CH: 09: The Bloody Battle Feast And Evolution

{Chapter: 09: The Bloody Battle Feast And Evolution}

The moment Dex swallowed the [Gift of Soul], the atmosphere between the remaining three demons shifted dramatically.

Temple and Grimp, both seasoned [Lower Demons], froze in place, their faces contorted into ugly expressions. The sheer audacity of the act wasn't what unsettled them—it was the eerie silence that followed. Normally, when a demon absorbed a [Gift of Soul], there was a tangible ripple of energy, a flicker of power manifesting as the essence was integrated.

Yet here, there was nothing.

A void.

A silence that chilled them to their very cores.

He absorbed it instantly.

That realization sent a shudder through them. A [Little Demon] should have required time—precious seconds, even minutes—to fully digest a [Gift of Soul]. The fact that Dex had done it in an instant meant only one thing: he had an ability digest it beyond their comprehension.

And worse—he was unafraid.

That smug satisfaction in his glowing golden eyes, the way his tail flicked behind him in leisurely amusement, the casual way he flexed his fingers as if testing his newfound power—everything about him reeked of confidence.

Temple clenched his fists, claws digging into his palms as a growl rumbled in his throat. His killing intent surged uncontrollably, his demonic aura thickening until the very air around him wavered.

Grimp was no different. His dark, jagged horns twitched, a low snarl escaping his cracked lips. His fingers trembled, not with fear, but with the sheer need to tear Dex apart and reclaim what was stolen.

Dex only tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing in irritation.

And then—

A spark.

A flicker of ember at his feet, no larger than a candle's flame.

Then another.

And another.

Until suddenly, a wave of crimson fire erupted from beneath Dex, engulfing his entire form in a blazing inferno. The flames did not consume him; they danced along his skin, swirling and twisting as though they were an extension of his own body. His long, blood-red hair whipped wildly in an unseen wind, the very air distorting around him from the sheer heat radiating off his frame.

His lips pulled back, revealing gleaming fangs, and from deep within his throat came a snarl that rumbled like distant thunder.

His golden pupils became razor-thin slits.

His voice, when it came, was not a shout. Not a roar.

It was a declaration.

"Let's end this."

And then—

He moved.

A single step sent him forward at impossible speeds.

The world blurred.

Temple and Grimp barely had time to react before Dex was upon them.

His clawed hands crashed against their faces with enough force to shatter bone, sending them hurtling backward through the air. Their magical barriers—carefully woven defenses meant to withstand most attacks—crumbled instantly under the sheer, merciless force of his strike.

And then, before they even hit the ground—

He was there again.

Dex caught them midair, his blazing aura burning away the very air they breathed.

Then came the fire.

Bloodflames burst forth from his hands, consuming their bodies in an instant. The heat was unbearable—an all-consuming inferno that melted flesh from bone within moments.

They screamed.

Oh, how they screamed.

Their towering frames, once symbols of strength and dominance, became nothing but fragile kindling for the blazing fury of Dex's rage. Their struggles were meaningless.

Dex did not stop.

With brutal efficiency, he slammed their heads into the ground, the impact splitting the earth beneath them. A shockwave rippled outward, reducing trees and debris to dust, carving a deep trench in the blood-soaked battlefield.

he slammed their heads into the ground, grinding them into gravel and shattered debris. His feet found purchase, and with a monstrous burst of speed, he ran.

The sheer velocity turned the rushing air into a translucent barrier, a shockwave that tore through the battlefield. Trees, rocks, corpses—everything in his path was obliterated, crushed into dust by the violent forces at play. The very earth split beneath his rampage, a trench tens of centimeters deep gouged out by the sheer friction.

The sheer force sent fissures racing across the earth, splitting open like jagged scars. The demons' heads, once proud and defiant, eroded with every passing second—flesh, bone, and muscle stripped away, reduced to charred smears along the desecrated land.

By the time Dex finally came to a halt, the battlefield bore his signature—a molten trench stretching for hundreds of meters, a smoldering scar upon the land.

All that remained of Temple and Grimp were fragments of blackened bone, overcooked and brittle from the searing heat.

Dex clicked his tongue in annoyance.

"Trash."

Without a shred of hesitation, he reached down, plunging his clawed hands into the remains.

Their essence—what little was left—flowed into him, absorbed without remorse. He could feel their lingering power intertwining with his own, fueling him further.

And then—

He turned his gaze back toward the battlefield.

Where the real feast awaited.

---

A Symphony of Madness

The battlefield was in complete chaos.

Thousands of demons, all vying for dominance, had fallen into a frenzied bloodlust. The fight was no longer about securing [Gifts of Soul]; it had devolved into pure, mindless slaughter.

