Chapter 3: The Demon's Call
Elvas stepped out of the bathroom, his damp hair clinging to his forehead, his body wrapped in a loose shirt and shorts. The day had wrung him out completely—mockery in the halls, shoves in the locker room, and Elira's strange words still rattling in his mind like an echo he couldn't silence.
He dragged his feet toward the bed, the small room light up by a single streetlamp outside. Its glow fought to push through the grime-streaked window but barely managed, leaving the space in a dull, gray haze.
His backpack sat on the mattress like a weight, a reminder of every shove, every insult, every failure of the day. He shoved it aside, desperate to collapse, to drown himself in sleep and let exhaustion take what little fight he had left.
But then he froze.
His breath hitched, his chest tightening as his gaze locked on something that hadn't been there before.
A book.
A black book lay in the center of his bed, silent and wrong. Its surface gleamed unnaturally smooth, as though it rejected the dust of the world around it. Cold seeped from it without him even touching, an otherness that made the hairs on his arms rise.
He stared at it for a long time, his throat dry, his heart thumping faster with each passing second.
"What the hell…?" he whispered.
Carefully, he reached out, his fingers trembling as they hovered above the book. Every part of him screamed not to touch it, but curiosity gnawed at him like a hunger he couldn't starve.
The weight of it shocked him when he finally lifted it. He had expected paper and leather, but the book was heavier, almost metallic, as though forged rather than bound. Crimson letters carved into its cover seemed to pulse faintly, alive, spelling two chilling words: [Demon System].
Elvas let out a shaky laugh, sharp and bitter, the sound bouncing off the bare walls.
"This has to be a prank," he muttered. His mind jumped instantly to Marcus and his vampire-obsessed crew, the jerks who lived to make his life miserable. "Real funny. What'd you do—sneak this in my bag during practice? Think I'm stupid enough to fall for this crap?"
He tossed the book toward the corner of the bed. It landed with a dull thud, heavier than it had any right to be.
Shaking his head, he pulled the thin blanket up to his chin and shut his eyes, willing himself to sleep, to shove the day and the strange gift into the shadows where it belonged.
But then…
A sound broke the silence.
It was faint at first, a low hum, like a heartbeat drumming through the walls.
Elvas's eyes snapped open. His pulse quickened, panic crawling up his throat. He sat up, his gaze cutting back to the book.
It was glowing.
Red light leaked from its edges, casting sharp, broken shadows across the walls. The pages flipped on their own, turning fast and violent, as though something invisible clawed through them in desperation.
Elvas scrambled off the bed, his bare toes curling against the cold floor, every muscle in his body tight.
"What the hell…" His voice cracked. He wanted to run, but his body betrayed him. The glow pulled him closer, an unseen tether dragging him forward.
Step by step, he moved until he stood before it again. His hand lifted on its own, fingers trembling as they hovered over the surface. The air around the book pressed heavy against his chest, making it hard to breathe.
And then his skin touched it.
A jolt ripped through him, sharp and electric, his vision snapping to black. His body crumpled like a puppet with its strings cut, hitting the floor without a sound.
When he opened his eyes again, the world was gone.
He stood in a place that defied everything—vast, endless, drenched in shadow. The ground beneath him was smooth and polished, black as obsidian. No room, no walls, no sky—just a void stretching forever, swallowing light, sound, and sense.
The air pressed hard on his lungs, heavy enough to make him stumble.
"Where am I?" His voice cracked in the emptiness, sounding small, swallowed instantly by the dark.
And then came the sound.
A deep hum, like the heartbeat of the world itself, rolled through the void. Red letters bled into existence before him, floating in the air, each one glowing with unnatural fire.
[System awakened. Owner: Elvas Das.]
The words echoed inside his skull, a cold voice reverberating from within rather than around.
Elvas staggered back, clutching his head, eyes darting wildly.
"What are you?" he shouted. "What is this place?"
More words formed, pulsing in rhythm with the hum.
[You have awakened the Demon System. Complete tasks to unlock special abilities and gain power.]
Elvas let out a sharp, humorless laugh, panic twisting it into something almost feral.
"This is hell, isn't it? I'm dead, and this is hell." He turned in frantic circles, searching for anything—a door, a wall, someone watching. But the darkness was endless.
"This has to be a dream," he whispered. "A joke. Something I'll wake up from."
The voice cut through his denial, flat and merciless. [This is no dream, Elvas Das. This is your system world. Time freezes here until you return to your reality.]
His chest rose and fell fast. He pressed his hands into his face, fingernails scraping his scalp.
"Maybe I've finally lost it," he muttered. "Maybe I'm crazy."
But the letters waited patiently, glowing steady, undeniable.
Elvas dropped his hands, his voice rising with anger to mask the fear coiling in his stomach. "Fine! If this is real, then stop messing with me. What do you want?"
The glow shifted, reshaping itself into new words.
[First task: Jump from a school building, five feet tall, to unlock a chance at one power ability.]
Elvas's jaw dropped. He let out another laugh, this one bitter and broken.
"You're kidding, right? Jump off a building? What, you think I'm suicidal? You want me to smash my legs just to 'earn' something I don't even understand?"
He spat the words into the dark. "What kind of twisted game is this?"
The response came instantly, unyielding. [This is no test. The task must be completed.
If you refuse, there is a second phase.]
Elvas's blood ran cold. His fists clenched at his sides, nails biting into his palms.
"What second phase?" His voice cracked with a mix of rage and fear. "What happens if I say no?"
The red words pulsed brighter, pressing against him like the edge of a blade against his throat.
[If the host fails to activate the task, a player will be deleted from existence.]
Elvas froze. His breath caught, his mind struggling to wrap around the word.
"Deleted?" he whispered, the sound fragile in the crushing dark. "What does that mean? Deleted how? Deleted who?"
He took a step back, shaking his head violently.
"Who are these players you're talking about?"
The void grew colder, the silence pressing in heavier, as if it leaned close to listen. The next words carved themselves in front of him, each one final, heavy with a cruel certainty.
[If the host refuses the task, a player will be added.]