As Demos slowly opened his eyes, something burned softly against his forehead.
Warm.
Glowing.
Alive.
He tried to lift his hand.
Nothing moved.
His arms… his legs…
Gone—
No.
Not gone.
Bound.
Thick, fibrous vines coiled tightly around his wrists and ankles, digging into his skin like living restraints. They pulsed faintly, tightening with every slight movement, as if aware of his struggle.
The ground beneath him was damp.
Cold.
Soaked with something he didn't want to identify.
The air reeked.
Ash.
Meat.
Death.
A crackling fire lit the clearing ahead.
And around it—
Five men danced.
Wild.
Unhinged.
They circled the flames like beasts possessed by hunger itself. Their bodies were smeared in blood, their shadows twisting violently across the trees as their chants rose into the night like warped war hymns.
"To the gods of the hunt!" one roared.
"To the feast of flesh!" another screamed.
Their language was foreign.
Brutal.
Unrecognizable—
And yet…
Demos understood every word.
His eyes widened slightly.
"…I understand them?"
Impossible.
Then—
It hit him.
The voice.
The void.
The promise.
A System.
A gift.
A guide.
His breathing quickened.
And then—
FLASH.
A blinding white light exploded in front of him.
Suspended midair.
Like a tear in reality itself.
His heartbeat stuttered.
A glowing screen unfolded.
[SYSTEM INTERFACE ACTIVATED]
User Identified: Demos S. Sparta
Age: 15
Level: 1
Health: 80/100
Strength: 10
Agility: 10
Intelligence: 10
Abilities:
(##$#) — Sealed
(#_#$#) — Sealed
(#$$#$$) — Sealed
Unique Abilities:
— Five-Colored Lightning: Sealed
— Ice Age: Sealed
Demos stared.
Silent.
Then—
A low, bitter laugh escaped him.
"…So this is it?"
The screen's glow flickered across his bruised face, carving deep shadows beneath his sharp, exhausted eyes.
He tilted his head slightly upward.
"…This is your gift?"
His voice steadied.
Hardened.
"…Then I'll use it."
A memory surfaced.
A voice.
Warm.
Close.
"My son… it's true. I am your mother."
His jaw tightened.
Behind him, the fire crackled.
Even bound, something inside his chest straightened.
Pride.
Defiance.
Demos laughed again—louder this time.
"AHAHAHA!"
The sound sliced through the clearing.
Even the dancing figures faltered for a split second.
"So be it," he said, staring into the sky. "Since you gave me this…"
His eyes sharpened.
"I, Demos S. Sparta, swear by the gods of Valhalla—"
A pause.
Heavy.
Absolute.
"—you will be my mother."
His voice dropped.
Cold.
Resolute.
"Until death."
A vow.
A Spartan vow.
The system reacted instantly.
[Language Pack Installed: Azuran Language]
[Skill Unlocked: Hand-to-Hand Combat – Level 1]
[New Mission Assigned: "The First Task"]
Objective: Survive 20 Minutes
Reward: +2 Strength, +2 Agility
Demos blinked once.
Then understood.
So that was it.
The reason he could understand them.
The system hadn't translated—
It had rewritten him.
His focus sharpened.
Another warning flashed.
[Warning: Hostile Entities Detected Nearby]
[Recommendation: Escape or Engage in Combat]
His gaze shifted.
Back to the fire.
The men were still laughing.
Still feasting in their madness.
One of them grabbed something and tossed it into the flames.
It crackled.
Sizzled.
Like burning flesh.
Demos' stomach twisted.
His eyes narrowed.
Then—
He saw it.
A bone.
Blackened.
Human.
The realization slammed into him.
They weren't celebrating.
They were preparing.
He was the meal.
The largest of the five turned.
And began walking toward him.
Each step—
Heavy.
Deliberate.
Hungry.
Saliva dripped from his mouth as he leaned in, eyes gleaming with savage delight.
"Hope you taste as good as you look, little lamb," the man growled. "I'm hungry as fuck."
Silence.
The fire crackled.
The world held its breath.
Far beyond the mortal realm—
On a world where stars bled into roots and ancient trees held up galaxies—
A royal palace trembled.
A roar split the heavens.
"YOU STUPID, WORTHLESS SON!"
The sound shattered golden pillars.
Mountains trembled.
Reality shook.
An old man stood at the center of the hall, eyes blazing with divine fury.
"How dare you make a bet with your elder brother?!" he thundered. "And now—he's DEAD!"
A younger man knelt before him, trembling violently.
"That wasn't part of the bet!" he shouted desperately. "He only had to seduce her and record it with the soul stone—!"
"HE'S DEAD!"
The roar exploded outward.
"And now it will take THREE HUNDRED YEARS for his resurrection!"
A wave of force erupted.
The younger man was hurled backward like a ragdoll.
"From this moment on," the king growled, voice low and lethal, "you will not leave your chamber… until he returns."
"Father—!"
"Silence."
A pause.
Cold.
Deadly.
"I should have slaughtered you both."
Ten golden-armored guards stepped forward instantly.
"Take him."
The prince was dragged away.
No resistance.
No mercy.
Silence fell over the hall.
Then—
A quieter voice.
"…Have you seen my granddaughter?"
A guard hesitated.
"No, my king. She remains in her chamber. She has not left since the last war."
The king exhaled slowly.
"Notify me if that changes."
Alone once more—
His expression darkened.
"That girl…"
A pause.
"…She could have ruled the stars."
Another pause.
"…Instead, she chose silence."
IN THE VOID.
There was no time.
No space.
Only endless black.
Then—
Laughter.
"AHAHAHAHAHA!"
Crimson light exploded across the void.
A woman stood upon a mountain of corpses.
Billions.
Bodies from worlds that never shared the same sky.
Dead civilizations.
Extinct gods.
Forgotten empires.
All beneath her feet.
"I told you," she whispered, smiling into the darkness. "My son has recognized me."
The void trembled.
Her power surged.
"I am your mother."
"And you…"
Her eyes glowed.
"…are the last of my blood."
Crimson energy spiraled upward.
Two colossal blades formed—
Dark gold.
Edged with lightning.
Ancient runes circled them, whispering in a language reality itself feared to remember.
"I will destroy them all," she said softly.
"Every soul that had a hand in taking my child…"
The blades hummed.
The void cracked.
Something answered.
Not here.
Not yet.
But soon.
A presence began to form.
The air bent.
Reality strained.
And for the first time—
The laughter stopped.
Silence fell.
Heavy.
Absolute.
As the void itself…
Held its breath.
END