As I pushed deeper into the swamp, new threats emerged. The first was a Verdant Coil, a massive snake camouflaged perfectly against the mossy underbrush. It struck without warning, tail whipping like a battering ram. The impact sent me flying ten feet through the mud, breath knocked clean from my lungs. If not for my endurance, that hit might’ve broken something I couldn’t heal.

The second encounter was more frustrating than dangerous—a Briarcap Howler, a lanky, level 18 monkey-like creature with thorny fur and an attitude to match. I tried to flee at first, not keen on pushing my luck, but the damn thing chased me down, shrieking like a siren and smacking me with a branch. Not even a club. A branch.

Dodging didn’t work. Hiding didn’t work. So I activated Painbound Dominion. One hit. Just one. Its counters jumped straight to eight. Apparently, all that aggression came with terrible willpower. After that, it froze mid-swing, eyes glassy, mind drowning under the weight of my command. GG.

By the time I hit level 15, another general skill point blinked into existence. I should’ve picked something tactical, something that screamed combat advantage. But after days of wading through knee-deep muck and sweating under the sun, I was done smelling like swamp rot. I chose Freshen, an automatic cleansing skill. My skin and clothes now washed themselves every few hours, like a silent reset button for grime.

No regrets. Even domination deserved to smell like victory.

With Freshen keeping me tolerably clean, I turned my focus to hunting Briarcap Howlers. They were easy prey, even in groups, and their levels tended to outpace mine—perfect for quick progression. Their only real danger was the noise. Damn things couldn’t stay quiet to save their lives… though saving their lives was never an option.

The howls echoed through the swamp like alarm bells, drawing attention from further off than I liked. More than once, I had to break off mid-hunt as something bigger crept toward the commotion. But that was the trade-off—fast progress came with risks. Risks I was finally strong enough to manage.

The system notifications rolled in steadily. Painbound Dominion made it easier to control the tempo of each fight, while Hell’s Reprieve patched me up between encounters. Freshen did more than keep me clean—it cleared away the scent of blood, making it harder for predators to track me. I hadn’t expected that synergy, but I wasn’t about to complain.

By the end of the first week, I’d hit level nineteen. Six levels in seven days. Fantastic progress. Only six more to hit my goal and make it back to the Colosseum.

But progress didn’t erase the quiet. Amanda’s absence lingered like an ache. No sharp corrections. No half-mocking praise. Just me, the swamp, and the countdown ticking away on the pendant around my neck.

I pushed the thought aside and kept moving. The further I traveled, the more I realized something had shifted. The air grew colder at night, the usual drone of insects thinning out. Predators didn’t just hunt—they prowled in tighter patterns, like they were avoiding something. Like something worse was on the move.

I spent the next two days skirting the edge of what I was sure was apex territory. Two days of grinding through lesser beasts, one after another, without a single level gained. Not even a flicker of progress.

The system had even taunted me with a notification:

99% to Level 20.

That was three kills ago.

Something was off. Usually, progression was smooth—brutal, sure, but predictable. This? This felt like I’d hit an invisible wall, like the system itself was holding me back.

Grinding more wouldn’t solve it. I’d already pushed through three kills past that 99% to Level 20 notification without a single ding. Frustration simmered as I dropped onto a moss-covered log and pulled up my status window.

I’d averaged around eight points per level lately, enough to keep growing without spreading myself too thin.

Name: Kale Orrmons

Race: Demon

Specialization: —

Level: 19E

* Strength: 17

* Agility: 17

* Endurance: 45

* Dexterity: 17

* Intelligence: 30

* Wisdom: 17

* Charisma: 17

* Willpower: 40

* Mana Control: 17

* Perception: 16

I frowned. My top three attributes—Endurance, Willpower, Intelligence—stood out like towering peaks, while the rest lagged behind. Balance mattered, sure, but it was hard not to double down on what worked. When every fight hinged on standing strong and bending wills, why wouldn’t I keep leaning into my strengths?

Still… something was missing. And if the system was locking me out, there had to be a reason.

My eyes snapped back to an unfamiliar line of text:

Specialization: —

That was new. It had never been there before. Heart pounding, I focused on it.

