The pain came first.
It always did.
Lian Kael's fingers clawed at the blackened veins spiderwebbing across his chest, his breath hitching as the cursed mark pulsed like a second heart. Each beat drained him, withering muscle, leaching warmth, gnawing at the edges of his vision until the world blurred into smears of torchlight and shadow. He slumped against the stone well at the village square, his back scraping against rough granite, and stared at the crescent-shaped scar on his palm—the one his sister Mei had called a "lucky charm" when they were children.
*Lies.*
The scar was no charm. It was a countdown.
"**Twenty-three steps**," a voice hissed behind him.
Lian didn't turn. He knew it was Old Varos, the village elder, his cane tapping a rhythmic dirge against the cobblestones. The entire village had gathered in silence, their faces half-hidden by hoods, their eyes avoiding his. Even the stray dogs had stopped barking.
"Twenty-three steps to the altar," Varos continued, his voice brittle as autumn leaves. "That's how far you'll walk, boy. For the good of us all."
Lian's laugh came out ragged, tinged with blood. "An altar? You mean the demon's pit."
No one answered. The wind carried the stench of charred sage and iron—sacrificial herbs, ritual blades. They'd done this before. Last winter, it had been Mira, the miller's daughter, her screams swallowed by the ravine. The harvest had been plentiful that year.
*And now it's my turn.*
The mark on his chest flared, and Lian doubled over, retching black bile onto the stones. His vision swam, but he caught a glimpse of Mei's face in the crowd—pale, tear-streaked, her lips trembling as two guards held her back. She'd fought for him. Of course she had. Even when the curse first appeared, when the villagers whispered that he'd been touched by the Shadowless Ones, Mei had smuggged him herbs, bandages, hope.
"**Run**," she mouthed now, her voice soundless.
But running required strength, and the curse had taken that too.
Varos's bony hand clamped onto Lian's shoulder. "The demon comes at dusk. You'll greet it with dignity, boy. Or would you rather your sister take your place?"
Lian's head snapped up. "You wouldn't."
The elder's smile was a sickle. "The gods favor the obedient."
---
They dragged him to the edge of the Blackroot Ravine, where jagged cliffs split the earth like broken teeth. The "altar" was a slab of obsidian slick with old blood, and the villagers chained him to it with manacles carved of spirit-iron—cold enough to burn.
"**May your sacrifice appease the Devourer**," Varos intoned, raising a rusted dagger.
The crowd echoed the prayer. Mei's voice was the loudest, the rawest.
Lian stared at the sky, where the first stars flickered like distant eyes. The curse's pain had numbed into a hollow ache, his body too broken to even tremble. *This is it*, he thought. A life spent as a burden, ended as a offering.
But as Varos's blade descended, the mark on Lian's chest *moved*.
It writhed, ink-black tendrils lashing outward, and the elder's dagger shattered. The crowd recoiled, screaming, as the ravine exhaled a gale of rot and ember. Shadows pooled beneath Lian, liquid and alive, and the demon rose.
It had no true shape—only a mass of serrated wings, molten eyes, and a maw lined with teeth like shattered swords. The Devourer.
"**Mortal flesh**," it rasped, the words grinding like boulders. "**A fitting tribute**."
Its claw closed around Lian, and the pain returned, a thousand times worse. He felt his ribs crack, his blood boil, his very soul unraveling—
**[SYSTEM ERROR]**
**[Foreign entity detected: Eclipse Core initiating…]**
A voice, cold and mechanical, cut through the agony.
**[Host identified: Lian Kael. Lifespan remaining: 17 days, 3 hours, 12 minutes.]**
**[Activation condition met: Proximity to lethal threat. Eclipse Protocol engaged.]**
Suddenly, the demon's grip loosened. Its molten eyes widened.
"**What are you?**" it snarled.
Lian didn't answer. Couldn't. His veins burned with something new, a power that *hurt* in a way the curse never had—like lightning carving paths through his bones. The Eclipse Core's interface flickered in his vision, crimson text scrolling faster than he could read:
**[Harvest Mode: Active]**
**[Target: Devourer-class entity (Tier 1)]**
**[Available Abilities for Harvest: Shadowflame Manipulation (Rank E), Soul Devour (Rank D)]**
The demon recoiled, hissing. "**Abomination! You dare—**"
Lian's hand shot out on instinct, the crescent scar on his palm glowing blood-red. The demon's shadow *twisted*, as if yanked by invisible chains, and a torrent of black fire erupted from its body—flames that burned cold, devouring light itself.
**[Shadowflame Manipulation harvested!]**
The demon screamed. Lian screamed louder.
When the flames died, only ash remained.
---