The cave was silent, save for the crackling of a small fire Lysander had built using dry wood and a spark from his sword striking a stone. He sat on a large, flat rock, the flames casting dancing shadows on his black armor.
He took a deep breath, letting the warmth soak into his tired bones. It had been a long, brutal week.
"Seven days," Lysander whispered, staring into the fire. "I arrived in this world a week ago as a dying, crippled boy. Now..."
He looked at his hands. They were calloused, strong, and stained with the faint residue of monster blood.
"Now, I am a predator."
He remembered the chaos of the afternoon—the army of spiders, the screaming Queen, the rush of power. In his hunger and haste to reach the Tower, he had completely ignored the most important part of the RPG experience: "The Loot and The Stats"
"I was so focused on the Tower, I didn't even check the notifications properly," he muttered, shaking his head at his own carelessness.
He leaned back against the cave wall.
"System," he commanded, his voice echoing in the stone chamber. "Show me everything. Full Status Report."
Ding!
A massive, detailed hologram projected into the air. It hummed with a golden intensity that was brighter than before.
[STATUS WINDOW]
[Name: Lysander]
[Race: Human]
[Class: Successor of the Demon God] (SSS-Rank Potential)
[Current Proficiency: Grade C](Novice -> Adept)
[Level: 30] (MAX for current Tier)
[Experience: 45,200 / 45,200] (CAP REACHED)
[Note: To surpass Level 30, you must complete a Class Advancement Quest)
[ATTRIBUTES]
[Strength: 82]
[Agility: 78]
[Intelligence: 60]
[Vitality: 75]
[Mana: 750 / 750]
[ASSETS]
[System Points (SP): 20,960 SP] (Includes Spider Queen Kill Reward + Nest Massacre)
[SKILLS]
[Active Skills]
[Shadow Flash ](Level 3) Instant dash up to 15 meters. Can now be used mid-air
[Blood Wave] (Level 2) Unleashes a crescent of destructive energy Range: 10 meters
[Dark Moon Spin] (Level 1) 360-degree rotational slash]
[Passive Skills]
[Pain Resistance] (Advanced) Physical pain is reduced by 60%
[Demon God's Aura](Intimidation) Weaker monsters (Rank E/D) will fear you.
[Night Vision] Perfect visibility in low light.
[EQUIPMENT]
[Armor: Night] Viper Light Armor (Rank D) - Damaged but self-repairing
[Weapon: Erebos] The Edge of Ruin
[Current Stage: Stage 3] (Awakened)
[Rank: Growth Type] (Currently Equivalent to Rank C)
Lysander's eyes scanned the list, stopping at the Weapon section. His eyebrows shot up.
"Stage 3?" he murmured. "When did that happen?"
He reached out and grabbed the hilt of Erebos.
The moment his skin touched the handle, the sword pulsed. It wasn't a cold vibration anymore; it was warm, like a heartbeat. The crimson eye on the guard opened instantly, staring at him not with hunger, but with... loyalty.
The blade itself had changed. The jagged edges were sharper, and a faint, smoky black aura constantly drifted off the metal, dissolving into the air.
[Previous Stage: Stage 2](Starving Blade)
[Current Stage: Stage 3](Gluttonous Blade)
[Trigger Absorbing the high-density soul of the Brood-Mother Arachne](Rank C).
Lysander stood up, swinging the sword. It sliced through the air with a terrifying hiss. It felt weightless in his hands, an extension of his own arm.
New Ability Unlocked: [Wrath of the Blood King]
Lysander leaned forward, his eyes locking onto the new text describing the ability.
[Ability: Wrath of the Blood King]
[Type: Active Buff / Berserker State
Effect: When activated, the sword forcefully draws out the user's latent potential]
[Benefit: Your Strength and Agility are DOUBLED for 60 seconds]
[Cost: During this time, [Soul Drinker] is disabled. You cannot heal. You cannot recover Mana. Your defense drops to 0.
Description: Abandon all defense. Become the avatar of slaughter]
Lysander stared at the screen for a long moment. Then, a slow, terrifying smile spread across his face.
"Wrath of the Blood King..." Lysander grinned, a savage light in his eyes.
He gripped the hilt so hard his knuckles turned white, imagining the power of having 170 Strength for a full minute.
"So I don't just get mana back," he whispered, his voice trembling with dark excitement. "I can trade my safety for absolute power."
He swung the sword, the air screaming as the blade cut through it.