A new window unfolded, stark and clean against the swamp’s muted backdrop:

Specialization Required for Advancement.

Choose a path to define your growth. Attributes, skills, and future evolutions will align with your chosen specialization.

A test will be given.

The words hung in the air, cold and absolute. The system wasn’t offering pre-made paths. It was asking for intent. My intent.

Name it. Shape it. Prove it.

There’d be no turning back.

I didn’t hesitate. I’d always known. I didn’t just want to survive. I wanted to endure so others could live—to stand between danger and the helpless without breaking, without losing myself in the process.

A hero. One who saved without sacrifice. It was the dream that had burned in the back of my mind for years, even before this world twisted my reality.

As the thought crystallized, the prompt shifted.

Path Accepted.

Test Issued: Travel east until you reach a small village outside the swamp under attack by humans.

Save them. Save yourself.

Simple. Clear. Unforgiving.

The system wasn’t testing strength alone. It was testing my resolve—the balance between survival and sacrifice.

I stood, heart pounding. Time to prove the path I’d chosen was more than a dream.

Without hesitation, I started walking east. The pendant’s built-in compass flickered softly, guiding the way. As I moved, I couldn’t help but picture it—the moment I’d always imagined. A hero, standing tall. A knight in shining armor, promising safety and delivering it. The kind of person who didn’t just survive but made sure others did, too.

For the first time, the swamp’s oppressive weight felt lighter. Purpose had a way of cutting through fatigue.

An hour passed. Then, faintly, I heard it.

Screams. The clash of weapons. The wet thud of bodies hitting dirt. No mistaking it—the sound of lives being ripped apart.

I froze, heart hammering. The forest around me remained still, untouched by the violence echoing through the trees. No village in sight. Just endless swamp and shadows.

But the screaming didn’t stop.

My pendant flickered, but the compass needle held steady—still pointing east, unwavering. Whatever was happening, it wasn’t in the direction of my test.

I hesitated. The system had been clear: Travel east. Reach the village. Save them. This wasn’t part of the task. It wasn’t my fight.

But the screams. The raw, panicked edge to them cut deeper than any system prompt. Someone was dying out there—right now. Not in some distant village, not in the clean, defined boundaries of the test. Here. In the muck and shadow.

I veered off course, feet already moving before my mind caught up. East could wait. Heroes didn’t walk past screaming and hope the system would sort it out.

The underbrush thickened as I pushed toward the noise, brambles snagging at my clothes. Every step felt wrong, like I was breaking an unspoken rule. The pendant around my neck dimmed slightly, as if disapproving of my deviation.

The swamp opened into a shallow hollow, and I froze.

It was chaos. Not the random brutality of the wild, but something sharper, more deliberate—a war zone carved into the muck. Werewolves and vampires clashed like nightmare caricatures, fur and fangs against pale, predatory grace. Blades flashed, claws raked, and the ground was littered with the broken and the dead.

The sun was even high in the sky, but both vampire and werewolf fought under its sight. Guess movies could be wrong.

The screams hadn't come from combatants. They’d come from the victims.

In the middle of it all, bound and bloodied, an elven family huddled together—two adults and a child, wrists lashed with coarse rope, eyes wide with helpless terror. They weren’t being fought alongside. They were being fought over.

Prey. Spoils. The next meal.

The werewolves circled low, hackles raised, lips curled back in snarls. The vampires stood poised, elegant and cruel, weapons glinting like fangs in the dappled light. Neither side spoke. They didn’t need to. The terms were written in blood and dominance.

My breath caught. This wasn’t the test. There was no village here, no bandits. Just monsters fighting over who got the first bite.

The pendant around my neck flickered, faint and uncertain, like the system itself was questioning my path.

East, it pulsed. Keep going. This is not your fight.

But the child’s eyes—huge, tear-soaked, pleading—locked onto mine through the tangle of bodies.

Damn the system.

