"My lord?"
The voice shook, cracking under the weight of what was happening in front of him.
Chris stood there, or rather, the thing inside Chris's body stood there, staring at the headless corpse at his feet.
The blood was still painted on his hands, a sticky, disgusting sensation that made Chris want to vomit.
But he couldn't vomit.
He couldn't even gag.
His consciousness was acting like a spectator behind his own eyes.
The circle of dark-robed figures didn't attack.
But they didn't flee either.
They just stood there, paralysed by the sheer impossibility of what had just happened.
"This... this shouldn't be possible," one of the cultists stumbled, stepping back.
His hood slipped slightly, revealing a pale, terrified face marked with black tattoos.
"The binding ritual was perfect," another whispered, his voice rising in panic.
"We gave you the flesh! And a strong vessel! Why are you attacking us?"
"We helped you!" the first cultist screamed, extending a hand as if to calm a hungry beast.
"We are your servants! We helped you come into this world!"
"Helped me?"
The voice that answered from Chris's throat was rough.
"I was sitting on my throne. Enjoying the peace while training the army. And you fucks..."
The body moved forward.
It didn't feel like running.
It was a burst of unnatural acceleration that the human muscles weren't trained for.
Chris felt his muscles tear slightly under the strain, a sharp sting of pain that the Demon Prince completely ignored.
"You dared to pull me into this sack of meat?"
Thud.
Chris's hand, fingers curled into a tight claw, slammed into the chest of the speaking cultist.
This was no technique.
No martial art or power enhanced it.
Just brute, overwhelming force applied to a single spot.
Chris felt the resistance of the ribcage.
He felt the terrifying pop of bone giving way to the pressure.
"Stop!" Chris screamed internally, his mind thrashing against the suppression.
"Stop it, you psycho! They're still people!"
'This will become a problem if the officials find out it was him.'
"Shut the fuck up," the Demon roared, the words echoing both in the physical world and inside their shared mind.
"I don't care about you, and I really don't give a fuck about them!"
The cultist gagged, blood bubbling past his lips.
His eyes went wide, staring into Chris's eyes—eyes that were currently glowing with a chaotic, red light.
"P-please..."
"You interrupted my dinner," the Demon sneered.
With a quick, sickening tear, the hand jerked back.
Chris felt the sensation.
He felt the heavy, wet weight of the organ in his palm.
The cultist collapsed like a puppet with cut strings.
In Chris's hand lay a heart.
It beat once.
Twice.
And then completely stopped.
[SYSTEM ALERT]
[Hostile Action Detected.]
[WARNING: MENTAL INSTABILITY RISING]
"You killed him," Chris thought, his "voice" sounding small and horrified in the vast darkness of his mind.
"You actually ripped his heart out."
"And I'll do it again," the Demon replied, tossing the organ aside like a piece of trash.
"I never asked to be here, to be stuffed into this weak, pathetic shell."
The remaining cultists didn't wait for a third demonstration.
"Monster!" one shrieked.
"The ritual failed! Run!"
They scattered into the twilight forest, their red robes fluttering like bloody ghosts as they vanished into the thick treeline.
The Demon Prince made to chase them, taking a step forward, but suddenly stumbled.
Chris felt his knees buckle.
The adrenaline was fading, and the reality of the body's limits was crashing down.
His muscles were trembling, fatigued by the explosive bursts of movement.
"Weak," the Demon hissed, looking down at his own shaking hands.
"Disgusting. How did you survive this long with such frail limbs? I can barely support my own weight."
"Maybe because I don't go around ripping people's hearts out five minutes after waking up!" Chris snapped back.
"You're burning through my stamina!"
"Your stamina?" The Demon scoffed. "It's mine now. And I need more."
The entity turned the body around, scanning the dark forest.
The trees were tall, their branches weaving together to block out the moonlight, creating a suffocating canopy.
"Where are the settlements?" the Demon demanded.
"I need blood to strengthen this vessel. I'm going to find the nearest village and slaughter every fucking human there until this body is worthy of me."
"You can't just kill a village!" Chris shouted.
"Are you insane? There are knights! There are mages! You're in a level 1 body!"
"I am the Prince of the Deepest Pits of Hell! I do not fear mere mortals!"
The Demon ignored Chris's protests and began to walk.
