CH: 06: A Good Treasure

[Chapter: 06: A Good Treasure]

The ferocity of a demon and the rationality of a human—two forces that should have been incompatible, yet together, they formed the very essence of Dex's soul.

Though his reasoning had been darkened by the raw instincts of a demon, it had not been entirely consumed. Instead, it had been reforged, twisted into something even more dangerous. His mind was still his own, sharpened by the cunning that defined his kind. But unlike most demons—whose muscles dictated their thoughts, whose every decision was ruled by their bloodlust—Dex's brain determined his muscles. His mind was his greatest weapon, a tool he wielded with ruthless precision.

Yet, this did not mean he was timid. He was still a demon, and the very nature of his existence dictated that he would never cower. No demon who sought to leave the wretched shores of the River Styx could afford to be weak. To escape that bloody place, one had to slaughter hundreds of their own kind, carving a path forward over the corpses of those too feeble to endure. The Abyss had no room for the weak. Those who lacked cruelty, those without the strength to rise above the masses, had already been culled—stripped of their flesh, consumed by those stronger, reduced to nothing but scraps to nourish the victors.

From the very beginning, this world had been a slaughterhouse. The failures had already been discarded. Only those with the will to carve their own destiny remained.

For Dex, taking risks was a simple reality. If the rewards were great enough, if the stakes were worth the gamble, then staking his very life was an acceptable price. After all, even ordinary humans, with their fragile bodies and pathetic lifespans, risked their lives with every passing moment. A man could step outside to buy food and be struck down by a runaway carriage, his existence snuffed out in an instant.

To live was to gamble.

Wasn't there an old saying?

"From the moment a human draws their first breath, they begin an unrelenting descent toward oblivion—a journey where every heartbeat is but a step closer to the grave, and every moment lived is a moment lost."

It was the ultimate truth, the great equalizer. Death cared not for riches, nor for power. No amount of gold could buy eternity. No title, no status, no legacy could halt the march of time. The only certainty in life was the inevitability of death. Every breath drawn was a wager against fate, a fleeting moment snatched from the jaws of the abyss.

And if that was the case for humans—creatures who at least had the illusion of safety—then for Dex, who walked the depths of the Bottomless Abyss, risk was not just an inevitability. It was the very nature of his existence.

Yet, even knowing this, he was not reckless. He did not throw his life away carelessly. There were only two reasons to make a true gamble: when the reward was so great that it overshadowed all danger, or when the outcome was already within his grasp.

Only fools leaped without looking. Dex was not a fool.

Dex walked through the twisted landscape of the Abyss, his steps silent on the corrupted soil beneath him. The eerie glow of enchanted fungi illuminated the gnarled roots of ancient trees, their blackened bark pulsing with a sickly red light. In this cursed forest, life and death blended together, and the very air reeked of rot, blood and malice.

But Dex was not some naïve wanderer, nor a helpless child picking mushrooms. He was a demon, and a hardworking one at that. He had encountered many creatures—passing by some, hiding from others, feigning death when necessary. Big, small, strong, weak—he had seen them all. Yet, if they still drew breath, if they still clung to life, then their fate was already decided.

He would send them back into the Abyss, granting them the honor of becoming nourishment for stronger beings. After all, he had a duty to uphold. A good demon followed the natural 'order', ensuring that the weak did not linger unnecessarily.

His eyes narrowed suddenly.

Amidst the countless distractions of the twisted terrain, there was something moving. Something alive.

His sharpened senses detected the presence immediately. It wasn't hiding. It wasn't fleeing. It was coming toward him.

From the sheer intensity of its energy, it was clear that this creature was no mindless beast. It was strong—roughly his equal. That meant one thing: under normal circumstances, there was no absolute gap in their power. They were evenly matched.

But Dex was no ordinary demon.

He was an open player, wielding abilities beyond the natural order thanks to the system. In direct combat, he held an undeniable advantage over others of the same rank. However, he was not arrogant. He understood all too well the dangers of the Bottomless Abyss. Even if his opponent appeared to be on equal footing, there was always the possibility of hidden power.

A single mistake could mean death.

Dex took no chances. As the approaching entity drew nearer, he adjusted his magic, fine-tuning his power with practiced precision. His energy vision gave him a tactical edge, but he would not be so foolish as to assume his opponent lacked their own tricks.

After all, the Abyss was home to countless freaks. Who knew if this was some mutated demon capable of snapping his neck with a single hand?

Silently, he gathered his strength. His tail flicked from side to side, a subtle but instinctual preparation for battle. He waited. Watched. Calculated.

And then—

Movement.

The presence had noticed him. The slow, deliberate pace at which it had been approaching suddenly shifted. It accelerated, closing the distance between them with unsettling speed.

A sharp whistling sound cut through the air.

Click!

The crack of splintering wood echoed through the forest.

Dex's eyes flicked upward just in time to see the thick trunk of an enchanted tree explode into fragments. Bark, sap, and splinters scattered in every direction as something burst through the destruction.

