The group was speechless.
What lay before them didn't just challenge everything they'd been taught—it shattered it.
Since childhood, they'd learned that demons were the embodiment of destruction. Ruthless monsters born of blood and chaos. It was demon-kind, after all, that launched the great invasion four centuries ago, nearly toppling the human empire. Only by uniting with the other races had humanity survived.
That's what the stories said. But what stood in front of them now? This... village? It was peaceful. No blood. No malice. Not even the faintest trace of killing intent.
Instead, they saw sprawling farmlands stretching across the hills, vibrant and well-kept. Demons—hulking, horned, terrifying in appearance—were hunched over crops, diligently planting and tending fields. Children ran through the dirt paths barefoot, laughing. Smoke drifted lazily from chimneys. A windmill creaked in the distance.
It looked less like a den of evil and more like a postcard from an elven tourism brochure.
Nyx blinked several times.
"Oii... is this the same plot?" he muttered, squinting like he'd walked into the wrong story.
[May I ask... are we even in the same genre anymore?]
The system's voice rang out, genuinely baffled.
Before anyone could answer, a distant rumble drew their attention.
From down the path, several demons were sprinting toward them at breakneck speed.
The group snapped out of their trance instantly. Weapons drawn. Stances tight. Hearts steady. Whatever this village was, they weren't letting their guard down.
But when the demons arrived—
They didn't attack.
They barreled past the group and tackled the demons that had guided them here—embracing them with tears in their eyes.
"Tara!" shouted one of them, a massive demon towering over the rest. Muscles like mountains. Eyes like twin black voids. He scooped the little girl into his arms, examining her face with terrifying intensity.
"Who hit you, my lovely daughter?" he asked, his voice calm—but with a murderous undertone that could freeze a battlefield.
Tara tensed.
Her eyes flicked to Samantha. Then, almost instinctively, they almost flicked toward Nyx.
And stopped.
A chill ran down her spine. Her tiny hairs stood on end. And just like that, she smiled through her fear and buried her face in her father's chest.
"It… it was the beasts. In the forest, Papa," she said sweetly. Smart girl.
She just saved herself from angering the devil reincarnate.
The towering demon holding her—who looked like he could crack a boulder with a blink—simply hummed and shifted his attention toward the group.
"Welcome, humans. I am Gataar, leader of this small village of demons," he said, voice calm, deep, and dangerously measured. He nodded politely, then gestured for them to follow.
"If you've stepped into the boundaries of the inner forest… then I assume you're here for the Gates, am I correct?"
The group exchanged glances as they walked alongside him, the village stretching around them in quiet contradiction to everything they'd believed.
Nyx stepped up beside the demon chieftain, casually as ever. "It's a nice place you've built here," he said, then added flatly, "And no—we're not here for the Gates. We're looking for the forest's core."
At that, Gataar gave him a side glance, brows raised slightly as if Nyx had just said something amusing—or incredibly stupid.
"The thing you humans call 'the core'... is that temple," Gataar replied, nodding toward the only tall structure within the village walls.
"And inside that temple... the only thing we know of—is the Gates."
Nyx turned his eyes toward it. The temple.
It stood far off in the distance, old and weathered, yet humming with something ancient. The moment his gaze locked onto it, his heart began to race—but not from excitement.
From the orb inside his system storage. It pulsed. It screamed.
It demanded to be brought closer to that place—whatever the hell it was.
Nyx forced his breath to steady. "What's inside those gates?" he asked, trying to keep his voice calm, even as his body buzzed with unease.
Gataar sighed, tone solemn. "We don't know. Not truly. The Gates… they've always been there, even from the earliest of our memories. Some believe they're a passageway—others, a prison. But none of us have ever crossed it."
"Why?" Nyx narrowed his eyes.
"Because we can't," Gataar said, his voice dropping lower. "There is… a strange energy that surrounds it. Something ancient. It doesn't just repel us—it repels everything. No beast, no spirit, no demon can go near it."
Strange energy...
The moment Nyx heard that, one word echoed through his mind like a gunshot: [ORIGIN] His unique stat. His anomaly. The thing no one could explain.
And now… his instincts were screaming at him. That gate? It was calling to him.
His killing intent surged.
"Then how the hell do you even know we're coming for it?" Nyx asked, his voice cold now. "And how did you know we entered the forest?"
Gataar didn't respond immediately. Instead, he reached into his cloak and pulled something out—a cloth.
It was deep crimson, stained like it had been soaked in blood and left to dry under a black sun. The moment it appeared, a metallic scent—iron, sharp, old—flooded the air, and the entire area felt like it dropped a few degrees in temperature.