I crouched low, heart pounding in my ears as I scanned the combatants. The system’s appraisal flickered across my vision—levels ranging from 11 to 14. Individually, none were a threat. The problem was the sheer number of them. Eight werewolves, eight vampires. Sixteen enemies. My domain couldn’t stretch that far—not without drowning myself.

This wasn’t a fight I could win head-on. Not yet.

I slipped closer to the family, staying low, tail brushing the mud behind me. The werewolves and vampires were too focused on each other to notice. Blades flashed. Claws tore. Every moment shaved another sliver off their numbers.

Let them bleed each other dry.

The child's wide eyes caught mine through the chaos. I raised a finger to my lips—wait. Not yet. Not until the dust settled. They’d tear each other apart, and when only the victors remained, bruised and winded, I’d strike.

Silent. Efficient. One chance to do it right.

I melted into the underbrush and waited. Breath steady. Muscles coiled. Fangpiercer ready.

As the chaos raged on, I turned my focus to the family. System scan flickered across my vision—two adults and a child, all huddled together, wrists bound with rough cord. But their levels…

Unleveled.

I blinked, recalibrating my appraisal, but the result didn’t change. No numeric value, no class designation. Nothing. Everything I’d encountered—from the smallest swamp insects to apex predators—registered at least Level 0. The system didn’t seem to allow for true weakness. Yet here they were, tied up and waiting to be devoured, like remnants of a world untouched by the Multiverse’s cruel logic.

The fight wore on, but the outcome became clear. The vampires lost their highest-level fighter after a brutal exchange, the alpha werewolf tearing out his throat with a savage twist. The body slumped to the ground, lifeless eyes reflecting the swamp’s dull light. That left the count at six werewolves to three vampires.

Realizing the fight was lost, the remaining vampires didn’t linger. They broke formation and ran, bodies blurring into streaks of pale shadow as they vanished into the underbrush. Cowards. Smart cowards. The werewolves didn’t give chase. Why would they? The real prize was still here.

This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

The elven family.

The alpha straightened, breath misting in the humid air. His fur was matted with blood—some his, most not. Amber eyes locked onto the mother, who stiffened, pulling the child closer. Another werewolf growled, stepping forward, claws flexing like the decision had already been made.

That was when I unleashed my domain.

Shadows exploded outward from my feet, rippling like liquid night across the mud and tangled roots. The air thickened, sharp and oppressive. The werewolves froze as the circle solidified, the boundary flickering with faint crimson edges.

Six enemies. One target. Me.

Painbound Dominion flared to life in my mind, sharp as a dagger’s edge. The pull was immediate—primal instinct twisting into compulsion. The alpha’s gaze snapped toward me, lips curling in a snarl. Every muscle in his body coiled, not with caution, but with need.

The need to break me. The need to silence the threat.

"All of you," I growled, voice steady despite the adrenaline surging through my veins. "Come get me."

The alpha didn’t hesitate. None of them did. The pull of the domain was absolute, overriding logic, strategy, and even hunger. They charged, six hulking bodies tearing through the mud, eyes locked onto me like I was the only thing that existed.

I smiled.

Perfect.

The alpha reached me first, claws slashing in a brutal arc. I didn’t dodge. I braced, teeth gritted, as talons raked across my chest. Pain bloomed, sharp and immediate.

Pain Counter: 3.

The system chimed softly in my mind. The shadows at the edge of my dominion thickened, curling like smoke. Each hit wasn’t just damage—it was leverage. Control.

Another werewolf lunged from the side, jaws snapping for my throat. I twisted, tail whipping around to slam into its ribs. Bone crunched. The beast staggered, eyes glassy for a split second.

Pain Counter: 5.

Two more flanked me, fangs bared. One raked my back, the other caught my shoulder, driving me to one knee. Blood soaked into the mud beneath me, but I didn’t panic. This was the plan. This was control.

Pain Counter: 9.

The shadows deepened, tendrils snaking up from the ground to brush against fur and claws. The werewolves didn’t notice—not yet. They were too focused on the prey they thought they were dismantling.

"Kneel," I commanded, voice low but razor-edged.

The first werewolf—the one I’d cracked with my tail—froze mid-step. Its knees buckled, body collapsing into the mud with a wet splat. Confusion flickered across its face, instincts warring with the compulsion binding its limbs.

