Simon felt numb.

Not in the sense that he stopped thinking or feeling. His mind was abuzz with activity, a hornet's nest of thoughts flying every which way, so loud and frantic that it was difficult to focus on any one thing. His emotions were a tempest whipped into a frenzy, their waves crashing against the rocks of his self-control, eroding his restraint bit-by-bit.

Yet he still felt numb. Purposefully so. His thoughts, his feelings – it had all been tightly locked away below the surface. That sort of disordered chaos simply couldn't be tolerated at this juncture.

Katarina needed him calm and composed.

He rushed over to her in a blink, producing a 100-MP Barrier to cover them. Simon didn't have any clue if it would hold up to an attack, but his mana reserves were half-empty, and he couldn't afford to spend everything he had without knowing what else to expect.

MP: 406 / 1000

Katarina was in a bad state. She was twitching, gasping, fists clenched as she clung to life by a thread. The Ancient One – or god of Evil, or whatever it called itself – had effortlessly carved a sizable chunk of flesh from her chest. Where there had once been a heart, there was now only empty space and a torrent of blood gushing from an open wound.

This is the system's limit, Simon thought, with the clarity of a doctor examining his patient. At least for people who accept my Boon. They have stats, but not Transmigrator's Body. Means they can't shrug off injuries that would be fatal for normal humans.

On the other hand, if Kat hadn't put points into Vitality, she would already be dead.

"Listen closely," Simon began, carefully enunciating each word so she could hear him in the midst of her spasms. "You should've gained a lot of Levels when I killed Duke Helmund. Do you have any Unspent Stat Points remaining? If so, allocate all of them to Vitality. Now." Please.

She responded with a short, pained nod. Simon watched intently as her heart rapidly regrew. Connective tissue was forced into existence by the system, meat attaching to meat. Katarina's haggard breathing gradually stabilized as blood started pumping through her body again.

And then the healing came to an abrupt halt, halfway unfinished.

The hole in her chest had barely sealed at all, leaving her heart exposed to the open air; a glaring target that was practically inviting the Ancient One to double-tap. She tried to stand, but a wince of agony sent her collapsing back down, the impact causing blood to spurt from her wound.

Putting points into Vitality wasn't true healing – it merely increased your current and max HP by a set amount. If Katarina had been at 50 / 500 HP, and she added 20 points of Vitality, that would bring her to 250 / 700. It was better relatively speaking, yet only a stopgap measure until she could receive proper medical attention.

Making sure to keep the Ancient One in sight, Simon eyed the cavern entrance and the staircase leading up to the surface. Could he reach it while holding Kat? Was his Dexterity high enough to outspeed an attack that was actually aimed at him this time? Would a Barrier hold up if he infused the rest of his MP into it? Could–

You are free to leave if you wish.

Cognizant of how each passing second brought Katarina closer to death, Simon turned to face the Ancient's repulsive form. "You'll have to excuse me if I don't trust that claim." Keep it talking. Wait for an opening. "If you were that polite to your guests, you wouldn't have greeted my friend so...harshly."

The colossal flesh-sphere quivered as it spoke. Bones and muscle shifted underneath a translucent layer of skin, blood vessels popping like water left to boil. She brandished her weapon against me. I am bound not to harm the mortals of this world lest they take up arms against me first.

"Really. Bound by what, exactly? The honor system? A pinky promise?"

A formal Contract of mutual interest, signed by myself and the man you knew as Duke Helmund. It is a shame that you slew him. He fed me well.

Simon didn't let new revelations distract him. "That's no more binding than a firm handshake. Helmund wasn't a Demon. He couldn't forge a Contract that forced both parties to obey its terms."

No, he could not. But as the progenitor of Demons, that was well within my power.

Silence.

It was getting tougher not to be distracted by revelations. "You're the what?"

The creator of those who are Fell. I suppose you could call them my children. Fell Beasts and Demons are derived from my essence. By my will, I twisted creatures into the shapes that I desire. Made them stronger, crueler.

The Ancient's tone was dispassionate. And starving for mana. Fell Beasts are living machines made to perform a task – gorging themselves on the lifeblood of the world. Whenever they feast, a portion of their bounty is transferred to me.

It had no eyes, but Simon could feel an intangible gaze that pierced through his very soul. Demons were an unexpected mutation, somehow clinging to facsimiles of sanity, yet their primary function remains unchanged. You too have contributed to my rebirth with every life you Harvested.

Although...the hunger that drove you was not inflicted by me. Yours was a disease of the mind, rather than the body. It existed within you before ever setting foot in these lands.

Simon gently picked up Katarina. He suppressed any extraneous thoughts, ready to bolt at a moment's notice. "None of that makes me more inclined to trust you."

