William darted swiftly through the twisting tunnels of the mine, his senses on high alert. The dim light flickered ominously as the sound of shuffling footsteps echoed in the distance. Zombies.
Without hesitating, he charged forward, his blade slashing through the air. One zombie fell. Then another. And another. Within moments, four zombies lay motionless at his feet. A notification appeared in his vision:
[You have gained 20 experience points.]
[Your level has been raised to Level 7.]
[You have obtained 3 attribute points, which can be distributed freely.]
A brief smile flickered across William's face as he opened his status screen, reviewing the details:
[Player ID: Wallace Beethovenish]
[Level: 7]
[Constitution: 9.1]
[Spirit: 6.7]
[Energy: 6.6]
[Attribute Points: 3] (can be freely allocated)
His constitution was already well above average, thanks largely to the effect of the mysterious "Devil's Breath." Without it, a constitution of 8.1 wouldn't have been anything special, but now he was far ahead of his peers. However, this time, William chose to focus on his other stats.
"Let's boost my spirit by two points and energy by one," he murmured, feeling the surge of strength as the points were allocated.
With his enhanced spirit and energy, William continued his exploration, hoping to uncover ancient relics hidden deep within the tunnels. Along the way, three more zombies crossed his path. They were weaker now, their movements sluggish, their presence almost insignificant.
Each kill earned him a measly three experience points, a stark contrast to the eight points he had gained from similar zombies when he was at level five.
[Experience Points: 10/200]
[Demonic Characteristics: 27/200]
The demonic characteristic intrigued him. It had steadily increased as he defeated more enemies, but its true purpose was still shrouded in mystery. He suspected it had something to do with the first zombie he'd slain, one that had seemed different; more powerful, more... demonic.
Rumor had it that accumulating 200 demonic characteristics or killing a certain number of cursed zombies could allow a player to switch to the "Demon" class. But was that really what he wanted? There was always the shortcut: delve deeper into the mine, find the demon's true body, and confront it directly. Yet William wasn't ready for that. Not yet.
"Job change? Becoming a demon? No way," he muttered with a grin, shaking his head. "How could someone as handsome and charming as me become some dark, brooding demon?"
Still, there was a small part of him that was annoyed. It wasn't like he had chosen this path; the demonic characteristics were thrust upon him because of some lousy talent he'd gained early on. What if people misunderstood his intentions, thought he was embracing the darkness? It was infuriating!
And yet, as much as he disliked it, he couldn't deny the power these demonic characteristics gave him. His attributes improved faster, he could see clearly in the pitch-black tunnels, and he felt stronger, as though the Devil's power was amplifying his abilities. If he came across the zombie guard again, William was confident he could defeat it without even needing his trusty slingshot.
Still, after combing the mine for what felt like hours, he hadn't found any significant treasures; just a collection of junk. He sighed, gathering the miscellaneous items into his inventory. Sometimes it wasn't about the loot, though. He'd grown stronger, and in this dangerous world, that was what truly mattered.
William surveyed the piles of loot scattered before him. All worthless. With a resigned sigh, he had no choice but to turn back. Just as he was about to leave, his foot squashed something beneath it; a large, hairy spider. Surprisingly, a notification popped up:
[You have gained 1 experience point.]
[Demonic characteristic increased slightly.]
William blinked in disbelief. "Seriously?" he muttered, crouching down to inspect the squished arachnid. For a moment, he was fascinated. A single spider, of all things, had granted him demonic attributes. He stayed there, observing the area for some time, and it slowly dawned on him: the creatures that had appeared in the places of the fallen monsters were not just random animals. They had inherited the demonic essence from the beings he had previously killed.
These new creatures were weak now, but William could sense they would grow more dangerous with time, absorbing more of the demonic aura lingering in the air. The mine had become a strange ecosystem, with each tunnel inhabited by its own group of creatures, none daring to cross into another's territory. It was as if the monsters were grains of sand scattered through the mine, each keeping to its own pile, maintaining an eerie, unsettling balance.
The balance wasn't perfect, though. William's talent had absorbed a substantial amount of the demonic characteristics, slightly reducing the overall essence in the mine. As he made his way to the mine's exit, he paused. His body hesitated, almost reluctant to leave. He frowned, realizing what was happening.
"This must be the influence of the demonic characteristics," William murmured to himself. "It's clouding my judgment, like the feeling of not wanting to leave the comfort of home."
He shook his head, trying to shake off the growing urge to stay in the suffocating darkness of the mine. It had been so long since he'd seen sunlight, and the outside world seemed almost foreign. When he finally stepped into the daylight, the brightness hit him like a wall. He squinted, raising his hand to shield his eyes, frowning at the sharp contrast between the warm light and the cold, oppressive darkness he had just left.
But his mind was strong. He understood what was happening and forced his body forward, unwilling to give in to the strange pull of the demon's aura.
[Map Tip: You have arrived at Iron Mine Village.]
William trudged into Iron Mine Village, his body weary from the long journey. His spear was slung over his shoulder, and his clothes were covered in grime and dirt. His face, smeared with sweat and soot, made him look like a disheveled vagabond. To any passerby, he resembled more of a bandit than a traveler.
