CH 02: Blood, Souls, Evolution And Surplus For The Strong

{Chapter 2: Blood, Souls, Evolution And Surplus For The Strong}

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As if answering an unseen, ancient command, the countless demon eggs scattered across the desolate banks of the River Styx began to tremble violently. Faint tremors rippled through the blood-soaked sands, as though the very land itself recoiled in anticipation of what was to come.

Then came the sounds—low, guttural growls, frantic scratching from within the shells, and deep, resonant rumbles that rolled through the oppressive air like distant thunder.

It was an eerie, discordant symphony of impending birth.

Above them, the crimson stars pulsed ominously, its sickly glow intensifying. The light seemed almost alive, as if it were reacting to the mass awakening, feeding energy into the scene below. What was once a bleak and lifeless stretch of shoreline now pulsed with raw, chaotic energy, the very air crackling with an unnatural aura of corruption.

One by one, the eggs cracked.

What emerged from within was the stuff of nightmares.

From the ruptured shells crawled creatures of grotesque and varied forms. Some slithered, their elongated, slimy bodies writhing as they adjusted to existence. Others stumbled on malformed limbs, their movements jerky and uncoordinated, their bodies covered in thick mucus that glistened under the baleful red light. Some came out snapping, their mouths filled with rows of jagged, irregular teeth, already gnashing hungrily at the air.

The sheer variety of their shapes was staggering.

Some bore a semblance of humanoid forms, like Dex, with muscular arms and clawed fingers, but their proportions were off—some had elongated torsos, others had too many joints, and a few had no discernible eyes at all. Others were more bestial, crawling on four or even six legs, their movements eerily fluid. A few had insectoid features, with spindly limbs covered in chitinous plating, multiple compound eyes blinking as they adjusted to their new surroundings. Some had wings—leathery, bat-like appendages that twitched as if itching to take flight.

Even their colors varied wildly.

While most bore the telltale blackish-red hues of demonic flesh, others had mottled gray skin, deep cerulean scales, or even sickly green carapaces. Some were patterned, their bodies streaked with dark veins that pulsed as if their very blood carried an unnatural, corrupt energy. Others had overlapping layers of skin, shifting and undulating like molten wax, as if their very forms were still unstable.

Dex stood amidst them, silent and unmoving.

Unlike the others, he had taken his time to assess his surroundings when he was born. But these creatures—they acted purely on instinct. The moment they crawled free of their shattered eggs, their first impulse was not to observe, but to consume.

With mindless hunger, they latched onto the remains of their shells, gnawing and slurping the thick, viscous fluids that still clung to them. The sound was grotesque—wet, crunching, a ceaseless chorus of slurps and chomps. It was a feast of birth, a scene of gluttonous indulgence that sent shivers of unease down Dex's spine.

But this was only the beginning.

The moment their own eggshells were gone, the newborn demons lifted their heads in unison. Their unfocused, animalistic gazes turned toward the weaker, slower ones who had yet to fully hatch.

Their hunger had not been sated.

Without hesitation, they pounced.

The first kill happened so quickly that Dex barely had time to process it.

A smaller demon—barely formed, its limbs still twitching from birth—let out a feeble screech before a larger one tore into its throat. Black ichor sprayed across the sands as razor-sharp claws eviscerated the fragile body.

Then the slaughter began in earnest.

Shrieks of agony and primal roars of bloodlust filled the air as demons turned on each other, tearing at flesh, crushing skulls, ripping limbs from sockets. It was not a battle—it was a chaotic frenzy, a purge of the weak.

Some demons strangled their siblings with sinewy tendrils. Others resorted to crude brutality, bashing their rivals' heads against the jagged rocks until nothing remained but a pulpy mass.

The air reeked of blood, bile, and raw, unfiltered malice.

Dex felt his stomach twist at the sheer brutality of it all.

This… this was the nature of the Abyss?

There was no unity, no instinct for cooperation. No familial bonds.

Only hunger. Only the need to kill.

His gaze flicked to a group of demons that had already finished their first kills. Rather than moving on to another target, they hopped around the corpses, letting out eerie, high-pitched shrieks that sounded disturbingly like laughter. Their clawed feet stomped in the pools of fresh blood, splattering it across their already gore-soaked forms. To them, this was not just a necessity—it was a game. A sick, twisted game.

