Deep in the forest, cloaked in silence and mist, Isshin Arima stood among the corpses of memory. The night had ended, but the hunger inside him had not. Power surged through his veins—raw, ancient, and cold. As his crimson aura receded, the system window appeared once more before his awakened eyes.
[System Notification: Awakening Complete]
[New Weapon Unlocked: Frostmourne – Soul Devourer]
[Condition Removed: No Side Effects on User]
The name echoed in his mind like a forgotten curse. Frostmourne—said to be a blade forged from the regrets of a thousand fallen warriors, sealed in ice older than time. He extended his palm, and the weapon materialized—long, jagged, and shimmering with frozen death. Shadows bent around it. The air grew still.
"Let's test your bite," he muttered.
With a single slash, a crescent arc of frost exploded from the blade. Trees cracked and shattered. Ground crystalized into a tomb of ice. In a blink, one hundred meters of forest was frozen solid, entombed in silence and snow.
He smiled behind his breath.
[Effect Radius Confirmed: 100 meters]
[Soul Devour Counter: 0/∞]
By the time he returned to the Arima Mansion, dawn had not yet broken. The butlers opened the iron gates without question. Servants bowed lower than before, feeling the shift in their master's presence—like something primordial had taken root in his bones.
Inside the grand chamber, lit by moonlight filtered through obsidian glass, he summoned her.
"Yurika," he said.
She came quickly, head lowered, still adjusting to her new life.
"Yes, Master."
He approached slowly, a shadow in a tailored suit, and took her hand.
What followed was no longer just possession, but ritual.
He fed on devotion and submission, and the system drank it with glee.
The room was veiled in darkness. Only soft gasps and rustling sheets told stories the stars could not see.
The next morning, as dawn spilled like blood across the estate, Sebas stood once more in the private study. He had returned from a night-long search through esoteric archives and hidden digital libraries.
"You summoned me, Master Arima," he said, bowing.
Isshin turned from the window. "What did you find?"
Sebas opened an encrypted file and projected a 3D hologram onto the wall. Ancient texts scrolled alongside modern surveillance photos and fragments of myth.
"There are things in this world," Sebas said, "older than nations and corporations."
"Go on," Isshin whispered, intrigued.
Sebas pointed to a section labeled Supernatural Entities.
Campione: Mortal god-slayers, chosen by fate, who inherit divine authority.
Heretic Gods: Rogue deities who descend from myth to walk among mortals, warping fate.
Devils: Trans-dimensional invaders feeding on desire and chaos.
Yokai: Native spiritual beings of Japan—some harmless, many lethal.
Mystic Clans: Bloodlines descended from dragons, phoenixes, or demons, often in hiding.
Seals: Relics buried across the land to suppress reality-shattering truths.
Isshin's eyes narrowed with hunger.
"Gods that walk like men… devils hiding in cities… all ripe for harvest."
"Shall I prepare the hunt, Master?"
Isshin slowly unsheathed Frostmourne, letting the tip drag along the floor, leaving trails of ice.
"No," he said, grinning. "I'll prepare it myself."
He looked up at the system.
[New Target Category: Myth-Class Entities]
[New Goal: Consume the Divine]
[Warning: Risk Level — Unknown]
He welcomed the warning.
"Let's see how gods scream."