He set his sights on the black, ruined citadel looming in the distance. The walls were forged from stone darker than obsidian, fractured by deep cracks that glowed faintly with rivulets of magma. Each pulse of molten light was like the beat of a diseased heart, spreading its oppressive aura into the desolate air.
It was still suffocating, heavy enough to remind him where he stood. Yet compared to the first time he arrived in this forsaken place, the weight had lessened.
"Hmm… still strong," Arzael muttered, his voice carrying a cold amusement. "But not the crushing weight it once was."
He stopped his advance. Crimson Edge rested lazily on his shoulder, the weapon's dark glow reflecting in his eyes. A slow grin tugged at his lips.
"But first… let's prepare properly."
"Infernal Exchange."
The familiar black-and-red screen unfolded before him, glowing runes spinning like gears.
[Infernal Exchange]
A market where Soul Shards collected from defeated creatures can be traded for powerful items and skills.
Soul Shards: 30540
Available Items:
Small HP Potion (Common) — 50 SS
Restores 25% HP.
Medium HP Potion (Uncommon) — 100 SS
Restores 50% HP.
Small MP Potion (Common) — 100 SS
Restores 25% MP.
Medium MP Potion (Uncommon) — 200 SS
Restores 50% MP.
Fire Dagger (Uncommon) — 400 SS
A short blade with weak fire enchantment. +10 ATK.
Iron Armor (Common) — 300 SS
Basic protection. +5 DEF.
Shadow Cloak (Rare) — 1000 SS
Increases evasion chance by 30%.
Soul Ring (Rare) — 1000 SS
+5% MP regeneration.
Warhammer (Uncommon) — 800 SS
Heavy weapon, deals bonus damage to armored foes.
Blood Amulet (Rare) — 1500 SS
Heals 5% HP for every enemy defeated.
Infernal Grimoire Lv.1 (Minor Magic) (Uncommon) — 1200 SS
Unlocks one random minor magic spell (Fire Spark, Ice Needle, or Shadow Bind).
Available Skills:
Flame Burst — 500 SS
Release a small fire explosion. Cooldown: 30s.
Stone Skin — 700 SS
Reduce damage taken by 15% for 10s. Cooldown: 1m.
Blood Slash — 1200 SS
Consumes 5% HP to unleash a stronger attack.
Soul Chain — 1500 SS
Bind an enemy for 3s. Cooldown: 40s.
Use your Soul Shards wisely; the Infernal Exchange will reveal greater treasures as you grow stronger.
Arzael scanned the list with narrowed eyes.
"Tch. Still selling trash even though I've leveled this much…"
Yet three items glimmered at him like jewels in a pit of filth—the Shadow Cloak, the Soul Ring, the Blood Amulet. Priceless tools, not for comfort, but for survival.
He didn't hesitate.
[Soul Ring Purchased: -1000 SS]
[Blood Amulet Purchased: -1500 SS]
[Shadow Cloak Purchased: -1000 SS]
His smirk deepened. "A little shopping spree won't hurt."
Then, like a seasoned hunter, he restocked the basics
[Medium HP Potion ×10 Purchased: -1000 SS]
[Medium MP Potion ×10 Purchased: -2000 SS]
[Items Stored]
Slowly, Arzael unclasped his old cloak, the same battered garment he had worn since Kareth. Its once-proud weave was nothing but ash and tatters now, burned and torn from months of endless battles. For a moment, his eyes softened.
"Thank you… for staying with me this long."
He flicked it toward the flowing river of lava. The flames devoured it instantly, reducing everything to drifting gray ash.
[Inventory Accessed]
[Soul Ring Equipped]
[Blood Amulet Equipped]
[Shadow Cloak Equipped]
The new cloak slid over him like a living shadow. Its fabric drank in all surrounding light, flowing heavy on his shoulders, its collar rising high in grim majesty. Each step he took left behind faint trails of darkness, as though another figure lingered behind him, mirroring his movements.
"Heh… stylish."
Arzael adjusted the collar, tightened his grip on Crimson Edge, and walked toward the citadel.
[Warning! You have entered the Palace of the Ruler of Layer 1]
The message made his grin widen. He remembered the whispers of the demons he had slain last time, the word they had choked out with their dying breaths. Heir.
