---
(James's POV)
Two weeks have passed since I acquired the broken gate artifact, and my cave has become a makeshift laboratory.
The mysterious device sits in the corner, its alien symbols occasionally flickering with residual energy.
I've tried everything to understand its repair requirements - "Demon Steel and 5 Runes" - but progress has been frustratingly slow.
What hasn't been slow is my advancement. The systematic hunting has paid off beautifully.
I whisper "Status" and smile at the familiar translucent panel:
---
Level: 5
Exp: 1000/3200
Name: James
Race: ????Devil
Class: None
HP: 45/45
MP: 270/330
MP regen: 16 / hours (8base + 4lvl + 4Int)
Str: 12
Dex: 16
Int: 18
Wis: 16
Inventory: (+)
Skills: (+)
Spells: (+)
---
Level 5. Not bad for two weeks of methodical slaughter.
My inventory has become quite the collection with demon blood, monster corpses, crude weapons.
Everything organized and catalogued like a museum.
But today feels different. As I venture out from my cave into the familiar hellscape, that nagging sensation returns. The feeling of being watched.
I've massacred over fifty creatures in the past few days, yet none have provided the challenge I crave. The mindless violence is becoming tedious again, despite the satisfying experience gains.
I pause near a cluster of volcanic rocks, extending my enhanced senses. With my increased Wisdom, If I focus hard, I can now perceive up to 300 meters near me. There, the subtle sound of wings cutting through the perpetual crimson twilight.
A silhouette descends from above, wings spread wide against the red moon. This demon is different from the usual ones. More controlled, more purposeful. A spear rests across his back, and his movements suggest actual combat training.
He lands gracefully about twenty feet away, studying me with calculating eyes. No immediate hostility, but plenty of wariness.
"From here on is the territory of Oria the Gluttony," he announces, his voice carrying authority.
"Walk back or you will be hunted for intruding."
For a brief moment, my eyes flash red. Oria the Gluttony? I've heard whispers of that name in the memories I've consumed. A demon lord of considerable power, though not one of the true ancient ones.
'His level is only 4. Manageable, but let's see what information I can extract first.'
I adopt a confused, slightly nervous expression. "There isn't any landmark or fence marking these territories. How could I have known?"
I gesture to the scattered remains around us. "I'll leave peacefully. We could even split the spoils, I'm sure you'll need them if you want to advance in the demon ranks."
His eyes narrow with suspicion. "Who are you, outsider? Which demon lord's territory do you belong to?"
"I am James," I reply, allowing a hint of uncertainty to creep into my voice. "I'm a mid-rank demon, currently unaffiliated with any demon lord."
This causes him to smile, the expression predatory and confident. Perfect.
"Half of these corpses will go to Oria, while I'll take the remainder. Acceptable enough?"
The arrogance in his voice is almost amusing.
'As if you could rob someone more blatantly than this.'
"Oh my, I'm also trying to rank up, you see," I exclaim with feigned nervousness.
"Plus I am the one who killed them, so surely I deserve at least half!"
His confidence swells at my apparent weakness. He takes several steps closer, now only about ten feet away.
"Throw away any weapons you're carrying and follow my instructions," he commands, hand moving toward his spear.
"Otherwise, you'll become a slave for the lowest demons in Oria's territory."
Five feet away now. Perfect range.
I focus my enhanced mana control, sending invisible tendrils of power into the scattered corpses around us. The demon bones I've been collecting aren't just trophies, they're weapons waiting to be used.
"Bone Manipulation," I whisper, activating a technique I've been developing.
The demon notices something wrong, his combat instincts finally kicking in, but it's too late. Several razor-sharp bone fragments, pulled from the corpses around us, launch themselves at his back and flanks.
"Aaaaaaaghhhhh!"
He tries to dodge, but three bone spikes embed themselves in his back, thigh, and neck. While he's distracted by the pain and trying to stop the bleeding, I use my enhanced Dexterity to vanish from his sight.
Shapeshifting slightly to reduce my presence, I appear directly behind him.
"And here I thought it would be difficult," I say quietly, my hands already positioned at his neck.
