As I awoke from my slumber, the first thing that struck me was the unfamiliar sight that greeted my eyes. No longer was I surrounded by the rough, natural walls of the cave; instead, I found myself lying upon a bed of leaves within what appeared to be a carefully crafted stone chamber. However, I can still see scorch marks from what seems to be linked to flames. Blinking away the remnants of sleep, I sat up slowly, taking in the surprising transformation of my surroundings. The cave, once a crude and barren refuge, had been remodeled into a semblance of living space, with smooth stone walls rising around me like protective sentinels.
Curiosity mingled with bewilderment as I surveyed the room, noting the attention to detail in its construction. The walls, adorned with intricate carvings and patterns, spoke of skillful craftsmanship, while the bed of leaves upon which I lay provided a surprisingly comfortable resting place. As I rose from the makeshift bed, I noticed other amenities scattered throughout the chamber—a crude table fashioned from a slab of stone, a pile of furs serving as rudimentary seating, and even a small fire pit nestled in one corner, its embers smoldering faintly.
Who could have wrought such a transformation? And why? Questions swirled in my mind as I pondered the implications of this unexpected development. Someone—or something—had taken the time to create this sanctuary, to provide me with a semblance of comfort amidst the harshness of my surroundings.
The sealed entrance gave me a sense of security, knowing that if anyone had breached it, I would have been alerted. It also raised questions about who might have orchestrated such changes in my environment without my awareness. Was it a friend, a foe, or some unknown entity testing or aiding me? I approached the sealed barrier, examining the crystallized blood and the way it held fast against my inspection. The material showed no signs of tampering or weakening, reinforcing my confidence in its security. Despite the newfound comfort of the chamber, caution remained my constant companion. The world outside, with its dangers and uncertainties, pressed against the confines of my sanctuary. Whatever respite I found here was temporary, a respite I intended to make the most of before the next challenge presented itself.
The discovery of the pool and its intricate markings piqued my interest. The runes held ancient knowledge, their purpose veiled yet tantalizingly close to revelation. I circled the pool, studying the patterns etched into the stone, feeling the power thrumming beneath my fingertips. With each step, I delved deeper into the mysteries of the pool. Its purpose seemed twofold: to preserve the blood, ensuring its freshness and potency, and to facilitate its replication, a process fueled by the mere presence of a single drop.
As I observed, my mind raced with possibilities. Could this pool be more than a reservoir for blood? Might its magic extend beyond mere replication, offering insights into the nature of life and vitality itself? My father and mother would have loved to see a thing like this. For the first time in a while, a soul-deep sadness made my heart ache. As I thought of them again I remembered the happy time of them teaching me and us eating, laughing, and playing together. I needed to press down the emotions until I knew I was safe inside this new place.
For now, the pool remained a marvel, its secrets waiting to be unlocked. I made a mental note to return to it later, to delve into its mysteries when time allowed. But for now, other tasks beckoned, and I turned my attention to further exploration of my newfound abode.
The addition of a stone box with runic inscriptions resembling a freezer intrigued me further. The runes, I suspected, were designed to maintain a stable temperature within the box, mimicking the effects of a freezer but likely with magical properties. This would preserve the materials and bait, preventing spoilage while also possibly enhancing their allure to creatures.
The sight of the throne made from the bones of defeated foes sent a chill down my spine. It was a stark reminder of the power and influence of the Arch Demon, and the significance of my role in his plans. Despite my initial apprehension, I couldn't help but feel a sense of awe at the craftsmanship and symbolism woven into the throne. As I examined it further, I realized that it wasn't just a symbol of conquest or domination. It represented a destiny, a path laid out before me by the Arch Demon himself. Sitting upon that throne meant more than just ruling over others—it meant embracing my potential and becoming something greater than I ever imagined. But with that realization came a wave of uncertainty and doubt. Was I truly ready to walk that path? Could I handle the responsibilities and challenges that came with such power? And what would it mean for my own identity, my sense of self?
