2025-08-31 23:48:23The night wind was sharp when Kael slipped out of the orphanage gates. The wooden boards groaned as they closed behind him, but no one stopped him.
No one ever cared where the orphans went. They were rats in the eyes of the city—unwanted, unseen, unprotected. But tonight, a rat would bare its fangs. Kael adjusted the hood of his torn cloak as he walked toward the market streets. The faint light of torches flickered against the stone walls, the smell of sour ale and piss hanging in the air. His thoughts burned with the words still floating before his eyes. [Beginner’s Quest: Spill First Blood.] [Requirement: Kill an enemy within 24 hours.] [Reward: +10 Strength, Beginner’s Weapon.] [Failure: -50% Stats for 7 Days.] The System was merciless. It did not give him the chance to rest, to grow slowly, to hide. It demanded blood. And Kael understood why. Power was not given. It was taken. If he wanted to stand again as a warlord, if he wanted Serenya’s throat beneath his blade and Darius’s screams in his ears, then he could not hesitate. His steps carried him through the maze of the city. He knew these streets from his first life, when he was nothing but a starving boy. He had stolen bread here, bled here, been beaten here. And now, he returned not as prey, but as predator. The market was quieter now. Merchants were closing their stalls. The honest men went home to their families. The rest—the thieves, the drunks, the predators—lingered like shadows, waiting for the weak. Kael’s eyes scanned the crowd. His senses felt sharper than before, his body humming with the faint strength the System had given him. The world seemed slower, clearer. And then he saw him. A man stumbled from a tavern, swaying, his leather vest greasy, his beard tangled with crumbs of food. His belt jingled with coins, far too heavy for a beggar, far too fresh for an honest drunk. Kael knew the type well. A gutter thief. A parasite who preyed on children like the orphans. He had seen his kind kick boys half their size into the mud for scraps of copper. The System’s glow outlined him faintly. [Target Suitable: Strength +2 compared to Host.] [Warning: Host is at disadvantage.] Kael’s lips curled. “Stronger than me? We’ll see.” He followed. The drunk staggered into a narrow alley, humming to himself, too lost in his stupor to notice the shadow trailing him. Rats scurried along the walls, their squeaks mixing with the distant laughter of men still drinking. Kael’s hand closed around a loose stone. His grip tightened. A new message flickered before his eyes. [Skill Available: Savage Strike.] His heart pounded, but his mind was steady. He had killed before. He had watched battlefields burn, had slit throats under moonlight. This body was young, but his soul carried the weight of a thousand corpses. The man stopped to piss against the wall, swaying on his feet. Kael moved. His steps were silent, his breath calm. He closed the distance and brought the stone down with all his strength. The glow of Savage Strike flared red across his arm. The stone smashed into the man’s temple. Crack. The man cried out, blood spraying, staggering back. He fumbled for the knife at his belt, his eyes wide, his mouth spilling curses. But Kael was faster. He swung again, the stone connecting with the man’s jaw. Bone shattered. Teeth flew. The drunk gurgled, collapsing to his knees, choking on his own blood. Kael stood over him, chest rising and falling. His hands trembled—not from fear, but from the thrill, the rush, the fire that surged inside him. The System’s voice echoed. [Ding! Quest Complete.] [+10 Strength.] [Reward Obtained: Beginner’s Weapon – Devil’s Dagger.] A black dagger shimmered into existence in his hand, its blade jagged, its surface glowing faintly with crimson light. The man whimpered, still alive, clutching at his ruined face. His one good eye locked on Kael’s, wide with terror. Kael crouched down, the dagger gleaming under the torchlight. His voice was calm, almost gentle. “Fear is the last gift I give you.” He drew the blade across the man’s throat. Blood spilled hot and fast, staining the stones. The body convulsed once, then went still. Silence fell. The System roared. [Ding! New Title Acquired: Blooded.] [Effect: Host gains +10% damage against all living enemies.] Kael’s chest heaved as he looked down at his hands, drenched in blood. His young body shook, but not with weakness. He felt alive. Stronger. Sharper. His veins burned with new power. The dagger in his hand pulsed faintly, as if drinking in the life it had taken. Its whispers slid into his mind, cold and seductive. “Yes,” it seemed to murmur. “More. More.” Kael stood slowly, his shadow stretching long in the alley. He wiped the blade on the corpse’s rags, then tucked it beneath his cloak. This was the beginning. The System had shown him the path. Power was bought with blood, and he would pay that price again and again. He raised his eyes to the night sky, his jaw clenched, his voice low. “Serenya. Darius. Wait for me. I’m coming.” Blood dripped from the blade to the stones. The boy who had once cowered in the dirt had drawn his first kill. And Kael Draven, reborn with the Devil’s System, had awakened.