But then—just as quickly as the pressure came—it faded. The cloth fluttered like any normal piece of fabric... and floated toward Nyx.
It drifted slowly, unnaturally, before pressing itself against his chest—then stuck to his clothes, like it had found what it had been searching for.
"That's what told us," Gataar said quietly. "The Cloth of the Ancient."
He paused.
"Made from the blood of our Demon God… four centuries ago."
His tone, normally composed, now felt heavy—the weight of history dripping off every word.
Nyx reached up and pulled the crimson cloth off his chest. It felt warm in his hand—too warm. Like it had pulse. Almost without thinking, his other hand moved on its own, digging into his system storage and pulling out the orb.
The moment it emerged, it happened. A resonance. The cloth trembled. The orb shimmered.
And then—with no warning—the blood-stained fabric dissolved into a mist of scarlet light and was sucked into the orb, fusing with it like it had always belonged there. Its surface changed, no longer dull and murky. It darkened—deep crimson—like veins had formed beneath its surface and blood now flowed within.
It looked alive.
And then, just as suddenly, the orb disappeared. It zipped back into the system storage on its own.
But this time… Nyx heard it. A sound. A faint, rhythmic thump. A heartbeat.
Not his own.
The beat was soft, distant—but it echoed in his chest. His own heart began to sync with it, like two drummers meeting in perfect tempo. Something ancient.
Nyx stood still, staring at nothing. Then he sighed. Deeply. Tiredly.
He turned and looked back at the group, their eyes questioning, unaware of what had just shifted in the fabric of reality.
He knew.
He knew—this wasn't something he could handle recklessly. His instincts screamed at him now, not with fear but with warning. That if he made one wrong move, one misstep, this thing—whatever it was—wouldn't just kill him.
It would break the world down to its foundation. Down to the marrow of its existence.
His eyes dimmed slightly as his thoughts twisted in on themselves. It always came back to that one name. The ghost of a legacy he never asked for, but could never run from.
'What the fuck did you leave behind, Rowan Vaelthorn…?'
The questions kept piling up. And with each answer… came ruin.
---
The group was led to their accommodations—already prepared in advance. The demons, surprisingly, had arranged everything with care, like reluctant hosts unsure if they were welcoming guests… or witnessing a final meal.
Night soon fell.
Nyx lay on his back, perched atop the roof of his assigned house, staring up at the moon in silence. The village was quiet, peaceful even. But inside his head? A war was raging.
A shimmer of shadow, and then
Samantha appeared beside him, her presence calm, familiar. She stood without a word at first, eyes following his gaze skyward.
"What are you thinking about?" she finally asked, voice low.
Nyx didn't look at her. "Nothing," he said, a little too quickly. Then, after a pause, "…It's just… whatever's inside that temple… it doesn't feel like it was meant for us to find."
Samantha tilted her head. "Whether it was or wasn't—we won't know unless we try, right?" Her voice was soft, but firm. "Didn't you tell me once—'If you're doing something, do it with your heart. Don't care about the consequences. Just go for it'?"
She smiled faintly as she sat down beside him, shoulder brushing his.
Nyx stayed quiet for a long moment.
Then he turned to her, eyes heavy, his voice barely above a whisper. "Sam… promise me something."
She glanced at him, sensing the shift.
"…Whatever happens tomorrow—" he said, serious now, voice rough with something close to fear, "—you won't follow me."
There was no edge to it. No bark. Just… resolve. Pure and raw. Samantha stared at him, stunned. Her breath caught, her eyes wide.
Then—without a word—she lunged forward and wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tight. No reply. No arguments. She just held him. As if letting go might mean losing him forever.
---
The Next Day—The sun rose, and with it, Nyx's burden.
The first thing he did was try to dig up more information—anything—about the gates. Old tales, forbidden scripts, even rumors. But there was nothing. No answers. Just silence. Everything he already knew was all there was to know.
And so, with a quiet goodbye left unspoken, Nyx made his way to the temple alone.
The massive structure loomed in the distance like a monument carved from time itself. Weathered stone. Towering pillars. Silence so thick it made your breath feel too loud.
He stepped closer, eyes lingering over the ancient engravings and the unnatural stillness that clung to the air.
Eventually, he reached the point the demons had warned him about—the invisible line where the barrier would activate.
Would it work? Would he be able to enter? Or was this entire journey just a waste—another dead end, another cosmic joke?
A thousand questions stormed his mind, crashing like waves against the walls of his resolve.
He lifted his foot— And stepped forward.