The place seemed desolate and frightening; on top of that, there was a powerful mana pressure that made one's soul tremble. These were the ruins of Sanctum Ilthara.
Taking cautious steps, Athtar kept watch as he made his way through the ruins, constantly looking around. He was no expert in matters of the Spirit or Insight, so sensing things through auras was not an option available to him. He had to rely on his primal instincts to search.
As he walked, the church doors opened, and Athtar quickly turned to see who was coming. The first to enter was the bandit leader, who was wearing a faint smile.
This was the strangest thing of all to Athtar. Why were the knights following the bandit leader—the very man Athtar was certain had been a coward? Why was he acting so bravely?
Once all the knights had entered, they spread out and began searching the area. Athtar was certain they would not find him if he concealed his mana, as it was obvious that there was no mage among them with expertise in the Path of Insight or the Path of the Spirit. They would not be able to find him.
Another strange thing was the way the laws of this place worked. When Athtar had entered, he was certain that the temple had been floating upright. Yet once he reached this area, it had become inverted. For the knights, however, gravity seemed to work differently, as they had entered normally.
'This temple is strange. Why is gravity reversed only for me?'
He did not mind the change. In fact, it now protected him from being found so easily.
He began walking towards one of the doors, opened it quietly, and stepped inside, making sure that no one had noticed him.
As he passed through the door, gravity changed once again, and Athtar fell downward. However, he landed steadily on his feet.
Before him lay the inner chambers of the temple, consisting of several rooms.
Athtar ignored the rooms and continued forward, heading towards the last one. He opened the door, and as he had expected, it led to a crypt.
Athtar stepped inside, and the moment he closed the door, gravity shifted once again.
He felt as though everything were turning upside down, and he fell towards the ceiling, landing rather awkwardly this time.
'Whoever created this gravity is a sadistic, twisted bastard.'
He got to his feet, brushed the dust from himself, and continued deeper inside, following the staircase above him.
Athtar felt slightly dizzy, but it did not slow him down. What truly exhausted him was the spiritual pressure this temple had been exerting on him ever since he entered—a powerful pressure that left his very soul feeling weary.
When he reached the end of the staircase, what awaited him in the crypt filled Athtar with utter horror.
A corpse was floating directly in the middle of the room, surrounded by an immense and unbelievable amount of corruption. The corruption was so dense that it was impossible to make out the corpse's appearance. The only thing he could clearly discern was that it was undoubtedly human.
Simply standing near that corpse, saturated with corrupted mana, made Athtar feel as though he himself were already being corrupted.
[ Warning ]
[ Enormous amount of corruption detected ]
[ Host is advised to leave the area immediately ]
Dark-red notifications appeared before Athtar. His body began to sweat slightly as he stared at the disfigured corpse, the only clearly visible feature being the terrifying hole in its centre, as though something had pierced straight through it.
"This is the place… It really is the graveyard! 'He' wasn't joking, then! If I absorb this… then I… I will…"
Athtar heard a voice behind him and turned around.
The bandit leader stood there, smiling maliciously as he stared at the mangled, corrupted corpse as though it were a treasure.
"You fool! Stay away! You'll turn into a demon if you absorb this mana!"
"And that's exactly what I want."
The bandit leader approached the corpse, but Athtar was not foolish enough to let him do so. He punched him with all his strength, sending him flying backwards.
Of course, they were now both subject to the same gravity, as they were both standing on the ceiling.
The bandit leader writhed in pain, clutching his bleeding nose, and glared at Athtar with hatred before attacking him immediately.
Athtar moved out of the way, and when the bandit leader turned towards him, Athtar landed another punch to his face, followed by several more.
But the bandit leader did not simply stand there and take the beating.
He retreated, then raised his hand.
Mana began to surround him, gathering around his arm and in the palm of his hand. It took on a brown hue before transforming into a rock, which he hurled towards Athtar.