A wooden spear, roughly 1.4 meters in length, shot toward him with deadly precision. The weapon gleamed with unnatural sharpness, its thunderous momentum aimed directly at his chest.

Whoever had thrown it had not intended to wound him.

They had intended to nail him to the ground, killing him in a single strike.

But Dex had no intention of being impaled today.

With a sharp pivot, he twisted his body, narrowly avoiding the deadly projectile. There was no reason to take a hit when he didn't have to, especially when he had no idea whether the weapon was coated in poison or worse.

The sound of approaching footsteps thundered through the forest.

Step. Step. Step.

Each one echoed like the marching of a warhorse, heavy and deliberate.

Then, through the swirling dust and shattered remains of the fallen tree, his opponent emerged.

The creature stood at roughly the same height as Dex, but its appearance was anything but ordinary. Its reindeer-like head bore the weathered face of a middle-aged man, twisted into a mask of savage hunger. Drool dripped from its mouth as its eyes gleamed with bloodthirsty intent.

And its horns—

They were grotesque. Twisted and gnarled, they were covered with the plucked eyeballs of various creatures. Some of them were still fresh, their blood trickling down in thin streams.

Its upper body was humanoid, its muscular arms gripping several spears. But its lower body resembled that of a warhorse, powerful and built for speed.

Dex took a slow breath.

His fingers curled, magic crackling beneath his skin.

After inhaling the scent of the approaching figure, Dex felt a strange sense of familiarity. Something about this presence triggered a response deep within his inherited memories. As fragmented images and sensations flashed through his mind, a bloodthirsty grin curled across his lips. He fixed his gaze on the creature before him, his eyes gleaming with interest, and spoke in a rough, guttural tone—the harsh syllables of the Abyssal tongue rolling naturally from his mouth.

"The mutant demonized creature seeks to become a half-demon? Interesting… It seems you have not only gained higher intelligence but also awakened fragments of a memory inheritance. I never expected to stumble upon such a valuable prize…"

This was the first time Dex had ever spoken to another living being. Since his birth, he had encountered nothing that warranted conversation. Even among the lesser demons, intelligence was rudimentary at best. They operated on instinct—more like wild beasts than reasoning creatures—driven by hunger and bloodlust, incapable of meaningful communication.

But the creature before him was different.

Its eyes, though burning with savage bloodlust, held a glimmer of intelligence. There was a flicker of calculation, a depth of awareness absent in the mindless predators of the Abyss. Even more telling was the unmistakable aura of a [Transformation Ritual] clinging to its body, proof that it possessed the knowledge and intent to alter its very nature. Such a feat was impossible without a sharp mind.

"Mutated demon?"

The creature flinched at Dex's words, its expression shifting slightly. Clearly, it had not expected a mere [little demon] to communicate so fluently. Most demons of lower rank were incapable of complex speech; true intelligence only emerged after evolving beyond the primitive state of a [lesser demon]. Only upon reaching that threshold did a demon gain the ability to suppress its base instincts, stepping beyond the range of primitive chaos

Yet, despite his initial surprise, the creature quickly regained its composure. In fact, a gleam of satisfaction shone in its eyes as it took a step forward. It had sensed something unusual—something valuable. Through the power of the [Transformation Ritual] infused into its being, it could perceive that Dex's bloodline was unnaturally strong.

Stronger, perhaps, than even some lower demons.

A grin stretched across the creature's face, revealing rows of jagged teeth.

A rare and valuable prey had just wandered into its grasp.

But Dex, too, had noticed something. The faint flicker of malice in the creature's expression did not escape his keen senses. It was a predator, through and through, and Dex found himself chuckling under his breath.

To the creature, he was nothing more than an ideal sacrifice—a living treasure trove of power.

But to Dex, this creature was just as much of a treasure.

The [Transformation Ritual] imbued within it was a rare kind of magic. Here, in the depths of the Wailing Forest, where knowledge was scarce and inheritance from the outside world was nearly impossible to obtain, such rituals could only originate from within the depths of blood memory.

It was a powerful spell—one that allowed its user to transform their own bloodline, refining and purifying it.

Through the sheer force of his own enhanced soul, Dex could sense the concentrated demonic essence stored within the ritual's framework. The creature had painstakingly gathered and refined this energy, intending to use it to ascend beyond its current state, becoming a half-demon hybrid. With this transformation, it sought to elevate itself to the rank of a true [lower demon], gaining greater power, intelligence, and status.

It was on the verge of evolution.

A walking cache of raw energy.

For any ordinary demon, such a prize would be invaluable—a source of purified demonic blood that could be absorbed to strengthen their lineage.

But Dex was no ordinary demon.

His bloodline had already been refined and enhanced beyond the limits of his kind. The so-called 'purified blood' within this creature was of no interest to him—it was nothing more than diluted filth compared to the power that coursed through his veins.

No, Dex had no desire to taint himself by absorbing another's blood.