It should. Are you not bound by the Contracts you create, and the restrictions you place upon yourself? As the progenitor of the Fell, I am no different. Our nature is indicative of the inherent constraints that we share. Unless you seek to harm me, your safety is assured.

"Even if I buy that, there's no evidence that you signed a non-aggression treaty with Duke Helmund. Or that the terms applied to people other than him. Or that it persisted past his death. Or–"

A blackened scrawl suddenly appeared in mid-air.

Clause 1: This Contract will be between the Contractor, named the ----------------, also known as the Ancient One of Valtia, and the Contractee, named Simon, also known as Simon Cobblestone, or Simon the Demon. The Ancient One is the initiator of this Contract. Clause 2: Simon and Katarina Cartier will be granted safe passage to the surface above, permitted to exit the Ancient One's birthing grounds. The Ancient One will take no actions to impede or harm them until its rebirth has completed. Clause 3: If Simon or Katarina Cartier attack the Ancient One, or display behavior that clearly indicates they are planning to attack, Clause 2 is rendered null and void.

There. Its voice was still cold – the same voice that Simon had heard every time he forged a Contract with someone. A supplementary covenant to assuage your fears. Do you accept?

He almost did.

Katarina wouldn't last long like this. She needed healing as of two minutes ago. With 110 Dexterity, Simon was confident that he could rush up the tunnel and bring her to the Hurricane in time to save her.

Just not in time to save Valtia as well.

Voice-In-The-Sky had sounded desperate when it urged him onward. Having now seen the Ancient One, Simon could understand why. It was an egg filled to bursting with stolen mana; a newborn calamity which would greedily consume all that lived.

And Simon held no delusions that he could stop it if that egg was allowed to hatch. The aura of power emanating from the Ancient's gargantuan, misshapen body exceeded what he'd felt from Duke Helmund in the man's prime.

Maybe it would've been content to wait another year if Helmund was still around to keep feeding it mana, but him out of the picture, it no longer saw any reason to delay its awakening.

Except it's not quite ready yet. The Ancient One wouldn't have offered a Contract if it wasn't worried about me interfering. It's even tried diverting my attention – successfully, if I'm being honest – with a barrage of revealed secrets. As a semi-professional con artist, I can tell when someone is stalling for time.

That's all the proof I need to know that I can kill it.

Simon had already made his decision. The Ancient couldn't emerge from its cocoon yet – but it would very soon. Logically, pragmatically, and even morally, there was only one possible choice to make.

He couldn't risk the world by taking a detour to save Katarina. Especially not after sacrificing hundreds of innocents to kill Duke Helmund. It would be a betrayal of everything he stood for.

What was one life, in the grand scheme of things? One person, when weighed against the entirety of Valtia?

The one person who kept standing by his side, even when she didn't need to anymore.

A volcanic spike of white-hot rage broke through Simon's calm veneer. He grasped it tightly, molding the sensation to his will, honing its purpose even as the sharp edges sliced into him.

Being powerless truly is a sin, isn't it? Hollow laughter tore from his throat. That's why I couldn't get justice for my parents. I was nobody, nothing. No worse than an inconvenience to the monsters who took everything from me. Things were supposed to be different here, a fresh start...

But has anything really changed? I couldn't kill Helmund without resorting to murdering hundreds of people I was sent here to protect. If I'd been stronger, I wouldn't have needed to deprive the Hurricane of their loved ones. It was my weakness that killed them.

I'm so tired of not being enough.

His laughter died. Fuck this. No more compromises. No more concessions. The Ancient One can take its Contract and shove it. I don't have to choose between Valtia or Kat.

He opened his Character Sheet and selected his Class Advancement.

I'll just kill the Ancient fast enough to save her.

With a burst of speed, he dashed forward, Katarina held in his arms. Silver claws reached out to overlap the blackened scrawl hanging in the air, Fell Harvest draining the unsigned Contract of its energy.

MP: 447 / 1000

Wasn't much extra, but Simon would need every last drop of mana he could bring to bear.

So you have spurned my offer. Unfortunate, yet unsurprising.

A pale, sickly, harsh light illuminated the cavern. Like the core of a sun trapped in a rotting carcass, the Ancient One's grotesque anatomy blazed with spoils it had plundered from the world itself.

Helmund rejected me as well when I first approached him.

Massive pillars of mana rose up around Simon. Forward, behind, left, right, underneath – his field of vision was flooded with explosive luminescence.

He threw himself to the side, barely managing to locate a safe spot, threading the needle as he evaded death by millimeters. A hasty Barrier shielded him and Kat from the third-degree burns that would have resulted merely from being near everything.

It was the single-most powerful attack Simon had ever witnessed by several orders of magnitude. It was a storm of ruination that would have eradicated the Hurricane if they were here.

