Before him, the demon that had severed his leg retrieved the limb. Then, with a grotesque calm, it settled upon the very table where Ngwan Le had once slept. Bones cracked between its teeth, sinew snapped and tore, hot blood dripped down its chin as it chewed slowly, savoring each morsel. Its gaze, however, was not fixed on the flesh it consumed, but on Ngwan Le himself. It stared, poised to carve away another piece of his body the moment he dared to move. After all, it intended to devour Ngwan Le entirely. But Ngwan Le did not move. He did not even contemplate escape. His mind was consumed by a far more pressing matter. 'To think I even forgot the most important thing, With the strength I possess now, how am I supposed to kill a demon?' And so, the butchery continued. Piece by piece, the demon carved away his body and devoured it, until almost nothing remained. Yet, Ngwan Le did not scream during this agonizing ordeal. Despite the searing pain, even as his bones were pried from his

The moment he stepped out of the house’s entrance, Ngwan Le’s eyes widened further. This experience had truly surpassed his expectations. 'What could have gone wrong?' he wondered. And to finalize it, the system’s voice made him kneel. [No fragment found. Re-initiating Sequence Two.] Yes, Ngwan Le was in that furnace-like room, kneeling. He found himself in this very space the instant he had stepped out of the doorless house. His eyes hadn’t even closed, they remained wide open. To him, it was as if the room had materialized suddenly. “I died, but how?” he affirmed the truth. With both hands on the ground, Ngwan Le pushed himself up as the system’s countdown neared one. 'Damn,' he spoke in his inner voice. Then, before long, in that same house, at that same spot, in that same world, Ngwan Le stood. With his hands resting on his lap as he sat on the table, his gaze shifted toward the outside before he recalled something. It was after he had completed Sequence One. Though he was stil

Mastearu’s voice cracked through the arena like a blade. “What do you think of this, Ngwan Le? Show me your cockiness again—let me see it!” Ngwan Le stood motionless, his body still as stone. He had been pushed three steps back after taking Mastearu’s first strike head-on. The ground beneath him bore the marks of impact, dust curling around his feet. Yet he didn’t fall. Mastearu had launched forward again, all the Inugura Basic Forms. Each motion carried speed and precision—perfect sequences of offense and control. Ngwan Le met them all directly, never dodging, never flinching. Even the twelfth form—Fist of Circling Arrows: Arrows Flow Like Water—landed squarely, the force echoing through the arena walls. But Ngwan Le stood firm. “He’s frozen like ice,” Mastearu whispered between breaths. “And still none of my attacks make him bend.” Ten steps. That was all. Ten steps back—that was the furthest Ngwan Le had moved since the fight began. Every strike Mastearu threw had sent him ba

A thought drifted across Ngwan Le’s mind like smoke. Will I repeat this sequence again? And when he took his resolve, a voice echoed through the silence — as though solidifying his resolve or so he thought But it wasn’t. It was the interface sequence completion announcement. --- Though Ngwan Le cut through the sequences like a blade through still water, each battle left him heavier, slower, more drained. His power had grown with every fragment embedded in his body, but so too waa the demoms at each sequence. Each new sequence he faced had far more stronger demon, stranger, more relentless than the last. Some were table-shaped monstrosities, others mimicked humans, beasts, or serpents. He met cat-like predators with faces twisted in fury, dog-like abominations that breathed fire, and grotesque human forms that walked backward yet fought forward. He didn’t flinch. None of it impressed him. Even when faced with demons built for pure body enhancement, Ngwan Le only sighed and mov

The demoness grinned. “I can finally step on his body,” it hissed, striding toward Ngwan Le’s figure. The air rippled around her as she raised one clawed foot— But a voice stopped her. “Wait.” It was Bastard Dog—the creature that. “Something’s wrong,” Bastard Dog growled. “He’s still standing.” The demoness blinked, annoyed. “What are you saying?” With a wave of its hand it exclaimed. “It isn’t strange! Many humans die while standing. Don’t tell me you, Bastard Dog, are afraid?” The demoness threw her head back and laughed wildly. “Hahaha—!” Tears glimmered in its eyes as it laughter shook the ground. Then the demoness stopped. Bastard Dog’s gaze had shifted—cold, sharp, focused. But it wasn’t aimed at the demoness. Not again, the demoness thought, it's mind trembling. That feeling—being ignored—it hated it more than death itself. Yes to the demoness Bastard Dog reaction was like ignoring it's presence The demoness turned and froze. Ngwan Le was still standing. His shadow st