Instead, he saw something far more valuable.

By killing this creature, he could strip away its flesh and bones, harvest its soul, and most importantly—convert all the power it had stored within the [Transformation Ritual] into pure evolution points.

And given the sheer amount of essence it had gathered, the rewards would be several times greater than those of an ordinary [little demon].

This was an opportunity he could not pass up.

At that moment, both of them came to the same conclusion.

Each believed they had stumbled upon the perfect prey.

Each sought to devour the other.

There would be no negotiations. No truce. No room for sentimentality between intelligent creatures.

They smiled at one another—false displays of civility that masked their mutual intent to kill.

Then, the creature made the first move.

The muscles in its arm tensed, veins bulging as it gripped the wooden spear at its side. The sheer force of its grip left deep indentations on the weapon's surface.

And then, with explosive power, it threw.

The moment the spear left its hand, the air cracked with a deafening boom. The weapon broke the sound barrier, traveling at blistering speed, aimed directly at Dex's heart.

But Dex had been ready.

Without hesitation, he countered.

With a flick of his hand, three fiery projectiles materialized, each nearly a meter in length—Flame Arrows.

Boom!

The first two arrows struck the spear mid-flight, detonating upon impact. The explosion sent flames spiraling outward, engulfing the air in a cascade of burning embers. The spear, though resilient, was consumed by the intense heat, crumbling into charred fragments before it could reach its target.

But the third arrow shot forward, unhindered, streaking straight toward the creature's skull.

The demonized being's eyes widened in shock.

It had never encountered a [little demon] capable of unleashing such a rapid barrage of fire magic. Most could only muster a single flame arrow at a time, forcing them to fire in slow, deliberate intervals. But Dex…

Dex had fired three simultaneously.

And that was just the beginning.

Facing Dex's fire arrows fired three times in a row, the other party was also shocked. He had never encountered a demon that could fire three fire arrows in an instant, at most, it would fire one round after another.

Faced with the flaming arrow streaking toward him with deadly precision, he instinctively lifted his spear—a weapon he had initially prepared to hurl at his opponent. But as the fire-wreathed projectile closed in, he quickly realized there was no time to evade. With no other option, he channeled magic through his body, reinforcing himself with a protective aura. His grip on the spear tightened as he redirected all his strength into an aggressive counterattack, thrusting the weapon forward in a desperate attempt to neutralize the incoming projectile.

The moment the two forces collided, a powerful shock wave ripple outward. A surge of resistance traveled down the shaft of his spear, the flames hungrily latching onto the weapon's surface. He immediately sensed the nature of the spell—it wasn't just an ordinary fire attack. Unlike the crude and explosive nature of a fireball spell, which detonated on impact, this flaming arrow exhibited a more refined and lethal characteristic: penetration. The burning projectile sought to drill through barriers, piercing defenses before detonating inside its target for an armor-shredding effect.

His expression twisted in frustration as he realized the severity of his situation. If he allowed the projectile to embed itself before triggering its explosion, the damage would be catastrophic. With no other recourse, he forcefully released a burst of raw magical energy, attempting to prematurely detonate the fire arrow before it could bore deeper into his defenses. His goal was to minimize the impact—to disrupt its trajectory and lessen the potential destruction it could cause.

But his assumptions were flawed.

The moment the flame arrow erupted in a violent explosion, a massive force surged through the weapon, sending an uncontrollable tremor down its length. A deafening boom echoed across the battlefield. His hands, despite gripping the spear with all his strength, felt as if they had been struck by a sledgehammer. His weapon trembled violently, nearly being wrenched from his grasp as waves of heat and concussive force rolled over him.

His heart pounded. The pain in his arms was immediate, but the true danger revealed itself in the next instant.

His understanding of battle magic was still at a rudimentary level—his knowledge of the laws of force and resonance far too shallow to grasp what was truly happening. The violent oscillations along the spear's shaft were more than mere vibrations; they were destructive reverberations, a forceful resonance effect that sent shockwaves directly into his body. Had he adjusted his grip even slightly, perhaps shifted his hands to a different point on the weapon's shaft, he might have been able to mitigate the brunt of the impact. But as it stood, the force was too great for him to handle effectively.

Then—darkness.

Dex doesn't wait for him to adapt from the explosion.

An intense pain bloomed inside his skull. A sharp, skull-splitting agony exploded from deep within his brain, as if a steel spike had been driven into the core of his consciousness. His vision blurred, black spots creeping in at the edges. His body staggered involuntarily, and in the next heartbeat, blood gushed from his eyes, ears, nose, and mouth.

The suddenness of it was overwhelming. A guttural, choked gasp escaped him as his balance wavered, his limbs momentarily paralyzed by the internal damage. His own blood dripped onto the scorched ground, sizzling as it met the residual heat of the explosion.

He had no time to even process what had happened—his body was in distress, and his opponent was already preparing the next move.

*****

I am transitioning to Subscribestar. Currently, there is no content available, but it will be added shortly.