2025-08-31 23:51:36The corpse was still fresh in Kael’s memory when he slipped back into the orphanage. His hands were clean, but he could still feel the warmth of blood on his skin, the sound of the man’s final gasp echoing in his ears.
He closed the door to his room and sat on the straw bed, his cloak wrapped tightly around him. The dagger lay across his lap, glowing faintly red as if feeding on the life it had stolen. For a long while, Kael only stared at it. His heart beat steadily, but the whispers were louder now. “You are mine,” the dagger murmured inside his mind, its voice soft and cold. “My hand. My sword. My chosen.” Kael’s jaw tightened. He knew the tone. It was the same whisper that had called to him in the void after death. The voice of the System itself. “You gave me your soul,” it said. “And I will give you power. Power to burn the world. Power to make them scream.” Kael ran a finger along the jagged edge. It did not cut him, but the chill sank into his flesh. “What’s the price?” he asked quietly. The voice slithered like smoke. “The price is everything.” The air in the room grew heavy. Kael’s breath came slower. For a moment, the dagger pulsed as though alive, its glow syncing with the beat of his heart. Then the System’s interface opened again. [System Update.] [Hidden Function Unlocked: Blood Points.] [Current Balance: 5 BP.] Kael leaned forward, eyes sharp. Another window followed. [Blood Points are earned from kills. They may be exchanged for attributes, skills, or items.] [Examples: +1 Strength = 10 BP. Basic Healing Elixir = 15 BP. Beginner Skill (Random) = 25 BP.] Kael’s lips curled. A new currency, born from death itself. Power was not only taken in battle—it could be shaped, molded, bought with the lifeblood of others. It was perfect. Another message appeared, darker than the rest. [Side Quest: Spill Blood Under the Moon.] [Requirement: Kill one enemy before dawn.] [Reward: +15 BP, Skill Upgrade.] Kael exhaled slowly. The System wanted more. It demanded blood again and again. The whispers returned, a low hiss curling into his thoughts. “Kill. Feed me. Grow.” Kael closed his fist around the dagger until his knuckles whitened. The voice pushed at him like a tide, tempting him to lose control, to become a beast that slaughtered without reason. But Kael was not a beast. He was a warlord. A man of strategy. Every death he dealt would serve a purpose. “You want blood?” he whispered. “I’ll give you blood. But only on my terms.” The dagger vibrated faintly, mocking, but Kael did not release it. His will was iron. A noise outside pulled his attention. Heavy footsteps, loud voices in the hall. Brann. The bully’s voice carried through the thin walls, rough with anger. “The rat thinks he can fight back? He cut me like an animal! I’ll make him crawl until he begs for death!” The lackeys snickered. “We’ll break him tonight, Brann.” Kael’s eyes narrowed. The System whispered again, cold and eager. “Yes. Spill his blood. Feed me.” Kael rose from the bed, the dagger gleaming faintly in his hand. His body felt sharper, heavier with strength, his aura pressing against the walls of the small room. He opened the door. The hall was dim, lit by only a single flickering torch. Brann stood there, his thigh still bandaged from Kael’s earlier strike, rage burning in his eyes. The two lackeys stood behind him, smirking as though the fight was already won. When Brann saw Kael step out, he snarled. “You. You little rat. You think you’re strong now?” Kael said nothing. He only walked forward, the faint glow of the dagger catching Brann’s eyes. The bully froze for a heartbeat, his bravado faltering as the air grew colder, heavier. The Aura of Fear pulsed around Kael. One of the lackeys shifted nervously. The other swallowed hard, though he tried to keep his grin. Brann spat on the floor. “I’ll tear you apart!” He lunged forward, fist raised. Kael’s body moved on instinct. The dagger sliced through the air, its glow red against the torchlight. Brann’s punch never landed—he froze mid-stride, his eyes wide as the blade hovered just a breath away from his throat. Silence fell. The lackeys stared, their confidence gone. Brann’s bravado crumbled as he felt the sharp edge so close to his skin. Sweat dripped down his forehead. Kael’s voice was low, steady, and colder than ice. “If you touch me again… you won’t leave this hall alive.” The dagger pressed lightly, drawing a single drop of blood. Brann flinched, his breath quick and shallow. The System whispered. “Kill him. Claim the points. Grow stronger.” Kael’s hand trembled for a moment. He remembered Serenya’s betrayal. Darius’s smirk. The poison in his cup. The fire of revenge burned in his chest, urging him to strike, to take, to feed. But he forced the hunger down. Not yet. Brann was small prey. A tool. Killing him now would waste his value. Slowly, Kael pulled the dagger back. He stepped past Brann, his cold eyes sweeping over the lackeys. “Remember this,” he said softly. “You don’t hunt me anymore. I hunt you.” The air seemed to shiver with his words. He walked away, leaving Brann frozen, his face pale, his hands shaking. The System’s voice hissed again, frustrated. “More blood. Always more blood.” Kael smirked. “Patience. The world will bleed soon enough.” As he returned to his room, the dagger pulsed faintly, as though laughing. But Kael did not care. His path was set. The Devil’s Rebirth System had given him power. And he would use it not as a slave, but as a master. The moonlight through the cracked window touched his face, and Kael whispered to the night, his voice filled with iron resolve. “Serenya. Darius. Your day is coming.”
Previous Chapter
Latest Chapter
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
You may also like
Nothing Wrong
Simon 198214.4K viewsShadow On The Eyes
Natashia_Lou4.6K viewsThe Burnsfield Project
Jason Boyce8.5K viewsThe Dawn Falls
Matt Hardy Evite3.7K viewsWhispers In The Dark
Juliana Arias1.7K viewsSONATE OF DEATH
Luna Lovegood1.6K viewsThe Shadow He Became
Decim 193 viewsReturn of Andrew Sanchez
Neche Felix129 views