Zaal'tir staggered backward as the shockwave from the explosion dissipated. Smoke curled from the scorched flesh on his chest, and his once-menacing aura wavered. His blazing eyes, full of malice moments ago, now reflected fear.
Zaal'tir bowed before Arayn, grotesque claws pressed into the blood-stained floor. "Spare me! I... I was wrong! Your strength... your power surpasses my comprehension. Please, have mercy!"
Arayn's crimson eyes bore into Zaal'tir’s, a predator staring down prey. The demon’s towering frame seemed to shrink under the intensity of that gaze.
"Mercy?" Arayn’s voice was detached. He raised the final [Cursed Fang] in his hand. "You forfeited that when you entered this world."
Zaal'tir flinched, the plea dying in his throat. "No! Wait—"
Arayn drove the [Cursed Fang] downward. The fang pierced through Zaal'tir’s skull and unleashed a surge of destructive energy.
The demon's roar echoed through the chamber before fading into silence as his body disintegrated. Arayn stood over the dissipating ashes, his expression unchanging.
Arayn's mind sharpened as the energy surged through his body, his senses heightening with every passing moment. The familiar rush of mana coursed through him, marking a new milestone. The screen flickered before him, displaying the results of his progress.
[Name: Arayn Azael
Class: Demonic Acolyte
Level: 17
Stats:
Strength: 23
Dexterity: 17
Constitution: 34
Intelligence: 34
Wisdom: 18
Charisma: 28]
Darius couldn’t help but admire the way Arayn fought. There was no wasted energy, no hesitation. When he removed his enemies, he was swift. Such ruthlessness. He could see it in the way Arayn’s gaze never faltered.
“Magnificent display, lad,” Darius said, his voice carrying a rare note of respect. “You’ve got skill, power. I’d back your rise, without hesitation. We could work together even after the ritual, if you’re open to it. An alliance, maybe. I could see the value in it.”
Alice, standing a little further back, watched the exchange. Her gaze lingered on Arayn, and there was something in her eyes—admiration, yes, but also caution. She understood power. She understood the danger of it, too. It was clear Arayn wielded both without mercy.
Arayn's gaze locked onto Darius with an unwavering focus. "Don't forget about my two requests. Make sure they're handled."
Darius nodded. “Of course. You will see it done. I trust you, lad. Whatever this deathmatch brings, I believe in your ability to see it through. Even if the High Sovereign has picked a demon who’s more trouble than expected.”
Arayn’s lips curled slightly. “I’ll twist it in my favor. The deathmatch will play out exactly as I want it. It will.”
---
The Duskwatch Town manor perched atop the hill. Its spires reached into the sky. The estate’s walls were black stone, weathered and cold, with jagged edges that seemed to absorb the light.
Inside, Baron Raveth Valtheran sat at a long table, the shadows of his grief painting dark lines across his face. The room was richly furnished, yet it felt suffocating. The heavy curtains blocked out the natural light, leaving only the dim glow of candles to illuminate the room. He clenched his fists, his knuckles white.
Across from him, Valen Valehn stood. His eyes scanned the bookshelf, admiring the collection.
“My father is dead, cousin,” Raveth lamented, "He was murdered. And I have nothing. No leads. No answers.” His hands gripped the table, his fingers digging into the wood. “I will find the bastard who did this.”
Valen’s expression didn’t change. “Such a loss is never easy, Baron. My condolences. Truly.”
Raveth’s gaze sharpened. “Condolences don’t bring him back.”
“No,” Valen replied. “But they offer understanding. And understanding can be the first step toward finding justice.”
Raveth leaned forward, frustration bubbling up in his voice. “What do you mean by that? What are you suggesting?”
Valen’s lips curled into a slight, almost imperceptible smile. “Sometimes, Baron, the truth isn’t something you can find alone. And sometimes... it’s something you have to let come to you.” He let the words hang in the air. “But don’t worry. I’m confident that, with a little... guidance, you’ll uncover what you seek. Justice has a way of finding its way into the right hands.”
Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.
The room grew quiet as Raveth tried to gauge Valen’s meaning. However, he wasn't one with a bright mind. When his father was alive, he'd love to spend most of his time in a brothel. Wasted all day. Therefore, he decided to not think about the meaning. "You have to help me, cousin," he pleaded.
The doors slammed open, causing both men to turn toward the entrance. A figure emerged from the shadows, tall and cloaked. Kaelion Vorth, another deathmatch participant, stepped into the room. In his hand, he held a glowing red crystal.
“There’s no need to search for the culprit, Baron. I’ve already found him.”
The crystal in his hand flared to life, sending a wave of energy rippling through the air. The light intensified, and a vivid projection appeared above the table. The scene unfolded clearly. The former Baron, struggling and helpless, crashed to the floor of the very room. A cloaked figure loomed over him—Arayn. Dark tendrils lashed out from his hand, piercing the Baron's chest. With an agonized gasp, the Baron’s life was snuffed out in an instant.
