There was one last gemstone left in his pouch as he reached his hand into his belt, grabbing the final tool as he squeezed it in his bloody glove.
“Levin–!” He shouted, finding his body screaming as the incantation was primed.
Blood spat from his nose and ears like juices squeezed from a fruit as once more, the silver sparks were born. The charged gemstone was thrown forward while the floor guardian remained seated, simply watching the adventurer make his counterattack.
As he watched the crimson jewel soar through the air, his arm quivered as it felt sapped of all its strength. All he could do was watch with hopeful eyes in those agonizing seconds, still feeling that uneasy swirling in his gut.
‘Why hasn’t it moved?’ He thought.
BOOM.
As the supercharged crystal reached the throne of wood, a fiery blaze expanded in a roaring glory. The chaotic force erupted with a shock wave that expanded through the bleached forest, rippling across the grass as the soil rumbled.
It pushed against the exhausted caster, who was thrown back by the blast harshly despite planting his feet down firmly. He gasped for air as pressure knocked against his bruised chest, rolling across the grass before finally coming to a stop.
Between consciousness and the world of black; he found himself flickering between the forcefulness of the shock wave and the heat of the flames and nothingness.
The shock wave knocked his brain around; consciousness was lost a few times in those few seconds. Whether it was the blast being that powerful, or his body being that exhausted, or both, he couldn’t tell–all he did was somehow attempt not to die.
The adventurer laid there, inhaling desperately like a fish out of water before coughing as he invited embers and smoke into his lungs. With his chest to the dirt, his cheek pressed against the blades of grass, it was a struggle to find the strength to lift himself.
‘...C’mon. It’s not time to sleep yet…’ He tiredly told himself.
A boulder laid against his back; the weight of his exhaustion encumbered him, though he slowly lifted himself with his shaking arms. It felt like a miracle that he managed to pick himself up back to his feet; the smoke lured him into another coughing fit as his blood dribbled down onto the grass.
As if a flame had been burning in his throat, it felt dry and raw from the continuous coughing. The bleached forest was fogged by smoke now, billowing around the scarlet leaves as the adventurer looked across the isolated sector, towards the veil of gaseous gathering.
“Puny,” the accursed voice of the demonic figure rang out.
A silhouette erupted from behind the smoke, dashing directly in the direction of the exhausted, young man. The ground rumbled with each mighty, yet quick step of the four-armed figure, who grinned as he swept through the chamber in an instant.
“Nnh–!” Bastian’s eyes widened, witnessing one of the floor guardian’s arms morph into the brutal shape of a curved greatsword.
The blade-turned limb swept towards his neck, primed for his exposed skin. It came with such speed, empowered by the ferocity and skin-crawling aura of the grinning demon that the natural instincts of the adventurer forced him to speak without any intent of his own:
“Levin!”
He could feel the blood vessels in his eyes straining, reddening as he used the split-second burst of prowess to duck down.
As the morphed edge swept above his head, the ruthless demon’s long, grotesque tongue flopped from its mouth as a look of pleasure was held on its twisted face.
“I’ll cut you up, little man! I’ll feast on your intestines while you still draw breath!” Bakasura howled with laughter following his proclamations.
It was too quick for him to keep up with; the tall, hulking figure, despite its build, surpassed even himself in nimbleness. Before he could move, the demon transformed one of its legs into a black-scaled serpent that lunged its fangs towards him.
Again, the rapidness of the attack coaxed the word from his raw throat again, “--Levin! Nngah!”
The vessels in his eyes popped, filling the white with red as he forced his body to fling itself to the side. As he rolled over, he found that the fangs of the unorthodox snake had cut through his coat, having grazed his collarbone.
‘...Fast. He’s too fast,’ he thought.
There wasn’t any opportunity to properly inspect his new wound as he found the soil rumbling again, witnessing the four-armed demon already in front of him with that twisted grin. Despite how much his body urged him to evade, he instead stood up, directly confronting the nightmarish guardian.
It laughed in his face, as if his attempt to stand against it was a jest; he ignored its hellish cackling and squeezed his dagger, once more forcing his body to use its bound magic again:
“Levin!”
He immediately felt the backlash of the invocation as the blood rushed from his head, gushing from his pores as his muscles contracted. It felt as if his body was teetering on the edge, though he stepped forward, allowing the surge of energy to amplify both his body and dagger.
‘...I’ve got you! I’ll wipe that grin off of your face!’ He thought.
The demonic malefactor had yet to change the shape of his limbs, nor launch an attack of his own; by a stray miracle, the adventurer was faster in that moment. With every last bit of strength he had, he plunged his dagger forward, using his right arm as he bent his elbow, slamming the edge of the empowered blade into the demon’s neck before–
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
CRACK
“--Huh?”
Time slowed before his very eyes as he felt his stomach sink to the deepest depths of his being. It was a sight worse than any other; a true nightmare took form.
The dagger shattered upon contact with the demon’s skin, bouncing off without so much as a scratch left. Having his all-or-nothing gambit prove utterly ineffective, he failed to think of any path to victory.
All the while, that ear-to-ear grin lasted on the demon’s face, cackling madly now, twisting the knife that was the adventurer’s own incompetence.
‘...It failed. I can’t use Levin anymore–I can’t even move my body…What do I do? What would you do, Uncle?’ He thought desperately.
His mind ached with desperation, watching the bits and pieces of his blade rain down like snowdrops.
A force rippled against his body, causing him to stumble back as his bones rattled; it took him a moment to register what had happened, realizing that the demon had simply stomped its foot down onto the soil.
‘That’s right. I’m not Blessed,’ the thought returned to his mind.
