Chapter 2: The First Punishment

Damon was filled with fury and wrath.

The demands of the system were like an incessant, bothersome voice in his thoughts, each one an affront to the Demon King he had once been. "Guide the lost travelers to safety," it ordered, and "Help the orphaned child find shelter," it pleaded. Damon scoffed at the whole idea of caving in to such menial duties. He was neither a helper nor a protector of the helpless. He was known as the Demon King, and he was equally despised and feared.

However, the system wouldn't be disregarded.

After an hour of its persistent nagging, Damon had finally had enough and was determined to show it what real power was, tired of its constant pestering. He decided to commit the most heinous deed he could think of: razing a little, helpless village to the floor. The thought caused him to smile cruelly. It was an act that matched his character and would undoubtedly make a statement to both the God who had placed the system on him and the system itself.

Damon could feel the disdain of the system emanating from him as he got closer to the hamlet, like a huge burden bearing down on his spirit. He ignored it, though. He was resolved to show that neither a system nor a god could compel him to submit.

Dark flames sprang up from the ground and consumed the first of many dwellings with a flick of his wrist. The air was filled with the cries of the people, a symphony of dread that Damon had once delighted in. However, the sound was almost empty now, not giving him the same joy as before. Still, he persisted, destroying everything in his way.

Then it took place.

His body was filled with an excruciating anguish beyond anything he had ever experienced. It felt like something was tearing apart from the inside of him. Damon stumbled, clutching his chest in excruciating pain as his flames flickered and died. Now that it was louder, the voice of the system spoke in a harsh, icy tone that was unsettling.

"You have disobeyed the rules. Penalties are necessary.

Every neuron in his body was burning intensely as the pain became worse. Gasping for air, Damon collapsed to his knees, but the system provided no help. It was merciless, uncompromising, and without pity at all. The once-mighty Demon King writhed on the ground, reduced to a powerless figure by an invisible force, while the peasants he had planned to annihilate stared in terrified curiosity.

The voice of the machine echoed in his head, commanding him to "submit."

"Never," Damon growled, his jaws clenched. Even though the agony was excruciating, he wouldn't give up. It was a matter of pride and his identity itself. To give in would be to concede defeat, to acknowledge that he was nothing more than a puppet.

The punishment went on, an eternity of agony every second. Damon felt the system's hold tightening around his soul as his eyesight became blurry and his power began to wane. He nonetheless discovered a perverse feeling of fulfillment despite his misery. This demonstrated that the system was so afraid of him that it was forced to use such tactics in order to get him to behave.

This implied that it may break.

Is this all you're capable of doing? Damon spit, forcing himself to stand, blood streaming from his mouth. Even in the face of such tremendous strength, he remained erect and defiant despite his legs quivering and barely holding his weight.

There was no response from the system. The ache persisted, a never-ending, sapping presence that seemed like it would swallow him whole. But Damon continued, motivated by his rage and his unwavering will. He refused to allow this to break him. He would bear it, and when the time came, he would murder the God who had the audacity to force it upon him as well as the system.

"I'll make you regret this," Damon said in a raspy but resolute voice. "You believe you have power over me? God of Light, I will dismantle this system piece by piece and then come after you. And before I'm done, you'll plead for forgiveness.

The agony lessened, as though in reaction, gradually and excruciatingly, until it was reduced to a faint ache in the corner of his consciousness. The system said nothing, its shadow still there but less stifling. Damon was aware that the system would keep trying to force him to comply with its demands and that this was far from done. However, he had made his position and managed to live.

"You'll need to surpass that," he said to himself, averting their gaze from the burning remnants of the settlement. The peasants had run away, his defiance reigniting their fear of him. However, there was no satisfaction or victory in the mayhem he had caused.

With his body bruised but his will unwavering, Damon turned to go. Now that he was aware of the obstacles, he enjoyed the task. This God, this system, believed they could break him, but they were mistaken. No one, not even the skies, could influence his fate—he was the Demon King.

Damon's thoughts shifted to his next course of action as the sun began to fall behind him and create deep shadows over the abandoned settlement. The system might have prevailed in this round, but the battle was far from over. When the time came, Damon would prove to them all that a monarch never bows down and that a villain never changes.