"Ugh… I feel like crap," Daemon muttered, his voice low and hoarse. He was sitting on the cold ground, his back leaning against a broken piece of the knight golem. The exhaustion hit him hard—every bit of fatigue from his earlier battles with the other golems had finally caught up with him, weighing down his body like heavy chains.
Physically, he wasn't in terrible shape, thanks to the potions he carried. His wounds had healed, and his strength had somewhat returned. But the real burden was mental.
The strain of using up all his mana, combined with the constant focus required during the battles, had left his mind utterly drained. He was so tired that he hadn't even realized when he passed out after defeating the Great Knight.
Daemon let out a long, weary sigh as he planted his hands on the ground and pushed himself upright. His legs trembled slightly from fatigue, but they held firm. He stood still for a moment, steadying his breath and clearing his mind. The battle had taken everything he had.
As he straightened up, his eyes caught the faint glow of a notification window floating in front of him.
[Congratulations! You have completed the quest.]
[Would you like to claim the rewards? Yes/No]
Without hesitation, Daemon selected 'Yes'. Almost immediately, he felt a warm surge of energy flow through his body, spreading from his core to every limb.
[Your stats have increased by 5.]
A small but satisfied smile appeared on his face. The boost in his stats was exactly what he needed, but the rewards didn't stop there.
In a brief flash of light, a skill stone materialized in his hand. It was smooth and cold to the touch, marked with intricate blue runes. Without wasting any time, Daemon tightened his grip around the stone, applying pressure until it shattered. As the fragments disappeared into glowing particles, a familiar wave of power coursed through him, almost like an old memory returning to life.
[You have obtained the skill 'Sword Storm'.]
Daemon shifted his gaze toward the skill description floating before him.
[Sword Storm: An Area of Effect skill. A storm of invisible sharp energy surrounds the user that cleaves and slices anything entering its range.]
Reading the description, Daemon's eyes widened in disbelief. "This skill is… way too powerful," he murmured to himself, unable to hide the surprise in his voice.
The initial shock quickly gave way to excitement. His heart began to race as a grin spread across his face. He clenched and unclenched his hands, imagining the sheer destructive power of the skill in action. It was a rare feeling—like a child receiving a brand-new toy, eager to try it out right away. The possibilities of using this skill flooded his mind, each thought making him more eager to test it.
Daemon's excitement simmered down as he regained his composure. There was no point in celebrating just yet—getting out of the dungeon was the top priority. Without wasting another second, he slung his backpack over his shoulder and began retracing his steps.
Unlike before, when he had spent hours navigating the twisting paths and hidden passages, this time the route was clear in his mind. His pace was steady, and before long, he reached the familiar exit. Stepping outside, Daemon felt a cool breeze brush against his face. He stood on the same road he had taken to enter, but now the sky above was dark, scattered with stars. Night had fallen.
Glancing at the sky, he let out a quiet sigh. "I was planning to leave the Academy grounds tonight to grab that hidden piece outside," he muttered under his breath, his voice laced with mild disappointment. "But it's already late. That's not going to work now."
With a resigned shrug, Daemon decided it was best to head back. There was no rush. He had made significant progress today. For now, rest was what he needed most.
***************
When Daemon finally made it back to his room, the first thing he noticed was a pile of neatly arranged packets on the floor. He blinked in surprise before a thought crossed his mind. 'The delivery service here sure is fast'.
Then again, it wasn't too shocking. Considering the Academy's reputation, speedy service was the norm. He dropped his backpack by the bed and walked over to inspect the packages.
The materials he had ordered weren't anything fancy. Just a variety of herbs, each carefully sealed. They were all ingredients for crafting a potion called 'Vitae'. Despite the fancy-sounding name, its effect was relatively straightforward—it boosted the body's natural healing process.
Daemon nodded in satisfaction as he checked everything. "Good, all here," he muttered to himself.
This wasn't an ordinary potion—far from it. The recipe for Vitae wasn't something readily available in this world. In fact, it was supposed to be discovered much later in the future. According to the potion's description in the game, it had been developed by an alchemist as a remedy for his chronic illness. That bit of lore always stuck with Daemon, and now he intended to recreate it himself, long before anyone else could.
With a focused expression, he carefully laid out the herbs. No one knew of this potion yet, which meant he had to get everything right on his own. Grabbing a small mortar and pestle, he began crushing the herbs one by one. As he worked, a faint liquid seeped out from the crushed leaves. Without wasting time, he added the remaining herbs to the mix, grinding them thoroughly until the various liquids combined, forming a thick blue-green solution.
Daemon poured the mixture into a small glass vial and set it over a flame. The soft crackling of the fire filled the room as he kept a close eye on the vial, ensuring the heat remained steady. After about fifteen minutes, the liquid inside turned a bright orange.
He removed the vial from the heat and held it up to examine the potion. The orange glow reflected faintly in his purple eyes. "Looks about right," he murmured, satisfied with the result.
Daemon took a deep breath, steadying his nerves before raising the vial to his lips. Without giving himself time to hesitate, he downed the potion in one go. The moment the liquid touched his tongue, his eyes shot wide open. The taste was overwhelmingly bitter—so much so that tears welled up in his eyes, and he had to fight the urge to spit it out.
Clenching his jaw tightly, he forced himself to swallow, the foul taste lingering in his mouth like an unwelcome guest.
Barely a second after the potion reached his stomach, a rush of energy surged through his body. But it wasn't a pleasant sensation. Instead, an excruciating pain rippled through him, as though every muscle and fibre of his being was being pulled taut and tested beyond their limits.
"Kugh—!" Daemon grunted in pain, clutching his chest as his entire body trembled under the strain. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, and his breathing became ragged. The pain was intense, but mercifully brief. After a few agonizing moments, the discomfort began to fade, leaving him gasping for air.
"Is it over?" he muttered, wiping the sweat from his brow. Though drained, he was curious about the potion's effectiveness. He wanted proof that his efforts hadn't been in vain.
Without hesitation, he grabbed a small knife from his bag and made a shallow cut on the back of his hand. Blood welled up from the wound, trickling down his fingers. Daemon watched intently as, slowly but surely, the cut began to close on its own. Within seconds, only a faint scar remained where the wound had been.
Daemon wiped away the last traces of blood from his hand, his eyes fixed on the faint scar. 'The scar will vanish soon too,' he thought, a sense of satisfaction washing over him. The potion had done its job, despite the bitter taste and the brief agony it brought. It wasn't pleasant, but it worked—and that was all that mattered.
With the test complete, Daemon felt the exhaustion creeping back in. Without wasting any time, he headed toward the washroom. As he stepped under the warm stream of water, the heat eased the tension in his muscles, gradually melting away the fatigue that clung to him like a heavy cloak. He stood there for a while, savouring the comfort, letting the water wash away the grime and weariness from the past few days.
After his shower, Daemon emerged feeling refreshed. His long black hair, still damp, clung to his face and neck. He quickly towel-dried it, then slipped into a loose black shirt. The fabric hung comfortably on his shoulders as he walked toward the bed.
Without a second thought, he flopped onto the mattress, sinking into its softness. His eyelids grew heavy, and with a deep sigh of relief, he allowed himself to finally relax, the weight of the past two days momentarily forgotten.
"Let's skip school tomorrow"
Daemon softly muttered to himself before falling asleep.