The sky above this floor was a permanent shade of blood-orange, as if the sun itself had been bled dry.
I hovered above the cliffs that overlooked the warzone—what the demons called the "Fields of Tempering."
Below, chaos moved with purpose.
Orcs and demons. Two races that should've torn each other apart. And yet here, they trained. They fought. They bled.
Not for peace.
But for power.
The orcs had claimed the southeastern canyons, building war camps with bone walls and leather tents stitched from beast skin.
They trained from dusk till the next dusk—because night never truly fell on this floor.
Their routine was brutal.
Morning: Physical punishment. Dragging iron chains, punching boulders, wrestling until someone passed out.
Midday: Sparring in pits soaked with old blood. No rest. No food. Only water.
Evening: Hunt. Not for meat—but for monsters. Survival wasn't a requirement. Kill counts were.
I watched one orc get gutted by a sand-scaled panther. No one moved to help. He was still breathing when the panther left.
They just left him there.
Honor in death. Glory in pain.
Typical orcs.
The demons, though… they were different.
No camps. No banners.
They lived in cracks in the earth—burrows carved into cursed rock that oozed ash.
They didn't train with blades. They trained with pacts.
Each day, a demon would challenge another to a "Writ Duel."
Loser loses something valuable—a memory, a name, a limb.
The winners? They gained whispers. Power. New forms.
In the center of the demon territory stood a circle of blackened thrones.
None sat on them.
They weren't ready.
But I knew one day, one of them would sit there and call himself King.
The fights between demons weren't loud.
No screaming. No charging.
Just two figures—circling, muttering, erupting in sudden flashes of red lightning or cursed flame.
No mercy. No rest.
And every time one of them died, the land around blackened further.
That was the rule.
For demons, death meant evolution.
I watched one of them tear his own shadow off and use it as a blade.
Another summoned a dozen faces, each screaming a different language, before hurling them into his opponent.
The orcs saw them as cowards.
The demons saw the orcs as beasts.
And I saw potential in both.
I didn't make them to be friends.
I made them to sharpen each other.
The center of the world was barren.
Not dead—just waiting.
That's where I built it.
Stone by stone, using remnants of ruined altars and cursed spires from other floors. Bones from extinct beasts. Obsidian melted down and reforged with blood.
The Evil Church.
Not just a place of worship. A symbol. A throne.
Its spires pierced the clouds, humming with chaotic energy. Its doors were sealed shut by a curse that only opened for those who had bled for the dark.
Inside, the altar pulsed with demonic heat. A red flame burned above it, unending, like a heart that never stopped beating.
At the center sat a throne of black stone twisted by demonic roots.
No one sat on it.
Yet.
But that would change.
I left a prophecy embedded into the church's foundation:
"Only when chaos conquers the tower, all believers shall pray. The one who sits upon this throne shall become the Demonic Saint."
he would be no priestess of peace.
No.
The Demonic Saint would be the conduit of infernal energy. A living key to unlock the dark teachings I buried in this floor.
Whoever claimed the seat would awaken the ability to sense and channel demonic energy—the chaotic force born from death, hatred, and twisted purpose.
But learning it would not be safe.
For each skill taught, a price must be paid. Memory. Humanity. Control.
Here's what the Demonic Saint would unlock:
SYSTEM UPDATE: EVIL CHURCH UNVEILED
[New Title Available: Demonic Saint]
[Requirement: Bind the Throne of Ash with your blood and survive the Trial of Madness.]
[Blessing of the Demonic Flame [Passive]:You passively absorb ambient demonic energy from the world. Increases resistance to dark, curse, and madness effects.
Infernal Weave [Active]:You may manipulate demonic energy into tendrils, flames, or projectiles. Shape depends on willpower and creativity.
Taint of Knowledge [Teaching Skill ]:Allows the Demonic Saint to teach other beings how to perceive and cultivate demonic energy. Use with caution. Taint spreads.
Sanctum of Sin [Territory – Unique]:As long as the Demonic Saint remains on the throne, the Church radiates a demonic aura that empowers all chaotic beings and corrupts nearby land over time.
Note: The Demonic Saint will not be able to leave this world Until the prophecy is realized]
I didn't choose a Saint.
I built the throne and left it empty.
Because whoever reaches it will not do so by kindness or fate.
They will kill, claw, manipulate, or break themselves to claim it.
That's the kind of teacher this tower needs.