Eliminate all threats.

That’s what Arin wanted. Not defense, not survival—preemptive war. Strike first. Kill before the enemy even had a chance to become an enemy.

I sat on the straw bed, staring at the rough wooden walls of the hut, my fingers idly tracing the pendant at my neck. A week ago, I would’ve laughed in his face. A hero didn’t hunt down threats before they struck. That was something else entirely—something darker.

But now?

Now, I wasn’t so sure.

The village was weak. Too weak. And in a world where people murdered for skill points, weakness was an invitation to be devoured. Lauren knew it. Arin knew it. The entire village knew it. If I didn’t act, someone else would.

The only question was whether I wanted to be the shield protecting these people… or the blade cutting down those who might come for them.

Chloe’s smile flashed through my mind. Wide-eyed, trusting, completely unaware of the kind of world she lived in. She saw me as her hero. Someone who wouldn’t let the monsters win.

But what if being a hero meant becoming one of those monsters first?

I exhaled slowly, leaning back into the mattress. The straw scratched against my skin, but I barely felt it. For the first time since arriving in this world, I had something close to a home. A bed. A place where people needed me.

Wasn’t that what I always wanted?

I closed my eyes. My muscles finally relaxed.

But my mind wouldn’t.

Did I really want to be a hero?

Or was I just desperate to feel like one?

The thought gnawed at the edges of my resolve, refusing to let go. But as sleep pulled me under, I already knew the truth.

I had made up my mind.

The next morning, I found Arin near the center of the village, speaking in hushed tones with a few of his hunters. He noticed me approaching, his expression tightening, expectant.

Good. Let him listen.

“I will not attack those who have not attacked you,” I said, my voice steady enough to carry. “Doing so would make me the demon people fear.”

Disappointment flickered in his eyes. He parted his lips, ready to argue, but I didn’t let him.

“That being said,” I continued, stepping closer, “the ones who have already attacked you need to learn that you are not easy prey. That there are consequences for their actions.”

Arin’s posture shifted. The disappointment faded, replaced by something else—something sharper. Anticipation.

“I will hunt down the werewolves and the vampires,” I said. “And I will break them in such a way that they will want nothing to do with this village ever again.”

Silence stretched between us for half a heartbeat.

Then Arin smiled.

Slow. Knowing.

And I realized something.

He had expected this answer all along.

I assessed the warriors Arin had gathered. Three fighters. One hunter. They stood with their backs straight, hands near their weapons, but their stance betrayed them—solid but unrefined. Their armor was a mismatched collection of reinforced leathers and salvaged chainmail, marked with dents and hastily repaired tears. They had seen combat, but only in desperate defense.

They weren’t killers. Not yet.

I activated Cloaked Appraisal.

The warriors averaged level twelve, the hunter barely level eight. More than capable for what I needed them for.

“Good enough,” I said, dismissing the status screen. “We're going after the vampires. Three escaped the last fight. We don't let them regroup.”

I turned sharply. “Formation. Two warriors on my flanks, the third guarding the hunter. Keep five paces between us—tight enough to respond, loose enough to maneuver. The hunter takes rear scout. Your job isn’t to fight. If something moves behind us, we know before it reaches striking range. Understood?”

They hesitated for only a second before falling into place. Good. Trainable.

We moved southwest, leaving the security of the village behind.

The forest thickened around us, shadows deepening as we advanced. The damp, cloying mud of the swamp gave way to firmer ground, patches of damp earth interspersed with twisted underbrush and gnarled roots. The trees thinned but grew taller, their branches clawing at the sky like skeletal fingers.

The air carried a damp chill, laced with the distant murmur of moving water—the river cutting through the land like a scar.

This was no longer neutral ground.

This was hunting ground.

“You’re used to fighting on your land,” I said, voice steady but sharp. “That’s a mistake. A fight belongs to whoever controls it. You set the pace. You dictate where, when, and how it happens. That’s what separates the hunted from the hunter.”

The warriors listened, but I could see the hesitation in their movements. Still adjusting to my pace. Still waiting for orders rather than anticipating.

A flicker of movement. The hunter stiffened at the rear.

“Movement,” he whispered. “Right flank. Not close.”

