The ash-laden wind clawed at Aric's skin as dawn seeped through the fractured skyline. The ruined city stretched before him like a corpse frozen in time, streets jagged and silent, buildings twisted as if writhing in pain. Every fragment of concrete, every charred sign, carried memory—the lingering echo of a world that had died slowly, its screams swallowed by the rise of demons.
Aric rose from the collapsed apartment's corner, Lyra still asleep beside him. The Sorrow System hummed faintly in his veins, a constant reminder of the energy that now defined him. It had grown more insistent overnight, eager to draw strength from the world's suffering. Every sound of the wind, every shift of debris, every distant scream sent pulses of power surging through him. Hunger coiled in his stomach, but it was not for food alone; it was the Sorrow System demanding sustenance, demanding more than he could yet give.
Lyra stirred at his movement. Her eyes, sharp and alert, scanned the shadows as if expecting them to spring to life. "Another day," she murmured, voice rough but steady. "How do we survive this?"
Aric's jaw tightened. Survival wasn't enough. Not anymore. He had tasted power, however fleeting, and the world had shown him that only strength dictated life and death. "Carefully," he said. "Every step matters. And we're not alone out there—humans, demons, and…others."
They moved cautiously through the ruined streets, scavenging as they went. Each alleyway, each toppled car, each fractured building was a test. The Sorrow System guided Aric's instincts: residual fear from a scavenger hiding in a corner, echoes of pain from a fallen demon, subtle tremors in the cracked concrete beneath his feet. Feeding on these traces gave him energy, but he felt the weight of it pressing against his mind. The system demanded balance—take too much, and the echoes of suffering would overwhelm him; take too little, and survival became impossible.
By mid-morning, they reached the ruins of an old hospital. Its windows were shattered, doors hanging crooked from rusted hinges. The smell of rot and antiseptic lingered in the air, mingling with ash and smoke. Aric could feel the Sorrow System react immediately: echoes of panic from trapped patients, the residual terror of failed healers, the quiet despair of those who had lingered too long before succumbing. The energy was intoxicating, but he kept control, letting only a fraction flow through him.
As they explored the building, a low growl resonated from the shadows. Aric's heart tightened. This was no minor demon; the aura of malice and suffering was intense, layered, and precise. From the broken hallway emerged a twisted abomination, limbs bending unnaturally, claws blackened and jagged, skin mottled with scars of previous fights. Its eyes glowed with an unnatural green light, intelligent and cruel.
Lyra froze, gripping her spear, but Aric stepped forward. The Sorrow System thrummed, guiding him. He didn't just attack; he absorbed, manipulated, and redirected the creature's own fear. The battle was brutal, every strike, dodge, and movement feeding both survival and the Sorrow System. Pain flared through him—not physical, but mental—as echoes of the creature's terror pressed against his mind. Each feeding sharpened his reflexes, honed his senses, and forced him to confront the moral cost of the power he wielded.
Minutes—or hours, time blurred—later, the abomination lay defeated, dissolving into a mist of shadow. Aric staggered, drained yet exhilarated. The Sorrow System pulsed more strongly than ever, hungry, insistent, whispering of growth and potential.
"Aric…" Lyra's voice trembled, a mixture of awe and fear. "You…you keep changing. What is happening to you?"
He swallowed hard, feeling the weight of the question. "I…survive," he said finally. "And the system…it feeds on suffering. That's all I know."
The day stretched on as they scavenged through the hospital, finding supplies—cans of food, bottles of water, scraps of metal that could become weapons. Every step carried risk; every shadow might conceal death. Aric began to sense patterns, the rhythm of fear and survival around him, learning how to feed subtly, efficiently, and without losing himself completely to the Sorrow System's pull.
By evening, they had moved to a collapsed library, an improbable refuge amidst the ruins. Books lay scattered, pages yellowed and torn, stories long forgotten. Aric's eyes lingered on the remnants of knowledge, feeling a pang of something he hadn't felt in weeks: longing for a world that had died quietly while monsters rose.
Night fell, bringing with it a new threat: the distant, deliberate rustling of human movement. Bandits, scavengers, anyone desperate enough to take from the weak. Aric and Lyra hid, using the shadows as allies. The Sorrow System whispered, detecting subtle fear and anticipation in their approach. He could feed, strike, or simply observe—but he restrained himself. Humans were not demons; the moral line was thin, but it existed.
The bandits passed, leaving behind only echoes of tension. Aric exhaled slowly, letting the system settle. Lyra looked at him, eyes wide with a mixture of fear and admiration. "You…you really are different now," she said.
"I have to be," he replied. "If I don't grow stronger, we won't survive. Not here, not ever."
As they settled for the night, Aric's mind turned to Malric. The man's warning echoed in his thoughts, a lingering chill. The Sorrow System responded, not with hunger but with recognition—powerful presences like Malric's were rare, dangerous, and irresistible. He would have to learn how to face them, survive them, and maybe even understand them.
Far above the ruined skyline, the first whispers of the Demon King's attention brushed against the edges of Aric's consciousness. The world was watching, testing, and waiting.
Aric clenched his fists, shadows flickering across the walls. The journey had grown more dangerous. But he would endure. He would grow stronger. And the Sorrow System would ensure he did not fail.
The night stretched on, dark and endless. Ash fell like snow. Shadows moved. And in the depths of the ruined city, a boy with the power of sorrow and the will to survive began to forge himself into something that even the darkness might fear.