Plan (1)

"Huff....huff..."

Daemon leaned heavily against the wall, his breath coming in sharp, ragged gasps. After activating [Dash], he had kept running, pushing his body to the limit, until he found a corner between two buildings. There, he quickly deactivated both [Stealth] and [Dash], his body finally slowing down.

The exhaustion hit him hard. His chest rose and fell in quick, uneven breaths, and a wave of nausea swept over him. His mana reserves were nearly drained, leaving him weak and dizzy.

Reaching into his subspace, Daemon pulled out an emergency potion. He had kept it for situations like this—when his mana was running dangerously low.

The reason he hadn't used it earlier was simple: this potion had a special effect. If consumed when his mana was nearly depleted, it would restore his mana reserves completely in under a minute. He couldn't afford to waste it before the right moment.

Without hesitation, he uncorked the potion and drank it down.

As soon as the potion entered his system, Daemon felt its effects take hold. A surge of energy spread through his body as his depleted mana reserves rapidly replenished. Within moments, the weakness and nausea faded, and in less than a minute, his mana was fully restored.

Feeling his strength return, Daemon pushed himself off the wall and stepped out of the corner.

'First phase completed', he thought, his mind already shifting to the next step.

Without wasting any time, he removed his mask and began walking toward the designated meeting point—the place where Kayne was waiting.

**********

Daemon stood in front of a worn-out building, its cracked walls and faded paint telling the story of years gone by. The building had once belonged to an old man who had passed away from old age just a month ago. Without any relatives to claim the property, Kayne had quickly taken control, introducing himself as the old man's son.

A face-altering device and a fake ID had made the process smooth and effortless. Daemon walked through the building, his footsteps echoing in the empty hall as he made his way toward the basement door.

When he reached it, Kayne was already standing by, waiting. As soon as Kayne saw Daemon's face, he immediately bowed deeply.

"Welcome, my lord," he said, his voice respectful.

Daemon nodded at him, then asked, "Did you bring her?"

Kayne didn't hesitate. "Yes, my lord. I did exactly as you instructed."

Daemon's lips curved into a small, satisfied smile. "Good work."

With a swift movement, Kayne opened the basement door for Daemon, who stepped inside, his eyes scanning the dimly lit space beyond. 

Inside the dimly lit basement, a girl sat bound to a chair, her wrists tied tightly behind her back. Her breathing was uneven, her body trembling ever so slightly.

Daemon stepped forward, his eyes cold as he looked at her. "It's been a while, Amy," he said, his voice eerily calm.

Amy's head snapped up at the sound of his voice, her face pale with fear. "W-what are you doing here, Daemon?" she stammered, her voice barely above a whisper.

Daemon didn't answer. Instead, he turned to Kayne. "Wait outside," he ordered.

Without hesitation, Kayne nodded and stepped out, shutting the door behind him. The sound of the lock clicking into place sent another wave of dread through Amy.

Daemon chuckled softly, a sound that made Amy's skin crawl. "Isn't it obvious what I'm doing?"

Amy flinched at his laughter, her body stiffening. Memories she had tried to bury came rushing back—memories of Daemon standing over Dylan's lifeless body, of the moment she had been forced to kill Ren. The horror of it all gripped her like a vice, suffocating her.

She knew why she was here. It wasn't hard to guess.

Daemon took slow, deliberate steps toward her. His voice was smooth, almost conversational. "Tell me, Amy. Do you know what your mistake was?"

She didn't answer. She couldn't. But she knew the truth.

She and her friends had bullied Daemon, beat him whenever they felt like it, treated him like nothing. And now, they were paying the price for it.

Daemon's expression darkened as his gaze locked onto her, his eyes sharp as daggers. "I don't like being ignored, Amy."

A shiver ran down her spine. Fear settled deep in her bones.

Tears streamed down Amy's face as she sobbed uncontrollably. Her whole body shook with fear. "B-because we bullied you... I-I'm sorry. I beg you, please don't kill me. I-I swear, I'm really sorry," she pleaded, her voice cracking with desperation.

Daemon watched her, his expression unreadable. Then, he crouched down so their eyes met, a slow smile creeping onto his face. But it wasn't a kind smile. It was the smile of a predator, sharp and merciless.

"Wrong answer, Amy," he said, his voice laced with cruel amusement.

Amy whimpered, her breath hitching.

Daemon tilted his head slightly, his piercing gaze never leaving her. "Your mistake, your sin… isn't that you bullied me," he murmured. "It's that you're weak, Amy. That is your greatest crime."

His voice dropped into a chilling whisper, one that sent an unbearable dread crawling through Amy's skin. "In this world, weakness is the greatest sin. The greatest mistake. And you committed it."