It was also just the Ancient One's opening salvo.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

He soon saw the error of his ways. For him, I would grant eternal life and strength that grew with his years. For me, he would deliver a periodic stream of mana and hide my presence from the people of these lands.

Helmund had no reason not to accept. If he refused, another mortal would have been chosen and elevated in his place.

There is no shortage of those willing to condemn others for their own gain.

Simon had nowhere to run. He was boxed in, surrounded on all sides by radiant death. Every attack he somehow avoided was a gift. Every moment he continued to live was a miracle.

Meaningless. Survival wasn't the point. He needed to advance. If he could get in close, reach the Ancient One's position, an opportunity would present itself...yet he saw no path forward.

So he made one. Dancing on the line between courage and folly, Simon fought like a madman for inches of space.

Flaws in the Ancient's assault were Identified, then exploited. Resources were expended as necessary. His MP dwindled from Barriers that lasted for a tenth of a second. His HP cratered from attacks he didn't have room to dodge, pockets of flesh shorn from his body.

But despite it all, he never once contemplated retreat. Battling through the wrath of an unborn god, he pushed forward.

Always forward.

It came as no great shock when Helmund inevitably turned against his benefactor. He conspired against me over this past decade, researching ways to more effectively slay Fell-aligned organisms. The venerable Duke hoped to find something that could kill the monster he chose to create.

Make no mistake – he did not regret the Contract we devised. Only that his time of indulgence was nearing its end. Centuries of lording over the Severed Isles simply wasn't enough to satisfy his appetite for dominion.

Simon allotted a small portion of MP for an experiment. He fired a minor Kill at the Ancient One's onslaught of stolen mana, attempting to warp it. Theoretically, his ploy should have succeeded, just as it had for Armand Calloway, Piers, and the bomb he'd used to cripple Helmund.

Yet his Kill was engulfed by the walls of light, evaporating without fanfare. Little surprise there. Unlike the human pretenders with their frail bodies, this abomination thrived off of mana that was not its own. There was no instability to warp.

Stealing the lifeblood of a world was just part of its natural life cycle.

Mortals such as Helmund will always reach for more. It is in their nature. Just as animals must feast on life to sustain their own. Just as I must devour worlds to propagate my existence.

Just as you must achieve progress to quell the guilt gnawing at your soul. We are all slaves to who we are.

The transmigrator made a hard right turn to skirt around a mana-pillar that erupted in front of him. Katarina winced with agony as she was jostled in his grip, blood pouring from the hole in her chest. She felt weaker than before, her skin clammy and cold.

Simon silently willed her to hang on. He would have said it aloud, but he couldn't spare the breath to speak.

Helmund likely thought that he could outmaneuver me. That he would be the exception among humans who ally with my kind.

I do not fault him for that. All humans have a penchant for convincing themselves that they are special. Even when committing the same mistakes as their forebears, they believe that their dilemma is unique, their logic ironclad. It will be different this time, surely.

He'd made it halfway across the cavern. The Ancient One's ever-shifting form almost scraped the ceiling, large as a building, emitting the nauseating smells and sounds of an enormous pile of cobbled-together biomass. It seemed to be rapidly morphing into...something, the disparate parts beneath its surface maturing and melding into more recognizable shapes.

Not long until the egg hatches. Have to hurry.

A passing thought – yet Simon's margin of error was so vanishingly slim that this brief distraction was like if he'd closed his eyes and plugged his ears. By the time he'd finished thinking it, a thin, cutting wall of mana was already racing towards him.

You would know that well, transmigrator. After the innocents you have slain today, the stains you have accepted unto your heart, few transgressions will be beyond reproach. Once lives become numbers balanced on a ledger, killing 100 to save 1000 is merely rational.

Today was the hardest decision you've ever had to make. I suspect your next justifications would come far more easily.

No time to dodge. He'd been in the middle of an evasive maneuver, one foot off the ground. Leeway to course-correct was minimal. Ancient's attack guaranteed to bisect him if he did nothing. Even in a best-case scenario, it would cost him a limb.

Unless I pay in advance.

Right before the mana-wall cleaved into him, Simon twisted his body and Detached his right arm.

The razor-thin radiance tore past him like a guillotine hurled through the air. It slipped between the tiny space between him and his Detached arm, missing both by a sliver.

Simon ordered the Demonic limb to return, re-attaching it as he prepped another Barrier to cover him.

If I am capable of experiencing the emotion known as amusement, it would be over how ineffectual my own efforts have been. Fell Beasts and Demons were directly fashioned by my hand to procure mana. Their bottomless hunger was the engine meant to fuel my rebirth.

Yet the sum total of their bounty was meager compared to Helmund's industry of extraction. He depleted the Severed Isles with callous efficiency, transforming it into a withered husk within just several generations.

