The Crypt of Claws

Alan stood at the edge of the fungal village, his eyes scanning the ashen faces of the demon survivors. The System's warning pulsed in his vision like a curse:

[Divine Retribution Inbound: 98 hours remaining.]

He turned to the demon girl, her golden eyes still smoldering with a mix of gratitude and suspicion.

"Who's in charge now?"

"The village head is dead," she said flatly, gesturing to the pyre where a horned corpse lay half-consumed by emerald flames. "Burned by the Sunwardens for refusing to reveal our children's hiding places."

A murmur rippled through the crowd. A young demon male stepped forward, his left horn shattered at the base. "I am Kael," he said, voice trembling with forced authority. "Son of Elder Voryn. By our laws, leadership falls to me… unless challenged."

His gaze darted to a hulking figure lurking at the back of the crowd—a scarred warrior with obsidian scales and a missing arm.

Factions within factions, Alan noted. This'll get messy.

"Perfect," Alan said, clapping his hands to cut through the tension. "Kael, I need intel. Everything you know about the Sun Kingdom's movements, supply routes, weaknesses."

Kael hesitated. "We… don't venture beyond the Gloomspire Woods. They hunt us and other species of monsters for our core or sell us as slaves." He touched the pulsating crimson gem embedded in his chest—a demon's life-force. " The human kingdoms to the south pay fortunes for intact cores. The fresher, the better."

{Hmm, this guy is absolutely useless. I can't seem to get any important information from them. But I have to save them. But with the amount of power I have, I don't think I can fight their legions.} Alan thought

[Quest Insight Activated: The Gloomspire Woods were once a bastion of the Demon Empire. Its ruins conceal forgotten armories and cursed shrines.]

Alan's System interface flickered, overlaying the village with ghostly outlines of buried structures. One pulsed brightly beneath the largest fungal hut.

"Found your armory," Alan said. "Follow me."

The villagers recoiled as Alan kicked apart their communal sleeping mat, revealing a trapdoor of blackened iron.

"Blasphemy!" hissed an elder with moth-like wings. "That vault is sealed by blood oath!"

Alan unsheathed the corroded sword he'd taken from the ruins. The glyphs along its blade glowed faintly as he approached the trapdoor. " Open it."

Kael stepped forward, placing his palm on the lock. "I am blood of Voryn, heir to the Broken Horn. Release your grip."

The metal screamed. The trapdoor dissolved into a swarm of beetles that scattered into the shadows. Below lay a staircase choked with webs.

The armory was no treasure trove—just twelve rusted swords, three cracked staves, and a single intact artifact: a Soulbrand, its blade forged from crystallized demonic energy.

Lysara gasped. "That's a demonic sword! It's said to drink holy blood."

"Take it," Alan said.

She recoiled. "Only those marked by the Sovereign can wield it without going mad."

"Then it's mine." Alan grabbed the hilt. The blade erupted in black flames, searing his palm. The System chimed:

[Cursed Weapon Acquired: Soulbrand (Epic)

+50% damage vs. holy enemies

Penalty: -10% sanity per kill. At 0% sanity, host becomes Berserk.]

"Perfect," Alan lied, hiding the tremor in his hand.

★★★

They gathered in the least-damaged hut—Alan, Kael, Lysara, and the hulking warrior, Gorath. The latter hadn't spoken, only glared.

"Do you know how far away the human settlement is from us?" Alan said,

"I've never been there, though. But I heard from our ancestors that there were several human villages two days' journey northwest of us. Although I don't know for sure if they still exist." Kael said

{This is important information} Alan thought.

"We will attack the human villages. So that their attention will be diverted from us and they will be forced to go to save the villages."

Gorath finally spoke, his voice like grinding stones. "Fool's plan. Sunwardens care nothing."

"Normally? Maybe not." Alan tossed down a Sunwarden medallion stolen from Varkus' corpse. "But their commanders are nobility. Their estates, families—all in those villages. Burn their lands, and they'll scramble to protect their own."

Kael leaned forward. "How do you know this?"

"I've broken better men than them." Alan's smile didn't reach his eyes. "We leave at dusk. Lysara stays to defend the village with the Imp and hound."

"No." Gorath stood, his bulk scraping the ceiling. "You'll get us all killed. I challenge for leadership!"

[Side Quest: Trial by Combat

Subdue Gorath without killing him.

Reward: Village Unity + Loyalty Penalty: Failure = Village fractures.]

♦

The villagers formed a ragged circle as Gorath hefted a spiked maul.

"Rules?" Alan asked.

"To yield," Kael said nervously.

Gorath spat. "To death."

The maul swung. Alan ducked, rolling behind Gorath. A quick jab to the kidneys—useless against the warrior's scaled hide. Gorath backhanded him into the pyre's ashes.

"Pathetic," Gorath sneered.

Alan's Demonic Infusion flared. He feigned a limp, luring Gorath into a reckless charge. At the last second, he sidestepped and drove the Soulbrand's pommel into Gorath's temple. The warrior staggered.

Now.

Alan summoned the Imp Soldier directly beneath Gorath's feet. The creature erupted from the ground, tackling Gorath's legs. Alan pressed the blazing Soulbrand to his throat.

"Yield."

Gorath's nostrils flared. The villagers held their breath.

"...Yield," the warrior growled.

[Quest Complete: Village Unity +20%. Gorath's Loyalty: 50% (Respect Through Strength).]

"Okay. Then I'm going now. Kael show me the way. Also, pack your things."