Arayn exhaled slowly, letting his aura seep out, shaping it into an afterimage that stood where he once was. Then, with a sharp burst of movement, he leaped. His form vanished, slipping between reality and illusion. When he landed, he turned back. The afterimage trailed behind, mimicking his path exactly.
It looked flawless. However, as Arayn met Tyras’s gaze, the man shook his head.
"Not yet," Tyras said.
Arayn didn’t argue. If it were perfect, the system would have confirmed it. Ninety percent wasn’t one hundred. There was still something missing. He steadied himself and pushed forward, his movements flowing once more as he chased that final step.
Arayn moved without hesitation. His aura bled into the air, shaping his afterimage as he stepped forward. He vanished mid-leap, his presence flickering out of existence. The afterimage trailed behind, mirroring his exact path. Again. And again.
Even though it seemed perfect, something was still off.
Tyras remained silent now, watching. Arayn could feel it—perfection was just out of reach, teasing him like a shadow slipping through his fingers. He pushed harder. Faster. Each movement refined, each step honed, until instinct took over. His body stopped thinking. It simply moved. Then, it happened.
Ding!
[You have achieved 100% mastery of Calamity Step: Destructive Mirage. Your dexterity has increased by 10!]
[Name: Calamity Step: First Form - Destructive Mirage
Grade: Rare
Rank: A+
Description: Calamity Step: Destructive Mirage is a high-level footwork technique that distorts perception and misleads opponents through seamless movement and illusion. It is divided into three key parts: creating the destructive afterimage, vanishing from existence, and leaping.]
[Name: Arayn Azael
Class: Demon Hunter
Level: 21
Patron: 1. Tyras. 2. Loxyr
Origin: Learning
Strength: 58
Dexterity: 70
Constitution: 80
Intelligence: 84
Wisdom: 50
Charisma: 62]
Arayn came to a halt. A smirk tugged at his lips. He had done it. The dexterity increase was also a pleasant surprise.
Tyras crossed his arms, a rare smile tugging at his lips. “I’ll admit, I didn’t expect you to master it in a single day.” His voice held no mockery, only genuine surprise. “Impressive.”
Arayn barely acknowledged the praise. His gaze remained fixed ahead, mind already moving past this achievement. “This isn’t enough,” he said. “I need to level up more if I want a real chance.”
Tyras sighed. “Don’t rush.” He studied Arayn for a moment, then nodded to himself. “I wasn’t planning to do this yet, but…” He paused, as if weighing his decision. “Your improvement was faster than I thought. So, I’ll teach you another technique.” His expression sharpened. “This time, it’s an attack technique.”
Arayn turned to him, his usual cold focus flickering with curiosity.
Tyras studied Arayn for a moment before asking, “Do you want a quick attack—something you can use often? Or an ultimate technique, a last resort?”
Arayn didn’t hesitate. “The ultimate attack.”
Tyras smirked. “I thought so.” He took a step back. “Activate your Corlust Eyes of Demonic Arsenal.”
Arayn’s scleras darkened as he complied. His vision sharpened, every shift in mana and movement becoming clearer.
Tyras bent down, grabbing a simple stick from the ground. At first, it seemed like nothing, but then his mana surged. Black and red energy gathered around the wood, twisting and writhing like a living fire. Then, with a single swing, Tyras unleashed the energy.
A red-black beam erupted from the arc of his strike, carving through the air with terrifying force. The sky split apart where it passed, the clouds torn asunder. The power in that single motion was absolute.
Tyras let the stick fall to his side and turned to Arayn. “This move is called [Conquest Sword Art: First Form – Impose]. At a glance, it seems simple. But it’s more profound than that.” He met Arayn’s gaze, a knowing glint in his eyes. “I know you’ve already figured that out with those eyes.”
Arayn’s [Corlust Eyes of Demonic Arsenal] flickered as he analyzed the energy Tyras had just unleashed. His vision dissected every strand of power, breaking it down to its very essence.
The red energy—demonic energy—was violent. Unlike ordinary mana, which flowed in harmony, it carried an innate destructive will, seeking to consume and overpower.
The black energy—darkness energy—was different. It didn’t just destroy; it weakened. It seeped into the opponent’s resistance, dulling their defense, their awareness, their very essence. Darkness energy wasn’t about brute force—it was about inevitability. A slow decay, an unraveling of everything it touched. Its presence alone was enough to sap power, induce fatigue, and strip away magical reinforcements.
When the two combined…
Arayn’s eyes narrowed as he replayed the moment Tyras swung the stick. The fusion of demonic and darkness energy didn’t just amplify their individual effects—it created something new. A devastating force that ignored resistance entirely. The demonic energy shattered defenses, tearing apart any attempt to block or deflect. The darkness energy ensured that nothing could withstand it, corroding protections from within, leaving the target vulnerable to absolute destruction.
This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.
This wasn’t just an attack. It was an execution. A strike that didn’t care for barriers, armor, or regeneration. It dealt pure damage to body and soul.
Arayn clenched his fists. If he could wield this power, he would become several times stronger. However, now that he had seen the ability, he knew well that he couldn't learn it normally in five days. He only had that much time left before the destined confrontation with the Heavenly Demon.
Tyras watched Arayn in silence for a moment before speaking. “Will you spend the rest of your remaining time here mastering this technique?”
Arayn turned to him, his expression unwavering. “What a foolish question, Master. My origin is learning. It’s natural that I would love to learn. Now that my origin has awakened, it’s my duty to behave in accordance with it.”
Tyras smirked. “Excellent answer.” His gaze hardened, the weight of his expectations settling over Arayn. “Then I won’t be watching you directly anymore. You’re on your own.” He took a step back, folding his arms. “Prove that you are worthy of your origin.”
