It had been exactly three hours since Arzael had stepped once again into the depths of the Underworld, Layer 1. A land of unending torment, where rivers of molten fire ran like blood through cracked, lifeless earth, and the air itself shimmered with a blistering, oppressive heat.
Shadows twisted unnaturally in the crimson haze, whispering faint echoes of agony, while unseen eyes seemed to watch from every direction. The atmosphere was heavy, pressing down on his chest with every breath he took.
Arzael was in no hurry to leave. He knew well that his Gatewalk skill had already cooled down, ready to be used at any moment. But there was no urgency, not when this place offered him something more valuable than safety.
Here, every second was an opportunity to sharpen his edge, to test his limits, to grow. And he was determined to wring every last drop of strength the Underworld had to offer.
His hand tightened around the hilt of the Crimson Edge, the weapon he had claimed not long ago, still faintly warm from the countless demons it had cut down.
Even now, faint red motes of energy pulsed along the blade, each beat syncing with his own heartbeat. It was as if the weapon breathed with him, hungered with him, growing stronger every time it tasted blood.
He began his hunt in earnest. Lesser demons lurked between the jagged rock formations, their silhouettes blurred by the swirling mist.
Arzael moved swiftly, each step measured, each strike precise. Whenever the blade met flesh, he felt a rush, a subtle yet unmistakable surge of raw power flowing into him, almost intoxicating in its intensity.
[Lesser Demon – EXP +15]
[Lesser Demon – EXP +15]
[Lesser Demon – EXP +15]
The hunt was relentless. Arzael gave them no reprieve, no chance to regroup.
Every movement was an unbroken chain of offense , sidestep, strike, pivot, slash. With each kill, more notifications began to crowd the edge of his vision, the system's light-blue interface flickering like an eager herald of his progress.
The flood of messages became almost overwhelming.
(Level Up)
(Level Up)
(Level Up)
(Level Up)
(Level Up)
"Five levels in just three hours… not bad at all," Arzael muttered under his breath, his crimson eyes narrowing with satisfaction as he glanced at the translucent status screen hovering before him.
LV: 11 → 15
HP: 790 → 850
MP: 520 → 550
EXP: 30 / 350
Available Stat Points: 10
New Skill Unlocked: Blood Manifest
Active Skill, Consumes 50 MP & 50 HP.
Allows the user to solidify their own blood into a temporary weapon or shield, increasing ATK by 25% for 15 seconds.
A long breath escaped him, his shoulders relaxing just slightly. "Finally… a new skill," he said softly, wiping the sticky, still-warm blood of his enemies from the Crimson Edge's blade. The metallic tang of it lingered on his gloves.
He knew he could return to the Overworld right now, safe and whole.
Gatewalk awaited his command. But instead, he chose to stay. His instincts screamed that this was the right decision, that leaving now would be wasting the most valuable training ground he could ever ask for.
It was then that the air shifted.
The heat, already suffocating, seemed to double in weight, becoming thick and almost tangible.
It pressed against his skin, carrying with it a faint vibration, like the warning rumble before an earthquake. The mist swirled unnaturally, forming into spiraling tendrils of darkness.
"This isn't normal…" Arzael's voice was low, his senses sharpening, eyes locked on the shadows ahead as they twisted and thickened into a monstrous form.
From within that roiling darkness, something emerged, towering, broad-shouldered, its frame a mass of coiled muscle beneath skin as black as volcanic rock, streaked with glowing red veins like molten lava frozen mid-flow. Massive, curved horns jutted from its head, and its eyes burned with an unholy light, molten and furious.
"This… isn't just some random opponent," he muttered, his grip tightening instinctively on the Crimson Edge.
The sheer force radiating from the creature made the ground tremble faintly beneath his boots.
The demon let out a guttural snarl, its voice reverberating through the air like the growl of some ancient predator.
Then, without hesitation, it lunged forward, moving far faster than its size should allow.
Arzael barely managed to twist out of the way, though the sheer force of the demon's passing strike still knocked him sideways.
