Bookshelves lined the walls, their spines gleaming under the glow of a chandelier. The air reeked of fear. Arayn stood in the center of the noble’s study, his hand wrapped tightly around the Baron Valtheran's throat. He lifted him effortlessly, the noble's polished boots dangling inches above the ornate rug.
"Please! Spare me!" the noble choked out, his face red with exertion, sweat dripping down his temples. His eyes darted around the room, searching for salvation that would never come. "I can pay you! Gold—land—anything! Name your price!"
Arayn’s grip tightened, silencing the man’s pleas with a strangled gasp. His gaze was cold.
Bargaining. Pathetic. They always tried. His thoughts were clear, detached, cutting through the noble’s desperation like a blade. "You are unworthy. The panic in your voice reeks of it," Arayn said.
"Tell me," Arayn said. "What did you sacrifice for your power?"
The noble’s lips quivered, his facade crumbling into fear. "I—I only wanted to secure my position! They—they were just peasants! Worthless lives!" His voice cracked as he confessed, "The magic—demonic magic—it promised so much! Wealth, strength, control! Please, I didn’t know—"
"Hahaha, spare me your excuses," Arayn interrupted. His grip shifted, and the noble gasped for air, clawing uselessly at the hand that held him. Peasants. Worthless. That’s all they ever are to men like him.
The noble’s mouth opened, but no words came out. Arayn didn’t wait. With a flick of his wrist, he hurled the man across the room. The noble crashed into the desk, papers scattering like autumn leaves. Before he could even attempt to crawl away, Arayn closed the distance, his steps unhurried.
A dark energy coiled around Arayn’s hand, black tendrils writhing like living shadows. The noble’s eyes widened in horror, his voice rising in a scream. "No! No, please! Mercy! I’ll change! I swear it!"
"Mercy?" Arayn murmured, his lips curling into a grim smile. "You’ll find none here."
The tendrils struck, piercing the noble’s chest. His screams turned to choked gasps, his body convulsing as the demonic magic consumed him. When it was over, the room fell silent.
Arayn lowered his hand, the dark energy dissipating. He glanced at the smoldering remains of the man who had ruled through greed and cruelty.
"One less unworthy worm."
A faint blue flickered in Arayn’s peripheral vision. His eyes narrowed as the status window materialized before him, hovering in the air like an insidious whisper.
[Level up]
The words glowed in white. Arayn paused, his gaze lingering on the notification. It had become an almost mundane occurrence, these levels, these constant reminders of his growing power. Yet there was satisfaction in seeing it. Level 16.
---
[Name: Arayn
Class: Demonic Acolyte
Level: 16
Stats:
Strength: 22
Dexterity: 16
Constitution: 32
Intelligence: 32
Wisdom: 17
Charisma: 27]
---
[Abilities:
Ancient Demon Language (B): A lost tongue of the demons, capable of reshaping and manipulating demonic power.
Soul Rend (B): An attack that tears into the soul of the target, causing both physical and spiritual damage.
Dark Pact (B): Sacrificing a portion of your own life force to temporarily gain enhanced power.
Demonic Aura (C): A passive aura that radiates demonic energy, weakening nearby enemies and causing fear.
Demonic Step (D): Leap short distances using demonic energy.]
---
[Equipment:
Demon’s Grasp: A cursed glove that amplifies demonic power.
Robe of Concealment: A dark robe that increases mana regeneration and conceals demonic energy.]
The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.
---
After checking his status window, Arayn moved swiftly through the study, his eyes scanning every corner for anything tied to demonic artifacts or forbidden knowledge. His hands raced over the shelves, brushing past tomes and scrolls. Then, his fingers closed around an ancient book—the Infernal Codex. He tucked it into his coat.
A sudden noise reached his ears—the harsh clamor of guards assembling, their boots pounding against the floors.
Arayn dashed through the manor as he avoided guards and silently took out those in his path. His body shifted in the shadows as a guard passed just feet away. A quick strike, and the man crumpled. He used his agility to slide through narrow spaces and summoned bursts of demonic energy to disorient his foes, sending them sprawling as he moved past them without breaking his pace.
But as he approached the manor’s rear, he felt the shift in the air. The exits had been sealed off, the guards blocking any possible route out. No escape there. Without hesitation, he turned into the dark alleys of the city. He moved quickly through the maze-like streets. The city's labyrinth was his only hope, but it was filled with its own dangers.
A thrilling pursuit unfolded behind Arayn as the guards and patrols closed in. The sound of boots pounding against the cobblestone streets echoed in the night.
Arayn’s mind was clear. He dashed across rooftops, his footsteps barely making a sound as he leaped from one building to the next. Below, torchlight illuminated narrow alleys, casting long shadows that seemed to stretch endlessly, offering brief cover in the dark.