Dex's expression darkened.

Unlike them, he still retained something else. He could think. He could reason. He did not throw himself into a mindless killing spree. He still had… control.

But even as he told himself this, something stirred deep within him.

A dark hunger. A whisper of instinct.

Something primal.

The first attack came suddenly.

A blur of movement in the corner of his vision—razor-sharp claws swiping toward his throat.

He moved on instinct.

His hand shot out, catching his attacker's wrist in an iron grip. A sickening crunch followed as he twisted, snapping the joint backward. The demon let out a strangled screech, but Dex did not stop there.

His free hand plunged into its chest.

Flesh and bone gave way as his fingers wrapped around the pulsing organ within. A single, brutal yank—and he ripped the creature's heart free.

For a brief moment, silence fell.

Then the rush hit him.

A wave of energy flooded his body, raw and intoxicating. His muscles tensed, his senses sharpened, and something deep within him burned. His evolutionary system flared to life, absorbing the soul of his fallen enemy.

His form shifted.

His once-lean frame thickened, his muscles swelling with newfound strength. His black scales darkened, their surface hardening into a more resilient armor. He could feel it—his body adapting, growing faster than those around him.

More demons turned their attention toward him now.

They could smell it—the power, the potential.

The strongest always drew the most attention.

A horde began to form, circling him, their hunger-fueled gazes locking onto his form.

Dex exhaled, rolling his shoulders.

If they wanted him dead, they would have to try harder than that.

A slow, feral grin spread across his face as he took a step forward. His fingers curled, claws glinting in the red moonlight.

Let them come.

If the Abyss demanded blood, he would drown it in carnage.

With a roar that shook the demons aeound, Dex lunged.

The massacre began anew.

Dex was a little strange at first. He had sustained multiple wounds from the infant demons, creatures without fear of life or death, driven purely by an insatiable killing instinct. Their attacks were relentless, and their minds lacked hesitation, making them particularly difficult to predict. However, as time passed, that very instinct honed him.

Forced into battle with countless banay demons, Dex's skills sharpened at an accelerated rate, his movements becoming more fluid and precise, as if he had undergone years of brutal training condensed into mere hours. His ability to perceive weak points in an opponent's defense became almost instinctual. Every slash, every claw strike, every counterattack was delivered with lethal accuracy. He knew exactly where to strike for a fatal blow.

A new round of massacre was about to begin. This was the law of the Abyss—only the strongest could escape the place of their birth.

With a physique far superior to the other demons and combat skills refined to an almost terrifying degree, Dex moved like an executioner among them. His claws dug into flesh, his jaws snapped through bone, and his hands twisted necks with ease. The battlefield became a scene of carnage, rivers of dark blood pooling around him. As his evolutionary system continued to strengthen, the gap between him and the other demons grew wider.

The weaker demons began to gather, their eyes flickering with a mixture of lust and greed. The constant scent of blood had drawn them closer. They hesitated only for a second, watching the high-quality souls that flickered around Dex—ethereal remnants of the fallen—tempting them into reckless action. Their instincts screamed at them to attack.

Dex's transformation was undeniable. Once standing at just over a meter and a half, he now towered at nearly two meters. Thick, powerful muscles rippled beneath hardened scales, and his body had become a living weapon. Among the swarm of infant demons, he was an apex predator, impossible to ignore.

Despite having slain hundreds, meeting the minimum requirement for advancement, he found himself at an impasse. The evolution process required a period of forced dormancy—an unavoidable slumber that left demons completely vulnerable. If the process was interrupted, it could lead to irreparable, permanent damage. Here, on the riverbank teeming with bloodthirsty creatures, there was no such thing as safety.

And after so many battles, Dex's condition was deteriorating. His entire upper body was covered in wounds, each a testament to the relentless onslaught he had endured. His left shoulder bore deep bite marks, the venomous saliva of a spider demon still coursing through his veins. Though not lethal, it left half of his body numb, a dangerous handicap in the Abyss. Worse still, his left arm—once a shield against countless attacks—was now stripped to the bone in places, his own dark blood dripping steadily to the ground.