The alpha roared, furious, and drove forward again. Claws slammed into my chest, knocking me back. I hit the ground hard, gasping as pain flared through every nerve.

Pain Counter: 12.

The dominion pulsed, shadows now clinging to the werewolves like shackles. My will dug deeper into their minds, pressing down, drowning out thought with sheer, suffocating presence.

"Stop."

Three more froze, muscles locking as if they’d hit an invisible wall. The alpha stumbled, shaking his head violently, fighting the pull. His will was stronger than the others—expected, but not unbreakable.

I pushed to my feet, breath ragged, blood slick on my skin. Hell’s Reprieve flickered, closing the worst of my wounds but leaving the ache behind. Good. Pain was power here.

"Sit." My voice was cold. Absolute.

The kneeling werewolf slumped further, haunches hitting the mud. Another dropped, whining faintly as panic crept into glazed eyes.

The alpha snarled, trembling under the weight of my dominion. He took another step forward, claws flexing—then stumbled. His breath hitched. His muscles spasmed. Every thread of my will wrapped tighter around his mind, squeezing, suffocating.

"You’re done."

The alpha froze, mid-snarl. His eyes flickered wildly, pupils blown wide as the last of his resistance shattered.

Pain Counter: 16.

I stood taller, wiping blood from my mouth. “Kill each other.”

The command cut through the air like a blade, and the werewolves froze, snarls dying in their throats. For a heartbeat, the world held its breath.

Then chaos erupted.

The largest werewolf turned first, eyes glazed, jaws snapping at the throat of the nearest packmate. The victim barely had time to yelp before claws ripped through fur and flesh. The others followed without hesitation—no pack hierarchy, no instinctual unity. Just mindless violence, driven by my will.

Pain Counter: 15.

I clenched my fists, breath shallow. Control held, but the strain gnawed at the edges of my focus. Each blow they landed bled my influence away, like sand slipping through clenched fingers.

One werewolf tackled another, slamming it into a tree. Bones cracked. Another tore into a comrade’s hind leg, dragging it down into the mud.

Pain Counter: 13.

The two smallest tried to break free, instinct warring with command. Their limbs trembled, muscles jerking like puppets on fraying strings. One stumbled, eyes flickering between glassy submission and sharp, animal panic.

Pain Counter: 11.

I gritted my teeth. Hold. Just a little longer.

The alpha—the bastard who’d first turned on the elves—stood victorious over a twitching corpse, blood dripping from its jaws. It blinked, dazed, mind slipping out from under my thumb.

Pain Counter: 9.

I stepped forward, shadows rippling underfoot. “Finish it.”

The alpha hesitated. Fangs bared. Eyes sharp now, fighting the weight pressing down on its mind. One final lash of control.

Pain Counter: 7.

It lunged—not at another werewolf, but at the nearest bound elf, instinct overriding submission.

Shit.

I moved without thinking, grabbing the shortsword from my inventory and slamming it straight through the beast's ribs and into its heart. The werewolf froze, breath hitching in a wet gurgle. Its claws twitched inches from the elf’s throat, then fell limp as the light drained from its eyes with my shortsword still embedded into its heart.

Pain Counter: 4.

My grip was breaking. Each death, each moment of resistance, unwound the hold. Dominion wasn’t absolute—it was fleeting, bought with blood and willpower. The system’s cruel balance.

The last two werewolves broke the spell entirely, stumbling back from the carnage. One locked eyes with me, hesitation flickering across its face.

I didn’t hesitate.

Fangpiercer flashed again. One clean stroke across the throat. The werewolf fell, twitching.

Pain Counter: 1.

The final survivor whimpered, glancing between me and the bodies of its fallen pack. It staggered backward, tail low, mind fully its own again. It turned and bolted into the underbrush, vanishing into the gloom.

Pain Counter: 0.

The domain flickered. Shadows shrank back into the earth, pulling inward like smoke sucked into a dying flame. The oppressive weight of my will vanished, leaving only silence and corpses in its wake.

