⸢You have killed a Demonspawn⸥
⸢Type: Malignant Toad Demonspawn (Lvl 37)⸥
⸢+220 EXP⸥
That was the strongest so far. He summoned his map, and swapped positions with the next group that flashed red.
The Hellish Crawler Demonspawn was faster than the others.
It struck its long, sharp claws at him, giving him barely any space or time to formulate an attack of his own.
He parried a flurry of its strikes with his sword, stepping backwards or spinning as the Crawler advanced.
He ducked a claw swipe by a millimeter, the wind of the attack ruffling his hair.
That gave him the opening he needed. He seized it by striking the slim beast with a ⸢Bladewave⸥ aimed to severe the demon's hamstrings.
Slink.
Percival grimaced. He had expected for that attack to tear through its body, but the HP had only dropped by a quarter.
Something had to give, Percival realized.
Either he lowered his output, fighting skill and expectation to use this lower-grade weapon, or he found himself a more functional one, worthy of his power.
For now, he had to compensate with skill. He stopped blocking—since the attacks were chipping at the blade—and he started deflecting.
The Crawler shrieked and attacked again. He spun, his body moving like water.
Skreeeeeee!!
It dragged a claw at him. He deflected the strike, spinning into a pivot and activating ⸢Blessed Edge⸥ and ⸢Soulfire⸥.
The fusion sharpened the mana-blade enough to cleave straight through the spawn's skull.
⸢+200 EXP⸥
He used the momentum of the enemies against them, guiding a charging Brute to smash into a wall.
Then spinning in the air, he activated ⸢Grave Step⸥, appearing behind the beast and sweeping his sword through its neck.
The Brute's head severed out of his body. Black ichor sprayed the village.
⸢+170 EXP⸥
The next time he ⸢Summon Swapped⸥, Percival found himself inside the tight grip of a Clawed Venom Demonspawn.
Before the creature could squeeze, Percival unleashed a burst of pure ⸢Soulfire⸥ from his body.
The blue flames erupted outward, consuming the Demon's arm.
It roared and dropped him.
Percival landed in a crouch, spun, and drove his sword—wreathed in the azure flames of his ⸢Soulfire⸥—straight through the creature's heart.
⸢Critical Hit!⸥
⸢+200 EXP⸥
He stood up, breathing hard. The thrill was electric. His blood was singing a song he loved to dance to in his former life.
Percival had missed the thrill of a good battle.
He moved from house to house, a whirlwind of steel and death magic. He saw a farmer shielding his wife with a pitchfork against three Imps.
Percival vaulted over the fence, landing between them and the Demonspawns.
Seconds later, they all fell, ⸢Soulfire⸥ engulfing their sickly emerald skin.
The farmer looked at him, tears streaming down his soot-stained face. "Thank you... oh gods, thank you..."
Percival didn't stop to accept the praise, but he stored the feeling, though he tried his best not to think about it.
Earlier, he had feared he was losing his morality, his sense of good. Now, he feared he hadn't changed at all.
He was confused. But thankfully, this battle was enough to keep his thoughts busy.
He finally found the last Demonspawn, a massive Abyssal Golem, engulfing the village square in emerald flames.
Percival walked toward it, his Skeletons falling in step behind him like a praetorian guard.
The Demonspawn turned its slab-like head, sensing a presence. Once its green eyes locked onto him, it exploded into an attack.
Percival sent his Skeletons—rejuvenated by the corpses of the dead spawns—into an attack.
They swarmed the Abyssal Golem, stalling its advance. Their attacks managed to cleave the furious beast's HP as low as they could, but the bar barely moved.
The Demonspawn let out a ferocious roar creating a shockwave that sent all the Skeletons flying like ragdolls and crashing into buildings and walls.
Percival stood still. This Demonspawn was clearly the commander of this Migration.
Killing the commander was very pivotal to stopping a Migration.
Even if all the other spawns were killed, as long as the commander remained, there was a threat of another Migration in that same location.
Worse, the commander could return to Akuma Island with intel for the Demon Lord.
Percival didn't necessarily care about any of that. Not anymore.
He simply really wanted to kill this Demonspawn.
It roared once again, pouring flames out of its open mouth and hands. Then, with its target in sight, it sped towards Percival, killing intent blazing out of its body as his Skeletons chased after it.
Percival didn't move until the last second.
He activated ⸢Blade Aura⸥ and dropped into a low stance.
⸢Blade Aura: Sustained passive that constantly surrounds the Swordsman and weapon with a field of energy, boosting attack and defense⸥
The Golem got closer and closer, a freight train of rock and emerald fire.
Then, he triggered ⸢Flash Step⸥
Percival vanished.
He reappeared behind the Golem, his sword slowly sliding back into its sheath.
A beat of silence passed.
Then, a thin line of blue light appeared on the Golem's neck. He had infused ⸢Soulfire⸥ into the blade.
The massive head slid off, dissolving into smoke as it hit the ground.
⸢You have killed a Demonspawn⸥
⸢Type: Abyssal Golem Demonspawn (Lvl 40)⸥
⸢+300 EXP⸥
A golden light enveloped him.
⸢You have stopped a Demon Migration⸥
⸢Rewards: +3000 EXP⸥
⸢+2 Skill Points | +400 Mana Coins⸥
⸢Congratulations! You have leveled up!⸥
⸢Lvl 20 → Lvl 21⸥
Percival exhaled, a long cloud of steam in the cold night air.
He walked over to the ruins of a collapsed stone wall and sat down. His legs felt heavy, not from fatigue, but from the adrenaline crash.
Around him, the fires were dying down. The villagers were emerging from their cellars and hiding spots, weeping, hugging their loved ones, and pointing toward him with reverence.
His Skeletons stood in a circle around him, facing outward, silent and respectful.
Percival checked his status.
⸢Name: Percival Nightstar⸥
⸢Race: Human (Outworlder)⸥
⸢Class: Necromancer⸥
⸢Level: 21⸥
⸢Talent: Talent of Necromancy - Mythic⸥
⸢Experience: 84,272/86,499⸥
⸢Health: 25,895/25,990⸥
⸢Mana: 390/1570⸥
⸢Defense: 760⸥
⸢Attack: 1920⸥
⸢Summon Space: 17/40⸥
"Almost at 22 already," he muttered.
This event had been a tragedy for Cuttleham, truly. But for him?
"This was good. I learned many things…"
He looked at the recovering village. "I can not completely turn the switch from the Hero I was before and the person I am now. I have to accept that."
He looked down at his sword. The blade was chipped, the edge rolled, and the handle was loose. His leather armor was scorched and torn in three places.
"I am also too strong for this gear," he reevaluated. "My stats are tearing my own equipment apart."
He wiped the black demon blood from his cheek.
A new surge of power coursed through his veins; his Necromancer Soul Core was expanding yet again.
He felt alive.
"I have to upgrade my equipment," Percival said, sheathing the Crownless blade.