The air in Underworld Layer 1 was as usual,hot, suffocating, and acrid. The stench of sulfur pierced the nostrils, mingling with the scent of warm blood and iron that hung heavily in the stagnant air.
Every breath was thick and heavy, as if the very atmosphere conspired to weigh down the lungs and sap the spirit. Yet this was home to countless tortured souls and fearsome demons alike.
But this time, Arzael wasn't here for random EXP hunts like the countless ones before. Tonight, the oppressive heat and relentless haze held a different weight.
There was one target. One name etched into his mind like a burning brand. One debt left unpaid, a vendetta long overdue.
[Status]
Level: 15
HP: 850 / 850
MP: 550 / 550
STR: 38
AGI: 33
VIT: 42
INT: 29
LUK: 8
EXP: 255 / 350
Available Stat Points: 10
He stood at the jagged edge of a blackened cliff, the rocks beneath his boots cracked and brittle from the searing heat emanating from the abyss below.
The fiery river of magma twisted and churned like a living thing, pulsating slowly in a rhythm reminiscent of a wounded heart struggling to beat.
The relentless roar of molten rock crashing against jagged stone echoed all around, a monstrous cadence that seemed to shake the very bones of the world.
Arzael's chest rose and fell with a slow, deliberate breath. Each inhalation was an effort as the scorching air burned his lungs, but he welcomed it.
Pain reminded him he was alive. He flexed his fingers, eyes sharp as he reviewed his status screen one final time.
"Looks like I'll put eight points into STR," he murmured softly, voice low as his fingers glided over the glowing interface only he could see. "Thirty-eight... to forty-six." The numbers flickered as the change took effect, his muscles tingling with newfound power.
[Status Update]
STR: 46 (+8)
Available Stat Points: 2
His gaze slid to the last column,LUK. Luck. An unreliable ally, yet a critical one. In this cruel and unforgiving world, luck was more than just a number.
It was often the slender thread between life and death when all other chances vanished.
"And since I'm lacking luck…" he said with a slight, bitter smirk, "I'll put the rest into it. Eight... to ten."
[Status Update]
LUK: 10 (+2)
Available Stat Points: 0
A strange sensation rippled through him, spreading from his clenched fist through his entire body. His muscles seemed to swell subtly, coiling with raw power, every fiber tense and ready to spring into action.
The transformation was subtle but undeniable. He flexed his hands around the hilt of his sword,Crimson Edge.
The blade was dark and sinister, its metal absorbing the hellish red glow of the Underworld's firelight. The sharp edges shimmered faintly, as if alive with a pulse of its own.
A blade forged not just to cut flesh, but to pierce the soul.
"All set," Arzael whispered, voice steady but dripping with resolve. "Time to find that bastard."
The hunt was methodical and unforgiving.
Blackfire's trail was marked by death and decay,an unmistakable signature in this wasteland. The demon was infamous for roasting its prey alive, a cruel spectacle of agony that left the air thick with the scent of burning flesh.
The unmistakable stench became his guide, weaving through the cracked, jagged valley that lay ahead. Each step echoed on the barren stone as his boots met the ground with careful precision.
In the distance, faint, agonized screams reverberated,another soul lost, another casualty claimed by the merciless fiend.
Arzael's movements were fluid and silent, harnessing his impressive agility to slip through the treacherous terrain without alerting lesser predators or minions.
His mind replayed the first, brutal encounter,the burning pain, the near-death experience, the cold dismissal of his life's value by Blackfire.
"You'll regret not killing me back then," his thoughts hissed, dark and sharp as a blade.
At last, the end of the path opened to a terrifying sight.
There stood Blackfire,a towering demon of nearly five meters in height. Its skin resembled cracked volcanic rock, glowing ominously with veins of molten red fire that seemed to pulse with malevolent life.
Its eyes burned with an infernal blaze, dark and seething with ancient hatred.
Its massive, clawed hands shimmered with black flames licking the air like hungry serpents. The beast was engrossed in tearing apart a Hell Beast roughly the size of a horse,powerful and savage even by Underworld standards.
Flesh was ripped, sinew exposed, and flames sparked between its fingers. In mere moments, the unfortunate creature disintegrated into a cloud of ash and smoke.
"You…" Arzael's voice escaped in a low, venomous hiss. His eyes narrowed, locked on the demon.
Blackfire turned slowly, revealing a cruel grin lined with jagged teeth.
"Ah… the human who almost died back then. You come back to be my meal?" the demon taunted, voice rumbling like a distant volcano.
Arzael blinked, surprise flickering in his mind. He can talk? he thought.
Without hesitation, Arzael plunged his blade into his own thigh.
[Skill Active: Pain Conversion Lv.1] (+50% STR)
[HP: 850 → 800]
[+5 EXP]
A searing wave of pain surged through him instantly. But with it came a powerful surge of strength, coursing through his veins like molten steel. His muscles contracted, tightened, and the weight of his sword seemed to vanish, light as a feather in his grasp.
"I've come… to settle our debt."
With sudden, explosive force, he lunged forward.
[Skill Active: Shadow Pierce Lv.1]
[-30 MP]
[MP: 550 → 520]
The shadow of his strike mirrored the deadly arc of Crimson Edge as it struck true, cleaving deep into Blackfire's side.
CRASH!
The demon roared in pain as a gush of molten orange blood sprayed from the wound.
-212 HP
Blackfire staggered, then let out a short, amused laugh.
"Well done… you're getting more interesting."
The demon raised a massive claw and summoned a massive orb of black flame. It hurled the fiery sphere with devastating force. Arzael twisted his body, barely evading the blast, but the heat still singed him.
[-96 HP]
[HP: 800 → 704]
[+20 EXP]
The burn seared his skin.
"That all you've got?!" Arzael shouted, his eyes glowing red with fury. "Now it's my turn."
[Skill Active: Blood Manifest Lv.1]
[+25% ATK for 15 seconds]
[-50 MP] [-50 HP]
[MP: 520 → 470]
[HP: 704 → 654]
Crimson Edge glowed a deep crimson, like liquid blood pulsing with life. Arzael surged forward, slashing upward with deadly precision.
-328 HP
The demon's blood hissed as it hit the ground, turning into thick black smoke that curled upward like a dark omen.
Blackfire howled in rage and swung its claw in a powerful arc. The strike landed hard against Arzael's left chest, crushing bone beneath.
[-140 HP]
[+30 EXP]
[HP: 654 → 514]
The pain stabbed deep, but Arzael's lips curled into a cold smirk.
"Thank you… for your strength."