The room fell silent, the weight of the revelation sinking in like a cold stone in the pit of Raveth’s stomach. He leaned forward, his eyes wide with shock. “That’s a demonic ability,” he hissed, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and rage. His gaze fixed on the figure in the projection. “He's from the cult.”
Kaelion remained unmoved, his eyes detached as he watched the Baron’s reaction. But it was Valen who spoke next, trying to manipulate Raveth.
“The assassin is indeed connected to the cult, but you’re a fool if you think revenge will be so simple. He’s not just any man. Arayn is the son of the High Sovereign.”
Raveth’s face twisted with rage. “The High Sovereign’s son? What does that mean for me?”
Valen’s eyes narrowed. “It means that, if you seek revenge against him, you will not only be hunting a man. You’ll be challenging the very foundation of power itself. Arayn’s bloodline carries weight. Dangerous weight. And I suggest you reconsider your course of action.”
Raveth stood motionless for a moment, the anger still burning in his eyes, but now clouded by uncertainty. "What should I do, then, my cousin? It's my father we are speaking about, the husband of your aunt. He loved her and me. He never scolded me when I did something wrong. He always gave everything to me!! But I never had a chance to be filial with him! I am a bad son...no...I cannot call myself his son if I can't avenge him. Please help me, Valen."
Valen folded his hands over the table, his calm expression never wavering. "Naturally, I will help. The cult has chosen Duskwatch Town as the sacred ground for a significant ritual. And Arayn, as fate would have it, will be one of the participants in a deathmatch." His eyes lingered on the Baron, calculating. "This presents us with a unique opportunity."
Leaning forward, Valen's tone grew conspiratorial. "I propose a pact, My Cousin. Together, we can eliminate Arayn during the match. With him gone, we can strike a blow not only to the cult but also to the High Sovereign’s influence. And as for you, if we succeed, the Valtheran family name will rise again. I will help you restore your family's honor in the cult."
The Baron’s breath hitched, his expression torn between anguish and hope. He clenched his fists, trembling as the promise of redemption dangled before him. Tears welled in his eyes, the emotion breaking through his guarded demeanor. Finally, he nodded. "I... I’ll support you. Whatever it takes. I’ll do what must be done."
Valen offered a faint smile, the faintest glimmer of satisfaction flickering behind his composed facade. The trap was set.
---
Arayn, Darius, and Alice sat in a room dimly lit by a single hanging lantern, its light casting long shadows across the wooden walls.
Darius leaned forward, breaking the silence with a question. "Do you have the catalyst for summoning the demon? The one the High Sovereign assigned to you?"
Without hesitation, Arayn reached into his coat, showing a crystal. Its surface shimmered faintly, dark streaks writhing within as if something sinister pulsed beneath.
Darius studied the crystal closely, his brows knitting together. "That thing’s no simple tool. A powerful demon will be summoned if you use that catalyst," he said.
Arayn’s expression remained impassive as he slipped the crystal back into his coat. "I’ll deal with the demon when it’s time. For now, I want details on the other candidates. What do you have?"
Darius nodded, sliding a stack of papers across the table. "Here’s everything I’ve gathered so far."
Arayn skimmed the documents, a faint smile playing on his lips. "Quick work. As expected of you."
Alice, seated nearby, picked up one of the notes and began reading aloud. "Lyssa Morgaine. Her family’s reputation precedes her. They have produced several Crimson Executors and Abyssal Priests—quite the lineage. But she’s just the daughter of a mistress. Probably sent to participate because they see her as expendable."
She set the note down. "She’s the weakest, a pawn in this game."
Arayn tapped his fingers on the table, his gaze lingering on the report. He said nothing but allowed a subtle smile to form. Weak? No. He had seen her ambition, especially in the way her gaze lingered on Alice. She had fire in her, but for now, he kept that thought to himself, his amusement hidden behind a mask of calm.
Alice picked up the next note and scanned it quickly before speaking. "Kaelion Vorth," she said, her tone carrying a note of intrigue. "A cult member with undeniable talent. They say he’s powerful, but he doesn’t have a significant background. He’s the opposite of Lyssa Morgaine—no lineage to fall back on, just raw ability."
Arayn leaned back, his fingers lightly drumming the edge of the table. "No background doesn’t mean no threat," he said. "Sometimes those with nothing to lose are the most dangerous."
Alice smirked. "I never thought I’d hear that from your arrogant mouth."
His gaze shifted to her. "You’re a fool. I know a worthy opponent when I see one. Not that I think Kaelion is worthy, mind you." He waved a hand dismissively. "Now, stop wasting time and continue."
With a raised brow and a faint shrug, Alice moved on. "Saria Kaelthara," she read, her tone neutral. "A strong contender. She has both talent and the backing of her influential family—"
"Spare me the details," Arayn interrupted. "I’m not interested in that worm."
Alice hesitated, then placed Saria’s note aside and picked up the next one. "Fine. Next... these last two might be different. They could be your greatest rivals yet."