[Name: Arayn Azael

Class: Demon Hunter

Level: 21

Patron: 1. Tyras. 2. Loxyr

Origin: Learning

Strength: 58

Dexterity: 60

Constitution: 80

Intelligence: 84

Wisdom: 50

Charisma: 62]

Arayn examined his stats, a sense of satisfaction settling in. They had doubled now that he had reached the expert class. No wonder people said the gap between level 20 and 21 was enormous.

What excited him even more was the awakening of his origin ability, [Corlust Eyes of Demonic Arsenal]. A growth-type skill. As long as it advanced to a higher grade, its rank would never drop.

He shifted his focus to his other abilities. Most had ranked down, but that was expected. When an ability evolved to a higher grade, its rank often dropped. It was only a temporary setback. He just needed to find a way to restore them.

A few, however, remained unchanged. Those were the evolved abilities from his demon hunter class. Not only had they kept their ranks, but they had also gained new traits, strengthening his arsenal even further.

Tyras glanced at Arayn. "How are you feeling?"

Arayn gave a slight nod. "I feel good."

Tyras leaned back, arms crossed. "So, how do you plan to return to the human realm?"

Arayn smirked. "I have a plan, but there's no rush."

"Good timing, then," Tyras said. "I stole your abilities before. Want them back?"

Arayn's smirk widened. "Perfect chance to test my new eyes."

Tyras chuckled. "I'll teach you one ability. But first—" He looked at the empty space above Arayn. "Loxyr, come out and greet your father."

A handsome demon materialized above Arayn. "Long time no see, Father," he said. There was no trace of mischief in his expression—only nervous restraint.

Tyras shot him a sharp look. "You’ve got some nerve," he scolded. "Becoming my disciple’s patron without offering him a single benefit? Bold of you."

Loxyr raised his hands in defense. "I was going to do that once you were gone," he muttered.

Tyras wasn’t having it. "Do it now."

"Alright, alright!" Loxyr said quickly. "No need to get angry, Father."

Loxyr descended gracefully, landing before Arayn with a smirk. "So, what kind of benefit do you want from me?"

Arayn crossed his arms. "That depends. What can you do?"

Loxyr tilted his head, then gestured toward the sword lying on the ground.

Arayn frowned. "How did my sword follow me here?" he muttered.

Tyras let out a short laugh. "You and that sword are compatible. Your abilities are too similar. It’s probably starting to become a soulbound artifact."

Loxyr nodded. "Father’s right. The sword sacrificed one of its abilities to keep your [Soul Rend] at its current rank." He folded his arms. "I can transfer the last remaining ability from the sword to you, but the sword will be destroyed in the process."

Arayn barely hesitated. "Go ahead. I need to get rid of it anyway. It’s evidence I can’t leave behind."

Loxyr picked up the sword, his fingers gliding over its surface as dark energy coiled around it. The blade trembled, its form dissolving into a radiant orb pulsing with power. Without hesitation, Loxyr thrust it into Arayn’s chest.

A surge of energy rushed through him, burning yet invigorating. Then, a familiar chime echoed in his mind.

[You have acquired the ability: Soulsteal.]

A system window appeared before Arayn, the words glowing faintly. He exhaled, feeling the new power settle within him.

[Name: Soulsteal

Grade: Rare

Rank: C

Description: When the user kills someone, they absorb the target’s soul and convert it into lifeforce, increasing their lifespan. The stronger the soul, the greater the effect.]

Loxyr gave Arayn a parting glance. "Your patron's contract will end once you reach the elite class," he said. Then, without another word, he vanished.

Tyras scoffed. "That demon’s always up to something. Be careful when making deals with him."

Arayn shrugged. "I’ll worry about that later. Right now, I want to learn the ability you promised me."

Tyras nodded. "Follow me."

They stepped outside the house. A vast, crimson landscape stretched before them. They stood atop a red hill, the ground cracked and pulsing with faint embers. Tyras turned to Arayn, a smirk playing on his lips. "Welcome to the Netherworld."

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Arayn scanned his surroundings. A red sky loomed overhead, casting a dull glow over the land. The ground beneath him shared the same crimson hue, hardened and dry. The air was thick with demonic energy, clinging to his skin like an unseen weight. Yet, aside from the overwhelming presence of red, it resembled the human world in many ways.

Tyras chuckled. "I can guess what you're thinking. Everything here looks like the human world, right?" He gestured at the land before them. "That’s because this is an inhabitable region of the Netherworld. This city is called Valak City. Outside its borders, you’ll experience the Netherworld in its true form."

Tyras crossed his arms and glanced at Arayn. "We’ll train here. You don’t have much time, so whether you master this or not depends entirely on your aptitude." A smirk tugged at his lips. "I know you have a taste for footwork abilities, so I’ll only demonstrate this once. Watch carefully."

Arayn’s eyes sharpened as he activated [Corlust Eyes of Demonic Arsenal]. His irises darkened into a deep crimson, intricate black patterns spiraling outward like cracks in shattered glass. The sclera turned pitch black, and faint ember-like wisps trailed from the corners. His vision changed—time stretched, every movement slowing, every detail magnified. He could see the flow of demonic energy shifting in the air, tracing the paths of movement before they even began.

Tyras exhaled, then moved.

The ground beneath his feet cracked as he vanished. Not a sound, not a ripple in the air—just absence. A fraction of a second later, he reappeared on the far end of the hill, standing with ease. Then again, he flickered, materializing to Arayn’s left, then to his right, then behind him. The red dust barely had time to settle before he moved again.