Athtar recoiled and bent backwards, causing the rock to crash into the wall behind him with little effect.
Athtar retreated, giving the bandit leader just enough time to reach the mangled corpse.
"That man said I need to touch it with the finger wearing this ring, and I'll absorb enough to keep me alive without going mad…"
The bandit leader placed his finger, which bore a strange black ring set with a violet pearl, against the violet aura surrounding the corpse.
The moment his finger touched it, a small portion of the aura enveloped his body and began seeping into him through his pores.
Athtar had failed to reach him in time to stop him. He immediately backed away when he saw the violent violet aura surging around the corpse.
He was not willing to risk approaching it.
The bandit leader had been smiling at first, but the moment the corrupted mana began entering his body, he started screaming madly, as though he were slowly dying.
"It hurts… It hurts… I'm dying!"
"Aaaaaah!"
He continued screaming as Athtar watched his body begin to transform.
First, the pure mana within his body seemed to be covered by violet mana. If the process succeeded, the violet mana remained; if it failed, the pure mana was expelled, and the violet mana forcibly took its place.
Every pore in the bandit leader's skin was undergoing this process of transformation.
It made him feel as though he were dying and being reborn.
And judging by what Athtar was witnessing, that description was not far from the truth.
The bandit leader's skin began to change. Every atom in his physical body was transforming, becoming violet.
His grey eyes turned red, while his black hair began losing its colour until it became completely white.
Once his skin, hair, and eyes had changed, horns began protruding from his head, growing longer and longer.
Black, featherless wings resembling those of a bat emerged from his back, followed by a long, slender tail.
When the bandit leader finally stopped screaming, he began panting heavily.
His transformation into a demon was complete.
He remained kneeling silently before the corpse, breathing heavily.
The transformation left Athtar deeply shocked. He had never realised that becoming a demon was such a hellish ordeal.
After the transformation, the bandit leader raised his gaze towards Athtar.
Athtar's eyes became sharp.
The bandit leader's aura had completely changed. He was no longer someone the current Athtar could handle—at least not alone.
That was what Athtar thought as he watched fear spread across the faces of the knights who had entered behind the bandit leader after hearing his screams.
The disfigured corpse was still floating in the middle of the room, surrounded by its corrupted violet aura.
What the bandit leader had absorbed seemed insignificant compared to what remained. As far as Athtar could tell, the amount of corrupted energy surrounding the corpse had not diminished in the slightest.
"Listen… If we want to survive, we have to put our current differences aside for now. We're facing a demon. What awaits us here is a fate worse than death…"
Athtar spoke coldly as he looked at the terrified knights.
He knew some of them. They had worked together from time to time, so the knights nodded despite the fear gripping them.
The knight unit led by Margret was famous, and its reputation preceded it. Every one of its knights was among the kingdom's elite, making it the strongest unit under the king.
Athtar's words carried weight precisely because they came from him.
The knights immediately moved into position, with Athtar taking command.
It was the most logical choice. If they left him behind, there was a risk that he would flee and abandon them to their fate.
Athtar cursed inwardly.
These knights were clever enough to understand his ulterior plan.
'That leaves us with no choice but to unite and face this demon.'
"I feel so free. I never imagined that becoming a demon would be this wonderful. I feel as though everything that once frightened me has disappeared. I feel as though I have risen above mere mortals."
The demon slowly rose to his feet, an intense aura of corruption pouring from his body.
One of the knights, believing this was the perfect opportunity, immediately attacked him.
But the demon merely smiled.
He saw the sword coming towards him and nimbly stepped aside.
The knight continued attacking fiercely, but the demon effortlessly evaded every strike. He was far faster than Athtar remembered him being.
Eventually, the demon grew tired of dodging.
He raised his fist, which was surrounded by an aura of corrupted mana.
There were no preparatory movements like those used by mages. The aura simply manifested instantly, as though it came directly from the Source.
The aura took the shape of a blade.