With that, he turned away, leaving Arayn alone on the top of the hill.
Arayn gripped the same stick Tyras had used, his fingers tightening around the rough wood. He took a slow breath, then willed demonic energy to surge through it. The response was immediate.
Red mana flared around the stick, twisting and writhing as if alive. This part was easy. As someone from the Demonic Faction, this energy was his very nature—an extension of himself. It flowed effortlessly, coating the weapon in its violent, destructive power.
Then, he released it. A pulse of red energy shot outward, dissipating into the air.
That wasn’t enough.
Now came the true challenge.
He had to change his mana’s nature—convert what was inherently demonic into darkness energy.
Arayn closed his eyes for a brief moment. Changing one’s mana nature was something only a few could achieve. It was a slow, grueling process, but he had seen Tyras do it. More than that, his Corlust Eyes had shown him how.
When he opened his eyes again, they gleamed with insight. The method was clear. Now, he only had to make it his own.
Arayn stood still, focusing entirely on the energy within him. He could feel the demonic mana coursing through his veins—wild, aggressive, consuming. He didn’t try to suppress it. Instead, he let himself sink into its essence, peeling away its layers with his mind.
He felt its molecules, the chaotic, burning nature that made it so powerful. This energy wasn’t meant to change—it was meant to dominate. However, he wasn’t trying to fight it. He was trying to reshape it.
With slow, deliberate control, he willed the mana to shift, to alter its structure to resemble darkness.
The moment he attempted it, the energy shattered. The mana collapsed, dispersing back into demonic nature.
Arayn inhaled sharply. Then, he tried again.
And again.
And again.
Each time, the result was the same. The moment he forced demonic energy to transform, it broke apart, unraveling before it could stabilize. It rejected his command, refusing to bend. He didn’t stop. He refused to stop.
He kept pushing, kept adjusting, searching for the exact method Tyras had used. His Corlust Eyes had shown him the way, and now it was only a matter of matching action to knowledge.
Time passed without meaning. His body screamed for rest, but he ignored it.
Failure.
Failure.
Failure.
Then—success.
The mana in his grasp changed. The aggressive, raging flow of demonic energy shifted, its molecules realigning, its nature darkening. The energy cooled, no longer seeking destruction.
Darkness mana.
Arayn exhaled, exhaustion gnawing at him, but he didn’t stop. He gathered the darkness mana around the stick, watching as the once-fiery glow of red turned into a deep black.
He inspected it carefully, his sharp gaze analyzing every detail. The energy felt foreign, yet familiar. This was it.
He had taken the first step.
Arayn’s stomach twisted with hunger, a sharp reminder that he had been training without rest. He exhaled and turned toward the demon’s house.
Inside, he scanned for anything edible. Dried meat. A stack of it was stored on a stone shelf.
He grabbed a piece and bit into it.
The taste was strange. Not rotten, not unpleasant, just unfamiliar. It was dense, tougher than any meat he had eaten before, with a lingering aftertaste that hinted at something beyond the ordinary.
This was the Netherworld. It wasn’t hard to guess what he was eating. A demonic beast, most likely.
Arayn didn’t pause. He didn’t care. Hunger was hunger. He ate without hesitation, chewing through each bite with the same discipline he applied to his training. The body needed fuel. That was all that mattered.
Once finished, he left the house, stepping back into the eerie stillness of the hill. He rolled his shoulders, stretched his fingers, and focused his mind. There was no time to waste. Training awaited.
He grasped the stick firmly and took a slow breath. He had already touched the essence of demonic energy—wild, destructive, hungry. He had already reshaped it into darkness mana—cold, creeping, decaying. Now, he needed to manifest them together.
One hand tightened around the stick. The other hovered just above it, fingers slightly curled as he focused.
First, he called upon demonic energy. It surged forth without resistance, eager to be used. A deep crimson glow wrapped around the wood.
Next, he willed darkness mana to surface. Unlike the wild flare of demonic energy, it crept in like a tide. A deep black mana wove itself around the red glow, both energies existing at once, neither overtaking the other.
It was done.
The stick trembled in his grasp, wrapped in the clash of red and black, destruction and decay. He had succeeded.
Arayn stood still, the stick gripped tight in his hands. Red and black—destruction and decay—coexisting but not yet one. This was the final step. He had to merge them.
He exhaled slowly.
Demonic energy burned like a raging inferno. Darkness mana slithered through it. He tried to force them together, commanding them to fuse.
They rejected each other.
The moment they merged, the energies clashed, breaking apart in violent bursts. The mana dispersed into the air.
Again.
He gathered the energies. Balanced them. Pushed them together.
Failure.
Again.
The energies flared, collided, shattered. His grip tightened, his knuckles turning white. His body ached, his mind screamed for rest, but he ignored it. There was no stopping.
Time blurred.
He trained through exhaustion and hunger. He repeated the process over and over, shaping the mana, forcing them to bend, trying, failing, trying again.
Two days passed.
And then—
It happened.
The red and black did not clash. They intertwined. Two forces, opposite yet aligned, became one.
He had done it.
[You have achieved 100% mastery of Conquest Sword Art: First Form - Impose. Your strength, dexterity, constitution, intelligence, and wisdom have increased by two!]
[Name: Arayn Azael
Class: Demon Hunter
Level: 21
Patron: 1. Tyras. 2. Loxyr
Origin: Learning
Strength: 60
Dexterity: 72
Constitution: 82
Intelligence: 86
Wisdom: 52
Charisma: 62]
[Name: Conquest Sword Art: First Form – Impose
Grade: Rare
Rank: A+
Description: A sword technique that merges demonic energy and darkness mana to create an attack that bypasses all defenses and delivers pure damage.]