Chapter 11: The Devil's Bargain
[Do you agree to these terms?]
The glowing red words hung suspended in the air, heavy and immense, pressing against Elvas's chest like a cold hand squeezing his heart.
He froze, his breath shallow and tight, torn completely between the terrifying demand of the System and the fierce yearning for vengeance.
Slowly, he sank onto the edge of his bed, the old mattress creaking under his weight. Sweat beaded on his palms, soaking the worn cover of the book, and his voice broke into a tormented whisper.
"I... I already caused a death?" His throat tightened painfully. "Kalia... was it because of me?"
The thought dug into him like sharp claws. His heart hammered, fear mingling with crippling guilt until he could barely breathe.
"What if I say yes, and more innocent people get hurt?" His voice shook with genuine terror. "Will I truly become the monster they already believe me to be?"
He shut his eyes, forcing himself to draw a long, shaky breath. But the images rushed in anyway—his mother's agonizing screams, the hot blood staining the dirt, her lifeless body crumpling as the Clan Elders watched, indifferent.
"They murdered her," he hissed, his voice hardening, growing steely. "The clans, the elders—they stole her from me."
His fists clenched, nails biting deep into his palms. "They called it justice, but all it did was leave me with nothing. A pathetic nobody. A freak."
His head lifted, his eyes narrowing fiercely at the blazing words suspended before him.
"But the System changed that," he said, his voice now raw and steady. "It gave me power."
The fire in his chest burned hotter, consuming all remaining hesitation.
"I am done being weak." His voice resonated with a chilling finality. "System... I accept."
The air in the small room instantly trembled. The words flared blindingly bright, searing into his mind as the voice of the System echoed, cold, mechanical, and absolute.
[System Response: Host now bound by contract. Soul binding complete. The System and Host are now one.]
Elvas gasped, a sudden, blinding surge of energy roaring through his body, so intense it stole his breath away. His skin burned, his veins felt alive with volatile energy, and his heart thundered like the relentless drum of war.
It was overwhelming. Terrifying. And undeniably beautiful.
He staggered, clutching the edge of his bed as his entire body shook with the sheer volume of raw, alien strength. His senses sharpened instantly; even the faintest creak of the wooden floor was impossibly clear.
"What's... happening to me?" His voice trembled with awe. "I feel... entirely different."
He steadied himself, chest heaving, mind spinning with exhilaration and dread.
"System," he managed, his eyes burning with frantic hope, "is it done? Did the bond work?"
[System Response: Host binding complete. New ability unlocked: Devil Wings.]
Elvas's breath hitched again. His eyes went wide with disbelief.
"Devil... wings?" His voice cracked. "Actual wings? Like in the old stories?"
The whispered legends spoke of a demon born with enormous, terrifying devil wings, powerful enough to split mountains and level armies. They were dismissed as folklore—until now.
"No way," he muttered, forcing a nervous, incredulous laugh. "This... this is real?"
His legs carried him instinctively to the cracked mirror on the wall. His reflection stared back, pale and shaking, but vibrantly alive.
That's when he saw it—a dark, jagged mark pulsing faintly across his chest, as if etched into his very skin.
"System," he demanded sharply, pressing his fingers to it, "what is this mark?"
[System Response: The indelible proof of our binding. You are now irreversibly one with the System.]
[You may conceal or reveal the mark at will. Your imagination unlocks your potential.]
Elvas swallowed, forcing calm into his mind. A shiver of power crawled up his spine.
"Alright," he whispered, focusing intensely. "Let's see."
He closed his eyes, willing the mark to vanish. Slowly, it faded, leaving his chest smooth and bare once more.
He blinked at his reflection, a shaky, disbelieving smile tugging at his lips.
"I... I actually did that."
But then his thoughts raced back to the System's gift. "System, you said... Devil Wings. How do I use them?"
[System Response: Utilize your imagination, Host. Will them into existence.]
Elvas raised a skeptical brow. "That's it? Just... imagine?"
His pulse quickened with excitement. "So I picture wings and—what—bam, they just... appear?"
He closed his eyes, taking a sharp, decisive breath.
He imagined them—vast, dark, powerful wings, stretching from his back, a terrifying shield of obsidian scales.
Suddenly, an unimaginable pain exploded through him. His back arched violently, a primal cry tearing from his throat as fire ripped down his spine.
It was agony—like jagged blades cutting through flesh, like something enormous violently clawing its way out of his very body.
Then, with a deafening CRACK, something burst free. The small room shook violently, the walls developed fresh fissures, and his bed scraped across the floor as a sudden, gale-force wind howled through the air.
Elvas stumbled forward, eyes darting to the mirror—
And froze in shocked awe.
From his back spread two enormous, jagged wings. Dark as obsidian, sharp at the edges, glinting with a strange, deadly beauty that simultaneously inspired terror and overwhelming pride.
His chest swelled—pride, disbelief, and intoxicating power clashed inside him.
"I... I have wings." His voice trembled, fierce with victory. "I actually have wings."
The realization sent a dizzying rush of exhilaration through him—until a sharp knock rattled the door.
He instantly froze, panic flooding his veins with ice.
"Who's there?" His voice cracked, too loud, instantly betraying the fear rising inside him.
His frantic gaze snapped back to the mirror. The wings still stretched wide, filling nearly half the small room, threatening to destroy the walls.
"System!" he hissed desperately. "How do I get rid of these? Now!"
[System Response: Will them away, Host. Focus.]
Elvas clenched his jaw, shutting his eyes tight. He pictured himself without them—back bare, body normal, the agonizing power folded away.
The pain flared one last time, then instantly vanished, leaving his shoulders sore and his back aching. He opened his eyes—his reflection was thankfully human once more.
The room, however, was in ruins. Fresh cracks scarred the walls, a fine layer of plaster dust coated the floor, and books lay scattered everywhere.
"Damn it," he muttered, running a shaky hand through his hair. "How the hell am I supposed to explain this destruction?"
Another knock—louder and more insistent this time.
His heart seized.
"Hold on!" he shouted, scrambling for the broom.
He snatched it up, his body moving with unnatural Speed, sweeping the plaster and dust aside in a blur. In seconds, the room looked almost passable, though the fresh cracks in the wall still lingered like inescapable scars.
Elvas shoved the System's book deep into his backpack, his chest rising and falling fast.
He walked to the door, forcing his breathing steady, though his pulse hammered violently against his ribs.
The door creaked open—
And there she stood.
"Liora?" His voice caught in his throat, his eyes wide with shock.
Her silver hair shimmered faintly in the hallway light, her sharp green eyes fixed on him, unreadable yet somehow softer than usual.
His chest tightened agonizingly. Of all the people in Avalon—why her, and why now?
"Liora," he whispered again, stunned. "What are you doing here?"
For a long moment, she simply hesitated in the doorway. Then, her voice came quiet, almost tentative.
"Can I come in?"