As soon as Lennon clicked "yes," the system window materialized before his eyes, translucent and floating, displaying only the essential information, as if it were a mirror of what he had already achieved:
[Name: Lennon Park]
[Origin: Human]
[Path of Transcendence: Demonic 1% / 100% (reason: due to the pact made with a demon, you can only transcend into another demon)]
[Class: —]
[Title: —]
[Strength: 23]
[Endurance: 23]
[Perception: 57]
[Popularity on Earth: 80%]
[Latent Ability Unlocked: 1/10
— Awakening of Knowledge.]
—
—
[Note: Only information available at this time. The bearer must discover the way to progress on his own; we merely display in the window what has already been achieved.]
Lennon furrowed his brow, analyzing every number, every detail. Small, yet significant – these figures didn't tell the full story, only what he had accomplished so far. The rest he would have to uncover, decipher, conquer… and survive.
The idea of transcending into a demon wasn't a choice; it was a sentence his own pact had already signed.
He felt, with terrifying clarity, that the process would not shape a new body, but dissolve the old one. It wouldn't expand his power, but rewrite his soul line by line, until nothing of the human Lennon Park remained.
But on the other hand, he also knew that staying as he was meant certain damnation.
To be the prisoner always led to slaughter, the eternal victim of the system, was not an option. The horror he had already endured – endless deaths, relentless pain, the eyes of other prisoners, the madness spreading around him – all of it screamed at him: if he didn't evolve, if he didn't transcend somehow, he would be nothing but another statistic in the arena of eternity.
Lennon clenched his fists, feeling the weight of choice and the urgency of survival. Fear mixed with pride, ambition, and rage. He refused to bow. He refused to be just another.
"If I must become a demon… then I'll be my own kind of demon," he thought, determination sparking even within the terror.
And in that instant, the silent promise of power and transcendence began to take root in his mind. Step by step, he knew he had to survive – not only to win, but to dominate what awaited him.
Lennon drew a deep breath and chose to explore the book further.
As he opened the next page, he was confronted by a massive index, packed with summaries and subdivisions, each more complex than the last. His heart pounded; it was evident that transcendence would not be simple – every step a trial, every decision a trap or an opportunity.
As he skimmed through, he realized something he had previously overlooked: all the information the guide had given him in the arena was actually recorded here, detailed, meticulously organized.
He understood now – the book was more than a mere manual. It was a codification of the world around him: the rules, the traps, the paths to power. But due to the pact's limitations, they knew nothing.
Curious, he jumped ahead to the most critical section: methods of transcendence. What he found terrified him.
There were seeds, manifestos, designations, and archetypes for transcending into a demon, each with its own traits, complex functions, and terrifyingly powerful benefits.
The sheer weight of the information almost made him recoil. Had he been the old Lennon, without his new clarity and heightened intellect, he would have simply gone insane.
Looking again at the scriptures and drawings on the walls, it all began to make sense.
The words, once incomprehensible, now aligned with the book's paths.
The symbols in the crystal reflected light that revealed subtle patterns and connections, as though the entire environment were speaking directly to him.
Lennon felt both fear and awe: the magnitude of the knowledge here crushed him, yet drew him in irresistibly.
For a moment, he saw himself at the center of it all – surrounded by information that could transform him, but that could also destroy him if misinterpreted.
The sensation of potential power blended with a cold dread: each path chosen would be final, and mistakes would not be forgiven.
And still, something inside him ignited. He knew he had to decipher it, to understand every detail if he wanted to survive – and eventually – to transcend.
Lennon could not shake the overwhelming presence of the demonic entity that had made the guardians tremble.
The memory of its red eyes and almost supernatural magnetism made him shiver.
He decided, then, to decipher the words spoken in that strange tongue he had once heard:
"Kra'thul vesh'mar! Ulthar se n'korr! Ish'vak drel noht se thu'raan!"
"Ulthar! Khr'taan se vesh'mar! Ish'vak n'drallak ulth se!"
When he finally understood them, the truth was even more terrifying:
"Useless guardians! This is all so far? Do you think I'm here for decoration? The higher ranks should already be supplied!"
"Tell your superior guardian that I don't tolerate delays twice!"
The voice, even now only an echo in his memory, resonated with such authority and power that even Lennon, accustomed to the horrors of prison, felt a chill run down his spine.
He realized there were forces in that world beyond comprehension, and that the demons he knew were merely pawns of something far greater.
"Damn it! I need to get stronger and transcend soon!" Lennon thought, the weight of fear and urgency crushing his mind.
He turned back to the book, now focused entirely on the first step of transcendence:
"Plant your seed."
His heart raced. What seemed like a simple phrase revealed itself to be an abyss of possibilities, a starting point that would define his entire future existence.
He read that the seed was the primordial impulse of a demon, divided into seven great families, each with more than a hundred variations. The weight of that responsibility made him hesitate. Seven families… each defining an entire path of existence.
The families were:
Hunger,
Pain,
Power,
Knowledge,
Vanity,
Chaos,
and Death.
Each with its own traits and distinct forms. He realized demons were usually born already bound to these impulses, impulses that dictated their very reason for existence, some even bearing more than one. But for his ascension to transcendence, he was allowed to choose only one.
"What? Why can't I have more than one?!" he thought, unease rising within him.
If demons could possess multiple seeds, why should he – who sought to be stronger than any other – be limited?
Lennon began to read through each seed with intense focus:
Hunger – Impulse: to consume.
Its variations included: hunger for flesh, for souls, for memories, for time, for power…
He swallowed hard. The complexity was staggering. Each kind of hunger had its own subthemes and intricate branches. It wasn't about satisfying a craving, but about carrying an impulse that could devour his very humanity or rationality.
Seed of Pain – Impulse: to suffer or to inflict suffering.
Some demons thrived on the pain they inflicted, others on the pain they endured.
Lennon frowned, his stomach twisting. Growth through suffering? Evolution through inflicting pain? It seemed cruel and merciless – yet fascinating.
He kept reading, absorbing each detail, each consequence.
Confusion and tension coiled within him.
He couldn't choose impulsively; the decision demanded reflection. If it were the old Lennon, he might have rushed straight toward Power. But now he understood: every choice carried disadvantages.
A seed could limit his freedom, corrupt his mind, or bind him to rituals he could never ignore.
Lennon drew a deep breath, fully aware that the path of transcendence was not just about strength or ambition.
Every detail mattered. Every choice bore radical consequences. He could not retreat. Not now. The situation pushed him forward, no matter the cost.
And when the weight of the moment seemed unbearable, the system appeared, breaking the silence:
[The bearer possesses knowledge of the seeds. You are qualified to have as many as you desire – provided you conquer them!]
Lennon's eyes widened, disbelief and anxiety clashing within him.
Finally, there was a chance to define his own path.
But the cost… the cost would be immense.