Your Name
Bel trembled on the ground, his body curled in pain.
The burns from the holy light still seared his skin. His breaths came shallow and ragged, his mind slowly drifting.
The woman stepped toward him, her golden eye gleaming with fascination. She moved cautiously, observing him like a miracle.
"The Crux," she murmured. "A divine relic, an artifact of holy power said to repel demons. It is an instrument of purity, said to be forged in the age of the Holy War when gods blessed mortals to face the monsters from the underworld."
She lifted her gaze briefly, lost in memory before speaking again.
"Long ago, during the Great Sundering, a warrior wielded this relic to turn night into day, driving back a demon incursion. Hailed as a hero, he was later betrayed by his own, bound in sacred chains, and crucified atop the highest peak, left to wither beneath the sun. His name vanished from history, but the relic perdured. Having bathed in his blood, it perdured through time, and its purity mirrored the heaven."
She turned her head back toward Bel, her expression shifting to something deeper, something thoughtful.
"And now it burns you. A relic meant to suppress evil, a weapon forged to destroy demons, a blessing of the gods themselves… and yet, it scars your flesh. Tell me, little Bel... what does that make you?"
But Bel wasn't in any state of answering. Maybe it was the pain, maybe it was shock, he didn't know, her words had ceased reaching him.
The woman crouched in front of him, her gaze locked onto him, studying him as if he were the rarest of creatures.
A moment of true, silent contemplation.
She observed everything, the way his burnt skin trembled, the twitch of his fingers, the rise and fall of his breath. Her head tilted slightly, eyes narrowing as she considered a possibility.
Then, she spoke again, her voice softer now, almost musing.
"There was once a breed of demons… if we can consider them demons. They disappeared fifty years before the rise of the previous Demon King. An entire species, erased from existence, but there was a popular tale at the time that they were said to have returned their skin to reveal the weakest part of their being and trick the heavens to avoid the purge after the hero's win."
She let out a quiet, almost wistful sigh.
"I've once been stabbed by a weapon with a blade made of a tooth from one of these things. And every time I see your eyes, I can't help but feel the same melancholy…"
The two monstrous creatures stepped forward, their burning eyes locked onto Bel.
They loomed over him, observing him with curiosity.
The Baron and Dusteria stood silent, still as statues, their faces void of comprehension, drained of the ability to react.
The woman smiled, her curiosity now fully ignited.
She gently caressed Bel's face, making him react finally. He slowly struggled and looked weakly at her, seeing her face full of warmth, but through the shadows, her eyes glowed.
Her voice lilting with again, each word echoing in his head, but there was more. Something seemed to penetrate his brain without touching him.
"There was once a time when demons walked among humans, blending in, making their invasion unstoppable. But in those times, there was one way to reveal a demon's true nature: calling them by their true name."
With her fingers, she lifted Bel's weak chin, her glowing eyes devouring his. Then, her murmur resonated in everyone's head.
"Belzerion."
Bel's body tensed as a powerful heartbeat thundered in his chest. His eyes widened, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps.
A violent tremor ran through him, his muscles coiling and twisting as he groaned in agony. His body began to shift, his form contorting as dark veins pulsed beneath his skin.
His fingers clawed at the ground, his limbs spasming wildly as an unnatural force overtook him.
With a sudden burst of strength, Bel lashed out. A blinding slash cut through the air, striking the woman before she could react.
She staggered back, her right arm severed and dangling loosely at the elbow. The two monstrous creatures tensed, ready to intervene, but the woman lifted her remaining hand, stopping them.
She regarded Bel with intrigue, amusement dancing in her golden eyes.
The Baron fell onto his back, horror-stricken. Dusteria's mind refused to process what she had just witnessed, her body frozen in place.
Before them stood Bel, his face partially transformed, one half bearing a demonic visage, a single reptilian eye glowing like molten gold. The woman's lips curled into a delighted grin.
She made a small gesture, and with a grotesque squelch, her severed arm reattached itself. She flexed her fingers, shaking off the sensation, then clapped her hands together with an eerie, delighted laugh.
"A miracle," she declared, eyes shimmering with satisfaction. "A survivor of an extinct species. One of the great demon clans, the dragons."
Bel's injuries slowly mended, his breathing growing steady as his demonic features faded. Moments later, his body collapsed, unconscious. The woman tilted her head, her amusement never wavering.
"How marvelous," she mused. "A variable of this magnitude changes everything. Do you realize the importance of this moment? The strongest species, standing before us. A perfect candidate for the race." Her voice turned soft, unsettling. "For our goal… we must cherish this wonder if nature with care."
She turned her gaze toward the Baron, her expression playful yet calculating.
"You should consider yourself lucky," she said lightly. "A demon lord came here for your life, and in respect of our code, I will honor that."
The Baron, clutching his pierced eye, trembled violently. The woman sighed as if explaining something to a child.
"This barony belongs to another demon. I have been trespassing here." She took a thoughtful pause. "But since he was unaware of his own shadow… my little intrusion can be forgiven, as long as I make amends now."
She bent down, picking up a torn piece of cloth and draping it over the crucifix. With the fabric shielding it, she lifted the relic without harm, turning it in her grasp with mild curiosity.
