Chapter 3: The Crimson System
Elvas emerged from the bathroom, his damp hair clinging to his forehead. He was wrapped in a loose shirt and shorts, utterly depleted. The day had thoroughly wrung him out—the relentless mockery, the shoves in the locker room, and Elira's enigmatic words still echoing in his mind like a persistent, unwelcome sound.
He dragged his feet toward the bed. The small room was faintly illuminated by a lone streetlamp outside, its weak glow struggling to penetrate the grime-streaked window. It cast the space in a dull, depressing haze.
His heavy backpack lay on the mattress, a constant reminder of every insult, every failure, every painful moment of the day. He shoved it aside, desperate to collapse, to drown himself in sleep and allow exhaustion to take what little fight he had left.
But then, he stopped dead.
His breath hitched, his chest tightening as his gaze locked onto something that had been absent moments before.
A book.
A black book lay silent and unnerving in the center of his bed. Its surface was unnaturally smooth, seeming to repel the dust and grime of the world around it. A profound coldness radiated from it even without contact, an inherent otherness that made the hairs on his arms rise.
He stared for a long time, his throat dry, his heart accelerating with every passing second.
"What the hell…?" he whispered.
Cautiously, he reached out, his fingers trembling as they hovered above the cover. Every instinct screamed a warning, yet curiosity gnawed at him like an uncontrollable hunger.
The weight of it shocked him when he finally lifted it. He had expected ordinary paper and leather, but the book felt dense, almost metallic, as if it had been forged rather than bound. Crimson letters carved into its surface appeared to pulse faintly, alive, spelling two chilling words: [Demon System].
Elvas let out a sharp, bitter, shaky laugh that bounced off the bare walls.
"This has to be a prank," he muttered. His mind instantly landed on Marcus and his arrogant vampire crew—the bullies who lived to torment him. "Real funny. Did you sneak this into my bag during practice? Think I'm stupid enough to fall for this garbage?"
He tossed the book toward the corner of the mattress. It landed with a surprisingly dull, heavy thud.
Shaking his head, he pulled the thin blanket to his chin and squeezed his eyes shut, willing himself into sleep, determined to shove the day and the strange object into the shadows where they belonged.
But then...
A sound broke the silence.
It was faint at first, a low, resonant hum, like a deep heartbeat drumming through the very floorboards.
Elvas's eyes snapped open. Panic surged in his throat as his gaze cut back to the book.
It was glowing.
A malevolent red light leaked from its edges, casting sharp, fractured shadows across the walls. The pages began to flip on their own, turning fast and violently, as though something invisible were clawing through them in sheer desperation.
Elvas scrambled off the bed, his bare feet curling against the cold floor, every muscle in his body rigid.
"What in the world…" His voice was a cracked whisper. He wanted desperately to flee, but his body refused to obey. The mesmerizing glow pulled him closer, an unseen, powerful tether dragging him forward.
Step by step, he advanced until he stood directly before it again. His hand lifted involuntarily, his fingers hovering over the surface. The air around the book pressed heavily against his chest, making breathing difficult.
And then, his skin made contact.
A powerful electric jolt ripped through him, and his vision instantly snapped to black. His body collapsed, hitting the floor soundlessly, like a puppet whose strings had been abruptly severed.
…
When he opened his eyes again, the room was gone.
He stood in a place that defied all earthly logic—vast, endless, and utterly drenched in shadow. The ground beneath him was smooth and polished, black as obsidian. There were no walls, no ceiling, no sky—just a consuming void that swallowed light, sound, and common sense.
The air felt thick and heavy on his lungs, forcing a stumble.
"Where am I?" His voice cracked in the emptiness, sounding fragile and instantly consumed by the dark.
Then came the sound.
A deep, resonating hum, like the pulse of the world itself, rolled through the void. Red letters bled into existence directly before him, floating in the air, each one glowing with unnatural, controlled fire.
[System awakened. Host Identified: Elvas Das.]
The words echoed inside his skull, a cold, indifferent voice that resonated from within rather than around him.
Elvas staggered back, clutching his head, his eyes darting wildly.
"What are you?" he shouted into the darkness. "What is this place?"
More words formed, pulsing in rhythm with the resonant hum.
[You have Awakened the Demon System. Complete designated tasks to unlock special abilities and gain fundamental power.]
Elvas let out a sharp, hysterical laugh, panic twisting it into something almost manic.
"This is hell, isn't it? I'm dead, and this is the damn afterlife." He spun in frantic circles, searching for anything—a door, an edge, a viewer. But the darkness was infinite.
"This has to be a dream," he choked out. "A joke. I'll wake up."
[This is not a dream, Elvas Das. This is your System World. Time is paused here until you return to your reality.]
His chest rose and fell rapidly. He pressed his hands hard against his face, fingernails digging into his scalp.
"Maybe I've finally gone mad," he muttered. "Maybe I'm crazy."
But the glowing letters waited patiently, steady and undeniable.
Elvas dropped his hands, his voice rising with fierce anger to mask the terror coiling in his stomach. "Fine! If this is real, then stop playing games! What do you want from me?"
The glow shifted, reshaping itself into new, chilling instructions.
[First Task: Perform a controlled fall from a structure of five (5) feet or greater height to unlock a chance at one foundational ability.]
Elvas's jaw dropped. He let out a loud, broken laugh.
"You're kidding me! Jump off a building? Are you trying to get me killed? You want me to break my legs just to 'earn' something I don't even comprehend?"
He spat the words into the void. "What kind of twisted initiation is this?"
The response came instantly, unyielding. [This is not a test. The task must be completed. Refusal will initiate a critical sequence.]
Elvas's blood ran cold. His fists clenched at his sides, nails biting into his palms.
"What critical sequence?" His voice was raspy with rage and fear. "What happens if I say no?"
The red words pulsed brighter, pressing against him like the literal edge of a blade.
[If the Host fails to activate the Task within the allotted period, a Player will be Deleted from existence.]
Elvas froze. His breath hitched, his mind desperately struggling to comprehend the word.
"Deleted?" he whispered, the sound fragile in the immense dark. "What does that mean? Deleted how? Deleted who?"
He took a desperate step back, shaking his head violently.
"Who are these players you're talking about?"
The void grew colder, the silence leaning in as if to listen. The final words carved themselves in front of him, each one final, heavy with cruel certainty.
[If the Host refuses the Task, a new Player will be added to the game.]