As these questions swirled in my mind, I couldn't help but feel a sense of trepidation mixed with a glimmer of excitement. Whatever lay ahead, one thing was certain: I couldn't turn away from this opportunity, this destiny that awaited me. With a deep breath, I stepped closer to the throne, ready to confront whatever trials and tribulations lay in store on the path to greatness.
The visions flashed before my eyes like fragments of a shattered mirror, each revealing a different facet of my potential fate. I saw glimpses of triumph and tragedy, moments of glory and despair at the end of each life, all woven together in a tapestry of possibilities. The vision of my death sent a shiver down my spine, a stark reminder of the dangers that lurked in the shadows. It was a warning, a reminder never to let my guard down and to always be vigilant in the face of adversity. But amidst the darkness, there were also glimmers of hope. The vision of escape filled me with a sense of freedom, a longing to break free from the chains of fate and forge my path. It was a reminder that even in the darkest of times, there was always a sliver of light, a chance for redemption. And then there was the vision of ascension, of standing at the pinnacle of power and ruling over this world with an iron fist. It was a tempting prospect, a temptation to embrace the darkness within and seize control of my destiny.
As the visions faded, leaving me breathless and disoriented, I knew that the path ahead would be fraught with peril and uncertainty. But I also knew that I couldn't turn away from it, that I had to embrace my destiny and carve out my place in this world, whatever the cost with a newfound determination.
The sight of the demons bowing before me sent a jolt of surprise through my veins. I hadn't expected such deference from creatures of such power and ferocity. But as I looked into their eyes, I saw not just fear or submission, but a glimmer of something else—respect.
The demons' words painted a picture of stagnation and boredom in their realm, a stark contrast to the chaos and excitement of our recent battles. It was both enlightening and sobering to hear that my actions had brought them a sense of purpose and enjoyment that they had long been deprived of. As I listened to their perspectives, they had a desire for freedom, challenge, and the thrill of conquest. Following me into battle was the most fun they had in hundreds of years. When they are summoned by mortals they are usually used for tasks that are boring so, they try and provoke others into attacking them and doing evils so they can fight.
They also told me that the one who made a pact with me also gave them a quest to stay in this world and serve me for a chance to run wild and fight and evolve, with the chance of gaining a sin for themselves. Not all of them accepted the quest because they were too stupid to understand what the words of the quest were saying, so after finishing my last orders for them they went wild and pushed north toward the mountains where smoke was coming from. After they accepted the quest they followed me by my back and began to make this place a base worthy of a royal. They also saw my attempt to seal the entrance and decided it would be better to make a new hidden entrance that only one with immense strength like the Gnasher to be opened. So they set to work with the Hellhounds and Fire Imps working together to burn the stone into molten slag while the Gnasher forces the stone into shape following the Shadow Imp's directions. And after a few hours of work, the place was finally finished. Once everything was made the Shadow Imp got another quest and a skill where she was able to create the runes and markings on the objects like the blood pool, meat box, and the other things around the stone room.
Sitting upon the Throne of Bones, surrounded by demons who had fought at my side, I listened intently to their tales of boredom and yearning for adventure. It was clear that the promise of evolution and sin powers had sparked a newfound zeal in their eyes. As they spoke of the Arch Demon's quest and the excitement they found in following my orders, I couldn't help but feel a cold determination settle over me once again. Rising from the throne, I addressed the demons with a voice that carried the weight of command. "If you wish to continue under my service," I began, "you must make a pact with me." I laid out the terms clearly: fifty years of unwavering loyalty, following my orders without question or hesitation. In return, they would have the chance to evolve and gain powers beyond their current capabilities.
Their responses were swift and resolute, each demon agreeing to the pact without hesitation. To them, fifty years was a mere moment in their existence, a fleeting chapter in their eternal lives. With the pacts sealed, a renewed sense of purpose filled the air, mingling with the scent of blood and power. At that moment, I knew that our paths were intertwined, bound by blood and ambition. Together, we would carve a legacy that echoed through the halls of Hell itself. And as they pledged their loyalty, I saw in their eyes the glimmer of newfound possibilities, a hunger for challenges yet to come. With demons at my side, each driven by their desires for evolution and power, I felt a surge of determination coursing through my veins. The trials ahead would be many, but with loyal servants by my side, the world itself would tremble at the name of Leon, and nothing would ever steal from me again.