Yet, despite his injuries, he remained. He had received permission from the Will of the Abyss to leave the riverbank, to seek his fate in the outside world. But he was not ready. His inherited memories spoke of countless horrors beyond this place, other Abyss layers filled with unspeakable dangers. If the riverbank was a hellish battlefield, then what awaited him outside was something far worse.

There were still too many weaklings here—too many enemies ripe for slaughter. Each carried a soul, a fragment of power that could be his. The opportunity was too rare, too precious to squander. He would not leave until he had wrung every last drop of strength from his surroundings.

Time passed, and his wounds continued to mount. His speed, once effortless, began to falter. The efficiency of his killing, once like a storm of death, could no longer keep up with his ever-growing needs. He was reaching his limit.

the current killing efficiency has gradually failed to keep up with his needs, so he turned his attention to the system panel.

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Anton Arcane Garissa Asalon...Neron Orillia Blackheart

Race/Level: Demon Race/Juvenile Demon(Advanced)

Strength: 15 (5)

Endurance: 16 (5)

Speed: 17 (5)

Magic Power: 19 (5)

Soul: 22 (5)

Abilities:

Soul Eater Evolution, Blood Evolution, Combat Instinct

Skill: None

Evolution point: 2858

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The evolution method of the evolution system is not automatic evolution.

Just as half of the evolution points previously set by Dex are responsible for strengthening the body and soul, and the other half are reserved. He must first specify the strengthening goals and strengthening effects for it, and then it will automatically list the available points according to the requirements. The method of reinforcement is up to the host to choose which method to use to achieve the effect.

So Dex put forward his own requirements for the system.

'The flesh and blood are basically wasted, I need the ability to extract the essence of flesh and blood, and although I have magic power, the method of use is too basic. I can only strengthen the flesh at the most basic level. I need more attack methods. '

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[Flesh Extraction Ability]

1. Blood Manipulation – The essence of life itself bent to your will, siphoned from the very air through sheer magical force. With but a thought, flesh and blood essence could be harvested, coalescing into raw power. (Cost: 1,500 Evolution Points.)

2. Organ Modification – Evolution was not merely external; it was the reshaping of one's own foundation. By altering your organs, the host could forge them into instruments of extraction, making his very body a conduit for harvesting the essence of others. (Cost: 300 Evolution Points per organ.)

[Attack Methods]

1. Destructive Enhancement of Magic Power – The raw force of your magic surged, its potency refined into a tool of utter devastation. The host's magic power will have a more powerful destructive energy, (Cost: 1,200 Evolution Points.)

2. Bloodline Element Awakening – Dormant power within your demonic heritage stirred, awakening forgotten ancestral abilities. With this evolution, elemental forces—be it fire, thunder, wind or any other element—could be yours to command, shaping the battlefield to your will. (Cost: 1,000 Evolution Points.)

3. Bloodthirsty Killing – A primal force lurked beneath your skin, waiting to be unleashed. By sacrificing magic power, you could enter a berserker state, your physical strength soaring to monstrous heights, your instincts honed for nothing but slaughter. (Cost: 1,000 Evolution Points.)

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Dex reviewed his options. He needed something immediate, something that would turn his battlefield into a place of true dominance.

He made his choice.

Flesh and Blood Extraction – To ensure that every kill granted him maximum benefit.

Organ Modification (Fingers, Tail) – Precision was key. These enhancements would let him harvest without waste.

Destructive Magic Enhancement – He needed raw power, enough to obliterate whatever stood in his way.

Bloodline Element Awakening – The world was unpredictable. He required elemental power to adapt.

As he confirmed his selections, a pulse of energy surged through him. His body trembled.

With the completion of his selection, the evolution points on the system panel plummeted as if being drained by an insatiable force. Changes swept through Dex's body instantly. The scales on his fingertips and the tip of his tail rapidly thickened, transforming into hardened black exoskeletons. These weren't just for protection; embedded within them were small, needle-like openings designed for a singular, gruesome purpose.

