Alice picked up another note and scanned its contents, her brow furrowing slightly. "Valen Valehn. He’s from one of the four greatest families in our cult. The Valehn family holds influence that even surpasses our Azael family."
She glanced at Arayn, gauging his reaction before continuing. "Their power isn’t just internal. The Valehn family is recognized as noble by the Varondale Kingdom itself. They’re the bridge connecting us to the surface world. Without them, our cult would have a harder time gaining information about the surface."
Alice paused for a moment, tapping the edge of the paper. "And Valen isn’t just a name in that lineage, he’s the direct successor of the Valehn family—a position he earned, not inherited. His overwhelming talent is impossible to ignore."
Her voice took on a note of reverence as she read further. "He’s mastered more magic branches than most could dream of. Necromancy, dark magic, light magic—yes, even light magic—alchemy, ancient demon language, and several others not even listed here. His hunger for knowledge and power is... unsettling. He learns relentlessly, like he’s determined to surpass even the boundaries of our understanding."
She set the note down, her expression pensive. "A talent like his is rare, Arayn. And dangerous. I think he will be your greatest obstacle."
Arayn leaned back in his chair, a faint smirk playing on his lips. "Now this one is interesting. But I’m more curious about the last candidate. Read his note, Alice."
Alice hesitated for a moment, then flipped to the final sheet in the pile. Her eyes scanned the words, and her expression shifted to one of disbelief. "Eryndor Drexar," she read aloud. "It says here he’s defeated expert-class warriors before. That’s... impossible. How have I never heard of him?"
Darius chuckled. "Keep reading. His background will clear up your confusion."
Alice’s brow furrowed as she continued. When her eyes reached a particular line, she froze. "Crimson Moon Sect. He’s from the Crimson Moon Sect? How does someone from a branch sect participate in our cult’s ritual?"
The Crimson Moon Sect, a branch of the Crimson Sun, operated directly under the High Sovereign. Its members were rarely involved in external affairs, let alone rituals of this scale.
Darius’s grin widened as he answered her unspoken question. "This is the High Sovereign’s decision. As his servants, we have no right to question it. We simply obey."
Arayn remained silent, his gaze thoughtful as he processed this revelation. Eryndor Drexar. The name lingered in his mind. Aside from Lyssa, this was the first candidate who truly intrigued him. With just meeting the man, Arayn could sense his latent talent.
A sudden laugh escaped Arayn’s lips, breaking the tension in the room. "It seems this won’t be boring after all. I hope every candidate finds a way to entertain me. I will personally witness how far they can go before they break."
---
The Verdant Shroud stretched endlessly, a dense forest of twisted trees and thick underbrush. A humid breeze swirled through the air. The path ahead was narrow, barely wide enough for Arayn to pass without brushing against the thorn-covered vines.
Duskwatch Town was still a day's journey away, but the deathmatch would require more than just the strength of his arm. He needed to be ready.
Stopping momentarily, Arayn reached into his pouch and withdrew a potion—a deep purple liquid that shimmered faintly. The faint sting of its scent filled his nostrils as he uncorked the vial and drank it. The potion burned as it slid down his throat.
The liquid's power coursed through him immediately, sacrificing his experience points gain to temporarily enhance his agility growth.
Soon, rustling leaves announced the presence of forest monsters. He deactivated the Robe of Concealment, letting the full force of his [Demonic Aura] spread outward like a dark cloud, weakening the monsters as they drew near.
Three Bloodthorn Beasts appeared, their eyes glowing with hunger. These creatures stood with four legs with sleek bodies covered in bristling fur. Their heads looked like a wolf but with a boar-like stout.
Arayn’s aura pressed against them like a weight, sapping their strength. In an instant, he hurled [Cursed Fangs] at then. The monsters staggered, their bodies convulsing.
He stepped forward, his hand reaching out, dark tendrils sprouting from his palm. [Soul Rend] tore through the creatures. Their bodies collapsed to the ground, motionless, as the tendrils retracted back into his hand.
The forest fell silent once again.
[Your dexterity has increased +2]
Arayn stood among the fallen. The potion had done its work. His dexterity had increased by two points, a small but vital gain. With a slight smirk, Arayn continued on his journey, the Verdant Shroud parting before him as he moved toward Duskwatch Town.
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Arayn continued deeper into the Verdant Shroud, his gaze scanning the surroundings. The faint scent of blood reached him, and he slowed his steps. Through the dense foliage, he spotted a clearing where a young boy sat cross-legged on the ground. The boy worked quietly, his brush capturing a vivid scene of a Bloodthorn Beast ripping into the body of a deer. His focus was too absolute to notice the second beast creeping up behind him, its claws digging into the dirt as it prepared to pounce.
Arayn acted swiftly. His [Demonic Aura] rolled outward, causing the ambushing creature to falter. The boy froze, sensing the shift in the air, but he didn’t turn. Before the beast could recover, Arayn raised his hand, and black tendrils erupted from his palm. The creature let out a strangled cry and collapsed. The first Bloodthorn Beast snarled, abandoning its meal to charge at Arayn.
Unmoved, Arayn threw a [Cursed Fang] at the beast, its sharp edge sinking into the creature’s hide. Arayn closed the distance with a single step, dark energy coiling around his hand as he delivered the finishing blow with [Soul Rend].
The boy finally turned, his wide eyes darting between the lifeless creatures and the man who had saved him. “I… I didn’t even see it,” he stammered, clutching his paintbrush tightly. “Thank you.”
