Finale 2

[But death was not the end.]

[Your talent, Resentment activated at that precise moment. The resentment of the 200 villagers, combined with the lingering death energy in the cave, surged toward your lifeless body.]

[The air grew heavy as a vortex formed above you, a spiraling mass of hatred and despair. The resentment amplified of—the villagers and countless others who had perished in this cursed land—was drawn into the ritual.]

[The vortex glowed ominously, its power so immense that it forced both the old man and the young man to halt their battle. They stared at the phenomenon with solemn expressions, understanding that the ritual had succeeded and could not be undone.]

[Minutes passed as the vortex shrank, its energy condensing into a single entity. When the light faded, a ghostly figure stood where your body once lay. It was you—but not as you had been.]

[You had become a Ghostling, a spectral being born from sacrifice and bound by the dark rituals of the Demon God Catalogue.]

[This form, a pale and ethereal version of yourself, exuded an aura of power and dread. You instinctively understood what you had become. A Ghostling is a being of immense potential, its strength determined by the number of sacrifices made during its creation.]

[At the moment of your rebirth, you had already reached the stage of an adult Ghostling, a being capable of rivaling the peak of the mortal cultivation realm.]

[Testing your newfound power, you raised a spectral finger and released a beam of death energy. It shot across the room, striking a shadowed figure in the corner. The figure collapsed into a mist, revealing itself to be a hidden enemy. The old man, witnessing this display, snarled in frustration.]

"The one you've been fighting," you said, to to the young man, your voice echoing with a haunting quality, "is merely a clone."

The old man's eyes widened as his conspiracy is broken. Before he could act, you unleashed another beam of death energy, obliterating his clone in an instant. The room fell silent, save for the labored breathing of the young man.

The young man, though injured, turned to you with a mix of awe and revulsion. "I don't know what you are," he said, his voice trembling. "But something born from the sacrifice of 200 people cannot be good. If you let me live, I will report you to the authorities."

You regarded him calmly, unbothered by his threat. "Do as you wish," you replied.

As expected, the system's voice echoed in your mind.

"Completion rate of this copy world: 100%. You will now be forcibly removed from the world."

The cave began to dissolve, its walls and inhabitants fading into mist. You felt the pull of the system's power, drawing you back to the fog-filled space where your journey had begun. Despite the darkness of the path you had taken, you knew you had succeeded. The ritual, the sacrifices, and your transformation into a Ghostling—all of it had served its purpose.

And as the copy world vanished.

You found yourself back at the fog filled system space.

[System Notification]

[Simulation Terminated.]

[Copy Completion: 100%]

[Note: Good choice and utilisation of talent]

[Reward: Demon template - Adult Ghostling (Realm - Peak Mortal Transformation]

[Additional Reward: +500 system points]

[The host will be transported back to the real world after 3 minutes]

[To start another simulation the host can wait for new copy world to be created or can increase the process of creation by collecting spirit stones]

[Taking the soul of host back to the real body]

A suction erupted around him.

Strider found himself standing once again in the ancient room, the faint glow of moonlight streaming in through the small, intricately carved windows. The atmosphere was heavy with the echoes of his recent experience in the simulated world.

His mind raced as he recollected every moment—the poison, the hooded figures, the old man, the ritual, and his transformation into a Ghostling. The vivid memories felt both distant and unnervingly close, as if a part of him still lingered in that dark and twisted realm.

After taking a deep breath to center himself, Strider turned toward the full-length mirror on the opposite wall.

The reflection staring back at him was that of a handsome but pale boy, barely 18 years old, his noble features bearing the unmistakable mark of privilege.

His dark eyes, though youthful, held an intensity that belied his years. The faint remnants of exhaustion from the simulated ordeal made him appear almost fragile, yet there was a new resolve in his gaze.

Strider smiled faintly, a mixture of self-deprecation and determination.

He had a secret, one that no one in this world could fathom—he was not originally from here. He had transmigrated from the Blue Planet, a mundane world where cultivation and supernatural phenomena were nothing but fiction.

Now, in this world called Red Star, he found himself in a place where such things were reality.

Born as the fourth son of Baron Cromwell in the Stoneheart Empire, Strider's life had been far from remarkable.

At the age of six, during the traditional talent evaluation for cultivation, it was revealed that he had no aptitude for the mystical arts. In a world where strength and cultivation determined status and survival, this was tantamount to a death sentence for ambition.

Yet his family, unlike others driven by competition and cruelty, had been kind. His father's love for his mother, Baroness Cromwell, had created a rare harmony in their household.

His three older brothers had varying levels of cultivation talent. While not prodigies, they had enough ability to secure respectable futures.

His younger sister, Silvia, just 14 years old, had shown exceptional promise, further ensuring the family's continued honor. But Strider had none of that.

Lacking talent, he had devoted his life to books and learning. His family encouraged him to pursue scholarship, believing he could one day serve in the imperial court through the rigorous examinations.

But the disappointment of being talentless had lingered. It was on the night of his 18th birthday that everything changed. Activating the mysterious Demon God Simulator, Strider had been given a second chance—a way to ignite the spark of cultivation within him.

This newfound opportunity awakened a fire in his heart, a determination to defy the odds and honor the legacy of transmigrators like himself.

Breaking from his reverie, Strider opened the window. The cool night air greeted him, soothing his nerves.

To his relief, it was still the same night, confirming that the simulation's time existed outside the real world. This discovery eased his fears of being vulnerable to attacks while inside the system space.

With this newfound assurance and the knowledge he had gained, Strider resolved to carve his place in this world, no matter the cost.