Book 4: Chapter 24: Demon Core
The smell of rot pervaded Benedict’s nostrils, cloaking him in a blanket of death from which there was no escape. It was difficult to remember a time when that smell didn’t cling to everything he touched. Even before the world had transformed, he was familiar with it, and he’d become even more so since everything had changed. However, there was a part of him that tired of that cloying, sickly sweet smell, making him regret the class he’d chosen.
It gave him power, and it had allowed him to steadily progress, especially since that lunatic king had locked him in the dungeon that had been his home for more than a year. It may have been even longer; time was difficult to gauge when one never saw the sun, after all.
Benedict could have escaped. His minions were strong enough to rip his shackles from their anchors on the wall. But then what? The men who routinely slaughtered his minions were strong enough to give him trouble, which was an untenable risk that he refused to take. After all, why would he, aside from the ability to live somewhere more comfortable? He had everything he needed in the labyrinthine dungeon, and he’d reaped the benefits of his situation, progressing to level fifty-nine, which had put him into the top ten.
It was during his most recent inspection of the power rankings that he’d discovered something incredibly interesting, though:
Planetary Power Rankings (Earth)
1. Elijah Hart – Level 81
2. Oscar Ramirez – Level 77
3. Sadie Song – Level 75
4. Hu Shui – Level 73
5. Niko Song – Level 72
6. Davu Adebowale– Level 68
7. Anupriya Pandey – Level 65
8. Benedict Emerson – Level 59
9. Ram Khandu – Level 59
10. Gunnar Lindstrom – Level 59
11. ...
12. ...
In a raspy voice, he croaked, “It seems our dear king has run afoul of something he couldn’t handle.”
His chains clinked as he reached out to stroke the cheek of his latest creation – a mostly intact woman whose only real flaw was a deeply bruised throat. “What do you think, my beauty?” he asked. “Is it time?”
Predictably, she didn’t answer. But then again, she never did. Even though she had a body, there was nothing in her mind. He controlled her every movement. Not down to the last twitch, but rather the general shape of her actions. It was the same with all his other minions, and he had the ability to either micro- or macro-manage them.
Even as he considered it, two things happened.
First, he achieved level sixty, but before he could check his new ability, another notification shifted before his inner eye:
A powerful entity has offered you a Task:
Obejctive:
Escape
Reward:
Blessing of the Archdemon, Thakon Kilzean
Do you accept?
“What?” rasped Benedict, his voice still unused to speaking.
Then, something flickered into being a second later. Before the image coalesced into anything recognizable, a silky voice echoed in Benedict’s ears. “Apologies,” it said. “Normally, there is an order to these sorts of things, but your world is so weak that my projection was delayed. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.”
Benedict frowned. He tried not to think about it, but because his Regeneration had been so terribly affected by maintaining such a large horde of minions, he had struggled to maintain his health. Most of the damage was cosmetic, but he currently had seeping sores all over his body. At times, he could ignore it, but at others, he thought that he had begun to look like his unliving minions.
He was not a particularly vain man. Indeed, he’d rarely given much thought to his appearance, other than to make certain that he was at least presentable. However, he couldn’t ignore his plague-stricken skin.
That, as well as the promise of power, made his choice an easy one. To date, he’d not seen any information on how to increase his Core cultivation, so the value of the demon’s offer was undeniable.
With that in mind, Benedict mentally gave his confirmation of the quest. Then, without further discussion, he directed his strongest minions to break his chains free. The moment they succeeded, he received a notification that he’d completed the quest:
Congratulations! You have completed a Task. Standby for reward...
He tapped his foot impatiently, which elicited another dramatic roll of Thakon’s eyes. A moment later, he received another notification:
Blessing of the Archdemon received. Please choose which form it takes:
Core Advancement
Item (Heart of the Demon)
Spell (Hell’s Fury)
“Pick the core advancement,” Thakon stated. “The other options are powerful. They had to be to be included as a reward for completing the task. However, as strong as they are, none will bear the continued power of advancing your core.”
Benedict was of a mind to agree, though he was intrigued by the other two options. Any item that could rival core advancement in power would surely be useful. By that same logic, the spell would surely be formidable as well.
Still, not only would core advancement impact every other facet of his power, but it also had the potential to continue growing stronger. So, he followed the archdemon’s advice and chose the first option without any regret.
The moment he made the choice, power erupted inside him. He was used to pain – after all, he felt every blow leveled against his minions – but even he couldn’t stand before the onslaught of agony that came with his core advancement.
“It actually isn’t the advancement that you’re feeling. Everyone receives a rudimentary core when they choose an archetype, but it is a tiny, pitiful thing,” said Thakon, suddenly looming over Benedict. “This is a proper core. But forming such a thing does not come without pain. Normally, that would be spread across years. We don’t have time for that, though. The only solace I can offer you is to grant you unconsciousness until the process completes.”
“No...”
“What?”
“Leave me be,” Benedict growled, having fallen to his knees. His fingers dug into the dirty floor as power raged through him. He could feel his core shattering, then reforming, then shattering once again. At the center of it burned an everlasting flame that constantly pulsed, over and over. Pain didn’t begin to describe it. Not adequately, at least. But Benedict was set on enduring the process without succumbing to unconsciousness.
He wanted to feel it.
He wanted to know what was happening.
All so, when the time came, he could replicate it.
So, he held on through the agony until, what felt like an eternity later, it settled. A notification soon followed:
Congratulations! You have cultivated a Demon Core. Current stage: Imp
As sweat dripped from his forehead to puddle beneath him, he let out a sigh of relief. Another notification followed the last:
You have reached the first threshold. Current stage: Cultivator
Then, Thakon’s silky voice echoed in his ears, “Rise, brother. Welcome to the Legion.”
Benedict felt a smile spread across his face as he looked up to see the archdemon’s extended hand. He took it, once again surprised to feel that Thakon was not an illusion, and allowed himself to be dragged to his feet. Already, he could feel the power coursing through him. However, he was disturbed to note that his minions – every last one – had fallen. He could no longer feel them, either.
“My minions...”
Thakon said, “Your class remains the same, but the expression of it has now been altered. Warlock, you remain, but you no longer need to muck about with corpses. Let me show you...”