Tinitos was sitting on the steps leading to the Demon King's castle, watching a butterfly with crimson veins struggle to escape the corruption. Hope seemed to fade little by little, until it finally fell dead onto the stone.
The deepest corrupted zone looked much like the border—gray and lifeless. But there, the laws of physics no longer worked as they were supposed to. You could see holes in space that could transport you to another corner of the universe if you were unlucky enough to fall into one, or structures built in midair that ignored every known gravitational rule. The demon wondered if the Primordial of Gravity would be annoyed if he saw it.
He sighed and lowered his gaze; the ground trembled faintly under him, shaken by the heated argument between Tiberius and the chief.
I wonder if it's got something to do with our little bet with the summoned one, he thought, stretching lazily.
Then, the great doors burst open with a violent shock. Debris rained down, and some poor bastard ended up crushed under a massive rock. Tiberius emerged, frowning, while the leader's voice thundered behind him:
"Mature already, Tiberius."
The command struck like an earthquake. Tiberius clenched his jaw and glanced at Tinitos, who stared back with a blank expression that only seemed to irritate the Behemoth further.
"I thought you'd be in a better mood after finding yourself a rival," said the noble, while the mid-ranked demon stood up and followed a few steps behind.
Tiberius's human form was, ironically, more intimidating to demons than his true one; it was a reminder that even like this, he was above them.
"I wouldn't call him a rival," Tinitos replied with a sigh. "He was too weak."
Tiberius gave him a sideways glance.
"I thought you'd at least enjoy breaking his spirit or something." The noble lifted his gaze toward the sky, where a colossal vortex was forming, painting the horizon red.
"I guess," said Tinitos with a hint of gloom. "But I don't get it—what's the point of being strong if I can't have fun torturing people like the other demons?"
"Demons of battle are unbearable for that very reason," Behemoth explained. "They seek some grand, poetic meaning in every fight—and because of that, they never actually enjoy it."
Tinitos frowned.
"Couldn't you say the same about pride demons? Always searching for something to prove they're superior?" Behemoth smirked.
"Maybe. But that's the beauty of being a noble demon—I am superior to most of the universe," he said as he kept walking. Tinitos couldn't quite understand that level of arrogance.
"Fifteen days until the battle begins," Tiberius mused. "That summoned one, Daion… I'm curious to see if he'll keep his promise."
"Yeah, maybe it'll be fun," Tinitos replied, kicking a rock and splitting it cleanly in two. "But if he's not strong enough, it's pointless. I can't break his will if he dies with the first hit."
The Behemoth chuckled, looking at his protégé with that strange blend of mockery and faint affection—something almost paternal in his cruelty. A chill ran down Tinitos's spine.
"My dear friend, you don't seriously believe the only way to break a will is with your fists, do you?" asked the Behemoth.
The demon eyed him warily, not fully grasping what he meant.
"There are many ways to drag humans into despair," the noble continued. "Tell me—what did you notice about the summoned one when you met him?"
"Well… he's impulsive. He attacks without thinking, though he knows how to defend himself despite being weak," Tinitos began, but Behemoth cut him off with a sharp gesture as they moved deeper into the darkened corridors. The other demons quickly stepped aside as they passed.
"That's not what I mean," Behemoth said, voice calm but firm. "I'm asking what you saw that can be used."
Tinitos fell silent for a few seconds before an idea dawned on him.
"He jumped to save the S-rank summoned," he said finally, surprised by his own realization.
Tiberius smiled.
"And do you think he did it because they're close friends?"
"I doubt it. The other one was much higher-ranked, and he was barely E-rank. Decades apart in summoning time… so he just jumped in…" the demon analyzed aloud.
"By instinct, or from the urge to protect others. Either way, that's something you can exploit," the noble said with a cold smile.
Tinitos immediately understood the implication, and frowned.
"Or maybe he did it out of logic—if the strongest dies, everyone else falls after. If you kill him, you'll be the one to break him, not me."
Tiberius narrowed his eyes, visibly irritated. He wasn't even sure why he tolerated the demon.
He gestured for him to follow and stopped at a spot where the shadows grew denser—a place where it was harder to be seen. Few demons dared approach areas saturated by a noble's energy; doing so was asking for death.
From his pocket, Behemoth drew a black orb with a glossy, almost liquid surface that seemed to emit its own light. He murmured a few incomprehensible words, and the orb began to glow faintly before projecting an image before them.