Enhanced by demonic power and my improved Strength, I snap his neck with a satisfying *crack*. His body crumples to the ground, wings folding awkwardly.
+180 EXP
Not bad for a level 4 demon.
I quickly loot his corpse, my inventory making the process efficient. His spear disappears into red fragments of energy, along with his body.
Focusing on my new acquisition, I pull the spear from my inventory. It materializes in my hand, and immediately a detailed panel appears:
---
Der Spear: (Telepathy S)
A spear made from Der Iron found in the Abyss and parts of the Netherworld. It can easily cut through flesh, bone, and stone. Magic was used in the creation process, giving unique properties to the weapon depending on the type of magic used during blacksmithing.
Telepathy S:
Able to connect to the contracted person over a limited distance.
---
Interesting. A telepathic weapon. This could be useful for--
Suddenly, a red warning panel flashes in my vision:
"Warning: Foreign influence detected. Intelligence too low to counter. Establishing connection."
'Too low? My Intelligence is 18! What kind of power are we dealing with?'
An eerie voice echoes directly in my mind, feminine and seductive, but with an undercurrent of barely contained rage.
"*Chuckle* I was wondering why it was taking so long for him to come back." The voice drips with dark amusement.
"State your purpose for trespassing, vermin."
Oria the Gluttony herself. This is... unexpected.
I consider my options quickly. I could try to bluff, pretend to be a wandering demon who killed her minion in self-defense. Or I could be more direct.
"Your minion was aggressive and rude," I reply through the mental link, allowing a hint of my true nature to color my thoughts.
"He threatened to enslave me without proper cause. I defended myself."
A pause. Then laughter, rich and dangerous.
"Defended yourself? You ambushed and murdered one of my scouts. There's a difference, little devil." The voice becomes sharper.
"Though I must admit, your technique was... creative. Bone manipulation isn't common among the demons."
"I'm not a common demon."
"No, you're not, are you?" I can almost hear her smile.
"James, was it? The Wanderer who's been making such interesting progress in my territory."
The Wanderer. That title again. Word travels fast in the demon realm.
"You know of me?"
"I know you've been systematically hunting in my domain for weeks.
I know you've acquired some unusual... abilities. And I know you possess something that certain parties are very interested in."
The artifact. Of course she knows about it.
"I'm curious about what you know," I admit. "And what you want."
"What I want is to meet you in person. You've impressed me, James. It's rare to find a demon with both power and intelligence.
Most are one or the other."
"And if I refuse?"
"Then you'll find my territory much less hospitable. I have dozens of scouts, and they won't be as easy to surprise as poor Morak was."
Morak. So that was his name.
"However," she continues, "if you accept my invitation, you might find our conversation... mutually beneficial. I have information about demon steel, about runes, about artifacts that fall from rifts in space."
My interest sharpens immediately. She knows about the gate's repair requirements.
"Where would this meeting take place?"
"My fortress lies fifty kilometers north of your cave. A black spire rising from a lake of lava. You can't miss it."
'She knows where I live too. Wonderful.'
"And what guarantee do I have that this isn't an elaborate trap?"
"You don't. But consider this, if I wanted you dead, I would have sent more than one scout. Your growing power is interesting to me, James. I collect interesting things."
The way she says 'collect' sends a chill down my spine. But the promise of information about the artifact is too valuable to ignore.
"I'll consider your invitation."
"See that you do. And James? Keep the spear. Consider it a gift. But know that every word you speak through it, I can hear. Every location you visit while carrying it, I can sense. Choose your actions wisely."
The connection cuts abruptly, leaving me alone with my thoughts and a very dangerous weapon.
I look at the Der Spear in my hand with new appreciation. A gift, but also a leash. Clever.
I could abandon it, of course. But the weapon is clearly valuable, and I might need its power for what's coming. The question is whether the benefits outweigh the risks.
Looking north toward where her fortress supposedly lies, I make my decision.
"Well," I murmur to myself,
"things just got interesting."
I dismiss my status panel and begin walking north. If Oria wants to meet the Wanderer, then perhaps it's time she learned exactly what kind of demon she's dealing with.
The red moon continues its eternal watch as I disappear into the volcanic landscape, carrying a telepathic spear.
---