I went small.
Very small.
Fur. Whiskers. Tiny claws. A heartbeat quick enough to pass for normal.
A rodent.
Unremarkable. Ignored. Exactly what I needed.
The structure revealed itself slowly as I slipped through cracks in stone and gaps beneath warped wooden doors. From the outside, it looked like nothing more than an abandoned ruin swallowed by the forest.
Inside—
Yeah.
This was textbook.
Symbols carved into walls in looping, jagged patterns. Circles etched into the floor, some still faintly glowing. Rooms clearly designated for very specific purposes—worship, storage, preparation.
And sacrifice.
I paused at the threshold of one such room, whiskers twitching.
Chains.
Altars.
Dried blood.
And… occupants.
Humans. Elves. A dwarf. Some alive. Some not. All restrained.
"…Wow," I thought flatly. "You guys really committed to the aesthetic."
If there was a checklist for "suspicious cult behavior," they had completed it with enthusiasm.
I moved on.
No point interfering yet. Observation first. Always.
Deeper in, the air changed.
Thicker.
Heavier.
Charged with something that felt… wrong. Not like the mana I'd been experimenting with. This was denser. Sharper. Like it wanted to cut instead of flow.
Voices echoed ahead.
Chanting.
Low at first, then rising, layering over itself in rhythmic repetition. Words I didn't recognize—but I understood the structure.
Invocation.
Calling something.
I crept closer, hugging the shadows along the wall, slipping between loose stones until I had a clear view into the main chamber.
A circle.
Of course.
Cultists arranged around it, hands raised, voices unified. In the center, something was forming—not visible yet, but present.
Then the chanting stopped.
For half a second, there was silence.
Then—
Screaming.
Not ritualistic.
Not controlled.
Panic.
The circle detonated inward, not outward. Space twisted. Something forced its way through, tearing the air apart as it entered.
The first cultist died instantly.
Not killed—consumed. Body collapsing in on itself, something invisible ripping through flesh and pulling… something deeper out with it.
The rest didn't last long.
The thing—whatever it was—moved fast. Too fast. Shadows warped around it, stretching, snapping, reforming as it tore through the room.
Flesh.
Bone.
Soul.
All taken.
I didn't need to see clearly to understand what had just happened.
"…They summoned a demon," I concluded.
And lost control of it immediately.
Classic.
Within moments, the chamber was silent again.
Except for movement.
The demon wasn't done.
It was hunting.
Moving through the facility, tearing into anything it found. Doors shattered. Walls cracked. Screams cut short almost as soon as they began.
I stayed still.
And thought.
Two options.
Option one: engage.
The demon now had a physical form. That mattered. If I could consume it, I might gain something new. Something valuable.
Or I might get nothing useful at all.
Or worse.
Option two: avoid.
Wait it out. Let the demon finish. Then consume what remained. Safe. Efficient. Low risk.
I hesitated.
For maybe half a second.
"…Yeah, no."
Option one.
I wasn't here to play it safe forever.
I followed the destruction.
Found it in what used to be a storage hall—now a broken, blood-slick corridor filled with the remains of cultists who had made very poor life choices.
The demon turned as I entered.
For a moment, we both just… looked at each other.
It didn't see a threat.
Good.
I moved first.
I dropped the rodent form instantly, expanding outward in a violent surge of flesh. Limbs—too many limbs—lashed outward, wrapping, constricting, sealing off space.
The demon reacted, claws slashing through parts of me, tearing sections apart.
Didn't matter.
I was already inside its range.
I collapsed inward.
Swallowed it.
Not cleanly. Not neatly. It fought—hard. Its body resisted, its form shifting, trying to break free, trying to escape the biological trap I'd turned myself into.
I didn't let it.
Cells flooded in.
Injection triggered.
My genetic sequences forced their way into its structure—not clean like with animals, not stable like with the hydra.
Violent.
Chaotic.
But it worked.
The demon's body began producing me.
At the same time, I consumed it—layer by layer, structure by structure, pulling apart whatever made it function.
It took longer than expected.
Then—
It stopped resisting.
Silence.
I stabilized.
Reformed.
And realized—
"…Huh."
I felt different.
Not just physically.
Knowledge settled into place, not like raw data, but like practiced motion. Familiar. Instinctive.
How to shape mana—
No.
Not mana.
Something else.
Demonic magic.
I flexed experimentally, and dark energy responded immediately, coiling around my form like it had always belonged there.
"…Okay, that's new."
Alongside it came fragments.
Not memories like a life.
More like… usage logs.
Techniques.
Patterns.
How to do things.
I paused.
Because something about that didn't line up.
I had consumed a mage before.
An adventurer.
And I hadn't gained this.
No instant knowledge. No built-in understanding. I had to figure magic out from scratch.
But now?
From a demon?
I got the manual.
I stood there, surrounded by the aftermath of the cult's very bad day, and frowned internally.
"…That's inconsistent."
Which raised a bigger question.
Did this world's power system operate on rules—
Or convenience?
Because if it was the latter…
"…that's going to be annoying."
I looked down at my new form, at the energy coiling around me, responding without resistance.
Then back at the empty, ruined chamber.
"…Still worth it," I decided.
Because regardless of how the system worked—
I had something new to play with.
And this time…
I had instructions.