As expected, the village guards eyed him suspiciously. They stepped forward, blocking his path with their spears raised.
"Hold it! Who are you? State your business!" one of the guards demanded.
William raised his hands in surrender, managing a tired smile. "Just an adventurer, not a thief scout. I promise."
The guards weren't easily convinced, questioning him thoroughly before finally allowing him to pass. As he entered the village, he noticed that it had grown livelier since his last visit. More players had arrived, and the once-quiet settlement was now bustling with activity. His ragged appearance drew the attention of several onlookers.
"Who's that guy?" one player asked, tilting his head in curiosity.
"Never seen him before. Must be an NPC. He looks important. Maybe someone should talk to him; could trigger a quest," another player suggested, glancing at William.
"Ha! No way. The NPCs in this game are wild. Three days ago, my friend thought he could talk to a knight and start a quest. But before he could even say a word, the knight mistook him for a bandit and tried to assassinate him! Shot him dead on the spot!" another player said, shaking his head.
"Seriously? How do you even know? Didn't the knight try to kill you too?" someone asked, laughing at the absurdity of the story.
The player hesitated, sighing. "That friend was me."
There was an awkward silence. "Ah... well, that explains a lot," the other replied, stifling a chuckle.
William, overhearing the conversation, couldn't help but smirk. It seemed the world outside the mines was just as unpredictable as the one inside. Dusting himself off, he headed into the village, determined to rest and prepare for whatever chaos awaited him next.
Players gathered in small groups, their conversations a mix of grumbling and resigned laughter, lamenting the state of their in-game status. Despite calling themselves adventurers, there were plenty of other names they went by: travelers, strangers, wanderers, the unknown. Yet, no matter the title, they shared the same fate, the locals all referring to them simply as refugees.
It wasn't just a name. The reality of their situation weighed heavily on them. They had nowhere to call home, nowhere to rest their heads, and food was always scarce.
"Refugees have no human rights, man. That's what we are here," one player muttered, earning nods from the others.
Luckily for them, they were players, not actual refugees. They could log out whenever hunger hit, avoiding the physical strain of the game's harsh conditions. If they had to endure sleeping in the wilderness or going without food for too long in this digital world, they'd be in for a much tougher experience.
In real life, a full stomach would ensure they could survive the eight-hour stretches in the game world without too much discomfort. They wouldn't die from starvation here, but fatigue was a constant companion if they pushed too far.
William, though, had other matters on his mind. He made his way through the bustling village toward the church. He needed answers from the priest, answers about the demonic power he had begun to encounter.
[You have entered the church in Iron Mine Village.]
The church's interior was larger than the one he had seen in Moonlight Village. Rows of benches lined the floor, tightly packed together, and a small garden out back suggested the village clergy were doing well enough to grow their own food. The air inside was cooler, the stone walls thick and imposing. There were no cracks or peeling paint here, and no notifications popped up about the building being in disrepair. Iron Mine Village's church was clearly well-maintained: perhaps a sign of the village's wealth or importance.
William approached the priest, who was an elderly man with silver hair and a kind, gentle face. Dressed in his priest's robes, the old man gave off a serene aura, his hands folded together as he smiled warmly at William. But when the priest's eyes settled on him, his expression changed abruptly. He looked startled, as though he had just seen something dreadful.
"You... have met a demon?" the priest asked, his voice laced with concern.
William froze, caught off guard. He had been careful not to reveal any of the demonic characteristics that had slowly been manifesting within him. He had intended to ask the priest subtly, probing for information without revealing his own connection to the dark powers. The last thing he wanted was for the church to mark him as a target. After all, demons were sworn enemies of both the theocracy and the crown, crossing both of the major powers in the magical world was not part of his plan.
And yet, here he was, his secret exposed before he had even uttered a word. It was as if he had walked into the room naked, his inner turmoil laid bare for the priest to see.
"How in the world did he see through it so easily?" William thought, trying not to let panic take over. "Isn't this curse supposed to be hidden? Am I walking around like this with my pants down in front of every priest?"
Quickly regaining his composure, William flashed a smile and replied smoothly, "Father, I assure you, I am innocent."
The priest's kind expression didn't falter, but his eyes took on a more serious gleam. His wrinkled face seemed to grow heavier with the weight of his knowledge.
Shaking his head, the old priest sighed deeply. "The power of the devil clings to you, young one. But I am afraid my abilities are too weak to dispel it."
William's surprise faded, replaced by a knowing smile. "And what might the conditions be to remove it?" he asked, leaning in slightly, his curiosity piqued.
The priest frowned, his voice dropping to a hushed whisper. "It would require a mysterious ritual, one tied to the darkest magic. The conditions are... difficult. It demands a great deal of magical knowledge, far beyond what we possess here."
The priest's eyes shifted downward, where the gleaming tip of William's spear was resting, almost as if in quiet defiance. He sighed helplessly. "You can put it down now," he said gently.
William chuckled and lowered the weapon. He wasn't sure if he would ever seek the ritual the priest spoke of. The devil's power, though dangerous, was useful. But at least now, he had a better understanding of what he was dealing with and how others could perceive the demonic mark he carried. Whatever the future held, it would be a careful dance between light and darkness.