Anthony ran. The cavern's air, now thick with the stench of bone and ozone, pressed in on him, a physical weight. More and more grotesque monsters, stirred by the White Demon's rebirth, clawed their way from the shadows, their eyes gleaming with feral hunger. All he wanted was to go back up—to the surface, to the lie of the sun, to anything that wasn't this encroaching hell.
What he had unleashed was never meant to be free. A deep, cold dread gnawed at him, not just of the chaos, but of the knowledge that he was its unwitting architect. He returned to the gaping chasm, the figure he had glimpsed before, Humiko, now a feral blur in his periphery, still haunting his path. He chanted, his voice raw and desperate, "Γηπροστασιˊαςστηˊριξετηναναˊβασηˊμου" (Earth of protection, pour strength into my ascent). Barriers of crackling black-and-blue energy, born of his corrupt bloodline, erupted beneath his feet, becoming launch points. He sprang from one to another, a frantic, spider-like climb against the impossible height. The ground beneath him shuddered, a monstrous groan echoing from the depths.
He burst from the cave mouth, ragged and bloodied, into the muted light of dawn. The world above was in chaos. People flocked from nearby settlements, their faces a mix of confusion and terror, drawn by the earth-shattering tremor that had accompanied the White Demon's awakening. His own eyes, bloodshot and stinging, mirrored the world's pain. He slammed a final, massive barrier over the cave entrance, a desperate, futile attempt to trap the horror he had released, then fled into the scarred forest, not from the monsters, but from the inevitable wrath of the Church. He plunged into a river, the frigid water a cruel shock against his burning skin, washing away the metallic stench of the cave, the lingering scent of death and bone and rot that clung to him. He drank deeply, the relief cooling his mind.
He noticed a red ogre in the distance by a nearby lake, some three hundred meters away, preparing some crude weapon. He ignored it. Cleansed himself, donned his tattered clothes, and pushed further into the wilderness, hoping to find any other kingdom—anywhere that wasn't tainted by the spreading chaos.
Meanwhile, in the pristine, panic-stricken halls of the Holy Empire:
The Church's most sacred orb, the supposed conduit of the Father's Light, lay shattered. No energy pulsed from it. Fear, cold and absolute, gripped the clergy.
Saint 1: "Is gods eye broken?" Pope: "Yes..." His voice was barely a whisper, an edifice of faith crumbling. Saint 2: "Impossible!" Saint 3: "There is no possible way! The Father's Light cannot be broken!" Pope: "It might have been broken by... a stone!" He offered, a desperate, pathetic attempt at rationalization. Saint 1: "Impossible!" Saint 3: "this is Heresy!" Saint 2: "indeed Heresy!"
The Church, once a beacon of unwavering faith, fractured into conflicting whispers and accusations. The public, sensing the cracks in their divine protection, descended into chaos, their prayers turning to panicked cries.
As humanity teetered on the brink, the monster-kind moved with ancient purpose.
In a chamber deep within the earth, shadows writhed. A voice, ancient and resonant, spoke in Greek: "Eιˊναιελευˊθερος...." (He is free....) Another replied, "Πρεˊπεινατονπαˊρουμεπιˊσω..." (We must take him back...) A third, with chilling authority, corrected, "διορθωˊνω.." (Correction..) The authoritative voice turned, addressing a figure shrouded in dark, silken robes. "Utan..Θαπαˊτεναεξερευνηˊσετετοσπηˊλαιο.Eπιστρεˊψτεμετονλευκοˊδαιˊμονα..Oβασιλιαˊςμαςδενθαπεριμεˊνει" (Utan.. You will go explore the cave. Return with the White Demon.. Our King shall not wait.)
The female elf, Utan, a warrior and seer, her features sharp and her movements silent as a shadow, bowed low. "Nαιπατεˊρα.." (Yes, Father..) She left the room, her purpose grim and unwavering.
Anthony, unaware of the cosmic chess game being played around him, continued to experiment with his newfound abilities in the deep forest. The raw energy of the cave had unlocked something fundamental within him.
He chanted, testing the limits of his new, terrifying gifts. "Пламъцитенаадаизгарятврагами." (Flames of hell burn my enemy.) SUCCESS. A bow, crafted from pure, crackling flame, materialized in his hand. He drew back, a fiery arrow manifesting, and loosed it at a makeshift dummy of hay. The dummy disintegrated in a silent, explosive burst of ash.
Next: "Пеърсинглед" (Piercing ice.) SUCCESS. An ice dagger, sharp and crystalline, formed before him. He hurled it. It pierced a second dummy with brutal efficiency, freezing and fracturing it in a single, devastating impact.
His mana, a volatile pool within him, began to drain rapidly from the continuous exertion and experimentation. The overuse of his barriers and the raw energy he now commanded pushed him to his limits.
Suddenly.
LEVEL UP! {32}LEVEL UP! {33}
LEVEL UP! {34}
A voice, cold and detached, resonated in his mind.
Nickname earned: [EMPTY VESSEL]
Anthony was stunned. His birth abilities, long dormant, had fully activated, responding to the extreme pressures of survival and the monstrous changes within him. He called out, his voice hoarse, "Status. Open."
_______________________ |name: Anthony age: 17 | |mana:274/28 strength: 230| |--(_(_-_-_-_ EMPTY VESSEL, FORSAKEN.
The numbers flickered, a testament to his explosive growth, yet a dark, jagged line scrolled endlessly, hinting at hidden depths and unknown costs. Exhausted, Anthony collapsed into a restless sleep.
As the new day arrived, Anthony rose, took out his newly crafted spear, and went hunting, his every movement a testament to his transformed, predatory nature.
Meanwhile, Utan moved with chilling precision. She infiltrated the outskirts of the human kingdom, a phantom weaving through the panicked crowds. Seven guards, remnants of the collapsing Holy Empire's defenses, appeared, weapons raised, their faces etched with fear. Utan, unhurried, drew a sword of pure ice, its blade humming with cold power. She moved, a blur of motion, slicing through their ranks with effortless grace, their cries choked off as their blood froze in their veins.
She pressed onward, toward the cave mouth, her objective absolute. As she entered the foreboding darkness, she encountered a feral figure at the entrance—the young girl, Humiko, her eyes wild, her black hair matted and tangled. Humiko, driven by primal instinct, lunged, her intent clear—to tear at Utan's throat. Utan reacted with practiced efficiency, a swift, precise strike to Humiko's shoulder pulling it unto her back and knocking her head on her knee, rendering her unconscious. She stepped over the girl, showing no malice, only pragmatic efficiency, then grabbed her and continued her descent.
She dropped into the deepest pit, the chilling echoes of Anthony's escape still lingering, and found him—the monstrous skeleton of pure bone rot and energy, now silent, waiting. It was the White Demon, still encased in his ancient white shroud. Utan, with a precise cutting edge of a dagger, sliced through the strange, fleshy gap Anthony had ruptured, gliding through as if it were water.
From the shadows, a voice, ancient and deep, resonated. "You finally came."
Utan's voice, replied. "Yes. It's been a while..... I remember you very well from my childhood. After all, you were.... THE DEVIL iN WHITE."