In it appeared Daion, hiding behind a pile of rubble.
"How is that possible?" Tinitos asked, eyes widening in surprise.
"It's a little gift from the Demon King," the noble explained arrogantly, his fingers gliding over the orb. "He told me to keep an eye on any threats—and that's exactly what I'm doing. Watch this."
In the projection, Daion was shielding Aelith with his body while a large group of ice-corrupted surrounded them, glaring warily. Daion burst out from the rubble, drawing their attention; the creatures, confused to see him instead of Aelith, aimed at him. Daion let out a torn, guttural roar that the orb barely transmitted; from his hand surged a blue beam that scattered the corrupted, vaporizing several of them instantly.
Daion lowered his gaze, gritting his teeth from the pain in his arm. Aelith seized the moment to attack from behind, taking down several foes with risky, wide swings that tore the remaining ones apart. Yet Tinitos noticed something—each of Aelith's blows carried hesitation, and that hesitation gave the corrupted time to react and turn on her.
Daion pushed forward despite the pain. Aelith tried to stop him, but a slash across her shoulder forced a cry from her lips. Daion roared and hacked his way through, pulling her out of the line of fire. From behind, precise gunshots exploded—corrupted heads burst one after another as gaps opened in their formation. Daion shouted his thanks.
"There's no sound," Tinitos complained.
"Sorry, it's not in HD," the noble replied irritably. "But you can see it, can't you?"
"Yes," said Tinitos. "He jumps in to save them without thinking. That means if I kill that demi-human—or force him to watch a massacre he can't stop…" A grin crept across his face as he savored the thought. "I'll break him."
"Yes, but we'll wait until the twenty-first day," said Behemoth. "That way, they'll have time to build some hope—and when we crush it…" The orb floated slightly upward. "We'll taste true victory."
The orb flashed brightly and exploded into a shower of reddish fragments that fell like fireworks over the demons' grins. Tinitos frowned as he realized something.
"Wasn't that the artifact the King gave you?" he asked, smirking.
Tiberius shrugged.
"It's single-use—it violates the laws of war," he said. "But I like to keep a few surprises." He laughed loudly, almost theatrically. Tinitos wondered if that kind of logic could ever make sense.
Pride demons are such idiots, he thought, following the noble. With renewed resolve, Tinitos swore he would destroy Daion's will.
"Do your best, human," he muttered under his breath. "Maybe then you'll teach me the joy of being a true demon."
Daion opened his eyes, exhausted. He had slept for hours. Before him lay nearly thirty ice-corrupted, scattered across the ground, while Loryn lay on his back, breathing heavily, eyes fixed on the ceiling. His rifle rested beside him. Daion exhaled slowly; his armor was in tatters, ready to crumble to dust, and his sword still hadn't fully recovered—probably from being pushed too far in too many battles.
Aelith was curled up next to him, her head resting between her knees. Her hesitation still bothered him, though she was gradually taking more initiative—even if that didn't seem to please Loryn.
With a groan, Loryn sat up and began gathering the Omega Energy from the corrupted whose heads he'd blown apart. Daion did the same, absorbing the energy from those Aelith had struck down. The deeper they went, the more corrupted appeared—as expected—but deep down, Daion couldn't help wishing they'd just surrender someday and let themselves be killed.
His arm still ached; at that pace, it wouldn't be long before the damage became serious.
When he finished absorbing his share, Daion checked his stats. For a moment, he wished he could claim Loryn's kills too—at least those with shattered heads, so he wouldn't have to watch their faces fade away inside his gem.
[Summoned's Evaluation]
• Omega Energy Absorbed: 2100Ω
• Level: 14
• Rank: Aspirant
"How far am I from ranking up?" Daion muttered, sighing with frustration. Aelith glanced up, her expression heavy with regret, thinking about how little Omega Energy those corrupted yielded—and how many more they would need to kill to advance. "I didn't think it'd be this hard," Daion added, frowning.
"I'd say you're missing around five hundred points," Loryn explained as he picked up his rifle and wiped the barrel's mouth with a rag. "You're level fourteen, so you'll need to reach fifteen or sixteen."
Daion frowned. Why does he still use gunpowder if he can manipulate inertia? he wondered. Maybe he needs an initial impulse, he deduced.
"Though what's not clear," Loryn continued, "is whether every member of this group is actually useful."