Spells of every element crisscrossed the sky, explosions of arcane energy detonating randomly. There was no strategy—no alliances. It had become a free-for-all, where the only goal was to kill and survive.

Shrieks of agony. Roars of fury. The wet squelch of claws piercing flesh.

The air was thick with the scent of blood and burning meat.

All kinds of screams and wailing are mixed together, and the excited demons no longer care about everything, their own lives or the lives of others, as long as there is death and sorrow is enough.

It's like a carnival!

Dafei didn't know who had thrown his ice lance, Dex unceremoniously joined in. Although there was still [Gift of Soul] still in a state of contention, he did not try to blend it, because every [Soul Gifts] now have at least a thousand pairs of eyes staring at them. If he directly converts [Soul Gifts] into evolution points in front of them, Dex feels that there is a 95% probability that he cannot leave this place alive.

So he chose to start a simple and unpretentious play with a group of crazy demons.

Dex wasted no time.

He lunged into the fray, his claws ripping through flesh like wet parchment. He dug out hearts, kicked severed heads across the battlefield, and crushed skulls beneath his feet. He fought with the efficiency of a predator—not a warrior bound by honor or restraint.

With each kill, he grew stronger.

His movements were fluid, weaving through the battlefield like a phantom of death.

He blinded enemies by flicking blood into their eyes, using the momentary distraction to cleave their throats open. He danced between their attacks, his tail lashing out with bone-crushing precision, impaling multiple demons in one fluid motion. Just like farmers harvesting crops in a vegetable field.

And all the while—

He was laughing.

A deep, rumbling laughter that sent shivers down the spines of those who still clung to sanity.

To an outsider, it would seem like a carnival of carnage, a festival where the only entertainment was death itself.

And Dex reveled in it.

Without a drop of sweat between waving his hands, he just sprinkled a piece of blood remaining on the fingertips into the eyes of the demon in front of him.

In this kind of friendly activity that does not distinguish between the enemy and us, it is normal to occasionally play some color, but it is mostly harmless. It is only a small problem to rely on the vitality of the demon, and it comes from the brutal nature of the demon. In this case, it also makes Dex. It's so pleasant at this time!

---

The Aftermath

Nobody knew how long it lasted.

When the sky finally shifted, the stars dipping lower toward the horizon, the battlefield had transformed into a graveyard of mangled corpses.

The echoes of battle had quieted.

Many demons still fought, but their movements had lost their fervor. Their rage had dimmed, replaced with exhaustion.

Dex stood at the edge of the battlefield, covered in blood from head to toe.

The thick, viscous liquid clung to his skin, staining his tattered clothing. It dripped from his fingertips, pooled around his feet, and painted the earth in dark, gleaming red.

He exhaled slowly, his golden eyes surveying the scene with a satisfied smirk.

"Not bad."

Most of his hair was gone, burned away in the chaos of battle. Three fingers on his right hand had been bitten clean off, exposing raw, seared flesh. The tip of his tail had been severed, leaving behind a jagged wound that still oozed sluggishly. Two deep, gaping holes marred his abdomen, the result of an enemy's ruthless strike, and his exoskeleton—his natural armor—had been violently stripped from his chest, leaving him vulnerable and exposed.

And yet, despite the grotesque state of his body, there was no trace of pain in his expression. No anger, no frustration—just a relaxed, almost euphoric smile.

As blood trickled from his wounds, mixing with the splattered remains of his fallen foes, Dex exhaled a slow, satisfied breath. His golden eyes, slit-pupiled and wild, gleamed with something dangerously close to ecstasy.

The battle had been exhilarating.

It had awakened something primal, something that had slumbered deep within his very being. The thrill of combat, the sheer brutality of it—it had stirred his instincts, allowing him to embrace his own monstrous nature without hesitation. He could still feel it lingering in his veins, that intoxicating rush, the addictive high of slaughter.

And he wanted more.

But for now, he needed rest.

With that thought, Dex turned his gaze skyward. The battlefield behind him was still in chaos, but the deep, starless abyss above signaled the passage of time. The world had darkened, the last remnants of twilight long since swallowed by the eternal gloom of the abyss.

Adjusting his stance, he took a final glance at the carnage he had left behind. The ground was painted in a thick layer of blood, bodies twisted and broken beyond recognition. A graveyard of demons, left to rot.

A fitting sight.

Satisfied, he picked a direction at random and started walking.

---

The stench of blood clung to him like a second skin, so thick and overpowering that it should have made him a beacon for any scavengers lurking nearby. And yet, the path remained eerily clear.