"Shadow Pierce!" he barked, thrusting the shadow-forged blade toward the demon's most vulnerable point.
> [Shadow Pierce activated]
[Critical Hit: 1,200 damage]
[Demon Blackfire – EXP +75]
The blow landed true, dark energy tearing through flesh. In the same motion, Arzael invoked Blood Reaving, siphoning the demon's blood as it spilled from the wound, the warmth of it surging back into his body like a stolen heartbeat.
> [Blood Reaving activated]
[HP restored +200]
But the demon's counterattack came with terrifying speed. It pushed back with inhuman strength, leaping clear before unleashing a devastating area-of-effect strike, a shockwave that rippled out from its fists, shattering stone and rattling the very air.
The impact hurled Arzael several meters away, the ground's jagged edges biting into his back.
"Damn it!" he spat, pain flaring sharply through his ribs as the system's cold calculation appeared before his eyes.
His HP plummeted from 850 to roughly 425.
> [+100 EXP]
The pain sharpened his focus.
[Pain Conversion activated]
[STR +50% for 15 seconds]
No hesitation. He called forth the skill he had only just unlocked.
"Blood Manifest!"
The crimson aura within him surged, and with a willful command, his own blood solidified into a gleaming, deep-scarlet spear.
The weapon pulsed with lethal intent, its tip shimmering like a shard of crystallized rage.
> [Blood Manifest activated]
[ATK +25% for 15 seconds]
With a roar, Arzael hurled himself forward, driving the spear into one of the demon's molten-veined weak points.
The weapon punched through, burning his palms with the sheer heat radiating from the creature's body. The demon roared in agony, its cry shaking the ground.
In its fury, the demon's body convulsed, releasing torrents of molten energy through the cracks in the earth, small geysers of lava spraying dangerously close to Arzael.
He darted backward, breathing heavily, his body already covered in bruises and cuts.
"This is… heavier than I expected," he admitted through gritted teeth.
The battle raged on, each exchange brutal and punishing.
The demon's relentless assault tested every ounce of his endurance. And each time its strikes landed, Arzael refused to numb the pain, instead, he embraced it, letting Pain Conversion flood his muscles with raw power.
The Crimson Edge sang with every slash, its edge wet with molten blood.
His Blood Manifest spear drank greedily from the wounds, returning fragments of vitality to him even as his stamina waned.
But the cost was mounting. His body slowed. His HP dwindled.
Then came the demon's ultimate attack, a sweeping burst of black fire, an all-consuming wave that devoured everything within its reach.
Arzael's reflexes weren't enough this time. The flames hit him, burning through armor and flesh alike. [-245 HP] [+ 50 EXP]
His HP bar nosedived, stopping just shy of zero, barely under 200.
"This… might be the end," he rasped, his breath ragged, his vision dimming at the edges. He knew one mistake would mean death, the kind you didn't return from.
The demon's eyes blazed wildly, its killing intent suffocating. It stepped forward for the final strike.
...
..
.
"Damn it...I can't die here".
At that instant, instinct took over. With the last fragment of his willpower, Arzael triggered Gatewalk.
Dark portal swallowed him whole, wrenching him from the brink of death.
[Skill Gatewalk Activated]
A heartbeat later, his boots slammed into familiar soil, the outskirts of Kareth, in the Overworld.
He collapsed to one knee, lungs dragging in the cooler air, each breath searing his chest.
"Hahh...hahhh..."
Blood ran down his arms and legs, dripping onto the dirt below.
He turned his gaze toward the fading shimmer of the portal, the bridge between the realms now flickering out of existence.
"I'll come back for your head bastard… just wait," he whispered and smiled, the words thick with venom.
He knew that battle wasn't over. In truth, it had only just begun.
[Status — Level 15]
Name: Arzael
Race: ???
Level: 15
HP: 180 / 850
MP: 500 / 550
STR: 38
AGI: 33
VIT: 42
INT: 29
LUK: 8
EXP: 255 / 350
Available Stat Points: 10