It was a miserable experience.
The Demon tried to walk with a confident, imposing stride, but the forest floor was uneven, covered in thick roots and slippery mud.
Every few steps, Chris's foot would catch on a root, sending a jolt of annoyance through the Demon's mind.
"Useless legs," the Demon grumbled. "I should be flying. My wings cannot be opened here."
He approached a massive, twisted oak tree.
"I need to see where these insects are hiding."
The Demon jumped, digging his fingers into the bark to haul himself up.
Scrape.
The fingers didn't hold; there wasn't enough strength to hold on.
Chris felt the humiliating slide of gravity as they slid back down the trunk, scraping the skin off his palms.
"..."
"Told you," Chris muttered. "I skipped arm day."
"I will burn your soul for that comment," the Demon growled.
Defeated by the tree, the Demon chose a direction at random and began to march.
Time passed in a blur of pain.
Chris tried to keep track of the turns, but the Demon was erratic, slashing at bushes and stomping through ferns with zero regard for navigation.
"Go left here," Chris suggested at one point.
"I go where I please." The Demon went right.
Ten minutes later.
"That rock looks familiar."
"Rocks look like rocks, idiot."
Twenty minutes later.
The air grew even colder.
The forest's silence deepened, becoming heavy and oppressive.
Then, the trees opened up.
They stepped into a clearing.
"Finally," the Demon grinned. "Open space. Now, where is the path?"
Chris looked down.
His breath stopped at the sight.
"Wait."
"What?"
"Look at the ground."
The Demon looked down.
The ground was covered in dead leaves.
But in the centre of the clearing, the leaves were stained dark, wet red.
There were splashes of blood on the tree trunks and marks where the body had been dragged.
But there were no bodies.
The headless cultist was gone.
Even the discarded heart was gone.
There was nothing but the blood, glistening in the faint light.
"What the fuck is this place?" The Demon shouted, his voice echoing into the trees.
"We've been walking for an hour!"
"No," Chris said, the realisation dawning on him like a bucket of ice water. "We didn't."
"Do not insult my sense of direction, mortal. I am a predator."
"You do in the Dead Forest," Chris whispered.
The Demon paused. "Speak."
"I recognised the trees earlier, but I wasn't sure. Now I am," Chris explained, his mind racing through the lore of Heroes by the Blood.
"This is the Blackwood Borders. The forest is alive. At night, the roots move automatically. The paths change inside."
"Alive?"
"It's a labyrinth," Chris continued.
"It feeds on confusion. If you try to force your way through, it just loops you back to where you started. That's why we're back at the kill site."
"Then why are the bodies gone?"
Chris swallowed hard.
"Because the forest isn't the only thing that's alive in here. Beasts don't wait for sunrise in this zone."
The Demon scoffed, though Chris could feel a flicker of unease ripple through their shared connection.
"What nonsense. I will burn this forest down if I have to."
"You can't burn it," Chris said quickly. "The wood is fire-resistant. Listen to me. I know this world. I know the rules. If you keep walking blindly, we will die here. We starve, or we get eaten."
"Eaten? I am the one who eats!"
"Not in this body, you're not!" Chris yelled, gaining a momentary foothold in the conversation.
"You have high-tier magic, but your mana pool is trash right now. One big spell and you'll pass out. Then what? A wolf eats us while we're sleeping?"
The Demon fell silent. He hated it, but the logic was right.
"Fine," the Demon spat.
"Then tell me, 'Genius,' how do we leave?"
"We have to wait for the moon to—"
Snap.
The sound was soft, but in the absolute silence of the clearing, it sounded like a gunshot.
It came from behind them.
The Demon spun around, fists raised, eyes scanning the darkness.
"Who goes there?" he bellowed. "Show yourself! Prepare to die!"
"Shh! Shut up!" Chris hissed.
"Don't provoke it!"
"Stop ordering me!"
Nothing emerged from the trees.
Suddenly, the blue box appeared in front of their eyes.
It wasn't the glitchy, broken text from before, but sharp, clear, and terrifying red.
[SYSTEM WARNING]
[ENTITY DETECTED: BLIND BEAST (LEVEL 25)]
[STATUS: HUNTING]
[The Beast has smelled the blood on your hands.]
[It has noticed your presence.]