"Defense is for the weak. With this... I don't need to block. I just need to kill them before they can blink."
He looked back at the Status Screen. Level 30. The cap.
"I hit the limit," he realized. "I can't get stronger just by killing random trash anymore. The System wants me to evolve."
He clenched his fist, feeling the raw power of Strength 82 coursing through his veins. He picked up a stone the size of a melon from the cave floor. He squeezed.
CRACK. CRUMBLE.
The stone turned to dust in his grip.
"A week ago, I couldn't even lift a sword. Now I can crush rocks with my bare hands."
He looked toward the entrance of the cave, toward the direction of the Abandoned Tower.
"System," he said softly. "I have 20,000 Points. I have a Stage 3 God-Slayer Sword. I have stats that rival a Rank-C monster."
He kicked the dust off his boots.
"Tomorrow, I don't just explore that Tower. I'm going to own it."
He sheathed Erebos, the metallic click echoing like a final verdict.
"But first... let's see what else I can buy with this fortune."
Here is the scene set far away, in the Human Kingdom.
Meanwhile thousands of miles away
The Golden Capital The Royal Palace
Time Midnight
The room was vast, illuminated only by the flickering light of tall wax candles and the cold moonlight spilling through the high glass windows. A long table made of black obsidian sat in the center of the hall.
At the head of the table sat a figure shrouded in shadow. His face was obscured, hidden by the dim lighting, but the golden embroidery on his robes shimmered, signaling absolute authority.
Around him, five ministers stood with their heads bowed low, afraid to make eye contact. The atmosphere was suffocating.
"My Lord," one of the ministers whispered, his voice trembling slightly. "The census of the Royal Lineage has been updated."
The Shadowy Figure tapped his finger on the cold table. Tap. Tap. Tap.
"Read it," the figure commanded. His voice was calm, but it carried a weight that made the air feel heavy.
"Yes, My Lord." The minister unrolled a scroll. "The House is strong. Your legacy is preserved through your heirs. They are all excelling in their academies and training."
The Figure stopped tapping. He picked up a goblet of wine, swirling the dark red liquid.
"Strong?" he repeated, a hint of mockery in his tone. "Is it?"
He took a sip and set the goblet down hard.
"I have only ten children," the Figure stated coldly. "Ten heirs who carry my name. Ten who have proven their worth."
The ministers shifted uncomfortably. The silence stretched for a long, painful moment.
"My Lord..." another minister spoke up cautiously. "There... there was the eleventh."
The temperature in the room seemed to drop.
The Figure waved his hand dismissively, as if swatting away a fly.
"The Eleventh is of no consequence," the
Figure said, his voice void of any emotion. "That child was born broken. A defect in our perfection."
He leaned forward, the candlelight catching only his cruel smile.
"The Eleventh died of a... sudden illness. That is what the history books will say. That is what the public will believe. A tragic sickness took the child before they could even walk the path of power."
"It is already done, My Lord," the minister bowed deeply. "The records have been sealed. As far as the world knows, the Eleventh never truly existed."
"Good," the Figure whispered, leaning back into the shadows. "We do not need weakness in this family. We only need the strong."
He looked out the window, toward the distant, dark horizon—unaware that the "dead" child was currently hunting in the Abyssal Wilds.
"I have ten children," he repeated firmly.
Here is the continuation of the palace scene, revealing the cruel fate intended for Lysander.
The Shadowy Figure swirled the wine in his glass again, staring into the red liquid as if it were blood.
"Tell me," he asked, his voice low and devoid of any warmth. "Where exactly did you dump the... waste? I trust it is far enough that the smell won't reach my doorstep."
The Head Minister bowed lower, sweat beading on his forehead.
"Rest assured, My Lord. We did not bury him in the Royal Crypts. We did not even give him to the common grave."
The Minister hesitated, then spoke with a cruel satisfaction.
"We sent the carriage to the Edge of the World. To the entrance of the Abyssal Wilds."
The Shadowy Figure paused. A cold, impressed smirk touched his lips.
"The Abyssal Wilds?" he chuckled darkly. "A bit excessive for a cripple, isn't it? A simple cliff would have sufficed. But... I suppose it is fitting. Trash belongs in the garbage heap."
He slammed the goblet down.
"He was a stain on my legacy. A genetic failure. Weakness is a disease, and I have finally cut out the infection. Never speak of him again. As of tonight, that boy never breathed air in this palace."
"It shall be as you command, My Lord."