The air thickened, the red glow of the Crimson Sigil casting deep shadows across the walls as the First Warden stepped forward, his footsteps resonating like thunder against the obsidian floor. Every movement he made oozed menace and precision, like a predator sizing up prey.
Elias didn't flinch.
But the pressure this man exuded was unlike anything he had faced before—stronger than Lyra, colder than the Tribunal scouts, more ancient than even the whispers from the system.
Renic raised a trembling hand, instinctively backing away. "Elias... That man's presence... It's older than the Pact. Older than me."
Elias said nothing.
The Warden tilted his head, studying him. "You absorbed a core fragment and lived. Impressive. But power alone means nothing if you lack mastery."
He raised his scythe—its blade gleamed not with steel, but with shifting darkness that devoured the light around it.
"Let's begin."
---
The Warden lunged.
Elias barely dodged, the scythe slicing through air where his head had been. He summoned void tendrils, whipping them toward the Warden, but they were batted aside as if made of paper. Elias spun, launching a blast of corrupted flame, only for the Warden to twist, vanishing into shadow.
> [System Alert: Host Under Extreme Threat]
Activating Blood Sigil Aura...
A circle of crimson light erupted around Elias, his power amplifying instantly. Flames surged from his hands, shadows forming armor across his chest and arms.
The Warden reappeared behind him, but Elias was faster now.
He turned and struck—the impact shook the chamber.
The Warden slid back a few paces, eyes narrowing.
"Better. But still undisciplined."
He swept his scythe low. Elias leapt, but a shadow-tendril erupted from the ground and snared his leg, slamming him into the altar.
Pain lanced through him.
> [HP: 63%]
Renic cried out. "You can't beat him head-on! Find his rhythm!"
Elias gritted his teeth, eyes narrowing. Rhythm.
He watched the Warden's movements—calculated, cyclical, like an executioner's pattern. Every third strike, he paused. Every sixth step, his scythe returned to neutral.
Elias timed his next attack.
He dodged the next flurry, counting, counting—now.
He launched a shadow spike from beneath the Warden, piercing through his side. The Warden staggered.
Elias charged, fists ablaze with hellfire, slamming both into the Warden's chest.
The Warden grunted—but then grinned.
"Good."
He vanished into mist.
> [New Ability Learned: Combat Perception Tier 1]
Passive skill unlocked.
Elias dropped to one knee, panting.
The Warden's voice echoed. "You're adapting. As expected. But are you ready to confront your truest enemy?"
From the darkness, a second figure emerged.
Elias froze.
It was... himself.
But older. Scarred. Radiating pure malice.
"Meet your future self," the Warden whispered. "If you lose control."
The corrupted Elias smirked. "Ready to die, weakling?"
And charged.
---
The battle between Elias and his dark double was more than physical—it was spiritual, mental, and emotional. Every blow they exchanged carried a memory, a pain, a fear.
The double whispered truths Elias feared: that he enjoyed killing, that he was becoming no different than those he swore to destroy.
But Elias roared, defying the voice.
"I fight for my own will! Not yours!"
With a final surge, Elias summoned all his power, unleashing a blast of crimson energy that engulfed the entire chamber.
When the dust settled, only one Elias remained.
The Warden nodded, stepping forward.
"You passed. But remember—the path ahead only grows darker."
He turned, fading into shadow.
> [Trial Completed: Crimson Sigil Initiation]
Rewards Unlocked: Shadowstep (Active), Corrupt Regeneration (Passive), Sovereign Affinity Increased +12%
Elias looked at his hands. New power hummed through them. He wasn't just surviving anymore.
He was evolving.
---
Outside the mountain, storm clouds gathered.
Far to the east, in a cathedral of burning silver, the Tribunal prepared its next move.
And in Whitmoor, Steve watched from the rooftops, a new hunger in his eyes.
"Let them keep growing," he muttered. "It'll make the feast all the sweeter."
The night sky burned.
Red cracks split the clouds as if reality itself was tearing. The winds howled like banshees, shrieking across the cityscape of Nocturnhollow. Fires glowed on the horizon, not from man-made chaos, but something older, something crueler. The battle between Elias and Steve had triggered a ripple in the fabric of darkness itself. Whatever tethered the human world to the abyss was fraying.
Elias stood atop the desecrated rooftop of the old cathedral, blood running down his arm, his once-white shirt torn and darkened by soot and gore. The sigils from the Devil's System still pulsed in his palm, glowing faintly crimson like a heartbeat struggling to hold onto rhythm.
"You feel it too, don't you?" came a voice behind him.
It was Aira, her eyes glowing violet now, a result of the infernal energy she absorbed during the last ritual. Her cloak flapped in the wind like wings of a fallen angel.
Elias didn't look at her. His eyes remained locked on the drifting shadows below, where Steve had vanished after their brutal clash. "He's still alive. That wasn't the end."
Aira stepped beside him. "No. That was only the beginning."
---
Far beneath the earth, in the crumbled tunnels once used for smuggling in the old wars, Steve stumbled through flickering torchlight. Blood trailed behind him, some of it his, some of it from the demon Elias had become during their last clash.
His hand shook as he pressed it against his side. Bones cracked unnaturally and healed within seconds. He grinned through the pain.
"He adapts fast," he muttered, eyes wide with obsession. "The Devil chose well. But so did I."
Behind him, shadows twitched. A dozen figures cloaked in blood-stained robes watched him in silence.
"It is time," Steve said to them, voice growing colder, more inhuman. "The Vampiric Court shall rise. Let Whitmoor drown."
---
Back in Nocturnhollow, Elias stumbled into the warehouse they now called the Nexus—the heart of resistance, the Devil's System's anchor point in the mortal realm. A circle of cursed runes surrounded the chamber. Torches burned black.
Petra was already inside, stitching her shoulder. Her face was grim. "You barely made it out. Again."
Elias wiped blood from his mouth and collapsed into the iron chair. "He bit me. He wanted to turn me."
"Why didn't it work?" she asked.
He opened his palm, showing the system's mark. "Because I'm already claimed."
She stared at it. "You're changing. The Devil doesn't just give power. He molds his vessels. Soon you won't be human."
Elias smiled bitterly. "Good. I stopped being just a boy the moment they buried me."
The torches flared.
From the darkness stepped a new figure. Tall. Robed in ash. His face hidden by a skeletal mask.
"Who the hell?" Petra stood, drawing her blade.
But Elias raised a hand. Something in him recognized this presence.
The figure bowed. "I am Malvicar, Herald of the Tethered Flame. The Abyss remembers you, Elias Black. And it calls."
---
In Whitmoor, the horror began.
Citizens vanished in the streets. Creatures with crimson eyes prowled rooftops, leaping across alleyways like predators stalking prey. Churches burned, and the sky bled red.
Steve stood atop the mayor's mansion now, robed in new armor formed from the bones of his followers. Around him, the twelve had completed their turning. Pureblood vampires with claws like scythes and hunger like wildfire.
He smiled, eyes sharp and black.
"Let the city fall into ruin. Let the Blood Monarch rise."
---
Back at the Nexus, Elias clenched his fists.
"I don't care if the Abyss remembers me. I'm not its puppet."
Malvicar tilted his head. "You think your rebellion changes the rules? Your resurrection was not for revenge alone. You are the vessel of Reckoning. And Reckoning requires sacrifice."
Aira placed a hand on Elias's shoulder. "Then let the world burn. We'll give it a reason."
Outside, the city screamed.
Inside Elias, something ancient began to awaken.