All Chapters of The Devil's Rebirth System : Chapter 31
- Chapter 40
106 chapters
Chapter 31: The Devil's Mark
The chamber stank of blood and smoke. Dust drifted down from the cracked ceiling in a slow, choking rain, settling on stone shattered by battle. The Bound Horror lay collapsed at the center, wrapped in burning crimson chains that hissed with each twitch of its vast, shapeless body. Every time it strained, Kael’s bindings groaned and tightened, glowing brighter, sinking deeper into nightmare flesh.Kael stood over it, chest heaving, blood running down his chin. His limbs shook with exhaustion, and every breath felt like fire in his lungs. Yet his crimson eyes blazed, and the shard embedded in his chest throbbed with a violent rhythm.The System whispered in his mind.[Bound Entity: The Horror.][State: Dormant.][Connection Established.][Warning: Maintaining control drains host vitality.][Symptoms may include: blood loss, organ strain, mental corruption.][Proceed at your own risk.]Kael spat blood onto the floor and smiled through the pain. “Risk? That word belongs to mortals.”The
Chapter 32: Chains Unleashed
The chamber smelled of blood, burned stone, and fear. Every surface bore cracks from the battle, and the crimson chains binding the Horror glowed faintly, still humming with power. Kael stood at the center, chest rising and falling, his aura pulsing in sync with the monster’s slow, shuddering breaths.He had done it. The impossible.The Horror lay chained, pinned to the floor and wall by bonds carved from his will and the shard’s command. The runes etched into the ground glimmered faintly, like embers refusing to die.But silence never lasted long around power.The shard beat inside Kael’s chest like a second heart, each pulse whispering insistently. Test it. Stretch the chains. See if it kneels when you command it.He raised his hand. The crimson bindings tightened with a creak like iron bending under strain.The Horror twitched. Its tendrils writhed in jerking motions, as though remembering freedom, as though ready to lash out and tear everything apart. The recruits closest to it sc
Chapter 33: The Devil Walks Free
The tunnel yawned behind them, black and wet with dripping water. The air inside had been thick, suffocating, and heavy with the memory of chains and blood. But now the survivors stood at the mouth of the wound, where broken stone gave way to open night.Kael stepped out first.His boots pressed into the dirt, and for a moment he just stood there, staring at the sky. The stars looked dim and far away, scattered over a canvas of endless black. He inhaled deeply, drawing in the cold air of freedom, though it still smelled faintly of ash. The shard inside him pulsed with every breath, whispering. The world waits. Walk it. Bind it.The survivors followed in fits and starts, stumbling as if they had forgotten how to walk beneath the heavens. Some stopped as soon as their feet hit the dirt, staring upward as though the sight of stars were a miracle. A few collapsed, clutching the ground, pressing their foreheads against the earth. One of them whispered, “We are alive. We are alive.”None of
Chapter 34: Whispers in the Throne Room
The Regent’s throne room was colder than usual. Torches guttered in their iron brackets, their flames weak and shivering as though the very air resisted fire. The marble floor gleamed with polished perfection, but its reflection showed only the pale faces of the men and women gathered within.The Regent sat high upon the throne, its gilded arms gleaming in the dim light. His crown was small, a circlet of silver, yet it seemed to dig into his skull as if reminding him of the weight he bore. His hands curled against the armrests, drumming faint rhythms, sharp and impatient.On the long table at the chamber’s center lay scrolls, reports, and broken seals. Many were scrawled with shaky handwriting, others stained with dirt or blood. None of them were clear, but all whispered the same thing: something had risen in the city’s dark veins, something that had no right to breathe again.At last, one of his advisors broke the silence. He was a thin man with a stooped back and eyes that twitched
Chapter 35: Chains of Loyalty
The night was deep and unbroken, swallowing the ruins in silence. The district they had emerged into was a husk of stone, its streets cracked and its houses leaning like corpses that refused to fall. The smell of soot still clung to the air though years had passed since the fires. No wind stirred, no animals prowled, and the silence felt heavy, as if the ruins themselves were holding their breath.Kael walked at the front.His steps echoed faintly over broken cobblestone, his figure tall and dark against the pale glow of the moon. Behind him, the survivors followed—stumbling, whispering, clutching their arms and their rags as though they were afraid the night itself might devour them.Some were gaunt with hunger, their eyes sunken; others bore wounds that still bled sluggishly. Yet not one dared fall behind. Even in their weakness, even in their fear, they clung to his shadow, as though leaving it meant being swallowed by death.Kael led them into the heart of a ruined square. A fount
