Finally, Sin looked at the person standing before him in the dark void of his mind space. The man's armor blazed bright red, pulsing with blood energy that seemed to breathe with a life of its own. His eyes appeared dead, crimson like Sin's own, yet somehow different—though Sin couldn't identify what set them apart. There was a weight to this stranger's gaze, a depth born from experiences Sin couldn't fathom.
Unlike the Shadow Demon that had mirrored his appearance, this figure bore no resemblance to him. The stranger had a pale face, pitch-black hair that fell past his shoulders, red eyes that seemed to pierce through reality itself, and crimson armor encasing his entire body like a second skin. If this was supposed to be a separate personality, why didn't it look like him at all? The question gnawed at Sin's mind, unsettling him.
The man walked closer, each step deliberate and measured. Far off in the distance, the Shadow Demon version of Sin stood motionless—still wearing its shadow armor, creepy smile intact, eyes bleeding darkness. Yet it remained docile, no longer hostile. It was as if this newcomer's presence had subdued it completely.
Sin stepped back, his heart racing despite being in his own mind. "Who are you?"
The man smiled faintly, an expression that held both warmth and sadness. "Elias. Elias Red Wing."
"Elias Red Wing," Sin repeated, testing the name on his tongue. "Strange name."
"Don't worry, I'm not here to harm you," Elias said, his voice echoing in Sin's mind with an otherworldly resonance. "I'm here to mentor you."
"Mentor me?" Sin's confusion deepened.
"Yes. In the arts of blood magic. I can see you have decent blood magic manipulation, but decent isn't good enough." Elias's expression hardened, his eyes narrowing with intensity.
"What do you mean?" Sin demanded, feeling a spark of defensiveness rise within him. "Decent isn't good enough?"
"Do you think decent will help you defeat your enemies? No. Decent won't cut it." Elias stepped closer, his presence overwhelming. "I'm going to train you, help you become something more than what you already are. Something worthy of the power you carry."
"Wait, wait," Sin interrupted, raising his hands. His mind spun with questions. "How did you even get in my mind?"
Elias sighed, a sound heavy with regret and weariness. "I died. My consciousness transferred into yours. I still possess all my power, but when I control your body, my strength is reduced by seventy-five percent. Why? Because if your body held even slightly more of my power, you would die instantly. Your vessel would simply shatter."
"So that means I have a god in my mind?" Sin's excitement began to build, his eyes widening. "Was I chosen?"
"You're not chosen," Elias cut him off sharply, his words like a blade. "You're just a random pick. To be honest, if you'd been even weaker, you would have been destroyed. In my eyes, you're too weak to be a vessel." He paused, letting the words sink in. "You're weak, Sin. Too weak. And I'm going to help train you so you aren't so useless."
The bluntness stung, but Sin couldn't deny the truth in those words. He had felt his own limitations countless times.
Elias walked forward, extending his hand, still covered in blood armor that gleamed like liquid ruby. Sin hesitated, then slowly, cautiously, placed his hand in Elias's. The touch sent a jolt through him—cold, ancient, powerful.
"Are you ready?" Elias asked, his gaze boring into Sin's soul.
Sin swallowed hard, steeling himself. "Let's begin."
---
In the deeper parts of the city, Aaron walked along the trail, his wooden staff gripped firmly in hand. The night air felt wrong—too still, too quiet. He continued until something caught his eye—a shadow, fast-moving, darting between the trees with unnatural speed.
"Is it a demon?" Aaron muttered, quickly transforming his wooden staff into a blade, the wood sharpening instantly with a whisper of magic.
Something landed in front of him with a heavy thud that shook the ground. A man—but not quite. Horns protruded from his head like twisted crowns, eyes gleaming red with malevolent intelligence, hands and feet sharpened into claws that could rend steel. When it opened its mouth, shark-like teeth glinted in the darkness, each one designed for tearing flesh.
"Aaron, you're back," the demon spoke, its voice a guttural rasp that sent chills down Aaron's spine.
Aaron raised his wooden sword, his muscles tensing. "This again," he mumbled, getting into a fighting stance. His heart pounded, but his hands remained steady.