Astonishing. His rapacity exceeded my highest expectations. Mortals never seem to disappoint.

Simon was running out of options.

HP: 378 / 1000 MP: 72 / 1000

The Ancient One had grown accustomed to his patterns – how he bobbed and weaved through its relentless bombardment of mana, exploiting weak points to help close the gap. Those weak points were being shored up, and its attacks were targeting him with greater precision, snipping away lifelines one-by-one.

All this, Simon mused, for a plan that might not even work.

He had no idea if the upgrades granted by his new Class Advancement would be enough. They might, if their Descriptions were accurate, but he didn't trust system text where the Ancient One was concerned.

It was a deity on par with the gods who'd created the transmigrator system – or at least it would be in a few minutes – and the lingering contamination of its presence had caused Identify to malfunction on numerous occasions. For all he knew, the same issue could affect his other abilities. What if he finally reached the Ancient One, only for his Skills to cease functioning entirely?

Helmund accelerated my apotheosis by a matter of millennia. Once he gained a foothold in Valtia, it became virtually impossible for others to dislodge him. This realm's carefully-maintained equilibrium was destroyed by the whims of one selfish, egocentric man.

He is hardly unique in that regard. Among the myriad worlds my kind have visited thus far, mortal cooperation has consistently proven invaluable. With just the slightest bit of aid, their avarice can be forged into a monstrous battering ram, toppling societies before its people even realize what's been stolen from them.

Simon also knew that he didn't have a choice. Either he bet on high-risk, high-reward, or he accepted certain death. There was no third option. That was simply how things went when you faced an opponent who had already stacked the deck before you ever sat at the table.

That is why we are winning.

Destruction is proactive. It takes a year to build a castle and a day to knock it down. Entropy is the fundamental state of things. We benefit tremendously from how easy it is to be ourselves.

Transmigrators are always too late. Your kind arrives in response to crisis. We shatter the foundations of a world, and our counterparts scramble to pick up the pieces.

Even if you manage to prevail, your victory stands atop a pile of ashes.

An errant laser clipped Simon's left eye, popping it like a grape. No major loss – he still had his right eye to see with.

Thirty feet away from the Ancient One.

Shining mana ripped off half his gut. No major loss – none of the organs were immediately vital.

Twenty feet away from the Ancient One.

A scattershot volley this time. Ear, fingers, thigh vaporized. No major loss – extraneous flesh was just a holding receptacle for HP.

Ten feet away. Five feet. Three. Two. One.

Zero.

HP: 41 / 1000 MP: 0 / 1000

He'd beat the buzzer.

A nascent divinity towered over him. It was close to its rebirth by now. A sense of indefinable anticipation was building in the air – a formless, wordless song sung by the millions of dead that preceded the Ancient's coming, and the millions more that would perish as it ate and slaughtered its way through Valtia. Reality itself was resonating, bending to an existence that surpassed it intrinsically, as if in the vain hope that welcoming the Ancient One would convince it to be merciful.

Below the proto-god stood a battered chunk of meat named Simon. His body was a wreck, pieces missing all over, like a pack of starving hyenas had ambushed him in a dark alley. The pain stabbing at him was secondary to the mental exhaustion he felt from pushing his concentration and reactions to their absolute limit. Katarina was looking up at him with wide-eyed concern, and considering her condition, that was an indictment in and of itself.

But he'd made it. He was here.

Simon didn't have the time or the lung capacity to laugh, but the savage grin stretching across his face spoke volumes. Claws extended, he plunged his Demonic arm straight into the Ancient One's writhing mass.

An unparalleled rush of adrenaline coursed through his veins as he gambled Valtia's future on a single ambiguously-worded sentence.

Class Advancement: Demonic Devourer -Glutton, parasite, tyrant – those are the empty cries they will spout as their life essence is added to your own. -Learned Skills: Triple Upgrade to Fell Harvest

Fell Harvest (Rank 6) -When holding a person or creature in your Shapeshifted Arm's clutches, you may drain their life force. Draining them to the point of death will increase a chosen stat by 3 points. -Rank 4 Upgrade: The rate and speed at which this ability drains mana has been dramatically increased. -Rank 5 Upgrade: Fell Harvest will immobilize the target when in use, preventing them from moving or utilizing their mana. Stronger targets may resist this effect, either partially or completely. -Rank 6 Upgrade: Once initiated, Fell Harvest becomes exorbitantly difficult for the target to break free from, unless the user purposefully disengages.

'Stronger targets may resist this effect, either partially or completely.' He would've preferred a controlled environment to test the extent of that, but, well...you made do with the hand you were dealt.

A hand of silver claws and black scales, in this case.

FELL HARVEST.

Next chapter will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.