Amy's heart pounded wildly in her chest. She could feel it—this wasn't just talk. Something terrible was coming.

Daemon's eyes darkened. "And I'm no different," he continued. "I'm weak too. But unlike you… I will do everything in my power to change that."

A cold shiver ran down Amy's spine. She wanted to run, to scream, but she was trapped, helpless.

Then, in a swift motion, Daemon raised his hand. A dagger materialized in his grip.

Before Amy could react, pain exploded in her abdomen.

Her eyes widened in shock as blood gushed from her mouth, the metallic taste filling her throat. A strangled gasp left her lips as she looked down, her body trembling violently.

Daemon didn't speak. He simply watched, his expression as cold as ever, as Amy's body sagged against the chair, her life slowly slipping away.

Daemon paused, his hand still gripping the dagger lodged in Amy's abdomen. He couldn't let her die—not yet. There was a process, a plan, and he needed her alive for what came next.

With a swift motion, Daemon withdrew the dagger and set it aside. He reached into his subspace and pulled out the ancient book—the one containing the [Legacy of the Mad Sage].

The book was old, its pages yellowed with age. Daemon flipped through the pages, each one blank, save for the few stains of time. His fingers moved quickly, turning page after page, until he reached one that wasn't empty.

A black page stood out against the rest. Daemon stopped, his eyes narrowing as he focused on it.

Carefully, he placed the dagger aside and took Amy's blood-soaked hand. He let a few drops fall onto the black page of the book.

As soon as the blood touched the page, a red magic circle began to form, glowing brightly against the blackness of the paper. The circle spun to life, its symbols twisting and shifting. 

Daemon didn't hesitate. He tore the black page from the book and placed it carefully on the ground. The red magic circle inscribed on the page pulsed, its glow intensifying with each passing second. The eerie crimson light spread across the room, casting long, shifting shadows against the cold walls.

Amy's body tensed as the magic took hold. Her blood, still seeping from the wound in her abdomen, suddenly reacted to the circle's glow.

Then, the pain began.

"Aaaaghhhhh…!" A gut-wrenching scream tore from Amy's throat, raw and filled with agony.

At first, a single drop of blood lifted from her wound, hovering in midair. It trembled for a moment before another joined it. Then another. Two became three. Three became four. The process quickened, the droplets rising faster, forming a crimson mist above her.

Amy's breathing turned ragged as more blood poured from her body, pulled forcefully by the magic. It was as if an invisible force was wringing her dry, draining every last drop without mercy.

Daemon watched in silence, his expression impassive as the ritual unfolded.

Amy's face turned ashen, the color draining from her skin. Every moment felt like she was slipping further away from life, her blood floating around her, separated from her body. Despite everything, she somehow remained alive, her heart still beating.

But then came another wave of pain, more intense than anything she had ever experienced.

"Gahhhhhhh..." Amy screamed, her voice breaking as the agony tore through her.

The crimson mist swirled around her, growing thicker and more suffocating by the second. It wasn't just keeping her alive—it was feeding on her. Amy's skin began to melt, her flesh tearing apart as though it were made of paper, shredded and pulled apart by an unseen force. Her bones cracked, breaking as if they were brittle twigs, each fracture adding to her suffering.

Yet, through it all, she didn't die.

It was like being trapped in a nightmare, an unending torment that gnawed away at her very existence. The pain, the horror, the feeling of being consumed from the inside out—it was a living hell.

Daemon stood unmoving, watching the crimson mist consume Amy. His expression never wavered, no sign of remorse or hesitation. He simply observed, detached from the pain unfolding before him.

This was the hidden piece. Normally, a single drop of blood would be enough to grant someone the [Mystic Eyes], but Daemon wasn't after the ordinary. He sought something more, something deeper.

As the mist grew thicker, filling the entire room, Amy seemed to vanish, consumed entirely by the swirling crimson. Daemon didn't flinch.

He walked towards the black page on the floor, standing over it. The mist, now swirling in the air, seemed to take on a life of its own. Slowly, it moved towards Daemon, drifting into his eyes.

His vision was immediately flooded with blood-red hues. The veins around his eyes bulged as the sharp pain surged through him. It wasn't unbearable, not enough to make him lose control, but it was intense—like someone pouring burning water into his eyes.

Daemon gritted his teeth, his eyes stinging with the sensation. But he knew the process was nearing its end.

And soon, the last of the crimson mist entered his eyes. His vision was still tinged with red, but he knew what had happened. A mechanical voice echoed in his mind, confirming his success.

[Congratulations! You have completed the hidden quest]

[All your stats have increased by 10]

[You have acquired the skill 'Truth-Seeking Eyes']

[Your perception has increased by 5]

Daemon's lips curled into a faint, satisfied smile. The hidden piece was now his.