CH: 08: A Demon's Hunt!

{Chapter: 08: A Demon's Hunt}

The Wailing Forest.

Dex could perceive that nearly a quarter of the available [Gift of Soul] had already been claimed. Across the battlefield, demons fought with reckless abandon, their bloodlust driving them to kill and be killed in pursuit of this rare power. Many were dying, some in agony, others in fleeting moments of glory before they, too, were torn apart by the endless carnage.

'Almost…' Dex thought, his mind sharpening with anticipation.

His powerful legs coiled like springs before he leaped from his position, landing effortlessly on a thick, demonized tree branch. He wasted no time, sprinting along the canopy, his movements fluid and precise. The trees, corrupted by the abyssal energies of the Howling Forest, were far more resilient than their mundane counterparts. If these had been ordinary trees, their brittle trunks and fragile limbs would have never withstood his weight.

Dex was no ordinary being. Standing over two meters tall, his sheer mass was immense, his body honed for combat and speed. A lesser tree would have snapped under his momentum, but these demonized plants were different—warped by the abyss, their wood was as strong as iron, their roots entwined with dark magic.

Atop the thick foliage, Dex's speed surpassed 360 kilometers per hour, a blur among the treetops. If he were on the ground, he would have easily outpaced the high-speed rails of the mortal world. Yet, even amidst this breakneck momentum, his senses remained keen, attuned to the chaotic battlefield below.

Then—

One?

Dex came to an abrupt halt, his claws digging into the bark as he steadied himself. Something had changed. He could feel it, a distinct shift in the chaotic energy surrounding the battlefield.

A single [Gift of Soul] had broken through the mayhem, darting rapidly in his direction. He narrowed his glowing eyes, focusing his energy vision on the anomaly.

Through the haze of battle, he saw the source.

A demon, one of the [Lower Demons], was in possession of the [Gift of Soul] and was fleeing for his life.

Behind him—an army.

Hundreds of demons were in pursuit, their monstrous forms tearing through the battlefield, their grotesque hunger fixated solely on the [Gift of Soul] the fleeing demon carried.

Dex was at a crossroads.

He could engage in this skirmish—slip into the chaos, strike down the demon carrying the prize, and claim the [Gift of Soul] for himself. It was the more immediate and obvious choice.

Or—

He could wait.

Let the fools tear each other apart over scraps. Let them waste their strength, whittling down their numbers in a frenzy of blood and fire. Dex was not like the other demons.

Unlike them, he had something far more potent than a mere [Gift of Soul]—his evolution system.

For others, this soul-bound gift was the only path to power, the only shortcut available to transcend their wretched forms. But for him? It was an optional luxury at best.

He didn't need shortcuts.

He was the shortcut.

While they squabbled for a single [Gift of Soul], he could simply kill—devouring weaker demons, collecting evolution points, and growing stronger at his own pace. The [Gift of Soul] was a convenience, not a necessity.

Still…

Dex exhaled slowly.

Letting a [Gift of Soul] pass by so easily didn't sit right with him. It felt like an unnecessary loss, like an opportunity wasted. He might not need it, but he was a demon, after all. If something valuable was in his reach, why shouldn't he take it?

Decision made, he prepared to intercept the fleeing demon.

With a clawed hand, Dex punched through the thick trunk of the tree beneath him, carving a gaping hole. His body tensed, counting down the seconds.

10… 9… 8… 7…

As he waited, another figure ran desperately through the battlefield.

---

Pain.

Unrelenting, burning pain.

Coccalius stumbled through the trees, his body covered in deep gashes, one arm hanging limply at his side. He had never been in such a pathetic state since advancing to the rank of [Lower Demon].

'Mongrels…' His thoughts seethed with rage.

He had almost made it.

If it had been a one-on-one fight, he could have defeated any of them. But his enemies had given him no such chance. They had ambushed him, striking with ruthless precision, overwhelming him before he could even react.

Cowards.

The only reason he was still alive was his speed. He had barely escaped with his life, fleeing like a wounded animal. And now, with hundreds of demons behind him, his situation had become dire.

His grip tightened around the [Gift of Soul] in his hand.

This was his only chance.

Unlike the [Little Demons], who were nothing more than mindless beasts, [Lower Demons] like him had intelligence. They could think. They could plan. They could fear.

And right now, Coccalius was terrified.

His time in the Wailing Forest was nearly over. The ancient laws of this cursed place dictated that any demon who surpassed the rank of [Lower Demon], or who overstayed their welcome, would be forcibly expelled. He had only a few days left before that happened.

And out there—in the bottomless abyss beyond the forest—death awaited him.

He wasn't strong enough to survive outside. Not yet.

He needed power, and this [Gift of Soul] was his only hope.

