In the heart of the bustling town square, Eryndor's sword clashed against the massive blade of a towering demon, sparks flying with every strike. The demon stood twice his size, exuding an aura that sent shivers through the crowd of onlookers. Townsfolk huddled together, some whispering prayers, others frozen in terror as the battle unfolded before their eyes.

The demon sneered. "Summoning me here, of all places, mortal? You’re either brave or stupid. Do you not realize? Here, I can feast on human souls with ease."

Eryndor’s expression remained calm, his grip on his blade unshaken. "If seeking thrill is foolishness, then let me be called a fool." With a surge of strength, he pushed the demon back, sending it crashing through the wall of a nearby house. Bricks and dust exploded outward, and the demon roared in frustration.

A young boy stumbled and fell near the wreckage, his small frame trembling with fear. The demon's eyes gleamed with hunger as its elongated tongue slithered out to lick its lips. It reached out a clawed hand toward the child.

Before the demon could grab him, a sharp slash cut through the air, severing the demon’s arm in one clean stroke. The creature howled in agony, clutching the stump of its limb as dark, viscous blood spilled onto the ground.

Eryndor lowered his sword. "I knew you’d try to feast on them. That’s exactly why I summoned you here—to stop you. I’ll do everything in my power to ensure you harm no one. That's the thrill I am seeking."

The demon snarled, its face twisted in fury. "You’ll pay for that, mortal!" It bellowed an incantation. "[Maleficarum Umbra Forma]!" The severed arm on the ground convulsed, expanding grotesquely. Its skin split, and from the palm of its hand, a monstrous mouth erupted, lined with jagged teeth. The fingers lengthened into writhing, snake-like appendages, forming a nightmarish creature.

The crowd screamed, but Eryndor stood firm. He spared no glance for the abomination, his focus momentarily drawn to the figures approaching from the edge of the square. Valen, Kaelion, Saria, and Lyssa emerged from the shadows.

Eryndor’s lips curved into a faint smile. "So, you’ve come, fellow candidates. Good. Watch closely." His eyes narrowed as he turned back to the demon. "Let me introduce what kind of person I am through this battle."

He closed his eyes briefly, and when they reopened, the whites of his eyes had turned black, the irises a deeper, burning red.

The demon recoiled in shock. "Those eyes... No! That’s the Corlust Eyes!"

Eryndor said nothing. In a flash, he charged toward the monstrous hand. The beast lashed out, its fingers elongating and striking like serpents, but Eryndor dodged each one with precision. It was as though he could see their trajectory before they even moved.

As he closed the distance, Eryndor swung his sword upward with a devastating force. The blade tore through the creature, splitting it cleanly in two. The severed halves collapsed, disintegrating into ash that scattered in the wind.

The square fell silent save for the whispers of the wind carrying away the remains of the monster. The citizens stared in awe, and Eryndor stood tall, his demonic eyes still glowing, as he turned his gaze back to the demon. "Now, are you saying that I am worthless?"

The demon snarled, clutching its severed arm with a twisted grin. "You think you've won?" it growled, its eyes burning with malice. Raising its severed limb, it jammed the hilt of its massive sword into the stump, the blade's dark energy pulsing as if alive.

With a roar, it began an incantation, "Carnifex Corpus Meldra!"

The air around the demon warped as its body convulsed and expanded. Muscle fibers erupted from its arm, writhing like living vines, wrapping around the sword. The blade fused with the flesh, transforming into a grotesque limb—a jagged, bladed extension of its own body. The demon flexed its new weaponized arm, its grin stretching unnaturally wide.

"This ends now," it hissed, its voice echoing with unearthly resonance. "One strike is all it will take to obliterate you."

Eryndor remained unfazed, his expression calm and composed. His sword hummed with latent power as he held it at his side. "If that’s what you want," he said evenly, his tone almost casual, "then I will kindly respond."

In an instant, an immense aura burst forth from Eryndor, enveloping him in a radiant yet oppressive energy. The air vibrated with his power, causing the ground beneath him to crack. Channeling the energy into his sword, it glowed with an otherworldly brilliance, its edge sharp enough to cut the very air.

The demon vanished, reappearing in a blur directly in front of Eryndor, its bladed arm descending like a guillotine. The sheer force of the attack split the earth beneath them, a chasm ripping through the square as dust and debris shot skyward.

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But Eryndor was already moving. He sidestepped with effortless precision, his movements so fluid it seemed he had foreseen the strike before it happened. The demon's attack missed by a hair, the ground quaking from the impact.

Before the demon could recover, Eryndor swung his sword upward in a single, decisive motion. The blade emitted a brilliant beam of light, the energy carving a path straight into the heavens.

The demon's form froze for a moment, its expression contorting in disbelief. Then, without a sound, its body disintegrated into nothingness, leaving behind only its sword embedded in the ground, its once-mighty aura now silent.

Eryndor stood tall amidst the swirling dust, his crimson eyes slowly fading back to their natural color. The onlookers stared in silence, their breath caught in their throats.

Lowering his sword, Eryndor turned his gaze toward the other candidates. "And so, that's the kind of person I am. Let's enjoy this ritual to our fullest."