"I'll find the truth inside…"
The gates of the citadel loomed ahead. No guards. No sound. Nothing but silence.
"Strange," he murmured, eyes narrowing. "A Castle this massive without a single demon?"
WHOOSH!
A black spear screamed through the air, fast as lightning. Arzael tilted his head slightly. The spear howled past, burying itself into the wall behind him. Stone cracked and splintered like glass.
His gaze followed the trajectory. High on a balcony, a figure stood, a humanoid demon with a spear crowned in black flames. For a heartbeat, their eyes locked. Then, as if swallowed whole by the citadel itself, the demon vanished into the shadows.
Arzael's lips twitched. "Strong one…" he muttered, resting Crimson Edge back against his shoulder.
The grand entrance yawned before him. Echoing footsteps thundered within, followed by a low tremor that shook the ground.
From the colossal doorway emerged ten Flame Berserkers, hulking beasts of molten rock and magma veins, each wielding axes the size of trees. Their every step scorched the floor.
"Greater demons," Arzael whispered.
His eyes flashed. [Threat Level Activated.] All ten ignited in his vision with a furious burning orange. Dangerous. But not enough.
In the blink of an eye, Arzael vanished.
Crimson Edge sang through the air.
SHRAKK!
The first Berserker's head rolled free, magma spraying like a geyser. The rest roared in fury, weapons crashing down in unison. But Arzael's body melted into shadows, the new cloak bending reality around him. Their axes struck only stone, shattering the ground into molten debris.
Arzael reappeared above the second demon, bringing his blade down in a savage slash. The creature split clean in half, collapsing into sludge.
The third lunged. Arzael landed on its shoulders, waiting, calm, almost amused. Another Berserker swung blindly. At the last moment, he slipped away. The axe cleaved its comrade in two.
Three dead. Seven remained.
Arzael tilted his head, dark smile curling. "Kneel, and become my subordinates. Do that… and I'll forgive your lives."
Their only response was fury. The magma in their veins blazed brighter, the Wrath of Hell itself burning in their cores.
"Bad choice."
They charged.
Arzael spun, Crimson Edge glowing with crimson-black light. He unleashed a whirlwind slash.
FWOOOSH!
Seven heads flew. Seven bodies crumbled to ash.
[Level Up! 52 → 53]
Arzael flicked magma off his blade. "High-ranking demons… once they're insulted, their rage blinds them. Stronger, yes. But reckless."
The palace swallowed him whole. Endless corridors stretched out before him, carved murals of forgotten ages etched into the walls, shattered weapons strewn across the ground.
"Artifacts," he mused. "Worth a fortune in the overworld."
But the shadows stirred.
Low growls slithered through the dark. Scorch Hounds emerged, magma dripping from their fangs, eyes burning like coals. Dozens.
Arzael surged forward. His blade flashed. Each kill burst into an eruption of lava, but his movements were flawless, twists, rolls, slashes. Untouched.
He pressed deeper. Darkness thickened. The ground trembled. The walls cracked. From them crawled Magma Crawlers, insectoid demons glowing like furnaces. Their swollen bodies pulsed with unstable heat.
"A trap, huh?"
One by one, they detonated, flooding the corridor with inferno blasts. But Arzael's figure flickered ahead, untouched, his cloak drinking in the fiery light.
Minutes of slaughter passed. Ambush after ambush. Until he entered a vast chamber.
The walls pulsed with rivers of lava, veins glowing brighter with every throb. Before a blackened throne stood two figures.
Massive. Humanoid. Each nearly three meters tall. Their skins were cracked obsidian, magma veins glowing like molten chains beneath the surface. Their presence crashed against him, twin auras colliding like colliding storms.
One held a spear wreathed in dark fire. The other gripped a colossal magma axe. Their faces… identical.
They stared at Arzael. Silence filled the chamber, broken only by the hissing of dripping magma.
Then the spear-bearer stepped forward. His voice was deep, regal, vibrating through the chamber.
"Allow me to introduce myself, human… I am Pyrrhos."
The axe-bearer followed, voice like a quake splitting mountains.
"And I am Pyrrhas."
The twins grinned together, magma dripping from their weapons.
"In this palace…" they spoke in unison, voices overlapping like a curse,
"no mortal walks out alive."