-Later that day-
Demon stood on an unfamiliar Legion's tower. He threaded his Syndicate Dust to allow light to pass through him. Making him invisible.
No one noticed the stalking Distorted, but they did feel its presence. Demon sat there, angrily watching the defenders and residents move around.
It was all because of what he did earlier that day. After notifying Ether, the Nine punished him. He wasn't allowed to interfere with the conflict, only fight in it.
Now angered and filled with malice, Demon wanted to do what no Prime ever done before. He wanted to direct the war between Infinus and Light.
Deep down, it was a lot more than just directing. It was showing the Nine some of their creations worked too well.
So he looked down from his cold stone seat and looked around. He took a moment to take in everything the Legion had to offer.
A small amount of Syndicate Dust detached itself from Demon. It rained on the unexpected Variants below. One by one, he gained various amounts of new hosts.
Everything they stored in their mind found their way into his own. His brain was becoming a library of memories, emotions, thoughts, and skills.
Demon felt his body grow in strength as he manifested the bodies of his hosts inside of his mind. Where they would wait until Demon needed their physical strengths.
He searched through thousands of memories per second, looking for information he could use to aid him in his goal.
Not long after, he gained what he needed. He knew the Legion's name was Encur. Their enemies were the Ophus Legion, and they had negative interactions with the Light Legion.
Enough information to aid Demon in the early phases of his plan. But he wanted more knowledge. He needed more resources, he wanted more of everything.
The sudden shift in lighting caught Demon's attention once again. There was no moon outside, the only lights were the ones from torches.
When families gathered around outside to discuss something, Demon remembered they were aware of him. It was something he didn't want them to know.
So he suppressed his sense of dread. He studied the minds of his hosts as they calmed down. The fact they believed he was gone made him laugh internally.
This was the moment he realized being a Distorted was a lot more than feeding off negative emotions. It was about how they could corrupt.
By gaining hosts, he became powerful. If he continued, he could become the most powerful entity to ever exist. That was his goal, he wanted to do it because the Nine made something so powerful.
Something beyond their control, all because they wanted to understand their experiments more.
Demon forced some of his Infinus armor off. "You are no longer theirs, you are mine!" he thought to himself.
From his hands, Syndicate Dust corrupted the armor. It wasn't the daring blue and black of the Legion, it was the dominant power of a Distorted.
All sorts of blues disappeared while purples took their place. It was how he wanted the armor to look like. The corruption didn't end on the single plate. It spread to his legs, arms, and head.
But that wasn't it. Demon still wanted more. He wanted his armor to enhance his abilities as a Distorted. So he modified the Syndicate Dust to his liking.
The gauntlets tore portions of itself in half. Leaving four distinct cuts in the armor. It was because Demon wanted the gauntlets to be his secondary weapons when his weapon failed.
His legs cut themselves in a similar way. Except it was one large wound on each leg. These would be there in case Demon's arms were busy.
The helmet split in half vertically, but it didn't break. Faint sparks of light danced behind the helmet, making it seem like the inside was glowing.
It was because Demon wanted to see what he wants to see, get what he wants to get, hear what he wants to hear, and hide what he wants to hide. The helmet was the main source of it all.
A plain helmet with no openings for air replaced the Eddision glass helmet he wore before. The only slight opening on it was there for him to deny others the truths.
Every second Demon spent admiring his new armor, he could feel himself playing the Nine already. He wasn't going to interfere between the Light Legion and the Infinus Legion, he simply was going to entertain them.
As the night progressed, Demon hatched a new idea. He calmly stood up from his seat, and evaporated along with the Syndicate Dust.
-Minutes later-
The Light Legion, home to tyrants and the powerful. Or what Demon saw it as: the second part of his plan.
As he observed the oblivious guards patrol the streets of the Light Legion, Demon felt the eyes of something watching him.
His attention turned to a dark corner across from his position behind a storage house. Another glossy black figure stared at him.
It was another Distorted, the same Distorted that infected him with the corruption. Demon was sure that was it.
The Distorted made its way towards him, avoiding being detected by unknown methods. It reached up to Demon, who was in his Distorted form.
Demon reached back, he was curious of what was going to happen next. But that curiosity didn't last long, because he got another idea.
He grabbed the Distorted's head and sucked out all of its experiences. A loud acidic burning rung around the Light Legion's streets as the Distorted silently suffered.
By the end, Demon remained in the same position. Except there was nothing inside his hand now. The Distorted became his own. In a way, Demon cannibalized it.
The essence of the Distorted became permanently linked with his essence. He grew stronger by consuming the one that corrupted his mind.
Moments later, a flash of light blinded Demon. He stumbled back, and after the light disappeared. Things he didn't know the entity had began to surface into his mind.
Details such as the deal between Solice and Kas, the disappearance of Lya and the death of Solice.
It left him confused. Why did the Distorted hold so much information? But it wasn't the time to answer questions. It was Demon's time to drive his plan forward.
So he loosened up as much Syndicate Dust as he could on his right arm, and then he waved it around. The dust camouflaged perfectly with the abyssal-black night.
The dust found its way around the Legion, corrupting anyone who made contact with it. But they were unaware if the major force at play.
Swords, daggers, arrows, pikes, and lances were toys compared to the most crucial weapon: the mind. A weapon Demon would be foolish to ignore if he wanted to succeed in his plans.
After several seconds, everything rushed into his mind at once. The surge of experiences overwhelmed Demon, but in a good way.
He wanted the Nine to witness their creation expanding into a weapon used against them. After the surge expired, Demon stopped and listened.
Dead silence.
No one came to investigate the acidic burning sound from earlier. He looked over the storage house for any Light Legion patrols. On the other side, there was nobody.
It was like he was the only one outside. An urge to return home filled his mind. But this home wasn't Krugi, it was the home he used to live in. The one inside the Light Legion.
Demon calmed down and allowed his body to evaporate. Seconds later, he found himself outside their old home.
The home was empty. An unwelcoming aura warded off any visitors from entering. But in a way, it encouraged him to walk towards his home.
He twisted the doorknob and tiptoed inside. The footsteps echoed through the empty home. But it wasn't empty for long.
In the room he was in, a shelf decorated itself. A gold sword with old cloth from used robes that seemed like it belonged to the Light Legion, found their way on the shelf.
Demon cautiously walked up to it. With each step he took, the home transformed. Now, the fireplace began to burn bright. Lighting up the room.
The golden sword reflected the embers. It inspired Demon to continue walking. With his next step, distant voices began to whisper one another.
He turned around and saw three shadows standing where their coach was. One cried into the shoulders of another, meanwhile the last shadow stood watching over them.
"Echoes from the past come to confront me... you bend to my game," Demon murmured.
His hand reached for the weapon. All of his fingers wrapped around it as he lifted it up and brought it closer.
"You belong to the once-beloved elite, Dominatsu... who fell at the hands of... Jakery..?" Demon asked in a daze.
He turned the weapon's tip towards himself as he rose the weapon over his head. His left hand grabbed onto the blade as his chest exposed itself from under the layers of Syndicate Dust.
The rest was a haze, but also a mark in his life.