The demon rushed forward with blinding speed, grabbing him by the leg and slamming him into a nearby tree. Pain flooded Aaron's head, white-hot and blinding, his eyes bulging as the impact rattled his skull. His body fell to the grass, breath knocked from his lungs. The demon was upon him instantly, grabbing his neck with crushing force and lifting him up like a ragdoll.
"No Time Stop here to save you now, Aaron," the demon hissed, its breath reeking of decay. It raised its clawed hand, about to plunge it into his stomach.
Suddenly, a dark portal opened, tearing through reality itself. A man with crimson blades stepped out, his face twisted with fury.
"How dare you attack my teammate!" he shouted, rushing forward to stab the demon with both blades.
The demon caught both swords effortlessly and snapped them in half like twigs, the metal screaming as it broke.
"You brought backup?" The demon's laugh was cruel, mocking.
Multiple portals opened in rapid succession. Hunters poured out, their weapons drawn, faces grim with determination.
"All right," the leader said, his voice steady despite the fear in his eyes. "Get ready for combat. This thing is a Class S demon."
"Class S?" one hunter yelled, his voice cracking with panic. "You didn't even tell us! We're all going to die!"
"Calm down," another hunter said, patting his shoulder with false bravado. "We're skilled enough. At least, I think we are." His attempt at reassurance fell flat.
The demon laughed, a sound like grinding bones, then plunged its hand through one hunter's chest with sickening ease. It ripped out his heart, the organ still beating in its clawed grip, and slammed it to the ground. The body collapsed, lifeless eyes staring at nothing.
Some hunters turned to run, survival instinct overriding training. The demon appeared behind them instantly, moving faster than thought. It grabbed one hunter's face with brutal force and slammed his head into a tree. The sickening crack of skull meeting wood echoed through the forest. The body flew through multiple trees before stopping in a broken heap. The demon leaped into the air with predatory grace, grabbed another fleeing hunter mid-stride, and slammed his face into a sharp rock. Blood sprayed across the area in a crimson arc, painting the leaves and grass.
Three hunters dead in less than thirty seconds. The massacre had only just begun.
The demon turned toward the remaining hunters, its red eyes gleaming with sadistic pleasure. One had Aaron on his back, stealthily retreating through the shadows. The demon didn't notice them—but it noticed everyone else, and that was enough.
It dashed toward the leader with terrifying speed. The leader threw a sharpened blue crystal, his last hope. The demon caught it with one hand, almost casually. Blue chains materialized, binding it in place with magical force, but with pure strength born of darkness, it broke free. The chains shattered like glass.
The leader's spine shivered, cold dread washing over him. He'd forgotten—this was an S-Class demon, one of the strongest in the land. They were all going to die.
He reached for more crystals, fingers trembling, but clawed hands tore through his neck and face before he could grasp them, killing him instantly. His body fell with a wet thump, blood pooling beneath him.
A massacre. Dead hunters littered the ground like broken dolls, their weapons scattered, their blood soaking into the earth.
Only one remained. The man grabbed his broken crimson blades, his jaw set with grim determination. He fused them back together with a strange crystal, his hands moving with practiced precision. The blades regenerated, crackling with crimson lightning that danced along their edges.
"So be it," he said, his voice quiet but resolute. He leaped forward, knowing this might be his last stand.
The demon caught his blades mid-strike. A pulse of electricity surged through them, locking the man's muscles in place, his body seizing. The demon lifted him effortlessly, spun with savage grace, and slammed him into the ground repeatedly. Each impact drove the breath from his lungs, cracked his ribs, shattered his bones.
Battered and broken, the man threw one blade at the demon as his muscles recovered—something no ordinary human could do, but he was a hunter. His body had been enhanced, pushed beyond normal limits.
The blade missed, spinning harmlessly into the darkness.
The demon plunged its claws into his neck without hesitation, killing him instantly. His eyes went wide, then empty. Another life extinguished.
Only two hunters survived: Aaron and the one who carried him out, disappearing into the night.
---
But deep in the shadows, something stirred. A presence darker than the demon, older than the city itself, watched the carnage with ancient, hungry eyes that had witnessed countless deaths across millennia.
And it smiled, a expression of pure malevolence that promised horrors yet to come.