Demon Evolution System

Chapter 26

Miles’ heartbeat slowed instead of quickening.

A double rift nest.

His suspicion had been right from the moment they stepped into the boss chamber and found another rift waiting behind the sealed doors. Now the system itself had confirmed it. This was no longer just an instructor-led raid or a training exercise twisted by circumstance.

This was a mission.

And the system did not generate missions lightly.

Miles clenched his fist slowly. Declining wasn’t an option—not for him. Not when the system had already marked the target. Whatever lay beyond the second rift, he would face it.

Around him, the argument continued to rise in volume.

Kael was cautious, his voice tight with concern. Dren sounded uncertain but alert. Boros, as expected, dismissed every warning with sharp laughter and biting confidence. Hale stood at the center of it all, visibly conflicted, weighing risk against necessity.

Miles finally lifted his head.

“There’s no point arguing,” he said calmly.

The group fell silent, surprised by his sudden intervention.

Miles’ gaze settled on Hale. “Instructor Hale is the most experienced hunter here. He should make the decision.”

Boros scoffed but didn’t interrupt this time.

Dren nodded quickly. “I agree. Besides… we’ve already come this far. Turning back now wouldn’t make sense.”

Hale exhaled slowly, relief flickering across his face at the sudden unity—however fragile it was.

“Very well,” he said. “We proceed. Entering a second rift is dangerous, but your resolve is commendable. Extra merit points will be awarded for bravery.”

Boros grinned, clearly pleased.

Miles said nothing more.

The moment they stepped into the rift, the world shattered.

Space folded inward violently, sound vanishing as though swallowed whole. Miles felt the familiar wrenching sensation grip his body—pressure, distortion, weightlessness—before reality snapped back into place.

They reappeared in darkness.

Not a cavern.

Not an open chamber.

A hallway.

The passage stretched forward in a straight line, long and narrow, carved from black stone that seemed to absorb light rather than reflect it. The air was cold, unnaturally still, carrying a faint scent of decay and ancient dust.

At the far end of the hallway floated a figure.

It was humanoid.

A skeleton.

But unlike the mindless undead they had crushed earlier, this one was different.

It hovered effortlessly in the air, unmoving, legs crossed beneath it in a meditative posture. Long, dark robes flowed around its skeletal frame, the fabric etched with intricate silver linings that pulsed faintly, as though alive. Its skull was smooth and uncracked, eye sockets dark and endless, its presence heavy enough to press against the senses.

For a moment, no one spoke.

Then Boros laughed.

A loud, mocking sound that echoed down the hallway.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said, rolling his shoulders. “All this tension for a skeleton?”

He pointed his weapon forward casually. “We’ve smashed half a dozen of these already. They were nothing.”

A few members of the group visibly relaxed at his confidence.

Miles didn’t.

His eyes never left the floating figure.

Something was wrong.

No—dangerous.

A deep, oppressive energy radiated from the skeleton, subtle yet overwhelming, like standing too close to a sealed abyss. Miles could feel it crawling along his demonic senses, prickling at the back of his mind, whispering of death and ancient malice.

This wasn’t a regular undead.

Kael stepped forward slightly, his voice firm. “Don’t underestimate it, Boros. It’s still the boss of the rift.”

Boros waved him off without even looking. “A boss is still a monster. And monsters die.”

Hale raised a hand, preparing to speak. “We’ll approach this carefully. Formation first—”

“There’s no need.”

Boros stepped ahead of the group, confidence radiating from every movement.

“I can finish this alone.”

Hale’s eyes widened. “Boros, wait—”

Too late.

Before anyone could stop him, Boros surged forward, boots striking the stone floor as he charged straight down the hallway toward the floating skeleton. His weapon flared with power, killing intent pouring from him unchecked.

Miles’ breath caught.

The skeleton remained motionless.

Then—slowly—it tilted its skull upward.

The silver lines along its robe glowed brighter.

And its hollow eye sockets ignited with a cold, unnatural light.

The hallway trembled.

Miles’ system interface flickered again, warning signals flashing at the edge of his vision.

This wasn’t a mistake.

This was exactly what the system had sent him here for.

And Boros—blind in his arrogance—had just crossed the point of no return.

Boros’ axe swung down in a powerful arc toward the floating skeleton, a strike meant to end the battle before it began. The hallway seemed to hold its breath.

CLANG—!

Metal met metal with a shattering force. Boros’ grin froze as the sound tore through the cave. Inches from the skeleton, a massive broadsword blocked his axe, stopping its momentum cold. The impact detonated through the hallway like a thunderclap.

Sparks burst into the air as metal met metal, the shockwave rippling outward and rattling the stone beneath their feet. Boros’ axe stopped—frozen—mere inches from the floating skeleton’s skull.

For a heartbeat, Boros didn’t understand what had happened.

His grin was still on his face.

His chest heaved, adrenaline surging through his veins, and when he realized the strike had been stopped by something far beyond what he had expected. his eyes widened.

Blocking his strike was a massive broadsword, its blade wider than his forearm, forged from dark steel that seemed to drink in the dim light rather than reflect it. Ancient runes were etched along its length, glowing faintly with a cold, crimson hue.

The arm holding it wasn’t human.

It was bone wrapped in heavy, jet-black armor.

Before Boros could even inhale—

BOOM—!

An overwhelming force erupted from the point of contact.

His body was flung backward like a ragdoll, boots tearing deep grooves across the stone floor as he skidded violently. He twisted midair, barely managing to plant his feet before crashing to a stop several meters away.

The recoil numbed his arms.

His axe nearly slipped from his grasp.

The hallway fell into a suffocating silence.

No one spoke.

No one breathed.

The floating skeleton—their supposed target—remained perfectly still, hovering in midair, its long robe of shadowy fabric drifting as if stirred by an unseen wind. It hadn’t even reacted.

Standing before it was another figure.