The demon raised his hand and brought it down upon the knight's arm, effortlessly severing it from his shoulder.
He then kicked the knight with tremendous force, sending him crashing back towards the others.
The knight screamed in pain as blood poured from his shoulder and his sword fell beside him.
One of the other knights heated his sword and cauterised the wound, stopping the bleeding.
Athtar ignored the injured knight's screams and looked towards the demon, who was smiling coldly at them, showing no emotion whatsoever.
'He's become overconfident… This is our chance to kill him. If he gets accustomed to his newfound power, we'll never defeat him.'
Athtar drew both daggers from their sheaths and prepared for battle.
Beside him stood the nineteen remaining knights, ready to follow his orders.
Athtar nodded coldly.
"We'll attack from three directions. Some of you will stay at the rear and attack with long-range magic. We need to draw him out into the Great Hall, where we'll have more room to fight. Being exposed to the corruption here will work against us. For him, this place is nothing more than an endless supply of mana."
The knights understood his intention and agreed with his proposal.
Athtar advanced first and began attacking the demon.
But the demon was faster, effortlessly evading every strike.
'I remember you well. You've humiliated me more than once—first in front of Lady Christie, then with the bear… and because of you… 'He' found me…'
Remembering all those incidents filled him with rage.
Yet despite his anger, he merely smiled and kicked Athtar hard in the stomach, sending him crashing through the wall.
"Even so, I must thank you. If you hadn't appeared back then, I would never have obtained this power. You have my deepest gratitude!"
The demon finished speaking and leapt towards Athtar, raising his fist to kill him.
But the knights would not allow it.
They fired fire and wind projectiles at the demon, forcing him away from Athtar.
They continued their barrage, leaving the demon no choice but to retreat and climb upwards, away from their magical attacks.
His body was not invulnerable.
Amid the rubble, Athtar rose to his feet, moving his neck slightly in pain.
He then looked towards the staircase and began running towards it, signalling for the knights to follow.
They did.
After climbing the stairs, they found themselves in the corridor leading to several doors.
They ignored them, and the battle slowly moved towards the Great Hall.
Upon reaching it, the demon stood calmly at the High Priest's pulpit, staring down at Athtar and the knights as they stood in the space between the chairs and the sacred platform.
It was obvious that the demon held the advantage.
But sheer numbers could make up for the difference in strength.
A sustained assault from twenty people was no small matter, even for a demon possessing such a vast amount of corrupted mana.
'We should be able to defeat him… but what is this strange feeling?'
As the battle continued, Athtar noticed something strange.
He did not know what it was, but he could not shake the feeling that something was wrong.
"That's enough… I'm bored of playing with you."
The demon spoke coldly.
His aura suddenly surged violently in every direction, creating a powerful blast of air that sent everything around them flying backwards.
Athtar raised his hand in front of his face, shielding his eyes from the wind while trying to remain aware of his surroundings.
Most of the knights did the same.
But one unfortunate knight—the one closest to the demon—was left completely exposed.
The demon seized the opportunity.
His wings spread as corrupted violet mana enveloped his hands.
He shot towards the knight like a bullet, reaching him in an instant.
He placed one foot between the knight's legs and drove his hand straight through his chest.
The other knights heard a thunderous sound.
When they saw the demon's hand piercing through the knight's body, terror seized them.
The knight's heart, still beating its final beats, rested in the demon's grasp.
Instead of crushing it, the demon calmly pulled it from the knight's chest.
The knight spat blood from his mouth.
The demon brought the heart close to himself, and the mana within it began flowing into his body.
The moment it entered the demon, the mana began to change.
It corrupted, its colour gradually turning violet.
The demon absorbed all the mana within the knight's body.
Once it was completely drained, he simply tossed the heart aside.
He looked towards the stunned knights, then towards Athtar, who watched him with cold caution.
The demon raised his blood-covered hand towards them with utter arrogance and self-importance.
"Who among you is next?"
. . .
To Be Continued.