Most of the surviving demons were still caught in the throes of battle, too preoccupied with their own bloodlust to notice him. Others had already perished, their corpses now nothing more than discarded meat. A few had withdrawn, licking their wounds in the shadows, unconcerned with anything but their own survival.

Even the bloodthirsty flies—creatures that swarmed in endless numbers, feeding on flesh and decay—seemed to have abandoned this area, drawn instead to the madness of the battlefield.

For once, he could walk undisturbed.

His journey eventually led him to the edge of a cliff, a jagged precipice overlooking a seemingly bottomless abyss. The wind howled through the ravine below, carrying with it the distant sounds of battle and the occasional tortured scream.

Dex took a moment to scan his surroundings, his sharp gaze searching for any signs of movement. After several minutes of observation, he found what he was looking for—an inconspicuous cave entrance hidden beneath an overgrowth of weeds, clinging to the cliffside like a forgotten wound.

Without hesitation, he began to climb.

The jagged rock dug into his wounded hands, sending sharp stabs of pain up his arms, but he ignored it. He had endured far worse. After descending about fifty meters, he reached the entrance and pulled himself inside.

The cave was empty.

No fresh tracks, no lingering scents of other demons—only the brittle remains of creatures long since devoured. Bones of varying sizes littered the ground, some picked clean, others gnawed down to splintered fragments. Judging by the decay, the most recent kill had been made at least a month ago.

That meant one of two things:

The previous occupant was either dead, claimed by the merciless abyss…

Or they had been exiled, cast out and left to fend for themselves elsewhere.

Either way, the cave was his now.

With a flick of his wrist, he conjured a blood-red flame and sent it sweeping through the chamber. Fire roared to life, consuming the remains in a violent inferno, reducing them to nothing but ash and embers.

Next, he turned to the entrance. Raising a clawed hand, he conjured two flaming arrows and fired them at the rock above. The heat cracked and weakened the stone, and with a final, powerful strike, he sent a cascade of debris crashing down, sealing the entrance completely.

Now, there was only darkness.

Dex exhaled, finally allowing himself to relax. His muscles ached, his wounds burned, but none of it mattered.

He had survived.

And more importantly…

He had grown stronger.

With a thought, he summoned his system panel, letting his golden eyes sweep across the hard-earned results of his efforts.

\

Anton Arcane Garissa Asalon...Neron Orillia Blackheart

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

Strength: 50 (5)

Endurance: 50 (5)

Speed: 50 (5)

Magic Power: 50 (5)

Soul: 50 (5)

Abilities:

Soul Eater Evolution, Blood Evolution, Combat Instinct, Flesh-Learning, Magic Trait – Corrosion, Magic Trait, Elemental Talent – Bloodflame, Exoskeleton – Bloodthirsty, Energy Vision, Abyssal Pact

Disguise - Silence

Effect: Greatly suppresses presence, making it difficult for others to perceive aura, sound, and existence. Enhances stealth and evasion capabilities.

Skills:

Fireball (Blood Spell. 27%), Fire Arrow (Blood Spell. 28%), Life Drain (Blood Spell. 25%), Pain Strike (Blood Spell. 29%), Soul Impact (Blood Spell. 30%)

Evolution Points: 87,742

\

This was everything he had gained in a single month since evolving into a [Little Demon].

Aside from spending four thousand evolution points to develop [Disguise – Silence], he had hoarded the rest. Over twenty thousand had come from consuming [Soul Gifts], while the rest had been earned in the brutal battle earlier.

One day of slaughter had yielded as much as a full month of hunting.

A tempting trade-off.

If only opportunities like this came more than once a year. The rest of the time, he was forced to play a tedious game of survival, constantly evading the countless horrors lurking within the abyss.

Still, there was no time for regret. He had a plan—one that required every ounce of strength he could gather.

Dex took a deep breath, focusing his mind. Then, he gave his next command to the evolution system.

1. Channel all evolution points into the transformation process, refining it to achieve peak efficiency and maximum potential.

2. Ensure the host retains the ability to halt or reverse the transformation at will, maintaining full control throughout the process.

3. Preserve all enhancements while shaping the host's appearance to align with my ideal form—unless such modifications would hinder optimization. If a conflict arises, this condition will be disregarded, and all other directives will take precedence.

These three instructions were non-negotiable.

But he wasn't done yet.

Before the transformation process could begin, Dex added two more instructions—orders to evolve two of his abilities. Once those upgrades were complete, the remaining evolution points would be funneled into his overall transformation.

Only then would he be ready to take the next step.

A slow, predatory grin stretched across his face, his bloodied fangs gleaming in the darkness.

The real evolution was just beginning.

*****

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