Demon Evolution System

Chapter 2

The rest of the group members quietly watched the scenario without interfering. While some were even laughing mockingly as they were enjoying watching Miles being mistreated by Ryan.

Miles’ fingers worked. The sting across his chest from earlier flared as he shifted, but he didn’t flinch.

It was a norm for awakeners especially, hunters to look down on unawakened individuals like himself so it was only best that he endured the insults as there was nothing he could do against a bunch of awakened hunters.

Being a porter for hunters going on a raid to the outlands was the fastest way for Miles to earn money in order to save up for his sister's medical bills and other expenses. was the only way that he could. Despite the risk, and low chance of survival it was the option he always took without hesitation.

‘Hey Ryan, why did you have to hire this guy? He is too weak for this kind of job....” Jax asked, looking at Miles with a disdainful glare.

“Jax is right! You should have hired a sturdier porter compared to this scrawny kid. look at how he is struggling to carry that bag and he can’t even hold his own against a goblin.” Cole added.

“Seriously,” Lena muttered, glancing back at him. “I don’t get why we brought him. Other teams at least hire porters who can take a hit.”

Ryan snorted. “Be grateful. He’s cheap. And desperate. He even begged to have this job . I wouldn't have accepted if I knew it was going to be a hassle.” He complained.

Miles kept walking pretending not to hear their conversation.

They weren’t wrong. Other teams wanted sturdier porters—failed Awakeners with reinforced bodies, or low-rank hunters who could at least fight off a stray beast. Miles had neither. His Awakening never came. Not when the Cracks first tore the world open. Not in the years after, when mana exposure rewrote human limits and birthed heroes, monsters, and everything in between.

What he did have was endurance. And a sister whose medical bills didn’t care about pride.

Miles rose smoothly, ignoring the way his legs trembled under the combined weight of fatigue.

A guttural screech echoed across the broken street ahead.

The team halted instantly.

Ryan raised a fist. “Positions.”

The twins moved to elevated rubble without a word. Cole planted his shield, Lena melted into the shadows at the flank. Miles stepped back automatically, pressing himself against the remains of a burned-out vehicle. His heart rate spiked, senses sharpening—not with power, but with habit.

A pack of demonic hounds burst from between collapsed buildings, bodies twisted, skin stretched too tight over jagged bone. Their eyes glowed a sickly yellow as they charged.

“Three targets,” Cole called.

They were larger than the ones they’d killed earlier, its hide stretched tight over corded muscle, eyes burning amber in the gloom. Demonic sigils crawled faintly beneath its skin, pulsing with each breath.

Ryan grinned. “Good. I was getting bored.”

The fight lasted less than a minute.

Blades flashed. Arrows punched through skulls. Jax absorbed the brunt of the impact as Lena severed tendons with surgical precision. Ryan finished the last hound by driving his sword through its skull, the blade humming as it drank in residual mana.

Silence returned, broken only by the hiss of the wind

Miles moved forward without being told.

He knelt beside the nearest corpse, pulled out his extraction knife, and got to work. The smell hit him immediately—rot layered with sulfur. He ignored it, hands steady as he cut along hardened muscle to expose the mana node embedded near the spine. One wrong move and the crystal would fracture,

He worked fast. Efficient. He always did.

Behind him, Ryan scoffed. “If you put half that focus into training, maybe you wouldn’t still be lugging bags.”

Miles didn’t respond. By the time he finished harvesting, sweat slicked his back despite the chill. He packed the crystal carefully, wiped his blade, and rose.

“Move out,” Ryan ordered.

They went deeper.

The Outlands grew quieter the farther they traveled, as if even the monsters avoided certain stretches of corrupted land. Miles noticed it before the others—the way the mana in the air thickened, the subtle pressure behind his eyes. He slowed.

“Ryan,” he said, voice low. “Something’s off.”

Ryan glanced back, irritation flashing across his face. “What now?”

“The mana density,” Miles said. “It’s spiking. I think we should head back now. The bag is full of crystals and there is no space to store more even if we find more monsters.” Miles stated in heavy breaths.

Lena laughed. “Listen to the porter. He’s suddenly a sensor.”

Miles met her gaze evenly. “I’m serious.”

Ryan stepped closer, looming. “You’re here to carry, not think.”

“but it's getting dark already and the monsters would—”

Hearing this, Ryan snapped back Miles in a. Stern voice. “We turn back when I say it's time to turn back. Don’t slow me down!” he barked, grabbing him by the shoulder and yanking him upright harder than necessary. “Move your ass or I’ll shove you to the next pack of wolves myself!”

Miles stumbled back into jagged stone, pain flaring along his spine. The bags slammed against his back, knocking the breath from his lungs for half a second.

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Ryan bellowed “You follow orders. You carry out loot. You shut up. Or you regret it.”

The rest of the team leaned on their weapons—swords resting on shoulders, spears planted lazily in the dirt. None of them looked surprised. None of them looked uncomfortable.

To them, this was background noise.

To Miles, it was a matter of survival.

Before Miles could respond, the ground shuddered.

A sound like tearing metal ripped through the air. the ground grumbled under everyone's feet as if a mini earthquake was occurring. A jagged fissure tore open twenty meters ahead of them, space itself cracking like glass. Red light bled from the wound, pulsing in time with a low, thrumming hum that vibrated through Miles’ bones. Heat rolled outward, carrying the stench of brimstone and old blood.

A Demonic Crack.