I exhaled slowly. Not wrong—but not confident either. Still learning the difference between instinct and fear.

“Hold formation,” I said quietly. “Keep moving.”

We pressed on, steps deliberate. The world around us grew quieter. The chirping of insects dulled. The rustling of small creatures in the underbrush ceased.

A predator’s silence.

I stopped abruptly. The warriors reacted half a second too late. Their boots shuffled against the dirt—too loud. Too hesitant.

“Stop reacting,” I murmured. “Feel the shift before it happens. Read the silence. This isn’t a drill.”

The hunter swallowed hard.

Then, another flicker of movement. Closer.

And we weren’t alone anymore.

The vampires came into view—wounded, sluggish, their bodies still bearing the marks of yesterday’s battle. Their leader was dead, his throat ripped out by the werewolf alpha. Now, they were heading somewhere—home, perhaps, or to another den where they could lick their wounds.

Perfect.

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I could’ve ordered a full encirclement. Cut off their escape. But I didn’t need to.

Instead, I walked forward. Deliberate. Unshaken. Letting them see me. Letting them wonder why, after losing their best, a lone demon approached them without fear.

The leader—a gaunt, twitching creature—locked eyes with me. I saw the moment hesitation flickered across his face. The weight of his situation settling in.

And then I activated Painbound Dominion.

Shadows bled from my feet, spreading outward like cracks in the ground.

The vampires stilled.

Too late.

Their muscles jerked, breath hitching as my will wrapped around their minds. A primal pull. A compulsion so deep it bypassed thought.

They had to kill me.

The first lunged. I was waiting.

I moved.

And the slaughter began.

The vampires fell.

The first had barely registered the pain before I shattered his knee and crushed his throat. The second lasted longer—long enough to scream as Painbound Dominion wrapped around his mind, drowning him in agony before I drove Fangpiercer into his chest.

The third ran.

Good.

The hunter was already in motion, slipping into the undergrowth, tracking our fleeing prey. He wouldn’t engage. He would follow. He would lead us straight to their nest.

I turned to the warriors. They stood frozen, staring at the corpses.

Shock. Fear. And something else—understanding.

They hadn’t been trained for this. Not the way I had. Their fights had been desperate, panicked, always on the back foot. But now?

Now, they had watched a predator work.

The silence stretched. Then I let the Dominion fade.

“The third will lead us to their den,” I said. “Be ready.”

No one spoke. They didn’t need to.

We moved.

The chase lasted through the night.

Our prey ran on terror, his wounded body driven beyond exhaustion by the primal need to survive. But terror made creatures predictable. He never once tried to hide his trail—only to put distance between himself and the thing chasing him.

Me.

By the time the moon dipped toward the horizon, his pace had slowed. His body faltered. Ahead, a cave loomed, its entrance gaping wide, swallowing him whole.

I raised a clenched fist. Halt.

The warriors froze, their breaths ragged but controlled. The hunter circled back, his expression grim.

“Here,” he whispered. “At least six inside. Maybe more.”

I nodded. I had expected as much.

The mouth of the cave was lined with jagged rocks, unnatural in their formation, like the fanged maw of some ancient beast. Blood stained the ground near the entrance—dried, dark, old. Bones littered the dirt, some stripped clean, others gnawed to splinters.

A feeding ground.

A den.

We weren’t going in. Not yet.

I gave the signal to retreat a safe distance, leading the group to a small clearing hidden by thick underbrush. Setting up camp wasn’t an option—we had no tents, no fire, just the dirt and the sky. But stopping here, resting, was necessary.

Fatigue would be the death of us before the vampires even had the chance.

I took first watch, standing at the edge of the clearing, eyes locked on the distant cave entrance. Nothing stirred. The night stretched on, silent and still.

When my time was up, I nudged one of the warriors awake. He grumbled but took his position near the trees, gripping his weapon tightly.

Satisfied, I let sleep take me.

----------------------------------------

I woke to the sound of choking.

Instinct snapped through me like a live wire. My eyes shot open. My body moved before thought could catch up.

A shape loomed in the darkness. A warrior—thrashing, kicking, struggling as clawed hands wrapped around his throat, squeezing the life from him.