The chase twisted through the heart of the town. Arayn moved swiftly, slipping into shadowed alleys where he seemed to vanish from sight, only to reappear moments later on another rooftop, always one step ahead of his pursuers.
But the guards were fast, and in one tense moment, Arayn found himself cornered. His path was blocked by a high stone wall, the only way out blocked by the patrol closing in. For a heartbeat, they thought they had him.
"Surrender, assassin!" One of the guards shouted.
Then, Arayn unleashed his power. [Demonic Step] surged through him, a burst of dark energy that propelled him forward. In an instant, he vanished from the wall and reappeared several meters away, slipping through the cracks between two buildings, out of sight.
The guards, stunned for a moment, scrambled to regroup, but it was too late. Arayn had already disappeared into the maze of alleyways.
Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the last of the patrols vanished from his sight. He stood at the edge of the city, the towering walls far behind him. The quiet of the outskirts was a welcome relief, and he took a deep breath. For now, he had escaped.
Arayn stepped into the abandoned building. It had been his safe haven for days, far from prying eyes.
He pulled out the Infernal Codex. With a careful hand, he opened it.
As he flipped through the pages, the writing appeared to shift before his eyes, each symbol carrying an ominous aura. The language was foreign, ancient. The text hinted at unimaginable power, something capable of shaping demonic energy into a giant fang.
"[Cursed Fang]! Not a bad ability. Furthermore, the cost of learning is also easy."
Arayn was thrilled as he read the codex. His goal was to collect all demonic powers and artifacts in the world, and every new ability he learned brought him closer to that ambition. He savored each moment, enjoying the discovery of new powers with each turn of the page.
After reading it, Arayn burned the codex, watching as the pages curled and blackened in the flames, the heat of it licking at his skin.
He took a deep breath and chanted the mantra. "Vala'gor Drathul'shaak Kharz'othan." The room seemed to darken, the shadows stretching as if drawn to him, responding to the raw power in his voice.
A red glow flickered beneath his feet, spreading outward, thickening like smoke. The ground trembled, and with a deafening crack, a massive red fang shot up from the floor. Its jagged edges gleamed with an unnatural light, casting an eerie reflection across the walls. Arayn’s heart quickened, but his focus remained sharp. The ability was his.
As the fang settled into the air before him, the system’s voice broke through his thoughts.
[You have learned Cursed Fang. Sacrifice 6 human souls within 6 days, or you will die.]
He didn’t flinch. His gaze remained fixed on the fang, a grin tugging at his lips. He had expected this. Demonic power always came at a cost. However, Arayn never backed down.
Suddenly, the communication jewel in Arayn’s pocket vibrated. He crushed it, the shards disintegrating in a swirl of crimson light. From the glow emerged a projection of a white-haired girl, her arms crossed and an angry pout on her face.
“Where are you?” she demanded.
Arayn smirked, leaning casually against the wall. “Hunting nobles, of course,” he said.
The girl—Alice Azael—sighed, pressing her fingers to her temples. “I knew you’d start doing that as soon as you graduated from the Pit. But I didn’t expect you to dive in immediately.”
“Why wouldn’t I?” Arayn replied, his tone mocking. “So many unworthy worms need culling. Waiting would be a waste of time. But enough of that—why are you calling me, big sister?”
Alice’s exasperation softened, her lips curving into a faint smile. “Father’s looking for you,” she said.
Arayn’s smirk faltered, his crimson eyes narrowing. “I have no reason to listen to his orders. I’ve already fulfilled this month’s soul quota.”
“Yes, yes,” Alice said, waving a hand dismissively. “You sent in your quota earlier than anyone your age. Truly a diligent boy. But unfortunately, this isn’t a request. It’s an order. You’re to participate in the deathmatch ritual to select the next Blood Executors.”
A flicker of interest lit Arayn’s gaze. “Oh? A deathmatch, you say? They don’t usually hold these rituals as deathmatches. That means those old relics must have prepared a worthy prize.”
Alice’s grin mirrored his, sly and knowing. “Sharp as ever, little brother. The winner will be rewarded with a primordial crystal imbued with the Heavenly Demon class.”
Arayn’s grin widened. “Heavenly Demon? A demon capable of wielding holy power. Quite the contradiction.”
“Not only that,” Alice added, “but the winner will also be declared the rightful successor of Crimson Sun. Listen, brother. Even if we aren’t related by blood, I’d rather see you as the successor. I don’t want Crimson Sun falling into unworthy hands.”
Arayn laughed, a sound both chilling and genuine. “Fine. I’ll do as you ask, sister. But only in one condition.”
The projection flickered as Alice tilted her head, curiosity flashing in her eyes.