I stumbled, knees weak, lungs burning. The swamp seemed louder without the domain’s hush—buzzing insects, rustling leaves, the faint, horrified gasps of the elven family still bound and trembling.

It was over. Control spent. But I’d won.

Barely.

Ding!

New Title Earned: One Against Many

Survived and triumphed against overwhelming odds without external aid.

+1 to all attributes.

Endurance +1% effectiveness.

The system’s cold acknowledgment barely registered. My vision swam, muscles trembling as adrenaline drained away, leaving bone-deep exhaustion in its place. My dagger, slick with werewolf blood, slipped from my hand and landed with a dull thud in the mud.

One of the elves—a woman, thin and pale, her face streaked with dirt—managed to find her voice. “Y-You’re… you saved us.”

I blinked, swallowing past the dryness in my throat. “Yeah,” I rasped. “Guess I did.”

Not for glory. Not for points. Because it was the right thing to do.

And for the first time since stepping into this world, the system had rewarded me not for killing, but for protecting. For standing my ground when the smarter choice would've been to walk away.

I staggered forward, slicing through the ropes binding the first elf’s wrists. His hands fell limply to his sides, numb and bloodless from being tied too long.

“Can you walk?” I asked, voice hoarse.

The man nodded, shaky but determined. The others followed suit, helping each other up despite their bruises and exhaustion.

The swamp felt different now. The path east stretched before me, untouched by the chaos I’d veered into. The system’s test had been clear: Travel east. Reach the village. Save them. Save yourself.

I hadn’t reached the village. I hadn’t followed the compass. But I’d still saved lives.

After freeing them, I slumped against a tree, lungs burning with every shallow breath. Reaching for my infinite waterskin, I drank deeply, the cool liquid easing the dryness in my throat. Without thinking, I extended it toward the family. They hesitated only for a moment before the father accepted it, eyes widening as he realized the water didn’t stop flowing.

“Endless,” he murmured, passing it to his wife and daughter, who drank with the desperation of people far too familiar with thirst. I fished some dried rations from my inventory and handed them over. Only after everyone had taken a bite did I speak.

"Why were they fighting over you?"

The question seemed harmless, but my posture betrayed me—leaning forward, eyes sharp. The mother, thin but regal despite the grime clinging to her skin, met my gaze without flinching. Her dark hair hung in tangled strands, but there was a stubborn pride in the way she held herself. Unbroken. Unbending.

"We're from a village not far from here," she said quietly, voice steady despite the weight of her words. "A place where we rejected the system. We chose to live the way we wanted. No grinding for levels like cattle chasing slaughter. No fighting just to stay relevant. We threw off the system's tyranny."

Her fingers tightened around the waterskin I'd handed her, knuckles whitening with the strain. She glanced at her family, huddled together like fragile birds, before her gaze flicked back to mine.

Distrust. Pure and sharp. Despite everything I'd done to save them, she still looked at me like I might sprout horns and fangs any second. Fair enough. I was a demon, after all.

I forced a smile, trying for charming but landing somewhere closer to tired. "That still doesn't explain why they were fighting over you."

She sighed, weariness pressing down on her like the weight of the swamp itself. "We believe it's because we rejected the system. Maybe it marked us. Maybe there's some… reward for bringing us down?" Her voice lifted at the end, turning the statement into a question.

Liar.

It wasn't just the uncertainty in her tone. Her eyes darted away when she spoke, flickering toward the ground before snapping back to me. A tell as clear as any system prompt.

Damn demon trait. My passive debuff had lowered her mental resistance, despite her being unleveled. That alone spoke volumes. The system usually only applied such penalties against enemies. Which meant…

They weren't just anomalies. They were prey.

I sat there, torn. Pressing her for answers felt cruel, but how could I protect them if I didn’t understand the threat? I’d already stepped off the system’s path by veering into this fight. Half-measures wouldn’t cut it now.

"I’m sorry for this," I muttered, standing slowly. "But I need the truth. I get why you don’t trust demons. But know this—I’ll protect you, no matter what."

Before she could react, shadows spilled outward from beneath me. Painbound Dominion. The world dimmed within the boundary, and tendrils of power wrapped around her like unseen chains.

