Within a cave.
In the dim light of the oil lamp, the table with yellowish paper was illuminated. The cave interior was dug in multiple places, making an artificial shelf for paper and miscellaneous items.
Being in the deepest part of the cave, the air cooled by the wall gathered there, creating an air bank with little to no circulation.
With a sudden ripple in the shadow of the wall, a figure manifested out of it. A man with many deep scars and a menacing presence bowed down with his medium build — towards the table.
"State your business." With a heavy voice, the figure sitting on the table revealed himself.
"Yes! As lord had instructed, the 87th demonic inauguration has begun. One thousand participants have been divided into five groups, as Sire desired." The scar-faced man loyally reported with a stiff expression.
Demonic inauguration, a process held every decade, to give birth to many special individuals. It was a tradition carried by the moon's shadow sect, one of the largest forces on the continent.
"What about the kids chosen by the demonic corps generals? Do any of them show extreme talent?" The man sitting at the table put down the feather pen and questioned deeply.
"Absolutely," The scar-faced man smiled widely, making him appear immensely wretched.
"Almost all the ones chosen by Lord generals, leaving aside one, would at the least become demonic soldiers by the time of graduation. If I exaggerate a little, it wouldn't be surprising if some even become demonic commanders!" The scar-faced man had unknown expectations.
The man on the table, Bugrenk, a demonic corps general, mused: "Leaving aside one?"
"Yes, number 1000, the chances of him surviving the camp trials are slim."
"1000...Never mind, you can go back." Bugrenk waved his hand dismissively.
Bowing again, the scar-faced man walked out of the cave's inner room.
Silence remained with the swaying light of the lamp.
The sound of teeth grinding rang out fiercely.
"...To think that the other demonic general fell to the point that they take their job as a joke."
Numbers are bestowed to the children chosen for the demonic inauguration. The factor measured in this process was their potential, by their talent.
Getting the 1000th position was no different than announcing oneself to be the most talentless.
"There is a need to reform the higher hierarchy of the sect in the worst-case scenario, sigh..." Bugrenk sighed and returned to his work.
.....
In the fierce rays of the purple sun, the array of mountains and the forest around it was illuminated by a bright light.
Within the innumerable number of rooms in the mountains, a particular room was filled with a grim atmosphere.
Bright!
"Ugh!" Mangrel opened his eyes, only to close them from the sudden appearance of the lamp before his face.
"Are you up? Tch." A middle-aged man said, before moving up to the next kid.
Jerking his body up, Mangrel looked around himself with a calm face.
A wide room, enough to fill five hundred people, and many oil lamps on the wall. More than a hundred kids were sleeping on the ground, with some waking up just recently.
'Where exactly is this place? Did that one-star spiritualist bring me here?' Mangrel squinted with uncertainty.
Feeling pain in his palm, Mangrel looked at it. Mud was attached to it, showing the mark of a sandal.
The man who woke him seems to have stamped his palm to wake him up.
'From the amount of origin essence gathered in the eight death rings, I should have been unconscious for around a week. Was I brought to this place at that time, or was something else done to me?' Mangrel suspected.
Mangrel couldn't feel anything out of place in his body, but he was still unsure.
Even after thinking for a while, Mangrel could find no lead about the situation. All he could do was take a wait-and-see stance.
After waking up Mangrel, the man, who was a rank one cultivator, woke all the kids one by one. Almost everyone was knocked unconscious, while they slept on the hard ground.
For the children who didn't wake up with a simple stomp, the man directly kicked them awake.
"Argh..." Subtle grunts were heard from the distance too, exposing that there were more men waking everyone up there.
Time went by silently, and within a few minutes, the sound of kids talking to each other spread throughout the room.
Within this time, Mangrel had checked his body physically too. Finding a necklace with a strange carving on his neck, when he investigated it with the origin essence, the meaning behind the carving on the squarish plate was revealed.
"One thousand..." Mangrel rubbed the rough texture of the necklace.
At that moment, the leader of the man waking everyone appeared. He had a brown cape which was very worn out and the leader was armed with armor and sword.
Wheeze! Bang!
His leg stamped the ground below him, causing the floor to cave in and creating a large enough noise for everyone to hear.
All the kids' attention gathered on the leader.
"You are all the kids ranging from number 800 to 1000! Which means that you are all the weakest and the most worthless among all the kids chosen in this demonic inauguration!" The leader's gaze traveled to every child intimidatingly.
Kids who understood the meaning behind the leader's words grimaced, despair filling them.
As for the ones who were still skeptical, they showed varying looks.
Mangrel experienced minor enlightenment.
'It seems like the cultivator, who found my immense demonic nature, put me in this sect's event. It's most likely to nurture future talent and create trustworthy pawns.' Mangrel's eyes flashed with a sharp light.
From the attitude of the leader just now, Mangrel was sure this sect was in the demonic faction with certainty.
'Being able to carry out such a large activity, this demonic sect is very strong and influential too. I don't know if this is a blessing or a disaster...' Mangrel concentrated on the leader.
"Silence!" The leader's voice covered in spiritual energy hit everyone's soul, making them grimace.
"All of you have been assigned your number. That will be your name from now on, it's carved into the necklaces on your necks. If you don't know how to read, just circulate some origin essence into them."
The leader held his chin, crackling into a wide smile, "As for those who can't do any of this, just wait for death with all your patience. Hahaha!" He broke into evil snickers in the end.
The leader snapped his fingers.
Instantly, all the men waking the children up before vanished into thin air, melting into the shadow.
"The first trial of the demonic inauguration will begin now! Only the one who will survive here would be allowed to move on to the next stage."
"There is only one goal to be achieved in this trial, survive for fifteen minutes in this room!" With this word, the leader submerged himself into the shadows too.
With his voice as a signal, the sound of something moving rang out in the room.
Mangrel's face grew gloomy, having a bad feeling rise within him. He looked at the endings of the room, and as expected, the wooden doors there were slowly opening on their own.
All the kids around Mangrel began moving around, to regroup with each other. From the looks of things, few knew each other before coming to the demonic inauguration.
Mangrel looked around but found nothing that could be used as a weapon. Both the dagger and sword that he had were taken away.
'Truly, a demonic trial. Everyone here can only survive by their strength.' Mangrel's eyes grew serious.
And at that moment, the first trial commenced.