As the demons pledged their loyalty and the pact was sealed, a newfound sense of unity and purpose settled among us. The once boring existence in the depths of Hell now brimmed with anticipation and ambition. With each demon now under my command and now able to stay in this world because of our pact without going back to hell because of a time limit, we set forth on a path of challenges and victories. Our first task was to consolidate our power and establish a stronghold worthy of our ambitions. The cave, once a mere refuge, now transformed into a fortress befitting our status. I had a total of 24 demons in a pact to me out of the total 59 demons summoned. The Fire Imps had 7 the highest number with Hellhounds being in second place with 6 members being here. 4 Hellspawn Impalers not sure if they are male or female can't tell since they are just twisted bone demons. 3 Abyssal Crawlers wait I never summoned them did I? I asked where they came from and they said during the battle since I wasn't paying full attention I didn't use the skill right and summoned them to the battle, but since I was trying to save the blood they help me by not using their decay and only used their fangs to shred the goblins I had cursed. 2 Gnashers one being the original one I summoned and the other one being a female Gansher. And finally, 1 Shadow Imp and another mistake when summoning brought me a Dread Shade who just floated there watching me with blank dead eyes.
Using the combined skills and powers of the demons, we fortified the cave and expanded it going deeper into the ground digging out new rooms for more space for everyone so we could all fit down here and with intricate runes and protective barriers. The pool of blood, now a focal point of our strength, pulsed with arcane energy as it continued to replicate and store blood, ensuring our sustenance and power. The pool was a great gift from the Arch Demon this would help ease certain things and allow me to train my skills more that used blood as a component to strengthen and summon.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
The demon I asked was one of the Fire Imps, a creature born of flame and trickery, yet surprisingly cooperative when it came to matters of strategy and advancement. With a nod of agreement, the Fire Imp willingly offered a drop of its blood to be placed into the pool. As the drop touched the surface of the pool, there was an immediate reaction. The blood, infused with the essence of the Fire Imp, seemed to dance upon the liquid, sending ripples of energy across the pool's surface. The runes and markings surrounding the pool shimmered with newfound vitality, their purpose clear as they began their work of replication. In mere moments, the single drop of blood had multiplied, each droplet identical to the original. The replication speed was astonishing. I watched intently, noting the rate at which the blood replicated. It was not just a matter of quantity but also quality. The replicated blood retained its potency, its magical properties undiminished. This meant that not only could the pool sustain us with essential blood, but it could also serve as a reservoir of magical energy when needed. The Fire Imp, observing alongside me, wore a satisfied expression. It was clear that even in its fiery demeanor, the demon appreciated the ingenuity and utility of such a resource.
With the pool of replicated blood proving to be a valuable asset, I turned my focus to the next steps in our journey. The demons, now bound by pacts of loyalty and eager for the promised evolution, awaited my commands with a renewed sense of purpose. As I sat upon the throne of bones, contemplating our future endeavors, I outlined a strategic plan to leverage our strengths and overcome the challenges ahead. First and foremost, harnessing the replicated blood's magical potential would be paramount. Once I had enough I could begin creating armor and weapons for the demons and myself. I tasked the smarter demons like the Shadow Imp and the Fire Imp whom I had been planning to begin with experimenting, testing its applications beyond mere sustenance. We delved into rituals and spells, infusing the replicated blood with elemental energies to create potent concoctions. Fire-imbued blood for enhanced offensive capabilities, frost-infused blood for defensive wards, and even arcane mixtures for utility and exploration. The pool became a focal point of our magical research, a font of power waiting to be tapped. The two demons seemed pretty happy to start researching and even put more of their and other demons' blood into the pool to increase the amount of blood inside at a faster rate.