The clatter of boots on cobblestone echoed through the town square as a contingent of guards stormed onto the scene. At their head, a stern-faced captain barked an order. "Drop your weapon! You are under arrest!"

Eryndor turned toward them, his sword still resting by his side. His expression remained calm, almost amused, as the guards raised their spears and swords in unison.

Before Eryndor could respond, a murmur rose from the gathered crowd. Then, one by one, voices began to shout.

"Are you blind? He saved us!"

"That man defeated the demon! You should be thanking him, not arresting him!"

"Without him, we’d all be dead!"

The guards exchanged uncertain glances, their aggressive posture faltering as the citizens stepped forward, their voices growing louder in unison.

Eryndor’s lips curved into a small smile. "Are you sure about this? The people have spoken, and it seems they disagree with your judgment."

The captain hesitated, gripping his sword tightly. He glanced at the crowd, then back at Eryndor, his resolve wavering.

Eryndor took a step forward, lowering his sword. "If you wish to arrest me, then do so, but I wonder... how will you justify this to those I just saved?"

The guards lowered their weapons slightly, their captain frowning deeply. Before he could decide, Eryndor turned away, sheathing his blade. "It seems your hesitation has made the choice for you."

He began to walk past them, his voice carrying over his shoulder. "And as it happens, someone else is summoning me. So, if you'll excuse me..."

Without waiting for a response, Eryndor strode confidently through the crowd. The citizens parted for him, their eyes filled with admiration and gratitude, as the guards stood frozen, uncertain and powerless.

---

Vareth Valtheran’s body trembled uncontrollably as if a weight beyond comprehension pressed down on him. A pressure forced to his knees, his head bowed low before the two figures seated leisurely on ornate thrones at the far end of the chamber. The old man, Darius Vex, radiated an aura of dominance that chilled the air itself, while the young woman beside him, Alice Azael, exuded a beauty as serene as it was terrifying. Both were members of the Cult, their presence suffocating even without a word.

Darius leaned forward slightly, his piercing gaze fixed on Vareth. "You have no issue with the Cult's decision, do you?"

Vareth’s head snapped up slightly, his voice trembling but quick. "Of course not, Lord Vex. I am honored to serve."

Darius’s thin lips curved into a faint smile. "As you should be. In exchange for your compliance, we have pardoned your father’s crime of losing an Infernal Codex. You should be grateful."

Vareth lowered his head further, his voice cracking. "This lowly servant is truly grateful, Lord Vex."

Darius’s attention shifted away, as if Vareth had ceased to exist. His cold eyes moved to Alice, who had been quietly observing the scene. "The candidates are coming," Darius remarked, his tone indifferent.

As if on cue, the heavy doors of the chamber swung open, and five figures entered: Eryndor Drexar, Kaelion Vorth, Lyssa, Saria Kaelthara, and Valen Valehn. Their footsteps echoed in the vast hall as they approached, stopping several paces away from the thrones.

Darius’s gaze swept over them. He let the silence stretch, the weight of his aura pressing down on the room. Finally, his voice cut through the tension like a knife. "Kneel."

The word carried an almost tangible force, striking the candidates with an overwhelming pressure that forced them to their knees without resistance.

Darius regarded them indifferently. "I am Darius Vex, the Observer of this deathmatch. My task is to ensure that everything proceeds as decreed by the Cult."

The five candidates, still kneeling, spoke in unison. "We greet the Lord Observer."

Darius’s eyes flicked over them once more, a faint smile playing on his lips as the weight of his presence filled the hall.

Darius rose from his seat. His piercing gaze swept over the candidates kneeling before him. "The deadline for defeating the demons is over. Now, present to me the magic artifacts the demons have dropped."

Eryndor was the first to step forward. He held out a gleaming sword with intricate runes etched along the blade. Darius accepted it without a word, his attention already shifting.

Lyssa approached next, clutching an old, weathered book that pulsed faintly with residual magic. Her hands trembled slightly as she handed it over, avoiding Darius's piercing gaze.

Kaelion followed, presenting a dagger, this one with a crimson hue as if soaked in blood. His demeanor was casual.

Saria stepped forward confidently, her dagger identical to Kaelion's, its edge gleaming ominously. She bowed her head slightly as she placed it in Darius’s hand.

Finally, Valen stepped forward, gripping a spear with a dark, jagged tip. The weapon radiated a faint aura of malice, and he hesitated briefly before relinquishing it.

Darius examined the artifacts, his eyes narrowing slightly as he assessed their power. Finally, he nodded, satisfied. "All catalysts have been collected."

Saria, unable to suppress her curiosity, raised her hand. "Excuse me, my lord. We are lacking one person here. Does that mean Arayn has failed?"

Before Darius could respond, a chilling laughter echoed through the chamber. The candidates turned in unison toward the source, their eyes widening as a figure emerged from the adjacent room.

Arayn stepped forward. His crimson eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, a sly grin playing on his lips. He stopped beside the group, his gaze settling on Saria with a mixture of amusement and disdain.

"You are funny, Worm. I’ve been here first."

Saria’s expression twisted in irritation, but she remained silent under Darius’s watchful eye.