Chapter 36: The First Hunt
The night had barely lifted when Kael moved again. Dawn was nothing more than a pale bruise across the horizon, but already the ruins stirred with something that had not existed the day before. His followers—no, his chained—stood taller. The fire of the bond pulsed faintly in their veins, feeding strength into limbs that had known only weakness.The square where they had bent their knees was silent now, empty but for the broken fountain. Yet the air still smelled of scorched stone, as though the oath they had spoken lingered, smoldering in the cracks.Kael stood at the fountain’s edge, cloak dragging across the dust, his gaze fixed toward the eastern quarter of the city. The shard in his chest hummed in rhythm, as though tugging him, guiding him like a compass.He could feel it.Fear.It was not distant, not faint. It pressed against the edge of his mind like the whisper of a crowd just beyond sight. And within that fear… power. The System was waiting. It demanded he claim it.Behind
Chapter 37: Whispers of the Dead
Dawn broke like a dull blade over the ruined square. The first pale light crept across broken stones, glinting off pools of dried blood and the shattered fountain where Kael’s chained had sworn themselves to him. The air was thick with silence, the kind of silence that clings after slaughter, where every shadow seemed to hold a memory of screams.Kael stood at the edge of the fountain, cloak stirring in the faint breeze. His gaze was fixed eastward, where the Broken Men had fallen beneath his hand. His eyes burned crimson still, faintly glowing in the gray light, and deep in his chest the shard pulsed, slow and steady, as though savoring the aftermath.Behind him, his followers collapsed into the square like revenants returning from battle. Their clothes were torn, their faces smeared with grime and blood, their limbs shaking from exhaustion. Yet beneath that weakness was something else. Something raw and unshakable. They had hunted, and in hunting, they had tasted power.The boy stum
Chapter 38: The March West
The ruined square still reeked of blood and smoke. Ash clung to the stones where Broken Men had died, their corpses dragged into the shadows to rot. Yet silence never truly returned. Whispers lingered like an infection, curling through the minds of the chained as if the dead themselves breathed into their ears.Kael sat on the crumbling fountain, unmoving, while his new followers twitched in restless sleep or sat in broken wakefulness. He studied them in turn, measuring how the System’s curse reshaped them.The soldier clenched her fists in her sleep, teeth grinding, shoulders jerking as though she fought invisible battles. Sweat rolled down her scarred brow, and sometimes she muttered, begging comrades long dead to hold the line. When she woke, her eyes were bloodshot, but she still saluted him without hesitation.The thief did not even try to rest. He perched against a broken wall, dagger gleaming in his lap, eyes hollow. Every time he blinked, his hand twitched toward the weapon, a
Chapter 39: Silence of the Bells
Night settled over the western quarter like a funeral shroud. The streets grew empty, doors barred, windows shuttered tight. Even the wind carried no laughter, no songs, only the faint echo of bells tolling from the temple ahead. Each clang trembled as if the bronze itself feared the sound it was forced to make.Kael walked at the head of his chained. His steps were slow, deliberate, each one echoing in the silence. The boy marched just behind, his thin arms tight around the shaft of his spear, his lips moving in a whisper that repeated Kael’s name over and over. The soldier kept her blade bared, her jaw clenched, eyes sharp with purpose. The thief moved light-footed, scanning every shadow, though sweat shone on his brow. Lira strolled at the rear, her humming low and lilting, as though they were on their way to a feast rather than slaughter.The temple rose from the heart of the street like a wounded beast. Its once-white stone was blackened by soot, its roof patched with wood after
Chapter 40: The Fractured City
The silence of the temple bells spread like poison through the veins of Duskmoor. One toll, cut short in the night, was all it took to unravel what little order remained. By dawn, every soul in the western quarter knew: the priests were dead, their temple ruined, their gods silent.Whispers carried the news faster than messengers ever could. In markets, women trading scraps of grain leaned close and muttered of crimson chains that tore stone apart. In taverns, drunkards claimed the gods themselves had abandoned the city. Children, too young to understand, pressed their ears to the walls of their homes and repeated the stories they heard outside until their mothers wept and hushed them.The city did not fall in a single night. It cracked. The fractures spread outward from the ruined temple, reaching into every hall, every alley, every heart.In the barracks, fear stank stronger than sweat. Rows of soldiers sat on their bunks, polishing swords with shaking hands. Some stared at the floo