Book 4: Chapter 24: Demon Core


    The smell of rot pervaded Benedict’s nostrils, cloaking him in a nket of death from which there was no escape. It was difficult to remember a time when that smell didn’t cling to everything he touched. Even before the world had transformed, he was familiar with it, and he’d be even more so since everything had changed. However, there was a part of him that tired of that cloying, sickly sweet smell, making him regret the ss he’d chosen.


    It gave him power, and it had allowed him to steadily progress, especially since that lunatic king had locked him in the dungeon that had been his home for more than a year. It may have been even longer; time was difficult to gauge when one never saw the sun, after all.


    Benedict could have escaped. His minions were strong enough to rip his shackles from their anchors on the wall. But then what? The men who routinely ughtered his minions were strong enough to give him trouble, which was an untenable risk that he refused to take. After all, why would he, aside from the ability to live somewhere morefortable? He had everything he needed in thebyrinthine dungeon, and he’d reaped the benefits of his situation, progressing to level fifty-nine, which had put him into the top ten.


    It was during his most recent inspection of the power rankings that he’d discovered something incredibly interesting, though:<table width="384"><tbody><tr><td width="623">


    <strongary Power Rankings (Earth)</strong>


    <strong>1. </strong><strong>Elijah Hart – Level 81</strong>


    <strong>2. </strong><strong>Oscar Ramirez – Level 77</strong>


    <strong>3. </strong><strong>Sadie Song – Level 75</strong><strong>4. </strong><strong>Hu Shui – Level 73</strong>


    <strong>5. </strong><strong>Niko Song – Level 72</strong>


    <strong>6. </strong><strong>Davu Adebowale– Level 68</strong>


    <strong>7. </strong><strong>Anupriya Pandey – Level 65</strong>


    <strong>8. </strong><strong>Benedict Emerson – Level 59</strong>


    <strong>9. </strong><strong>Ram Khandu – Level 59</strong>


    <strong>10. </strong><strong>Gunnar Lindstrom – Level 59</strong>


    <strong>11. </strong><strong>…</strong>


    <strong>12. </strong><strong>…</strong></td></tr></tbody></table>


    In a raspy voice, he croaked, “It seems our dear king has run afoul of something he couldn’t handle.”


    His chains clinked as he reached out to stroke the cheek of histest creation – a mostly intact woman whose only real w was a deeply bruised throat. “What do you think, my beauty?” he asked. “Is it time?”


    Predictably, she didn’t answer. But then again, she never did. Even though she had a body, there was nothing in her mind. He controlled her every movement. Not down to thest twitch, but rather the general shape of her actions. It was the same with all his other minions, and he had the ability to either micro- or macro-manage them.


    Even as he considered it, two things happened.


    First, he achieved level sixty, but before he could check his new ability, another notification shifted before his inner eye:<table width="384"><tbody><tr><td width="623">


    <strong>A powerful entity has offered you a Task:</strong>


    <strong>Obejctive:</strong>


    <strong>Escape</strong>


    <strong>Reward: </strong>


    <strong>Blessing of the Archdemon, Thakon Kilzean</strong>


    <strong>Do you ept?</strong></td></tr></tbody></table>


    “What?” rasped Benedict, his voice still unused to speaking.


    Then, something flickered into being a secondter. Before the image coalesced into anything recognizable, a silky voice echoed in Benedict’s ears. “Apologies,” it said. “Normally, there is an order to these sorts of things, but your world is so weak that my projection was dyed. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”


    By the time the voice finished, the shimmering flicker had resolved itself into a tall, slim man. He wore a simple, ck toga that had been sped into ce by a golden pin in the shape of a fist. On his feet were delicate sandals thatced up to his knees, but there was nothing else to his outfit.


    Not that he needed clothing to be impressive.


    The man was nearly six-and-a-half feet tall, with glistening ck curls and a paleplexion unmarred by a single blemish. The only oddity – aside from his striking beauty – was a pair of glittering green horns standing out from his forehead. And despite the incongruity they represented, Benedict couldn’t help but feel that they only added to the man – no, the creature’s – perfect appearance.