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Chapter 160: The Last Flame
The valley had changed.Decades had passed since the mountain’s awakening, and yet its shadow still touched everything. Where once the air had burned with whispers of power, there was now peace — a steady rhythm that pulsed in the soil and the sky alike.Children played where ash once fell. The rivers that had run cold now shimmered with golden light in the evenings, carrying warmth through the land.At the heart of the valley stood a great flame tree, its trunk wide enough for three grown men to encircle, its branches heavy with blossoms that glowed faintly even after sunset. Beneath that tree sat a monument of smooth black stone.One name carved in silver.Riven.The villagers still told stories of him — the wanderer who had spoken with the flame, who had faced the mountain and lived. But no one truly knew how he’d died. Some said he had simply walked into the woods one night and never returned. Others whispered he’d become one with the fire he had once sought to contain.Whatever t
Chapter 159: Echoes of the Flame
The dawn came slowly.Gray light crept over the jagged peaks, revealing the scars of the storm. The mountain no longer rumbled. The air was clear, eerily still — as if holding its breath after something holy had passed through.Riven stood on the ridge, cloak torn and boots caked with ash. The climb had taken everything from him — strength, sleep, even reason — but not resolve. His eyes fixed on the summit above, where a faint shimmer lingered in the sky. It looked like a scar in the air itself, glowing silver against the pale clouds.That was where she had vanished.“Mira…” His voice broke as it left him. The wind carried her name upward, swallowed by the silence.He had seen the column of fire. He had felt the mountain shake as if alive. He’d waited through the night, hoping she would return — walking out of the mist with that stubborn spark in her eyes. But the summit remained still. Empty.Now, as dawn bled into gold, he forced his body forward.He would not leave her to fade into
Chapter 158: The Mountain of Whispers
The mountains loomed before them like an ancient wall against the world.Their peaks were shrouded in shifting mist — not the kind born from weather, but something older, alive. Each wisp of fog carried faint murmurs, as if the stones themselves whispered in a language that predated thought. The higher Mira climbed, the louder the whispers became.They were not voices she recognized, yet they called her by name.Mira… the echo returns… the flame remembers…She tried to ignore it, focusing on her steps, but the weight inside her chest pulsed with every breath — the mingling of light and shadow that had become part of her. It was no longer pain. It was presence. Constant. Watchful.Riven followed close behind, his breath steady despite the altitude. He kept one hand near his sword, though no creature dared approach them. The air was too still, too reverent, as though all life understood what climbed its path.“How much farther?” he asked, voice muffled by the wind.Mira didn’t answer at
Chapter 157: The Call Beyond the Horizon
The morning after the storm broke with a silence so thick it felt sacred.No birds sang. No wind stirred the trees. The valley lay beneath a pale light that was neither dawn nor day — a muted glow, as if the world itself had forgotten how to breathe.Mira stood at the edge of the riverbank, her reflection rippling in the unnaturally still water. The silver in her eyes had dulled overnight, and the mark on her wrist flickered faintly like a dying flame.Behind her, Riven watched in silence. He had not slept. He couldn’t. Every hour since her scream still echoed in his mind — the sound of something ancient, wounded, and infinite.“You haven’t eaten,” he said quietly.“I don’t need to,” Mira murmured, her voice distant. “The light sustains me.”He frowned. “That’s what worries me.”She finally turned, her expression unreadable. “It’s not the light you should fear, Riven. It’s what’s beneath it.”The villagers had begun to notice.They whispered of strange shifts in the air, of walls that
Chapter 156: The Shadow Beneath The Light
The dreams began three nights after the omen at the river.At first, they were nothing more than flickers of light — visions of stars collapsing inward, of silver rivers running red. But by the fourth night, the dreams turned heavy. The world in them was not the one Mira knew. It was silent, without air, without warmth. A hollow world where fire burned black.She stood in that world, barefoot on cracked ground, her reflection stretching endlessly beneath her.And somewhere beyond the horizon, a voice called her name.“Mira…”She turned — but there was no one there, only the echo of her own breath.Then the ground shifted, splitting apart like a wound.From the darkness beneath rose hands — not flesh, not shadow, but something in between. They reached upward, trembling, and a whisper rippled through the air.“You took what was never yours to bear.”Mira’s pulse quickened. “Who are you?”The voice answered like thunder behind her ribs.“I am the one who kept the flame before there was l
Chapter 155: The Breath of the World
When dawn came, it was softer than any in living memory.The clouds above the valley glowed faintly pink, silver light spilling across the dew-wet grass. The air itself felt new — clean, charged, as though the world had drawn its first full breath after centuries of holding it in.Riven stood at the edge of the Flame Tree’s roots, watching the sunlight filter through the leaves. The once-fiery branches now shimmered between silver and black, a reflection of what Mira had become.She stood just beyond the trunk, facing the horizon. Her bare feet sank slightly into the soft soil. Her hair moved with the wind — dark strands threaded with faint luminescence.“You’ve been standing there all night,” Riven said quietly.“I don’t sleep the same way anymore,” Mira replied, her voice soft, steady.Riven walked closer. “Are you in pain?”She turned toward him, and for a moment he forgot to breathe. Her eyes were still twin mirrors — one burning silver, the other a deep black that held faint spar
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