The mother’s eyes widened, breath hitching. Then she did the most predictable thing in the world.

She slapped me.

Hard.

Pain Counter: Infinite.

I froze. That was new. I'd expected the usual tick up—one or two, maybe three if the system judged her defiance harshly. But infinite? The system had marked her. No question now.

Her hand lingered in the air, trembling. Realization dawned in her eyes as the shadows tightened, freezing her in place. Control. Absolute. Unyielding.

"Stop," I ordered, voice low. "Breathe. Relax. Tell me the real reason you're being hunted."

The father clutched his daughter, pulling her close and turning her face away. Not from me—from what he thought was about to happen. But when my words came as calm commands, not threats, his grip loosened. He exhaled, shaky and uncertain.

The mother’s resistance buckled under the weight of the domain. Her body stilled, muscles sagging as my will bore down. She blinked once. Twice. Then the words spilled out, stripped of hesitation.

"The system doesn’t forgive rejection," she rasped. "We were marked. Whoever kills us gains a skill point. And some tribes discovered a darker truth—if they devour us together, there's a chance for multiple skill points to manifest."

Silence fell. Heavy. Suffocating.

I stared, struggling to process the implications. Three people. Three skill points. In the eyes of the swamp, they weren’t victims. They were resources. Rewards.

Shadows flickered, pulling inward. I could hold her forever if I wanted. I could command her to walk willingly into the mud and drown herself, and the system would cheer me on for optimizing the hunt.

But I’d already made my choice the moment I stepped off the path east.

The mother’s eyes, glassy and unfocused, held mine without comprehension. Waiting for the next command. Waiting for the system’s design to play out like it always did.

I exhaled slowly. Pain Counter: 0.

The domain collapsed, shadows retreating into the earth like water down a drain. The mother stumbled, knees buckling, catching herself on one hand. Breathless. Free.

But she didn’t run. Didn’t scramble to protect her family. She just knelt there, eyes sharp and defiant even in exhaustion.

"What will you do now?" she asked quietly. "Knowing our secret? Knowing the system values us more dead than alive?"

The sheer audacity of the question left me speechless. She knew exactly what her words meant. Knew the temptation they carried. Three skill points were more than I’d earned in days of brutal grinding. If I saw them as currency, as just another system prompt, I’d be richer, stronger, one step closer to my goal.

But I'd also be everything I swore I wouldn't become. A villain. A predator.

Not a hero. Not someone who stood between the weak and the world that sought to break them.

I let out a slow breath, pushing the thought aside like smoke from a dying fire. "I didn’t save you just to trade your lives for progress," I said quietly, voice steady despite the exhaustion. "I protect people. That’s the path I chose. The system can go to hell."

For the first time since I’d met them, the mother smiled. Not wide. Not triumphant. Just… relieved. Like she'd gambled everything and, against the odds, won.

I let the silence stretch for a moment, grounding myself with slow, deliberate breaths. The weight of the encounter settled across my shoulders—less victory, more inevitability. The system had offered an easy path, and I’d refused it. Again.

"One last question," I said, voice low but steady. "How does your village protect itself? I mean, any monster could stumble in and tear the place apart."

Her smile didn’t waver, but something behind her eyes hardened. "Not everyone cast off the system. We knew survival would demand sacrifice, even if we rejected the grind. Some chose to keep leveling—guards, hunters. Brave souls who stand watch every day while the rest of us live the lives we chose."

She glanced at her husband and daughter, the weight of guilt flickering across her face. "We got captured because we strayed further than we should have. Our mistake."

I nodded, understanding the unspoken truth. Freedom came with risk. They'd gambled on a life outside the system's tyranny, but the world didn’t care about philosophy. It only cared about strength and weakness.

"I’ll escort you home, then," I said, rising to my feet and stretching out the stiffness from the fight.

The look they gave me said everything. Hope. Gratitude. Disbelief, even. Like they’d expected the story to end differently. Like they’d resigned themselves to a world where demons didn’t extend mercy.

Maybe the system had trained them too well.