    This tale has been uwfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    “You are a demon?” Benedict asked, marshalling hisposure.


    “Archdemon. But yes, I am a member of the demonic race. As you can be, as well,” the demon said, turning and giving Benedict a view of the leathery wings folded against his back. “Your low birth need not hold you back. All elder races can induct worthy candidates.”


    “And you wish to…induct me? Why?” asked Benedict.


    “Why else? War.”


    “With whom?”


    “The angels, of course,” said Thakon Kilzean as he circled the room. He reached out, running a finger along the shoulder of one of Benedict’s minions. And to the Warlock’s surprise, he felt it. That meant that the demon was no mere illusion. Nor was he a figment of Benedict’s imagination. It had been some time since he’d experienced hallucinations, but even in the depths of his…delusions, he’d never once felt their touch.


    “May I ask why?” he asked.


    “They are self-righteous hypocrites who deserve to be wiped from memory,” Thakon said with a note of amusement. “More importantly, they have chosen to meddle in this world. As have the dragons. Even the mechaniques have their eyes on this unremarkable ce. So, of course we demons must have our piece of the pie as well.” He cocked his head to the side. “That is an expression here, correct? Piece of the pie.”


    Benedict had no idea what the archdemon was talking about, though he could infer that angels, dragons, and mechaniques were powerful races of people. Demons, as well.


    “What does…bing a demon entail?”


    “Do you ept the quest?”


    “Not until I get an exnation.”


    “Smart. Very demonic of you. Cunning and unfettered self-reliance. That is why I chose you,” Thakon stated. “And ruthlessness, of course. That is a trait held in high esteem by all of the elder races, though. Even those self-righteous hypocrites, the angels. They may pretend otherwise. The dragons go on and on about the bnce, while the mechaniques only care for their self-muttion. And the angels pretend they are driven by morality. It’s all a smokescreen, though. A disguise for their true motivations. They are no better than us, even if they pretend otherwise.”


    “That does not answer my question,” Benedict stated evenly. His voice was still raspy, but even that small amount of speaking had loosened his vocal cords. “What does bing a demon entail?”


    “Nothing, as of now. You get a fancy new core that’s better than anything you could achieve on your own. There are only a handful of people on this world who could rival its power,” said Thakon. “Other than increasing your power, you will see no real transformation until you reach the fourth stage.”


    “And after that?”


    “You will grow closer to the ideal form until you attain perfection in the seventh stage.”


    “By perfection, you mean…”


    “Wings, tail, horns – I believe your legends are quite clear on what to expect,” the archdemon stated. “Of course, you can suppress those features if you wish, though I can’t fathom why anyone would.”


    “What are the detriments?”


    “Why would those exist?”


    “Nothing is free. If something seems too good to be true, then it is likely a lie.”


    Thakon rolled his eyes, then let out a dramatic sigh. “I’m trying to pull you up from the mud, and you keep pping my hand away. Do you want to y with corpses for the rest of your life? If so, refuse. If not, then I offer you the means to change your circumstances. Make no mistake – I will not beg. I have other candidates. Do not test my patience, mortal.”


    “So there are detriments.”


    “I did not say that!” Thakon rumbled. The dungeon shook, albeit barely noticeably and for only an instant. In addition, Thakon’s form flickered until he closed his eyes, took a deep breath, and said, “Apologies. It has been an eternity since I’ve had to control my power so firmly. The only detriment is that you will make an enemy of the angels. Traveling to their worlds will prove deadly for anyone with a Demon Core. But you don’t want to go there, anyway. So boring. Sure, it’s technically paradise, but at what cost? They have plenty of skeletons in their closets as well. Oh, that’s a delightful turn of phrase. It loses a bit of impact when tranted to my native tongue, but it’s still quite colorful.”


    The archdemon pointedly looked Benedict up and down, then said, “It will also do wonders for yourplexion.”