The watchman was slumped near a tree, his weapon resting uselessly at his side.

Asleep.

Not asleep.

Dead.

Rage ignited, sharp and blinding.

I lashed out.

No hesitation. No wasted movement. My will surged, and the world darkened.

Painbound Dominion. Activate.

Shadows snapped outward like coiling vipers. The vampire flinched as tendrils of darkness lashed his body—not enough to wound, but enough to hurt.

Pain Counter: 2.

A snarl. A blur of movement. The only warning I had was the sudden shift in air pressure behind me.

Phantom Laceration.

Something slashed across my back. No form. No impact. Just pain.

Pain Counter: 5.

Another strike. My ribs. A ghostly wound carved into my flesh.

Pain Counter: 9.

He was playing with me.

I clenched my jaw. The Dominion pulsed. Shadows curled at my feet, growing thicker, but it wasn’t enough.

Not yet.

Another strike. A shallow cut across my thigh, more a taunt than an attack.

He was testing me.

I forced a slow breath, ignoring the pain. He had the advantage—until he overplayed it.

I exaggerated a movement. Left myself open.

And he took the bait.

A flicker in front of me.

I didn’t dodge.

His claws raked across my stomach.

Pain Counter: 16.

But the moment he touched me—

I moved.

My tail whipped out, slamming into his ribs with brutal force.

Pain Counter: 18.

He stumbled. Just for a moment. Just long enough.

The Dominion tightened.

I lunged, Fangpiercer carving a brutal line across his shoulder.

Pain Counter: 20.

The world shifted.

His movements slowed—not physically, but his precision, his instinctual grace faltered.

Dominance Break.

It wasn’t enough. Not yet.

I pressed forward, forcing him to engage. He blurred sideways—trying to gain space—

But the shadows lashed first.

Tendrils coiled around his wrist, his ankle, his throat. Not enough to hold him. Just enough to throw him off.

He flickered again, but it wasn’t clean.

I was already there.

Fangpiercer sank into his ribs. A deep, wet sound. A growl, not a scream.

Pain Counter: 22.

He tried to phase, but the moment he flickered—

The Dominion yanked him back.

His form snapped into place, caught between realms. His breath hitched.

His control was breaking.

I stepped forward, shoving the blade deeper.

He gasped, a wet sound, and for the first time—

He hesitated.

Pain Counter: 24.

I grabbed him by the throat, fingers digging in. He clawed at my arm, frantic, failing.

I leaned in, voice low.

“You don’t get to run.”

Then I drove Fangpiercer into his heart.

His body jerked. A sharp inhale. A violent shudder.

And then—

Stillness.

Ding! You have slain Level 17 Vampire.

Pain Counter: 0.

The Dominion faded. The world snapped back.

And I finally saw what had changed.

Ding! Painbound Dominion has leveled up.

New Effect: Painbound Strikes— Upon activation, your domain lashes out, dealing initial pain to all enemies within range.

New Effect: Dominance Break— When an enemy’s Pain Counter reaches a critical threshold, they suffer a sudden loss of coordination and reaction speed.

New Effect: Phantom Suppression— Enemies reliant on phasing or flicker-based skills will suffer increased resistance and unpredictability in their abilities.

I rolled my shoulders, exhaling slowly. My blade still dripped with fresh blood.

That had been hard.

But he had still died.

My domain had finally reached the point where I could force the outcome. I still had to fight. Still had to push through the pain.

But once the counters stacked high enough?

I decided how it ended.

I turned to the others.

They were silent. The hunter, barely breathing. Their eyes flicked between the vampire’s corpse and me.

Processing.

The brutality. The efficiency.

I wasn’t just someone fighting monsters anymore.

I was something else.

I crouched beside the fallen warrior. Pressed two fingers to his pulse.

Nothing.

His name had been Joren. He had been young. He had laughed too easily, gripped his sword too tight. And now, he would never grip it again.

I pushed to my feet, turning toward the cave’s entrance.

“At first light,” I said. “We move.”

Then I sat down. I wouldn’t sleep again.

Not tonight. I used Hell’s Reprieve and let my body rest before I assaulted the cave.