With his eyes, Arayn caught glimpses—the subtle tilt of a foot, the precise shift of weight, the faint twist of his torso before each burst of motion. There was no wasted effort. Every step carried intent, every flicker of movement seamless, like the wind itself had willed him forward.

Then, Tyras stopped, standing exactly where he had begun. He turned to Arayn, raising an eyebrow. "Well? Did you catch that?"

Arayn didn’t reply. Instead, he lowered himself to the ground, crossing his legs as he closed his eyes. Silence settled around him. He shut out the red sky, the eerie landscape, the weight of Tyras’s gaze.

In his mind, he replayed every movement, dissecting each shift in Tyras’s stance, the subtle bends in his knees, the way his energy flowed. At a glance, it seemed like a simple high-speed footwork technique, but Arayn knew better. There was something deeper, something more profound.

His eyes had caught it—the hidden secret buried beneath the speed.

When Tyras moved from point A to B, his steps were soundless. No air displacement. No flicker of presence. He simply turned invisible and vanished. When he transitioned from point B to C, something changed. At the instant of departure, an afterimage appeared from point A, mimicking his movement when he had leaped to point B.

The afterimage carried destructive energy, lashing out against the surroundings like a lingering echo of motion. To the untrained eye, the afterimage was the real body, a perfect bait that misled opponents into attacking where Tyras had been, only to be caught in the explosion of residual force.

Arayn’s brow furrowed slightly. The technique wasn’t just about speed; it was deception woven into movement, an artful blend of misdirection and destructive power.

[You have analyzed Calamity Step: First Form - Destructive Mirage. Your progress is 10%]

Arayn opened his eyes. The red sky loomed above, but his focus remained sharp.

Tyras watched him closely. “How is it? Can your eyes replicate it?”

Arayn exhaled, flexing his fingers as he processed the technique. “It’s doable,” he said. “I just need time.”

Tyras gave a satisfied nod. “Good. I’ll be here until you master the move.”

Arayn raised a brow. “Aren’t you busy?”

Tyras smiled. “My schedule with you is the most important.”

Arayn chuckled. “Seems like you’re nurturing me for something.”

Tyras didn’t deny it. “You’re right. I’ll explain if you can defeat the Third Heavenly Demon.”

Arayn turned away, rolling his shoulders as he stepped forward. “Then watch closely. I’ll set the deadline in three days.”

Arayn planted his foot on the cracked red earth, his muscles coiled like a drawn bow. The moment he pushed off, the world blurred. He shot forward.

He landed, exhaling sharply.

Again.

This time, he adjusted his weight. He bent lower, focused on the sensation Tyras had demonstrated, weightless yet firm, swift yet controlled. His foot barely kissed the earth before he propelled himself forward. The wind curled around him.

Then, a misstep. His landing created a slight impact, a ripple of dust breaking the illusion. No afterimage. No destructive energy. Just him, standing there, short of his goal.

Arayn clenched his jaw. Not enough.

He went again. Over and over, his body moving in bursts. Each attempt edged him closer, his steps became lighter, his momentum smoother. His presence flickered, but the afterimage refused to manifest. The raw power of the technique remained just out of reach.

His breathing grew heavier, his body drenched in sweat. Hours must have passed, but he didn’t stop. He couldn't.

Just as he prepared for another attempt, a chime rang in his ears.

A system window flickered into view.

[Progress in mastering Calamity Step: First Form - Shattered Mirage: 20%]

Arayn exhaled and lowered himself onto the red earth, feeling the heat of the ground seep through his clothes. His muscles ached, his lungs burned, but the system message was proof that he was on the right path. He closed his eyes, replaying the sensation of movement, the fleeting moment when his step had almost become weightless.

He needed to grasp that feeling again. Refine it. Control it.

Footsteps approached. Tyras stopped beside him. "Do you want a tip?"

Arayn opened his eyes. He didn't hesitate. "Go ahead."

Tyras nodded, then without another word, he moved. In an instant, he vanished. A rush of wind followed, barely a whisper against the still air. Then, just as suddenly, he reappeared several meters away, standing as if he had never left. An afterimage flickered where he had stood, surging as if chasing him. Before it could close the distance, Tyras disappeared again, reappearing before Arayn. They watched together as the afterimage exploded.

"Watch closely," Tyras said.

Arayn scanned the ground where Tyras had moved. His eyes sharpened. Footprints marking the path Tyras had taken.

"I left those for you," Tyras said. "Analyze them. Learn it step by step."

Arayn pushed himself up, dusting off his palms. His gaze locked onto the first footprint.

"Thanks," he said.

Arayn crouched down, his fingers hovering just above the footprints Tyras had left behind. Four distinct impressions marked the ground—two shallow, two deep. His brows furrowed as he studied them. If the original Tyras had only left shallow prints, then the deeper ones belonged to the afterimage.

His eyes narrowed. Afterimages leaving footprints... It defied logic. They weren’t supposed to be real, yet here was the proof beneath his feet.

Shifting his focus, he traced the lingering energy in the air. Tyras had deliberately left behind a faint trail—something he could have erased entirely. Arayn understood the unspoken lesson. His mentor had given him a chance to dissect every movement, every nuance of the technique.

Then, like a puzzle clicking into place, realization struck. The secret wasn’t just in the footwork. It was in the way the energy was woven into each step.

Arayn’s lips curled into a small smile. He had found the key. Now, all that was left was to execute it.

[Progress in mastering Calamity Step: First Form - Shattered Mirage: 30%]