He glanced at Aelith, who looked away in frustration. Daion noticed her expression and sighed.
"Come on, don't be such an idiot," Daion snapped, glaring at him. "She's trying."
"She's putting us at risk!" Loryn shouted, raising the rifle toward her. Aelith flinched. "That whole 'bad girl' act was a lie. She's a coward."
"We all are," Daion replied in a deeper tone. "This is a war, Loryn. You can't expect her to act like some hero."
"I…" Aelith began, her voice trembling. Daion glanced sideways at her. "I just can't… ugh, why don't you two ever hesitate to do it?" she said, defeated.
Daion looked at her for a few moments, eyes narrowing with regret. What am I thinking? She's just a kid, an idiot. Why did you bring her into this? he cursed himself silently. Even Loryn seemed slightly remorseful for being such a jerk.
"It's because we're used to it," Loryn said, though Daion knew it wasn't that simple. He acted out of instinct—but that didn't mean he'd truly grown numb to it.
"We ignore the path and only look at the end," Daion said heavily. "It's Machiavellian, but we don't really have any other choice. We just have to hope that what we do ends up being worth it."
Loryn looked at him, surprised.
"And how are you supposed to find a purpose in this world when… when everything's already lost?" Aelith burst out, staring at them in despair. "If we fail, Thero will die—and no one will even care about us!"
Loryn and Daion exchanged a silent glance.
"There's no precise way to say it," Daion said, trying to think—remembering the words he'd once heard in a dream. They felt right, somehow, for easing Aelith's doubt. "There's no grand plan or special goal. It can be something simple, like wanting to survive… or something greater, like saving the world. The point is to cling to that goal and not let go until you reach it. That's what drives people to get up every day."
He looked up and noticed both of them staring at him—half amazed, half uncomfortable.
"Or, well… that's what I think," he added awkwardly, before starting to move ahead.
Loryn cleared his throat and followed, his legs aching. Aelith remained on the ground for a few seconds, processing Daion's words. A goal, huh? she muttered to herself before standing up and trailing after them. She still didn't fully understand how that could help her—but she could at least try. The alternative was to stay frozen… waiting to be killed again.
Daion yawned as they walked through the stone tunnels. He wasn't sure anymore, but it felt like he hadn't slept in days. It was hard to tell time down there, buried in exhaustion and drained by the constant fights.
"Think we've passed the time limit already?" Daion asked as the passage began to widen.
"Who knows? For all we know, we've been here for days," Loryn said, trying to keep his rifle from getting jammed by the falling rocks. "It's impossible to tell how long—it's the Omega Energy. It lets us ignore hunger and fatigue up to a point."
Finally, the corridor opened into a vast chamber without walls. Daion froze at the sight of the massive pit before them: an improvised stone bridge stretched across a dark abyss. The group advanced cautiously, alert for any corrupted—one misstep or attack could send them plummeting into the void. They crossed several meters until they reached the center area.
It was a stone platform suspended by thick steel chains. The edges formed ramps on both sides, built from logs and large precious stones. In the center lay a half-finished mound of straw.
The platform had no other exits. There was no way forward from there.
"All right, cartographer… now what?" Daion asked nervously. Something felt terribly wrong. Loryn shivered before answering.
"Yeah… I was afraid of this, but now I'm sure. According to the map, the only way to get where we need to go is…" He pointed toward the darkness below. "Down."
Daion and Aelith gave him a look that clearly said Are you insane? But the Summoned just shrugged.
Then a deafening roar echoed from above. The three of them looked up as a piercing shriek descended from a hole in the ceiling. Daion unsheathed his sword, Aelith released her aura, and Loryn aimed upward.
Scanning the area, Daion finally understood what the straw was for—it was a nest. A nest for something. And judging by the way the ground trembled, that something was enormous.
From the darkness above came a thunderous crash that shook the entire chamber. A creature both horrifying and majestic dropped before them. It was easily over ten meters long. Its head resembled an eagle's, with a long, knife-like beak. Its body was covered in white fur, like the ice-corrupted, and it walked on four legs—no wings, only a multicolored feathered tail that twitched at the sight of them. A pointed tongue slid from its jaws, licking its beak as rows of jagged teeth gleamed.
Daion swallowed hard at the sight of it. He steadied his stance—legs apart, sword raised above his head. Loryn took a cautious step back beside Aelith.