    Benedict frowned. He tried not to think about it, but because his Regeneration had been so terribly affected by maintaining such arge horde of minions, he had struggled to maintain his health. Most of the damage was cosmetic, but he currently had seeping sores all over his body. At times, he could ignore it, but at others, he thought that he had begun to look like his unliving minions.


    He was not a particrly vain man. Indeed, he’d rarely given much thought to his appearance, other than to make certain that he was at least presentable. However, he couldn’t ignore his gue-stricken skin.


    That, as well as the promise of power, made his choice an easy one. To date, he’d not seen any information on how to increase his Core cultivation, so the value of the demon’s offer was undeniable.


    With that in mind, Benedict mentally gave his confirmation of the quest. Then, without further discussion, he directed his strongest minions to break his chains free. The moment they seeded, he received a notification that he’dpleted the quest:<table width="384"><tbody><tr><td width="384">


    <strong>Congrattions! You havepleted a Task. Standby for reward…</strong></td></tr></tbody></table>


    He tapped his foot impatiently, which elicited another dramatic roll of Thakon’s eyes. A momentter, he received another notification:<table width="384"><tbody><tr><td width="384">


    <strong>Blessing of the Archdemon received. Please choose which form it takes:</strong>


    <strong>Core Advancement</strong>


    <strong>Item (Heart of the Demon)</strong>


    <strong>Spell (Hell’s Fury)</strong></td></tr></tbody></table>


    “Pick the core advancement,” Thakon stated. “The other options are powerful. They had to be to be included as a reward forpleting the task. However, as strong as they are, none will bear the continued power of advancing your core.”


    Benedict was of a mind to agree, though he was intrigued by the other two options. Any item that could rival core advancement in power would surely be useful. By that same logic, the spell would surely be formidable as well.


    Still, not only would core advancement impact every other facet of his power, but it also had the potential to continue growing stronger. So, he followed the archdemon’s advice and chose the first option without any regret.


    The moment he made the choice, power erupted inside him. He was used to pain – after all, he felt every blow leveled against his minions – but even he couldn’t stand before the onught of agony that came with his core advancement.


    “It actually isn’t the advancement that you’re feeling. Everyone receives a rudimentary core when they choose an archetype, but it is a tiny, pitiful thing,” said Thakon, suddenly looming over Benedict. “This is a proper core. But forming such a thing does note without pain. Normally, that would be spread across years. We don’t have time for that, though. The only sce I can offer you is to grant you unconsciousness until the processpletes.”


    “No…”


    “What?”


    “Leave me be,” Benedict growled, having fallen to his knees. His fingers dug into the dirty floor as power raged through him. He could feel his core shattering, then reforming, then shattering once again. At the center of it burned an evesting me that constantly pulsed, over and over. Pain didn’t begin to describe it. Not adequately, at least. But Benedict was set on enduring the process without sumbing to unconsciousness.


    He wanted to feel it.


    He wanted to know what was happening.


    All so, when the time came, he could replicate it.


    So, he held on through the agony until, what felt like an eternityter, it settled. A notification soon followed:<table width="384"><tbody><tr><td width="384">


    <strong>Congrattions! You have cultivated a Demon Core. Current stage: Imp</strong></td></tr></tbody></table>


    As sweat dripped from his forehead to puddle beneath him, he let out a sigh of relief. Another notification followed thest:<table width="384"><tbody><tr><td width="384">


    <strong>You have reached the first threshold. Current stage: Cultivator</strong></td></tr></tbody></table>


    Then, Thakon’s silky voice echoed in his ears, “Rise, brother. Wee to the Legion.”


    Benedict felt a smile spread across his face as he looked up to see the archdemon’s extended hand. He took it, once again surprised to feel that Thakon was not an illusion, and allowed himself to be dragged to his feet. Already, he could feel the power coursing through him. However, he was disturbed to note that his minions – everyst one – had fallen. He could no longer feel them, either.


    “My minions…”


    Thakon said, “Your ss remains the same, but the expression of it has now been altered. Warlock, you remain, but you no longer need to muck about with corpses. Let me show you…”