattering blood and flesh with each bite.

Damian stepped away from the window. His eyes were wide open, hands shaking. Each of his steps was weak, and his legs barely holding his body from collapsing.

"They are beasts, they don't torture."

A scream shook his eardrums as if mocking his words just now.

Damian lay on the ground and curled up. "This is not real, this is not real, this is not-"

Piercing screams of the dying townspeople rose from all across the town.

"Hahaha!" Damian clutched his head, his laughter turning to ragged gasps as the screams outside grew louder, sharper

"No, this is just a bad dream. I am not from this world. I am supposed to be at home lazing around." He got up. His fist pumped. "Yes, this is a dream! I only need to wake up."

He climbed to the window and stood on the edge. He swore to repent his sins and what he assumed were his wrongs when he woke back in his comfy room.

And he stepped forward, his body powerlessly falling towards the ground.

"And just before he hit the ground, a devilishly charming, smart, and wise being saved his ass." Diablo put his arm on Damian's shoulder. "And with that, I recapped your story so far for our dear patrons that have missed it."

Diablo made a turn around Damian. "Now, back to you, our rare and expensive specimen, the 96th person to defeat our cute Demon King, and now, you are a proud player of the Beasts & Demons's session 8." Diablo snapped his finger.

Damian felt a weight lifted from his heart. His head could move once more. Yet, he still couldn't talk.

Diablo moved before Damian, changed his size to match his, and grabbed his face. "Now, I will let you talk and even ask some questions, but before that, I want you to tell me you accepted the situation."

Damian's eyes were still shaking. "How can I accept this, you damned demon." He cursed in his mind.

But after a minute or so of standing still and taking everything in, he gathered his mind, at least enough to not immediately scream.

Damian nodded.

"Great!" Diablo took a step back and clapped. "You can talk now."

"What to ask... what to ask?"

In such a scenario, he had countless questions and a strong desire to cry and beg to go home.

He had to gather his thoughts. So he tried.

"Alright, think it like this is a game or a bad dream. Take it slow." He took a breath and opened his mouth.

"Who are these patrons?" He began.

"Who are the patrons?" Diablo said, his voice stoic and slow. He then opened his arms and looked into the air. "Our dear patrons are beings of great power. They provide us with entertainment for all eyes to see!" His voice was thundering and full of energy.

"Is that all?" Damian managed to ask for a follow-up.

"For you, yeah." Diablo was fast in his answer.

"Firstly, am I 96th because I am the 96th person to clear the game, and secondly, by session 8, what do you mean?"

"Shhhs!" Diablo made a gesture by putting one finger before his lips. "One question at a time, but yes. You got the first one correct. For your second question, I will not answer it."

"Then can-"

Diablo shut Damian by closing his mouth. "No more questions. We already spent too much time explaining things. Our patrons are already bored and want action!" Diablo snapped his finger. A stat screen appeared before Damian.

Name: Damian

Level: 1

Class: Crafter

Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

HP: 12/12

MANA: N/N

Strength: 6

Endurance: 8

Agility: 8

Will: 10

Magical Prowess (MP): 3

Learning Efficiency (LE): 12

"Remember this beauty? Take it as a generous gift of our own." Diablo moved closer to the screen, scratching his chin. "Excellent LE, physical stats better than most. I assume you exercised regularly." He turned to Damian. "But what is that abysmal Magical Prowess and mana?"

Damian felt a similar disappointment. "3 prowess and no mana at the start? He gulped. "Please open my traits screen."

"Right away." Diablo swiped the screen to the left. "Ha! That's the problem."

[Brilliant Artisan] [Analysist] [Clogged Core]

"Clogged Core," Damian mumbled. "How did I roll a negative trait this bad this early."

In Beasts & Demons, all characters have a hidden trait that happens in the background during character creation. They only appear once entered the game and usually have positive effects, but sometimes, the game gives negative traits.

[Clogged Core: This character's magic core is clogged, making them unable to store MANA in their body until an Arcanist of high proficiency opens for them.]

"How tragic!" Diablo put his arm on his forehead and turned his head away. "You even rolled your main class. But fate had different plans for you!"

Damian closed his eyes. Annoying as Diablo's mockings were, this stopped time gave him enough breathing room to think logically in this situation.

"I have Clogged Core, and finding a mage capable of unlocking it will be impossible in the early stages, but on the other hand, I have [Brilliant Artisan], which adds flat stat bonuses to everything I craft, and [Analysisty], which boosts my LE."

"Already planning? Good, that means you are back to your senses. Everyone, we can resume!"

Diablo suddenly disappeared, and Damian finally hit the ground.

"Alright, that demon is gone from sight, but I am still in a town invaded by late-game enemies."

Damian looked behind. "The first floor is unusable. I can't go there now. Tisck." He looked around. "This house is rather spaced out from others. I must move fast." He thought before moving.

He ran as fast as he could, closing the distance between himself and the next closest building.

"Just like in a race, one, two, breath, one, two, out,"

Chipped cobbles scattered on the town's roads cut his bare feet, and the smell breathed hard.

"Ignore the pain, ignore the smell! One, two!"

He kept his rhythm.

When he arrived, Damian quickly opened the door and rushed inside but acted calmer when closing it.

When inside, Damian's first move was to look for windows and close them.

After that, he finally relaxed a bit and inspected his surroundings. "Wooden floors, clean rugs, and decent-looking furniture." He moved closer to a drawer and grabbed the small woman statue above it.

