"The god of demons race, Roland, they have given me strength, strong enough to defeat you."
Oliver ripped off his cultist hood, and the sight that met me was nothing short of grotesque.
A chill ran down my spine as I took in his transformation. His once-bright blue hair was now a tangled mess, tainted by some dark, eldritch force. It was no longer the vibrant color it used to be but a sickly, inky black that clung to his skull like a dead thing.
Even worse were the tendrils that slithered out from his scalp, twitching and jerking like something alive, grotesque, and far too alien. They reminded me of cockroach legs—unnatural and horrifying.
His eyes… those once-pure azure irises were now a sickly brown-red, lifeless, hollow as if the spark of his soul had been snuffed out.
And then there were the veins. Dark, demonic veins coiled around his neck like writhing serpents, pulsing with a sickly, unnatural rhythm. They weren't [True Demon's Veins] like mine, no—these were something else.
Something wrong. Something… artificial. As if his very body had been twisted into an imitation of something far darker and more monstrous.
His appearance irked me and reminded me of the thing I would become if I abused this power.
I couldn't understand. I could not understand why he would willingly choose to transform himself into something so monstrous, so different from the person he once was.
I felt a chilling, sinking sensation when I saw him contorted into that hideous shape—a powerful mixture of disgust and incredulity.
At first, I was angry at his betrayal and turned to the dark side.
But now, seeing him like this just made me sad and doubtful.
How could he do this to himself? Why would he choose this path?
The question burned in my mind relentlessly until I could no longer bear the silence. When I did speak, it was a whisper, barely audible, and filled with a mixture of bewilderment and grief.
"Oliver, did you hate me that much to do this?" I asked, the words heavy with regret. There was no anger in my voice, only a deep, gnawing sadness.
"No, nothing personal; I just decided that this is the right way." In turn, Oliver nonchalantly responded. His mannerisms are the same as the day we were still comrades in arms.
To be honest, I didn't know why or what drove him to become like this. One day he suddenly said something weird and went rough. I nearly killed him while chasing after him, but after everything that had transpired, I changed my mind.
"Enough to turn yourself into a demon?" So I asked him another time.
"Yes, enough to turn myself into a demon." Oliver closed his eyes and smiled. Face filled with sadness.
Then he challenged me, brandished his sword, and pointed it in my direction.
"Sorry Roland, even if I explained myself, you wouldn't understand. Since I have gone too far, I have to take all of those books." He said that while staring directly into my eyes. Stated his position.
"..."
"This is this, and that is that, I guess." I sighed and brandished my sword and pointed it to him.
Alice, your brother, I will kill him. Please don't hate me.
"Traitor Oliver Hilbert Vogt, ready to die." I shouted and clenched my blade again. This time, I will not hold back anymore.
My determination had become unwavering; I would no longer consider anything other than killing my opponent.
[True Demon's Veins—Access 0]
A surge of power blasted through me, so raw and intense it felt like the very fabric of reality was twisting to my will.
My veins—my "True Demon Veins"—ignited, glowing a fierce crimson as energy coursed through them. I radiated an aura so scorching it seemed to burn the air itself.
My eyes once shimmered with an otherworldly golden glow, now burn with an unsettling, blood-red intensity. Their once-radiant warmth has vanished, replaced by a ferocious, menacing crimson that seems to pulse with a spooky energy.
Time slowed, stretching into eternity; my vision now only had three colors: black, white, and red. I felt lighter than ever—like the weight of the world had suddenly evaporated and like nothing could stop me.
I charged toward him with all the force I could muster, my body propelled by the raw demonic power.
[Overdrive]
With a primal roar, I unleashed everything in a single, devastating blow. The impact was so forceful that the very black floor beneath me cracked and splintered.
The force of my attack reverberated through the room, a shockwave of energy that left the air trembling in its wake.
Oliver tried hard to dodge it, but his movement was too slow, and he still got hit by the aftershock.
He flinched and stumbled slightly. But that was enough for me to perform a consecutive slash.
In the blink of an eye, my sword moved with lethal precision, the blade slicing through the air in a wide, fluid arc.
With a thunderous thud, the sharp steel struck its target, causing my arm to tremble.
Slashed! Undoubtedly, it had cut through Oliver. His torso flew straight out of his body, leaving a trail of blood, splashing everywhere.
But I doubted this was the end of this fight. Demonic power gives the user a high level of regenability; being cut in half didn't mean death.
So I clenched my sword again, summoning the flow of mana into this sword.
It came together to form a whirling whirlpool around the sword, casting a blood-red glow over the dark surroundings.
Tension crackled in the air, and a tangible sense of dread pervaded the space as the mana's dreadful aura warped reality itself.
But before I could strike, an invisible force pushed me away.
It didn't matter though. My range of attack was high enough to hit him.
[Vermilion Nova]
A deafening explosion erupted, as fierce as the birth of a star. Waves of energy rippled outward, tearing at the fabric of reality as a blinding flash illuminated the surrounding area.
The air shifted instantly into a storm of crackling plasma, glowing with intense shades of crimson and violet.
The blinding energy blast is unleashed, evaporating the figure in front of me.
Oliver was reduced to dust, scattering everywhere.
Yet, he was still here.
It frightened me, but I had no idea what kind of power the demon's god bestowed.
As though time was being turned back, the dust from his unexiting body collected and blended.
No, as the dust settled back, time did go backward; his chronological form started to take shape. Dust reverted to charred flesh. Smoldering flesh becomes a figure.
Even his detached body automatically reorganizes itself, returning him to his pre-fight state.
Terrifying. What in the world is this?
"What in the world did you do?" The words tumbled out of my mouth in a rush, my voice trembling with a mix of shock and confusion.
I could hardly believe what I was seeing—everything in front of me seemed so out of place, so impossible.
My eyes scanned the scene over and over, trying to make sense of it, but it was like my brain couldn't quite catch up to the madness unfolding before me.
I blinked, hoping it would somehow make the image clearer, but it didn't.
At that moment, I couldn't even trust my own senses.
He said, "As I told you, this is the demon's god power," in a low voice that was brimming with a sinister sense of fulfillment.
A twisted smile crept across his lips, one that seemed entirely out of place given the gravity of the situation.
It was as though he were explaining a simple fact, unaffected and disturbingly calm as if the power that just destroyed him was nothing more than a fleeting inconvenience.
This man is no longer human.
That fact hit me harder than my father ever could. The Oliver that I knew was already dead.
He isn't human or demon; the thing that stands before me is something that shouldn't exist.
An abomination, a heretic.
"Heretic!" I shouted and charged up again.
If one strike is not enough, then two.
If two still isn't enough, then I will decimate him five times.
And if that still is enough, then I will become a true demon just to push him to hell.
Nothing this unnatural should be able to exist; it must disappear.