Just a little farther…

Suddenly—

Agony.

A force slammed into his very soul, a sensation like icy tendrils burrowing into his consciousness. His vision blurred, his body convulsed.

"What—?!—"

His legs buckled. His balance shattered.

Coccalius crashed into the dirt, tumbling violently across the ground.

Although the attack hadn't inflicted critical damage, it was enough to stagger him. Cocorius stumbled, his balance faltering as his momentum carried him forward. His legs failed to find stable footing, and he tumbled to the ground, rolling twice across the rough terrain before skidding to a halt.

The demons chasing him hesitated for only a fraction of a second. They might not have known exactly what had happened, but they could sense the unmistakable fluctuations of the [Gift of Soul] emanating from his battered form. It was a prize far too precious to ignore.

Without hesitation, they unleashed a barrage of attacks.

A storm of dark energy, fire, and raw demonic power crashed down upon him in a chaotic, merciless assault.

BOOM!

A deafening explosion erupted, shaking the ground violently. Dirt, rocks, and fragments of splintered trees blasted outward from the force. The impact gouged a deep crater into the battlefield, reducing everything caught within the blast to dust.

As the smoke cleared, the battlefield fell into a brief, eerie silence.

The once-proud Cocorius, a lower demon who had sought to rise through strength, was now nothing more than a half-destroyed corpse. The upper portion of his body had been obliterated by the sheer intensity of the attacks, leaving behind only a tattered, unrecognizable husk.

Yet, amidst the carnage, the most coveted prize had survived.

The [Gift of Soul]—the luminous, pulsing orb of condensed power—had been knocked free, landing on the ground a short distance away.

For a brief moment, time seemed to freeze.

Then, like a pack of starving beasts catching the scent of blood, the demons surged forward, their eyes wild with hunger.

No words were exchanged. No alliances held. Every demon present understood the stakes. They would kill, betray, and tear each other apart if it meant claiming the prize.

In the frenzied rush, none of them noticed the presence of an additional figure among their ranks.

None of them realized that their numbers had silently increased by one.

And none of them noticed that, among the stampeding demons, one had purposefully stepped on Cocorius' remains—lingering there just long enough.

A moment later, the remnants of Cocorius' body shriveled, drying out at an unnatural speed. His flesh, organs, and bones withered away, turning into dust and ash.

[Evolution Points +477]

Dex tilted his head slightly, dissatisfaction flickering in his thoughts.

'A shame… The body was already mutilated, and his soul was shattered in the attack. Otherwise, I could have extracted more…'

Still, he wasn't about to let an opportunity slip away.

Keeping his movements controlled and unhurried, he joined the rush toward the [Gift of Soul].

On the way, he passed by a stray [Lesser Demon]—one who had been too focused on the prize to notice the predator lurking beside him.

With a mere thought, Dex activated [Soul Shock].

The demon froze mid-stride, its entire body seizing up as if paralyzed by an unseen force.

Dex took his time.

He casually extended an arm, his claws piercing through the demon's back. He felt the resistance of bone, the sluggish churn of flesh around his fingers. Then, with a quick twist, he crushed the demon's heart.

[Evolution Points +89]

Dex withdrew his hand, letting the body collapse.

His lips curled into a smirk.

Although he had the strength to take down any [Lower Demon] in a direct fight, there was no need to draw attention. Right now, he was still just an unremarkable [Lesser Demon] in their eyes. There was no reason to reveal his true abilities just yet.

For now, he would remain in the shadows.

For now, he would simply play along.

---

The battlefield was a scarred wasteland of destruction.

The once-lush ground had been turned into a cratered ruin, resembling the aftermath of a prolonged bombing raid.

Scattered debris—crushed stone, shattered tree limbs, and the torn remains of demons—painted the landscape in shades of ruin.

And yet, amidst the carnage, three figures still stood.

Three demons.

They were the last ones remaining.

Temple, Solo, and Grimp.

All three were [Lower Demons], their bodies battered and exhausted, their breaths coming in ragged gasps.

Temple, the most composed of the three, narrowed his eyes as he addressed the remaining survivor.

"Hand it over. We'll let you walk away."

His tone was calm, but there was an underlying sharpness to his words. A warning. A threat.

The three of them weren't in any condition to keep fighting. They had already survived a gauntlet of violence, and their bodies bore the evidence—cracks in their exoskeletons, burned flesh, deep gashes that still oozed dark blood.

Temple wasn't interested in pressing the fight any further. If they could claim the [Gift of Soul] without additional risk, that would be ideal.

But their opponent wasn't about to give up so easily.

The fourth demon—the one still clutching the [Gift of Soul]—was desperate. His breaths were ragged, his body swaying from exhaustion, but his grip on the prize remained iron-tight.

All three of them were [Lower Demons].