Simultaneously, we continued our training and skill development. The demons honed their combat prowess, each discovering newfound strengths and abilities as they embraced the sin-tainted powers promised by their pacts with me. Blood magic, fire manipulation, shadow weaving—all became extensions of our arsenal, finely tuned to complement each demon's inherent strengths. The demons took to sin easier than I did since I had still yet to choose which sin to follow. That's when I began to think of what the False Price did it had two sins but because it forced itself into a pseudo-evolution it held the power of two sins. What if I don't need to choose and can use both Pride and Wrath? Maybe I could also use two sins and not be locked down with only one path. After thinking of choosing both sins both of the runes on my hands started to glow and began to burn, however, this was nothing compared to the flames that burned me for days and would only stop once I was unconscious. As the burning reached a new level of heat the runes ripped out of my hands and shot toward my chest going inside me and latched onto something. It wasn't a physical sensation I felt as it latched on but it felt like It had latched onto my soul.
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As our journey progressed, the demons under my command proved their mettle time and again, showcasing newfound powers and strategic prowess honed through our trials. Our home, once a simple cave, transformed into a bastion of infernal might and arcane knowledge, a testament to our collective ambitions.
The days melted into nights as the demons tirelessly worked on the underground base. The earth trembled under the force of demonic excavations, as layers of rock and ancient sediment gave way to the ambitions of those who dared challenge the established order. The base took shape gradually, reflecting both the brutal efficiency of demonic craftsmanship and the esoteric intricacies of infernal magic. Within the central chamber, I stood overseeing the operations, my eyes gleaming with a mixture of anticipation and resolve. The demons, now bound not just by pacts but by shared ambitions and a thirst for power, toiled relentlessly. Each passage dug, each rune etched, and each enchantment imbued brought us closer to our ultimate goal.
The architecture of our underground fortress blended demonic aesthetics with functional designs. Obsidian pillars rose like twisted spires, their surfaces inscribed with glyphs of warding and power. Gargoyles carved in the likeness of ancient demons loomed over corridors, their eyes glowing with inner fire, serving as both sentinels and symbols of our dominion. And I saw the statue of the Arch Demon of Blood. I asked the demons around me more about him and why he was doing all of this. All they said was that he was the oldest of all the Arch Demons but ever since he became one he stayed inside his domain working on experiments, or if by chance he did leave his domain he went outside of hell like he was searching for something and none of the demons knows what he is looking for. However, as the oldest Arch Demon, he was the second strongest in hell. Legions of Demons led by 72 Royals have tried to kill him and take what was his but they all died in the end leaving only him alone. Since then nobody even goes near his domain anymore out of fear.
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As the base grew in complexity and defenses, so did our understanding of the sin-tainted powers coursing through our veins. I was only able to use one sin at a time, if I tried to use both at the same time to empower my skills it would result In the powers fighting against each other causing an explosion that took my arm off just a few hours ago. Seeing that I was still not at the level to use both sins I focused on pride for now to use it to dominate the blood and skills I used making them bend to my will.
Demons have I weird sixth sense for sensing what type of sin is best for a mortal. This was another way they had used against the mortals who had summoned them to turn them to evil and carnage. But they were surprised when I showed signs of learning both Pride and Wrath sins. I was told that learning multiple sins is a great way to power but if you weren't compatible with the sin it would destroy. This was the same thing that I was told already so I asked more about sins. And found out that there have been those with multiple sins but since some sins didn't mesh well with other sins the demon would choose the one it had a stronger affinity with. But if they did mesh well they would be able to evolve and become a new sin unique to the one who created that new sin.
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I just remembered all about the notifications that I had after the battle and began to look through them all. Gaining experience and levels is always a mix of excitement and calculation, especially when dealing with summoned entities that share in the spoils of battle. They had taken most of the exp from the battle. The most amount of exp gained was from the NecroGob even if I had only gotten half from it and the rest went to the Shadow Imp.