"A corrupted monster-type, category five," Daion muttered, his hands trembling. "A white canary."
The creature lifted its head and unleashed a roar so powerful it deafened both Daion and Loryn instantly. Daion saw no other choice—no plan, no hope—so he charged forward with everything he had. Loryn grit his teeth as the canary's gaze locked onto the Summoned running toward it, then used the distraction to take aim.
Daion slid under the beast, narrowly dodging a claw strike that shattered the stone floor and made the whole platform quake. He rolled to the side and slashed its leg, leaving only a shallow cut. The monster shrieked, enraged, and lunged at him, ramming the ground like a massive woodpecker. Daion dodged a series of deadly pecks before leaping up and swinging at its neck—but his blade wasn't strong enough to kill it in one blow.
He hit the ground, splattered by a few drops of blood that looked trivial on such a colossal creature. The beast turned, furious over the tiny wounds. Daion froze in terror as it opened its jaws and spewed a jet of liquid nitrogen across the floor, freezing everything it touched. He dove aside, but part of the blast caught his arm, freezing it on contact with searing pain.
"Be careful, both of you," Loryn warned. Daion shot him a look that clearly said, Too late, idiot.
"This thing's one of the most volatile species out there," Loryn continued. "It's attacking out of territorial instinct, not because it cares about killing Summoned."
Basically a hippo, Daion thought dryly.
The creature snarled and began lumbering toward Loryn, drawn to the surge of Omega Energy building in his rifle.
Then Aelith leapt suddenly, catching Loryn off guard. She clenched her teeth; her aura flared—dense, chaotic, almost feral. The beast turned toward her, startled, but too late to react. Her body tensed, fur bristling, muscles swelling like steel cables. She closed her fist and slammed it straight between the creature's eyes. A golden burst erupted through the chamber, making the monster recoil violently.
She dodged its furious swipes—each one close enough to brush her hair. For the moment, Aelith had the upper hand, giving Loryn a perfect opening. He aimed just before the monster's claws reached her and fired, blasting its hand apart in a flash of light. The creature screamed, letting out a guttural, distorted cry.
Loryn adjusted his aim toward its chest, where nitrogen was already building inside. It would be an easy shot—just blow its lungs apart, and the beast would freeze from within. They had won.
But…
A chill ran down Daion's spine. He spun around just in time to see an ice arrow whistling through the air. There was a dull thunk as it pierced Loryn's chest. The Summoned fell to the ground, firing by reflex—the shot only grazed the creature's shoulder.
Aelith froze, eyes wide with horror as she saw Loryn lying there, blood spreading fast.
Daion stood motionless, every detail burning into his mind as despair crept back in. His attacks couldn't pierce the creature's hide. He wasn't strong enough—not yet. He glanced at the monster. Seconds, maybe less, before it attacked again.
What do I do? he thought. There has to be a way. Come on, idiot, think. There's always another way to solve things.
He slammed his fist into the floor, feeling the unstable platform tremble beneath him. Wait… he said we needed to go down. And this thing doesn't have wings, right?
An idea struck him—and he smiled.
Daion rose, ignoring the pain in his arm, and hurled his sword. Aelith's eyes widened as the blade spun through the air and shattered one of the distant chains. She turned to him in panic.
"What the hell are you doing?!" she shouted.
"I doubt it'll survive the fall," Daion said calmly, raising his hand. His sword flew back to him in an arc, slicing through another chain.
"Neither will we!" Aelith yelled back—but when she saw the monster readying another attack, she clenched her fists and understood why he was doing it.
"Let's hope we get a better chance," Daion muttered, throwing his sword again. Another chain snapped, and the platform swayed so violently that even the creature flinched. It glared at Daion with murderous rage, realizing what he intended. It lunged at him just as he raised his hand—only to find Aelith was gone.
The creature's eyes widened. It turned sharply—Aelith was already behind it, perfectly positioned. Another ice arrow shot out from the darkness; Daion traced its path to a narrow slit in the cavern wall. He smiled as it whooshed past, missing them entirely.
In that instant, Aelith slashed, tearing through two more chains while Daion's sword cut another.
With a metallic scream, the final chains snapped. The creature tried to unleash another blast—but gravity twisted the nitrogen stream midair, suspending it in a glittering mist as Daion, Aelith, and the beast plunged together into the abyss.
End of Chapter 36.