The night sky had begun to change—not in brightness, but in tone. The constellations whispered among themselves, faint tremors of warning that something unnatural had stirred. One star, long arrogant and indifferent, shivered.
Azkarel had left the village in ruin behind him, his first Chain broken, his hunger tasted, but the world was larger than a single valley. The constellations had families, and their families were mortal. Soft, trusting, ignorant—they slept under the same stars that had laughed at his birth. And now, they would learn fear.
The Chains pulsed faintly under his skin, the System whispering titles and hints of skills yet unearned. Not all rewards are power. Some are patience, some are cruelty, some are the subtle shaping of despair.
System Message:[Next Quest: First Celestial Kin – Observe. Defile. Devour.]
Azkarel approached the first family quietly, slipping past their walls as though he were part of the shadows themselves. They were a simple household: two adults, three children, and a dog sleeping near the fire. The constellations above did not know their own family's life was about to become a stage.
Azkarel did not strike immediately. He observed. He smelled their fear even before they knew it existed. Then, with Gluttony of the Void, he whispered promises of sustenance into the air, invisible, corrupting their senses. Food rotted in their mouths, warmth in their beds turned to ice, and the dog yelped at shadows that weren't there.
He began small. The youngest child's doll was torn apart from inside, stuffing transformed into black, crawling maggots. The parents screamed at the sudden infestation, but the screams only strengthened the Chains. Every fear tasted like spice; every terror enhanced his patience.
He moved with patience and intent. Using Shroud of Wailing, his presence twisted their emotions—laughter became hysteria, whispers became frantic confessions of sins never committed. He did not touch them yet; the act itself was a prolonged agony.
When he finally struck, it was surgical. Limbs twisted unnaturally as if reality itself bent to his will. Flesh split, bone snapped, but the pain was only part of the lesson. He rearranged their bodies in grotesque tableaux, forcing them to witness each other's suffering, every shriek amplified through the Chains to feed his growing understanding of despair.
System Reward:[Skill Upgrade: Tongue of Lies – Distort perceptions, induce false memories.][Title Unlocked: Kin-Slayer – Observed by constellations as a harbinger of ruin.]
Azkarel leaned close to the family's patriarch, whispering with his new skill: promises of mercy, safety, and forgiveness—lies that curled around the man's mind until his heart shattered from confusion. Azkarel's teeth sank into flesh not just to consume but to deliver the ultimate betrayal: they were being destroyed by someone who pretended to care.
The night ended in silence. Bodies were broken, minds warped, and shadows lingered where light should have been. Azkarel stepped back, small and pale, hands slick with the remnants of his art. The constellations above twitched in alarm. One dimmed entirely.
Zorvak's laughter came from the void, soft and approving. "Each act is a lesson, child. Observe not just their flesh, but their hope. It is sweeter than any meal. Devour it slowly. Let it scream. Let it remember your name—Azkarel."
The boy smiled. Hunger thrummed through him, but he did not feel more powerful. No, this was only a first lesson. Every skill, every reward, had weight—but power must be subtle, devious, and corrupt. To strike too hard, too fast, would be to ruin the artistry.
He looked up at the sky and whispered:
"Let them watch. Let them remember. Let them beg. And then… I will give them a Sweet Death."