When Niraf took his first step into the village…
He stopped.
Not because of fear.
But because of the feeling.
Something in the air was wrong.
The villagers moved slowly… their eyes dim…
Their smiles slightly out of sync…
And the silence—too heavy to be natural.
He slowly lifted his gaze, scanning the entire village.
Then…
His lips curved.
"Ah…"
His voice was low, laced with amusement.
"This isn't a village of the weak…"
He closed his eyes for a brief moment, as if tasting something invisible.
"This is a demonic village."
Not demonic in strength.
But within.
Every person carried buried hatred.
Greed.
Jealousy.
The desire to betray.
Black hearts… not yet awakened.
A quiet chuckle escaped him.
"How fortunate…"
He placed a hand over his chest, where only 1% of his original power remained.
"This just became interesting."
He walked through the narrow streets.
Some villagers looked at him with fear.
Some with disgust.
And some… with an unsettling curiosity.
He whispered to himself,
"If I exploit these fools properly… I might reach five percent of my true power."
He stopped at the well in the center of the village and looked at his reflection.
White hair.
Pitch-dark eyes.
A smile that did not belong to a hero.
"Demonic hearts are rare in this world…"
He slowly raised a finger, brushing the air.
"And there is no demonic heart more open… than this one."
He could feel it.
Deep beneath the village…
Something was pulsing.
Not a single person.
But a source.
A concentrated infernal energy, as if the entire village had been built upon an ancient wound.
His expression shifted slightly.
"What happened while I was gone?"
At that moment—
A sharp bell rang from the far end of the village.
The people began gathering in the central square.
An elderly man in dark robes stood atop a wooden platform.
His voice was frail… but his eyes burned with madness.
"It is time for the selection."
Niraf watched silently.
A child was pushed forward.
A mother wept… yet did not move.
"The village survives," the old man declared, "only through the offering of a heart."
Niraf's smile widened.
"Ah… I see."
This village did not merely possess demonic hearts.
It fed something with them.
The moment the elder raised his dagger—
Niraf vanished.
He reappeared behind him.
Leaning close, he whispered,
"Don't waste resources… old man."
The elder froze.
So did everyone else.
Niraf pressed a single finger against the man's chest.
A thin strand of black energy seeped inward—
and pulled something invisible out.
A scream without sound.
The elder collapsed.
Not just dead—
But hollow.
Niraf closed his eyes briefly.
Then—
He smiled.
"One point… two percent."
He opened his eyes and looked at the stunned villagers.
"Now then…"
His voice was calm. Dangerous.
"Which of you wants to become stronger?"
He was no savior.