"My amends will last as long as this land remains under a demon lord's protection," she stated, her tone almost casual. "But I will be watching… from the shadows. Our game is not over."
A sudden gust of wind howled through the ruins, fanning the flames and thickening the smoke. The Baron shielded his face, coughing as the heat pressed in around him.
When he lowered his arm, the woman and her monstrous companions were gone, vanished into the haze like ghosts of a nightmare.
For a long moment, silence reigned. Then, the Baron staggered, his breath ragged. His hands trembled as he clutched his wounded eye, blood seeping through his fingers.
His mind raced, the weight of everything crashing down on him. His home was gone, his people were dead.
Albert, his butler, reduced to a severed head on a pike. And something close to the cause of it lay unconscious before him.
His gaze snapped toward Bel. The boy, this thing, this monster. His hands clenched around the hilt of the fallen rapier, his knuckles trembling. His breath came fast, ragged, his mind drowning in fury and grief.
Albert's head, his most loyal servant, his friend, sat mounted on a blade, an empty, twisted mockery of life. The rage inside him roared, his vision blurring red.
No thoughts, no hesitation. Just instinct.
With a growl, he yanked the rapier free, Albert's severed head rolling lifelessly to the side. His stomach twisted, but he refused to stop. No matter who the true culprit was, it had been a demon.
And this boy, this thing, was one too.
He took a step forward, blade raised, his entire being screaming for an end to this nightmare.
He took a step forward, the blade poised over Bel's exposed throat.
"Stop!!! If you do it, she'll come back!"
Dusteria's voice cut through the thick air, sharp and oozing fear, real fear. Her fists clenched, her breath shaky.
The Baron whipped his head toward her, his grip on the rapier iron solid.
"You saw what he is! That thing! He's like them! If we let him live, we'll bring even worse down on us!"
Dusteria stepped forward, voice rising.
"And if you kill him, you think that woman won't notice? You think she won't come back and finish what she started? You heard what she said! If you kill him, she will torture us to death! Put that thing away!"
The Baron's breathing was erratic, his mind spiraling in rage.
"We can't let another demon live! Not after everything..."
"And what the hell do you want us to do after that?! You want to be skinned alive?! You want her to do everything she said?!" Dusteria's voice cracked, desperation bleeding through her anger. "She'll come back. She'll come back, and she'll rip out your other damn eye!"
The Baron snarled, his vision blurring with fury. His grip on the rapier trembled, not with hesitation, but with a conflict he didn't want to acknowledge.
He knew she was right. If they killed the boy, they were sentencing themselves to torture. That woman would return, and she would not grant them a swift death. And yet…
His gaze drifted to Bel, lying limp on the scorched ground. He looked so small. A teenager... More, a peasant, judging by his clothes.
He shouldn't have been anything more than another nameless orphan scraping by in the barony.
But then, the tale resurfaced. Dragons shedding their skin to deceive the heavens. And that woman's words echoed in his mind.
He forgot what he was.
The Baron flinched, his breath catching. He looked at Bel again, this time not with blind rage, but with something deeper, something sinking into his gut like.
For moments, he just stared, his grip still tight, his mind still warring with itself. Then, as the wind picked up, fanning the embers around them, he exhaled and spoke, voice heavy with reluctant realization.
"That's true…"
The weapon slipped from his grasp.
Then, a sound.
Faint at first. A soft trill, distant, gentle. A bird's song, weaving through the heavy fog of unconsciousness.
The darkness refused to let go easily. It clung to him, wrapping around his arms like heavy chains, suffocating his senses. His body ached, his mind drifted.
Then, warmth. A gentle breeze brushed against his skin, carrying a faint fragrance, floral, sweet, yet unfamiliar. The crisp scent of polished wood mingled with it, alongside something rich, something expensive.
The scent of silk. Perfumed oils. A place far removed from the dirt and blood he had known.
His fingers twitched, brushing against fabric. Not rough straw, not scorched earth, but something smooth, delicate. A bed. Soft, warm, almost too comfortable.
His eyelids fluttered, slow, heavy, reluctant to rise. Light seeped through them, warm and golden. The blurred outlines of wooden beams stretched above him, carved with elaborate designs. Velvet curtains framed the tall windows, the glass reflecting the glow of midday sun.
A chandelier, its crystals glinting, cast dancing lights across the walls, and beneath him, the mattress embraced him in its luxurious embrace, far too fine for someone like him.
He inhaled sharply, but something was wrong. His body body felt... different. Heavy.
His mind clawed for memories, trying to piece together what had happened, where he was, how he got here.
Then, as he turned his gaze, he saw it.
A glowing screen, floating mere inches from his face.
[ Draconic Evolution System Activated ]
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Name: Belzerion
Title: None
Race: Dragon
Class: Lesser Wyrmling
Level: 1
EXP: 0/100
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Core Stats:
HP: 50/50
MP: 10/10
Strength: 10
Toughness: 12
Intelligence: 10
Speed: 10
Agility: 11
Stamina: 14
Pressure: 1
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Draconic Core: 1%
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Unlocked Traits:
- Wyrm's Resilience
Slightly enhanced endurance and recovery.