All he needed to do was pierce them into his target—living or dead—and the extraction would begin. The difference lay in their reactions. The living would struggle and resist, their bodies convulsing as their life essence was siphoned away, while the dead would yield without resistance, their flesh and blood effortlessly harvested. The sensation of absorbing raw essence directly into his being was… intoxicating. It surged through him, feeding his strength in ways he hadn't anticipated.

Inside him, his magic surged like a tidal wave. If it had once been a slow-burning ember, now it roared like concentrated sulfuric acid, volatile and aggressive. He only needs to release it around the body, even if it doesn't require Dex's manipulation, it will automatically Corrupt the surrounding demons.

But the most exhilarating transformation was yet to come—the awakening of his blood element.

The first two enhancements had induced mild discomfort, but this—this was agony. It felt as if his veins had been set ablaze, his blood boiling and pulsing violently within him, threatening to burst through his skin. He stiffened, his vision wavering as waves of unfamiliar pain wracked his frame. Never before had he felt something so overwhelming, so all-consuming. His knees nearly buckled, and he fought to remain standing.

His sudden vulnerability did not go unnoticed. The nearby young demons, driven by instinct and greed, lunged at him. They didn't understand what was happening, only that the strongest among them was momentarily weakened. In their perception, Dex was a feast waiting to be devoured.

At least a dozen demons swarmed, their claws and fangs eager to rip him apart.

A deep, guttural growl of fury rumbled from Dex's chest. He hadn't anticipated this level of pain, nor had he expected the evolutionary system to throw him into such a precarious situation mid-battle. He could tolerate the suffering, but to be attacked like this? It was infuriating.

With sheer willpower, he forced himself to react, channeling his newly strengthened magic. A violent aura erupted around him, creating a defensive field.

It didn't take long, ten seconds later, when the demon had already broken through the magic field and touched the scales of Dex.

Dex noticed that the abnormality in his body had returned to normal, and what followed was A force that is constantly restless like his anger!

A crimson inferno erupted from his body.

Blood-red flames, fueled by his magic, roared outward in all directions, engulfing everything within a ten-meter radius. The fire wasn't just heat—it was a living, consuming force. It didn't simply burn from the outside; it slithered into their bodies through their pores, their mouths, their eyes. It incinerated them from within, their organs charing into blackened husks in mere moments.

The young demons never stood a chance. Their once-impenetrable scales—capable of deflecting few hits even from mortal weapons—provided no defense against the hellish blaze. They perished in seconds, their bodies collapsing into heaps of charred remains.

When the last ember flickered out, Dex stood amidst a wasteland of smoldering corpses. His breath came in slow, measured gasps as he surveyed the destruction.

This was a lesson.

The evolution system was a tool—nothing more, nothing less. It gave no warnings, no guidance beyond the options provided. He had assumed the process would be smooth, painless. That assumption had nearly cost him everything.

From now on, any future evolutions would be conducted in safety. No more reckless upgrades in the middle of a battlefield.

Dex clenched his fists, feeling the residual warmth of his blood flames. There was potential here, but it needed control. Right now, the fire consumed indiscriminately, reducing everything—including valuable flesh and blood—to ashes. That was wasteful. He needed precision. Until he mastered it, the flames would be reserved for true emergencies.

Glancing up, he noted the position of the stars.

When they fully descended, the Styx would rise, swallowing everything along the shore in its blackened depths.

It had already lowered by half.

'There's still some time…'

Wasting no further seconds, Dex resumed his massacre. His enhancements made the process almost effortless. His speed had doubled, his movements refined. Every kill now rewarded him with more evolution points than before, thanks to his new ability to extract flesh and blood essence. His victims were left behind as withered husks, their essence fueling his rapid ascent.

Time passed in a blur.

The celestial bodies in the sky inched closer to their descent.

By the time the slaughter reached its natural conclusion, only the strongest demons remained. They were the ones who had deliberately paced themselves, culling the weak while preserving their own strength. Every lesser being had been eradicated, their souls and flesh transformed into nourishment for the victors.

Dex stood among them, silent.

One final glance at the battlefield.

Then, without hesitation, he activated the victor's authority—and vanished from the riverbank.

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