Bind of Silk!

Threads of silk erupted from Stark's staff as he cast the spell.

They were no longer the flimsy strands they had been at mythical-rank.

Now they glimmered faintly, reinforced and sharper, looking strong enough to cut steel.

The threads shot forward in a blink, wrapping around the three demons before they could even react.

"What the hell— ARGH!"

The silk coiled tighter, digging in like blades.

Even their black iron armor couldn't stop it; crimson streaks spread across their bodies as blood leaked through.

-209,040! -209,040! -209,040!

Almost half their HP gone. Just from a binding skill.

And worse—

"Argh… I can't move!"

"What the fuck??"

The three demons struggled violently, trying to rip or burn the silk away, but it was useless.

Their arms jerked and pulled, but the bindings didn't loosen.

Trying to escape from a mythical-rank binding was already considered near impossible at this point of [Eternal Soul].

But [Bind of Silk] wasn't mythical anymore, it was ancient rank.

The gap in strength was absurd.

No player should ever be able to wield something like this.

If not for Stark's [Infinite Evolution] talent, even he wouldn't.

Of course, no skill was flawless.

[Bind of Silk] weakened over time.

The longer it lasted, the more fragile the threads became.

If given enough time, these demons would eventually be able to tear free.

But "eventually" wasn't going to save them now.

"Are all humans this… strong?!" one of the demons roared, muscles bulging as he tried to pull free.

"Damn it…" another cursed, gnashing his teeth.

But Stark? He didn't rush.

He simply raised his staff, aura curling thick around him.

His calm expression contrasted their panic as he asked a single, direct question:

"What's in the [Fifth Floor]?"

His voice carried like steel.

It wasn't that Stark doubted his ability to force his way through.

But information had its value.

Knowing what awaited could tilt things further in his favor.

"Hah," one demon spat, even as blood trickled down his chin, "You think we're gonna tell you?"

"Right, we'll just revive anyway."

"Come on, just do it already!"

Stark narrowed his eyes.

They were bound, injured, and seconds from death, yet there wasn't an ounce of fear in their eyes.

The reason was obvious.

Just like players, NPCs, and every intelligent race tied to the [Eternal Soul], had the same foundation.

The system kept track of their lives.

So long as they had some left, they would always revive.

The difference was in the timing.

Players revived instantly. NPCs didn't.

After death, they entered a "cooldown period" before returning.

"Then die," Stark said flatly.

He flicked his staff forward.

Blazing Meteor!

Fwoosh! BOOM!

A massive fireball crashed down, flames swallowing the corridor whole.

-418,080! -418,080! -418,080!

The explosion shook the walls, light flooding the shadows.

When the flames faded, the demons were gone, their bodies reduced to ash.

Stark lowered his staff, expression calm as if nothing had happened.

He could have tried squeezing more answers out of them, but it would've been pointless.

Demons were fiercely loyal to their higher-ups.

Even with death looming, they wouldn't betray their own.

Besides, there was risk.

NPCs could die permanently if they spoke something they weren't allowed to.

Olikar was proof of that.

An NPC, one that should've had a huge reserve of lives, yet he'd still been killed.

Stark hadn't uncovered the exact cause.

Either Olikar had burned through his stock of lives and been sent to the cathedral… or he'd been cursed.

In [Eternal Soul], curses weren't just nuisances.

Some ate away at your health, others drained stats, and a few could even shave off lives directly until death became inevitable.

'Doesn't matter. I'm already more than halfway through the [Demonic Ruins].'

He would just keep going.

Ding!

---

[You have killed x3 "Low-Level Demon Soldier (Level 35)"]

[You have gained 60,000 experience points!]

[You have gained 1 Evolution Point!]

[You have gained 150 Lives!]

---

The rewards flickered before his eyes.

At first glance, it didn't seem like much.

This zone had a 500 lives loss rate, so one might expect to gain that much from the demons too.

But this was their home turf.

For demons, the penalty was only a fraction of what it was for outsiders.

Ten times smaller. Still, it was enough.

Stark accepted it with a smirk.

As for items? That was where the problem lay.

[Hand of Avarice] couldn't be used on NPCs or players.

This was exactly why he hadn't pulled it against [SoulsGod] and his team before the [First Calamity].

The skill's description mentioned "corpses," so naturally, one would think it worked universally.

But reality was more restrictive.

Hand of Avarice!

A spectral hand clawed its way out of Stark's staff, drifting toward the demon corpses.

Its fingers curled, ready to rip into them—

Only to freeze midair.

It lingered for a few seconds, then dissolved into smoke.

Ding!

["Hand of Avarice" can only be used on monster corpses.]

'Expected.'

Stark let out a short exhale.

Even so, his grin widened as he lifted his staff again.

After all, he had another way.

Curse Flower!

Green energy pulsed from his staff.

On the corpses of the three demons, small black vines sprouted, twisting upward.

Buds formed at their tips, unopened flowers that looked almost alive.

Ding!

[The "Curse Flower" has been planted on the corpses of the demons you killed.]

A quick glance at the panel showed its stats.

[Curse Flower: 1,000 HP]

'So this is what it looks like after evolution.'

It wasn't his first time using the skill, but he'd rarely had the chance to use it.

Monsters were the bulk of his enemies, and the flower worked only on players or NPCs.

Now, inside a demon-infested ruin, it was finally useful.

Of course, the flower wasn't invincible.

Any decent player, monster, or NPC could destroy it easily.

But until then, Stark would guard it.

Energy seeped out of the corpses, threads of light pulled into the flowers.

The buds pulsed faintly, feeding on stolen life.

NPCs usually took around an hour to respawn. Plenty of time. And the payoff was worth it.

The [Curse Flower] absorbed at a rate of 3 lives per second for 30 seconds.

Three flowers, three corpses. Ninety lives per corpse.

By the time the thirty seconds passed, the buds had blossomed into eerie black-and-crimson flowers, swaying as if in wind.

Ding!

[Your "Curse Flower" has taken 90 Lives from "Low-Level Demon Soldier"]

[Your "Curse Flower" has taken 90 Lives from…]

[Your "Curse Flower" has taken 90 Lives from…]

Notifications stacked, and Stark's total lives jumped by 270.

The demons hadn't dropped gear or items, but that was fine.

That was the cost of not being able to use [Hand of Avarice] on them.

Unless he killed them permanently, loot wasn't guaranteed.

Still, he wasn't complaining. Monsters would supply more than enough items anyway.

Once the flowers had withered into dust, Stark turned toward the corridor the demons had come from.

His staff hummed in his grip as he moved forward.

The passage opened into another hall.

And waiting on the other side—

"Oh."

More demons. Another squad, at least twice as many.

"The others came here."

"They heard some noise, apparently. Maybe somebody slipped in."

"Be ready for battle. Kill anything on sight!"

Their red eyes burned as they raised weapons, snarling.

Stark gripped his staff tighter, the faintest grin forming.

"Perfect."

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