Bram's anger faltered, replaced by a raw, aching despair.
He stepped forward, grabbing Alaric's shoulders.
His voice dropped to a desperate whisper, trembling with an emotion he usually kept buried under layers of iron.
"If you die out there, I have to go back to Elara.
"I have to look her in the eye and tell her I let her son walk into the maw of the abyss because he asked me to.
"Do you have any idea what that would do to her?
"She would be devastated.
"And I... I wouldn't be able to live with the ghost of that failure.
"You are more than a student to me, Alaric.
"Don't ask me to let you walk to your death.
"You are only seven years old.
Alaric reached out, his hand resting on Bram's massive, scarred forearm.
For a second, the coldness in his eyes softened.
"You won't have to tell here anything Because you taught me well.
"And because you know, deep down, that I am not just a boy.
"Bram. The enemies won't wait for me to reach adulthood. Trust the monster you helped create."
Bram closed his eyes, a single, frustrated tear escaping. He realized he was trying to stop a storm with a wooden shield.
"One day," Bram rasped. "If you aren't back by the following dawn, I'm burning that forest down until I find you.
"And Alaric, if you come back in pieces, I'll kill you myself for making me worry this much."
Dawn was still a distant hope when Alaric slipped out of the inn.
He bypassed the main gates entirely, using Mana Veil (Advanced) to hide his presence to scale the side wall.
He pushed past the Outer zone, ignoring the lesser Imps, and dove straight into the Inner zone, where the mana was so thick with corruption it felt like walking through sludge.
The silence here was absolute. Suddenly, a massive pressure descended.
A figure moved from behind an obsidian pillar of rock. It wasn't the smoke-like scout from before.
This was a Demon Soldier. It stood nearly eight feet tall, clad in jagged, organic armor made of hardened bone and demonic bile. It carried a heavy, rusted cleaver that hummed with demonic energy.
Alaric used appraisal.
Appraisal
[ Target: Demon Soldier (Peak) ]
[ Rank: Soldier (Peak) ]
"The demon didn't hiss; it spoke in a guttural, terrifying tongue. "Little... star... too bright... for the dark."
It moved with a speed that defied its massive size. The cleaver came down like a falling mountain.
[ Second Form: The Horizontal Ward ]
Alaric caught the blow on the flat of his blade, redirecting the colossal force into the ground.
The earth shattered where the cleaver hit, but Alaric was already moving. He felt his bones groan under the residual vibration—a Peak-rank was vastly different from an Early-rank.
"Erosion. " Alaric whispered.
The violet-black mist erupted, clashing with the demon's sickly green mana.
The demon snarled, its bone-armor beginning to crack as the Erosion took hold. It swung a heavy fist, catching Alaric in the ribs.
Alaric flew back, hitting a tree with a sickening thud. He coughed up a spray of blood, his crimson eyes narrowing. The pain didn't slow him it sharpened him.
By pushing his agility to maximum. He vanished mid-air, reappearing above the demon's head
[ First Form: The Vertical Cleave ]
He brought The Quiet Soul down. The blade, brimming with Destruction Essence, bit deep into the demon's shoulder, carving through the "unbreakable" bone armor like it was wet parchment. A chunk of the demon's shoulder disintegrated into grey ash.
The demon roared, a sound that shook the very leaves of the forest. It tried to grab Alaric, its movements becoming frenzied.
"Alaric slid under the demon's reach, his blade trailing a line of nothingness behind it.
[ Third Form: The Rising Thrust ]
"As the demon leaned forward to strike, Alaric drove the sword upward with every ounce of his Strength and Agility. The blade entered through the demon's open maw and exited through the back of its skull.
"Alaric didn't pull the sword out. He pulsed his Destruction Essence directly into the core of the demon's head.
Pfft. The eight-foot monstrosity stiffened, and then, from the head down, it simply dissolved. It didn't leave a corpse—only a massive pile of cold, crystalline ash and a core that glowed with a violent, terrifying intensity.
[ Notification: Soldier (Peak) rank Demon Slain ]
[ Strength: 71 -> 74 ]
[ Agility: 81 -> 83 ]
[ Endurance: 83 -> 85 ]
[ Intelligence: 50 -> 51 ]
[ Will: 68 -> 69 ]
[ Destruction Essence Purity: 2.17% -> 2.30% ]
[ New Active skill Acquired: shadow step (novice) ]
"Alaric stood in the silence, his ribs screaming in pain, his white hair matted with sweat and demonic ichor.
He picked up the Peak-rank core. It was the size of a human heart and pulsed with a rhythm that matched his own.
"One step closer," he whispered, looking toward the deeper heart of the forest. "Mother... I'm still looking at the moon."
The trip back from the Inner zone was a blurred montage of pain and adrenaline. Alaric's ribs were a tapestry of fire, each breath a sharp reminder of the Peak Demon Soldier's crushing blow.
He clutched the demon soldier Peak-rank Core in his leaden hand, the violet crystal pulsing against his palm like a captured heart. The forest around him was unusually still, the lesser demons having fled the effect of the Destruction Essence he had unleashed.
He was barely a mile from the salted earth of the city's perimeter when the silence shifted. It wasn't the heavy, suffocating silence of a demon, it was the clumsy, muffled silence of men.
"Hold it right there, little ghost."
Four figures stepped from behind the jagged obsidian outcrops, blocking the narrow trail. Alaric stopped, his body swaying slightly, his white hair matted with dried ichor. He didn't need Appraisal to recognize the stench of human greed, but he used it anyway.
[ Target: Kael's Vultures ]
[Leader (Kael): Advanced (Early) - Warrior
Sub-leads: 2x Intermediate (Peak) - Rogues
Rear Guard: 1x Intermediate (Early) - Archer]
Kael, a man with a jagged scar running across a greasy forehead, stepped forward. He looked at Alaric's blood-stained tunic and the glowing core in his hand, his eyes widening with a sickening lust.
I saw you leave the gate alone, brat," Kael sneered, his voice dripping with condescension.
"Thought Thorne had finally lost his mind. But look at you... you actually found a shiny pebble. A Peak-Soldier core? That's enough gold to buy a small house in the capital."
"Move," Alaric said. His voice was raspy, but it carried the cold finality of a digging a grave.
The mercenaries erupted in laughter. The archer in the back notched an arrow, mocking him. "Did you hear that?
The toddler's got a bite! Listen, kid, you're pale as a sheet and bleeding through your shirt. Hand over the core and that fancy black sword, and maybe we'll let you crawl back to your nursemaid."
"You are mercenaries of Musk City," Alaric said, his crimson eyes beginning to glow with a dangerous, unstable light. "Your job is to kill demons. To protect the walls. Instead, you hunt children in the dark."
"In this city, kid, we hunt whatever has gold," Kael countered, drawing a notched broadsword. "And right now, you're the biggest prize in the woods. Kill him, boys. Clean and quick—don't want to damage the goods."
Alaric's gaze shifted to the archer, then back to Kael. A faint, terrible smile touched his lips—one that didn't reach his crimson eyes.
"You think because I am small, the world is kind. You think because I am bleeding, I am finished. You've spent so much time hunting lambs that you've forgotten what a predator looks like."