It was carved from a blue gemstone and had a faint glow. "Nautia, goddess of the sea and one of the seven major deities." He recalled a knowledge from the game lore. "Was the statue outside also hers? If so, does that mean I am at Southern Lyrian Empire?"

Damian put the statue back in its place. "I can think all about that when I survive.

He searched around the house. "Some food and tools, and a map of the region surrounding the town." He looked at the map. There were marks, doodles reminiscent of fishes, and writings in an alphabet he didn't know.

"So, I can understand the language when I hear it but can't read it."

"The first floor is over. Now to the second one."

Damian moved towards the stairway, adorned with paintings.

He stopped mid-way and grabbed one of them. It was on a fiber canvas and nailed to a wooden frame.

"Amateurish." He said, inspecting the flower motif. "Still, who painted this must love paintings."

He soon reached the second floor, and there were three rooms there.

He opened the first one. It was a master bedroom, still tidy. "Will go back here later."

He moved to the next room but stepped back from its door when he felt something wet on his feet.

He crouched and touched the flooring. "Blood." He said, inspecting his bloodied fingers.

With an unknown urge, he moved forward and slowly opened the door to the room.

Inside was damp, only lightened by a single gas lamp.

Paintings made on a similar canvas to what he saw on the stairway were scattered across the floor, and in the middle of them, a middle-aged woman lay still. She had a large dagger stuck on her bleeding chest and a smile on her pale, dead face.

The blood around the door was from her.

Before her, a man sat down next to a wall. He also had a blade hanging from his chest, but he was still alive, coughing blood and trying to reach for the weapon.

When Damian entered, the man looked at him, first, with hope, but as soon as he realized something, his eyes wide open, and with a strength found in wrath, the man lunged forward.

"Demon!" He cried as he fell, his intestines scattered to the floor and blood pouring out like a river.

But he didn't stop, scratching the boards with his fingernails as he pulled himself forward.

Damian froze at this sight. Unable to act. "Wh- what are you doing." He asked.

The man didn't answer, only glared at him before stopping. Even with seemingly endless anger, he had only so much strength.

But it was not the worst of the case.

It was a thundering roar.

One of the Deathwing probably heard his scream and approached the vicinity.

And soon, he heard a loud crash. It had attacked the wrong building.

"Thank god, they are not that good at finding the exact spot of their target." Damian breathed out of relief.

But this wasn't the end of the problem.

A Deathwing passed ominously close. Any sound and the beast might have heard them.

"Argh..." the man growled, his voice faint but pleading.

And again, this time louder. "Argh!" His voice gargled as blood flew out of his mouth.

"Is he trying to call the Deathwing..."

Damian clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. His breathing quickened. "Stop... we barely survived... why?" His thoughts spiraled, the weight of the situation crushing him. He couldn't. He wouldn't. There had to be another way.

"Don't worry, I'll help!" a familiar, mocking voice purred. Diablo stepped out of the shadows, now as tall as Damian. "You see, for some reason, this guy wants you dead, right? And to survive, you must keep him shut, and how can you do that?" Diablo said slowly as he slowly approached the dead woman. He looked at her corpse for a second before pulling the dagger out. He inspected its blade for a couple of seconds before cleaning it on the woman's dress and turned it in his hand before offering it to Damian. "By making sure he can't talk ever again."

Damian stumbled back, shaking his head violently. "No, I... I can't."

Diablo's grin widened. "Sure you can. Here, let me help you." He grabbed Damian's hands with inhuman gentleness, pressing the hilt into his palm.

The man, eyes closed, growled once more, louder this time. Outside, a low clicking rumbled, too close for comfort.

"Do it," Diablo whispered, his bright red flame body shining over Damian's skin.

Tears blurred Damian's vision. He was unable to control himself.

"I'm sorry," Damian choked out, his voice breaking.

He got to his knees next to the man, where Diablo grabbed his hands and directed them to the side of the man's upper chest.

"From here, fast and deep."

Damian hesitated. "I can't do that, game world or not." He looked at Diablo, ready to protest, but as soon as the humanoid body made of fire entered his sight, Diablo pushed his hands and made Damian stab the man.

The man gave one last struggle before quietly passing away.

A screen appeared in between Damian and Diablo.

[Entity killed: Adult Human.

+10 XP.

10/20 next level.]

"See, easy as that. Man, we could have got the woman too and leveled up if you were faster, but anyways, enjoy your experience points," Diablo said before disappearing.

Damian stared at the corpse, his hands still clutching the dagger. His body refused to move, frozen in place as the sticky warmth of the man's blood seeped through his trembling fingers. The room felt suffocating.

When he finally snapped, he threw the dagger away and started vigorously rubbing his hands, trying to get blood out of his hands.

"I…hich... I didn't mean to," he stuttered, his voice barely audible over his hiccups. "He was… he was dying anyway… I just-."

He stopped mid-sentence. His stomach was twitching.

He leaned forward to vomit. Nothing but the dry heaves came out.

He tried to get up, but his view spun. His limbs powerless and unable to control himself, he fell to the floor, splattering a blood puddle.

Damian's breathing hitched again, his hands clawing at his hair as blood dripped from them. "I didn't want to… I didn't want to kill him," he whispered.

He crawled into a ball and closed his eyes. "Get this out of me, get this out of me, get this out of me." He repeatedly whispered.