Unable to move from the concussive force of the stomp, he could only watch as the four-armed fiend lunged towards him. That twisted grin looked down at him as one of the demon’s hands grabbed his shoulder, keeping him still as one of its other hands was primed, with its blackened fingernails extending.
“So weak. Be honored a feeble creature like you will serve as my meal,” Bakasura told him before plunging its hand forward.
The squelching of flesh was deafening upon his ears; a warmth flooded to his chest as he looked at that malevolent smile before slowly lowering his gaze. Just as he looked down, he witnessed the hand of the demon withdraw from his chest, tearing out a precious piece of himself with it.
Crimson fluid painted the malignant guardian’s hand, lifting as the demon presented his prize: the beating heart of the adventurer, “Do you regret it now? Playing the “hero.” I would’ve let you pass had you ignored that cowardly fool. It would’ve been an amusing enough act.”
His lips moved, attempting to say something in response, though nothing but airless gasps left his lips as a numbing emptiness was felt.
‘I don’t see myself as a hero. It’s not like I decided to help them for glory, honor, or any of that…It’s just, when I remember how my heart ached, how I didn’t want to exist anymore, how I loathed myself…I didn’t want somebody else to feel that way, too. If I let it happen again, then what the hell did I spend all these years crying over?’ he thought.
There was no strength left in his body as the warmth in his chest was quickly replaced by a chilling cold that gripped his body.
Unable to do anything, he watched with weary eyes as the grinning demon turned its back to him, marching back to its throne.
‘...Give it back. That’s mine…’ He thought, raising his hand, reaching out for his heart, though it was impossible to so much as take a step.
Instead, he fell onto his back, collapsing onto the lifeless grass as his arterial fluid painted it crimson. As he laid there, a sky of scarlet was all his eyes met; warmth flooded from the hole in his body, sinking into the soil below.
The cackling of the demon drummed against his ears as everything faded to black.
Coldness embraced him like a winter coat, clinging onto him, pinning him to the darkness. The void he found himself in was boundlessly lonely; an abyss that flooded him with regret.
This was death; the inescapable end.
‘I messed up. Guess I’ve got nobody to blame but myself. Stupid decisions result in stupid results,’ he thought.
Still, even enveloped in the hopelessness of nothingness, he couldn’t accept it; he didn’t want to. No matter how much he wanted to live, the weight of the abyss was too much for his limbs to move through.
However, amidst that endless darkness, there was a singular light that bled through the shadows.
“Do you wish to live?”
There was only one answer to such a fundamentally simple question, “Yes.”
He couldn’t see where the words came from, only a vague silhouette hidden within the light, though for some reason, he felt he could entrust himself to them. There was a kindness to the man’s words, though a hesitance.
“Even if it means being the champion of someone like me? I can promise you, if you accept my Blessing…You will only know the ire of the other gods. Is that acceptable?”
Once again, he didn’t hesitate to give his answer, “Yes.”
“Then henceforth, you will be my champion, Bastian. This is both a Blessing and a Curse, remember that all. Rise and awaken your system: the power exclusive to an Invictus. Say my name.”
Through the impossible dense sea of darkness that swallowed his body, his lips moved once more, releasing the name that naturally flowed through his mind at that moment:
“Prometheus.”
Like an incantation that swept the darkness of death away and dragged him back from the other side, everything seemed to ignite to life once more.
In the bleached forest of scarlet leaves, the four-armed demon had sat on his throne, still holding the prized heart he had claimed in the palm of his hand. It was caressed like a precious jewel before the demon parted his jaws, revealing his slimy throat, with endless rows of teeth that hungered for the heart.
“--?”
Before the fiend could bring the heart into his mouth, something unexpected occurred; an unpredictable phenomena.
From the corpse of the adventurer that lay still warm on the bloodstained grass, the gaping hole in his chest rattled before multiple objects shot out from the wound: chains of blackened, burnt steel whipped out.
The demon immediately stood up, preparing for an attack, though the chains that sprouted from the corpse stretched out and whipped around faster than could be perceived.
“Hmmh–?” Bakasura grunted in surprise.
From the hand of the guardian, the heart was retrieved in the grip of the self-moving chains. Reeled back in by an unknown force, the stygian chains retreated back into the gaping wound, returning the heart to its rightful place.
Lifeless still, the body laid; inside the enlarged wound, the chains suspended the treasured organ beginning to squeeze it gently. In a melodic rhythm, the steel pumped the organ, maintaining a steady pattern all while the demon watched in utter confusion.
Each squeeze forced a bit of substance back into him; unnaturally, he crawled back from the otherside.
BA-DUMP.
The chains kept pumping, wrapped around his heart tightly, squeezing without any choice.
BA-DUMP.
Again, and again, they squeezed. Again. Again. Again.
BA-DUMP. BA-DUMP. BA-DUMP.
The rebirth of his heart’s vigor brought his eyes to open, bearing a different glimmer now as his body was infused anew; his emerald eyes shifted to a fiery orange, bright like a blazing star.
Across his body, black ink formed in the shape of chains on his skin.
From the blood that seeped into the soil, that precious fluid was ignited, being twisted into the shape of chains before materializing as the stygian links. The bindings tightly wrapped around the wrists of the reawakened adventurer, hoisting him up without any help from his own legs.
“...” He stood there, looking down at his hands as red vapor exuded from them, turning to embers that glided around him.
[Prometheus System Awakened.]
[Level 5]
There wasn’t any fear restraining him; he felt encumbered by negative emotions, as if his mind had been cleared by his newfound Blessing. Against his fingertips, the sable, steel links were scorching, yet they didn’t burn him nor inflict any pain.