“You wouldn’t have,” Arayn said coolly, lowering his hand. “What’s a kid doing in a forest like this, alone?”
The boy hesitated, glancing down at his easel. “I was with a traveling merchant caravan,” he began. “But bandits attacked us. They killed everyone else… I ran and got lost here. I’m heading to Duskwatch Town now. It’s the only place left for me.”
Arayn studied him for a moment, noting the exhaustion in his expression. “Duskwatch Town,” he echoed. “That’s where I’m going.” He gestured with a nod. “You can follow me. This place isn’t safe.”
The boy’s relief was evident as he gave a shaky nod. “Thank you. I’ll try not to slow you down.”
Arayn’s eyes moved to the easel. “Why were you painting a monster?”
The boy blinked, then looked at the unfinished painting, smeared with blood from the fight. “Because… I want to paint the world as it is. Not just the beautiful things, but the terrifying ones too. It’s all part of life, and I want to capture it.”
Arayn raised an eyebrow, intrigued despite himself. “That’s an odd goal for someone your age,” he said. “Why?”
The boy gave a faint smile. “Because it’s the only thing that makes me feel alive,” he admitted. “Painting helps me make sense of it all.”
Arayn’s lips twitched, almost forming a smile. “Strange,” he murmured. “But I suppose there’s a kind of beauty in that.”
They began walking, the boy carrying his supplies while talking about his passion for art. Arayn listened quietly, his usual detachment giving way to curiosity. The boy’s perspective, while unusual, lingered in his mind as they pressed on toward Duskwatch Town.
A day later, Duskwatch Town's silhouette emerged on the horizon, its stone walls and watchtowers standing vigilant against the wild forest surrounding it. Arayn and the boy trudged along the worn dirt path. The boy’s expression brightened at the sight of civilization.
As they approached the gate, the guards stationed there stiffened. Their gazes locked on Arayn, and whispers passed between them. One of them stepped forward, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword. “You there!” he barked. “You’re the one who killed the baron of Duskwatch! Stop where you are!”
The boy froze, his eyes widening in shock as he turned to Arayn. But before he could speak, Arayn placed a hand on his shoulder and said, “Stay out of this.”
Without hesitation, Arayn stepped back, his form flickering like a shadow under the midday sun. In an instant, he vanished, reappearing several meters away at the edge of the forest. The guards shouted, their swords drawn as they gave chase, but Arayn slipped deeper into the trees.
The guards charged into the forest, but their armor clinked noisily, and their heavy boots crushed the underbrush, giving away their position. Arayn, by contrast, moved silently, his steps untraceable as he activated [Demonic Step], propelling himself effortlessly between the towering trees. He leaped onto a thick branch, using it as a springboard to gain height, then dropped soundlessly into the shadows below.
One of the guards yelled, “He went this way!” But Arayn was already behind them. He let out a faint chuckle, his [Demonic Aura] pulsing briefly to confuse their senses. The forest became his weapon—branches obscured their vision, roots caught their boots, and the dense canopy cast long shadows, making it impossible to track him.
As the guards stumbled further into the thicket, their frustration mounted. Arayn, meanwhile, darted through the maze of trees with ease.
When he was certain the guards were far enough behind, Arayn stopped beneath a towering oak.
“They’ll keep looking,” he murmured to himself. “I guess participating in the deathmatch while avoiding the Valtheran Family just became more interesting. Still, I wonder how they found out.”
With that, he adjusted his robe, shrouding his [Demonic Aura] once more. He cast a glance toward the distant town, its walls obscured by the trees, and began walking deeper into the woods.
Arayn reached the glade. It was quiet, untouched. The sunlight filtered through the canopy, casting a faint glow on the ground below. He paused, taking in the stillness, and then moved to the center. Here, he would summon a demon. Here, he would defeat it.
He knelt. His hands worked quickly, laying out the catalysts: powdered bone, blackened ash, and a vial of blood. Each formed a circle etched with runes carved into the dirt. At the center, he set the crystal from his father.
The ritual began. The air grew heavy as the runes flared to life. The forest fell silent. No rustle of leaves, no noise of insects. Only the rising tension. Only the sound of his voice as he chanted the summoning ritual.
"From the depths of shadow and flame. By blood spilled and names unspoken, I call thee forth, breaker of bonds. Malzareth, servant of abyssal power, hear my voice. By this circle drawn in ash and bone. By the crystal charged with ancient sin. Rise now, from the void unseen, and answer my command, demon of the netherworld."
Flames erupted—black and red, shifting and wild, burning without heat. The crystal cracked. Energy surged, rippling outward, and then the demon emerged.
It rose from the circle, a towering form of obsidian flesh and horns. Its eyes burned. Its claws flexed as it stepped forward. The beast’s voice boomed, shaking the ground beneath their feet.
“Who summons me? Speak, mortal, before I tear you apart!”
Arayn said nothing. Not yet. Instead, he raised his hand, and with a single, decisive motion, he shattered the circle. The runes fizzled and died, their light extinguished in an instant. The demon froze, its fiery eyes narrowing as realization dawned. He was trapped. Stranded.
The demon roared, his fury consuming the glade. “You dare imprison me?” he snarled, lunging forward. “You will pay for this!”
Arayn stood firm, his own dark aura rising to meet the demon’s rage. The ground beneath him cracked, the air around him buzzing with power. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t waver. Instead, he smiled.
“You’re staying. Your freedom was never part of the plan.”