The battlefield was a mess of torn flesh, broken limbs, and scorched earth. The weaker ones—[Lesser Demons]—had been the first to be culled, slaughtered in a frenzy by the stronger. Now, after the carnage had settled, only three remained standing.

But there should have been four.

The four of them were the strongest and most cunning of all the demons. Yet now, there were only three. Where was the fourth one?

Of course, before they joined forces to strangle the [little demon], he had already found a place to lie down by himself!

He hadn't stood in the open, fighting tooth and claw. Instead, long before the battle had reached this point, he had quietly removed himself from the fray and found a place to lie low.

In these days, he had specially evolved an ability to control his breath, just for sneak attacks.

Lying among the mangled corpses, he listened to the other three demons bicker. Their voices grated on his nerves. They were wasting time. He could be out there, scavenging through the remains of the fallen, picking the weakest ones clean. Instead, he was stuck waiting.

'For the love of the Abyss, just kill each other already. If you don't, I'll get up and do it myself.'

Lying in the pile of corpses, listening to the three [Lower Demons] thinking about slaps, Dex couldn't help feeling a little irritated. He also wanted to go to the front of the melee to pick up soft persimmons, but where was the time for that? He didn't have the patience to accompany them in their posturing.

His fingers twitched impatiently.

He started counting down in his head. Ten, nine, eight, seven…

Feeling increasingly frustrated, Dex couldn't help but begin the countdown. When he counted to zero, he would get up and kill them all before they even had the chance to react. A few minor injuries would be a small price to pay if it meant ending this and moving on.

The three half-disabled sick cats didn't have the ability to kill him, but he was holding back to conserve his energy for the bigger melee.

Fortunately, he didn't have to count to zero. The three started arguing again.

That made Dex's dissatisfaction settle, and he relaxed back into his hiding spot.

It's just that the gods do not favor convenience.

---

Grimp's eyes darted between Temple and Solo.

Two against one.

He knew how this was going to end.

Still, he wasn't going to die without a fight.

After exchanging a few blows, the demon holding the [Gift of Soul] decided not to drag things out any longer.

Before either of them could react, he suddenly lashed out—hurling several venomous projectiles at the other two demons before turning and bolting in the opposite direction.

He was running.

He was running.

Trying to escape just like that!

How could they tolerate this?

The audacity of it made Solo's blood boil.

"You bastard—!"

Without hesitation, Solo took off in pursuit, his lower body propelling him forward at full speed. His mind screamed at him to close the distance, to stop the thief before he got away.

Solo sensed the two behind him, but before he could react, his four legs ran as if he had been drugged. After two steps, he immediately tried to use the escape spell he had hidden—[Swift Body]—to shake them off.

Puff!

Squeak!

It sounded like leather being torn.

But as he ran, he failed to notice something.

He failed to sense the presence lurking just behind him.

Puff!

Pain.

A sharp, searing pain erupted from his waist.

His body lurched as something pierced through him—something strong, something fast.

He barely had time to register the sensation before a clawed hand clamped around his throat.

The pressure was unbearable.

His vision blurred.

His limbs spasmed uselessly.

Then, a sound—wet, visceral.

Squelch.

His throat was ripped open.

Blood sprayed in thick arcs, drenching the earth beneath him.

His heart, skewered cleanly by a tail, gave a final, feeble pulse before stilling forever.

Dex withdrew his claws, letting Solo's lifeless body crumple to the ground.

He exhaled sharply, annoyed.

"Wasting my time."

He flexed his fingers, absorbing every last bit of essence from the corpse.

Then, his gaze shifted.

In his left hand, he held the still-warm [Gift of Soul].

In his right, he clenched a bloodstained fist.

His glowing eyes locked onto the remaining two demons.

They had stopped in their tracks, frozen in place.

Dex's voice was calm, almost casual.

"Hand over the gift."

And for the first time, Temple and Grimp felt something they hadn't expected.

Fear.

Temple looked at Dex, who was licking the flesh and blood from his tail, his hands covered in crimson.

Although the opponent only had the level of a [Little Demon], and Solo had been killed by a sneak attack, Temple felt an unsettling sense of dread. The other [Lower Demon] shared a similar instinctive warning—something about this demon in front of them was dangerous. Unconsciously, he took a step closer to Temple.

"Hahaha… Give it to you?"

Looking at the two demons who were watching him warily, Dex opened his mouth and let out a low, chilling laugh.

Without breaking eye contact, he slowly brought the [Gift of Soul] to his lips.

Then—

Then, right in front of them, he opened his mouth wide, nearly to the point of dislocating his jaw, and swallowed the [Gift of Soul] whole.

'The system converts [Gift of Soul] into evolution points.'

[Evolution Points +21000]

*****

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