As I ponder my newfound strength and the potential of my demonic allies, it might be worth considering strategies to optimize experience distribution in future encounters. I can now start focusing on my race for now and bring that up to strengthen my connection to blood. Then start working on bringing my class up next. Having more stats will be more helpful for now. Plus the practice with the demons showed me I still have a lot to learn about combat and magic. And by not having a strong enough foundation I would be unable to fully use my skills the best way.
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Leon’s days were filled with rigorous training, both physical and mental. The demons, recognizing his potential and the power he could unlock, spared no effort in guiding him through the intricacies of demonic abilities and strategies.
The Hellhound, with its instinctual cunning and predatory nature, taught Leon about tracking, stealth, and the art of striking swiftly and decisively. Its lessons emphasized the importance of patience, observation, and exploiting weaknesses in opponents. Under its guidance, Leon honed his senses and learned to read the battlefield with clarity.
The Imps lessons delved into the subtleties of demonic hierarchies, and negotiation tactics with otherworldly beings, teaching him how to survive in hell should he ever go there one day.
As weeks turned into months, Leon’s skills expanded. He delved deeper into the mysteries of blood magic, unlocking new techniques to manipulate and empower his demonic allies. Skills gained levels and Leon even created a few new skills. Repeated actions make him gain an understanding of how to improve things like blood weapons and armor.
The underground base evolved alongside Leon’s training, becoming a fortress of dark power and strategic advantage. Chambers for ritualistic practices, training arenas for combat simulations, and libraries of arcane knowledge filled its depths, reflecting Leon’s growing mastery over his surroundings.
Empowered by the sin that suited his essence, his abilities surged with newfound efficiency and control. Blood magic, once a taxing endeavor, flowed with an ease that surprised even the demons. The pact with Pride not only amplified his skills but also accelerated their growth, marking each advancement with a tangible impact. As he hunted for blood and sustenance, Leon wielded his skills with precision honed by Pride. Blood manipulation became a symphony of control, shaping tendrils of crimson essence with finesse to extract resources swiftly and cleanly. The Hemorrhage curse, once draining on his reserves, now surged with potency, allowing him to incapacitate foes with swift precision, leaving them vulnerable to his strikes.
Empowered by Pride, Leon’s combat prowess flourished. His swordplay, infused with blood-fueled enchantments, cleaved through enemies with calculated strikes. With each passing day, the use of the sword became better and more refined. Hemoportation became another part of the way Leon used his sword making up his own sword-fighting style, that no one else had making it solely unique to Leon.
With each successful hunt, the pool of blood within his underground base thrived. The amount of Blood was slowly increasing with time due to hunting regular sessions. But with each new training, crafting, or experiment would drain it before it had the chance to fill up to 10 percent of the pool.
The demons’ insights into infernal lore, deepened Leon’s understanding of the realms beyond mortal sight. He studied forbidden rituals and arcane secrets, not merely to amass power but to decipher the intricacies of demonic hierarchy and the underlying currents of cosmic influence.
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I called the Arch Demon's name and asked if the chair would help me against lightning or if it wasn't ready yet and with no reply I was very happy since I was joking. That's when I found myself once again in possession of the infernal chair, its ominous presence a stark reminder of the bargains struck and the trials endured. As the blue motes of lightning crackled toward me, I hesitated, pondering the implications of embracing yet another facet of elemental power.
Another quest appeared saying the same things as last time before me and I accepted the quest. Seated upon my bone throne, I gazed upon the chair with a wariness born of experience. The Arch Demon’s cryptic machinations, while often beneficial, carried an air of unpredictability that left me apprehensive. Yet, the memory of those lightning bolts, searing through flesh and bone with merciless precision, spurred me to action.
With a resigned sigh, I reached out toward the chair, feeling its malevolent energy coil around me like a viper poised to strike. As my fingers brushed against its twisted form, a surge of power coursed through me, tinged with the unmistakable essence of lightning. The chair, once bound solely to the element of fire, had been transformed, infused with new capabilities to torture me.