The moon hovered high above the crumbling skyline, a pale witness to the madness brewing in the heart of Blackthorn City. Crimson mist coiled in the alleyways like snakes hunting prey, and the wind whispered secrets too ancient for mortal ears. Somewhere deep in the shadows, Elias Black walked alone, his mind weighed with the ever-tightening grip of the Devil's System.
"Soul count: 12. Potential unlocked: 4%." The system voice echoed inside his head, calm and unnerving.
The numbers weren't enough. Not yet.
He stopped at the corner of a derelict chapel, its broken windows forming jagged smiles. The flicker of candles glowed from inside. Someone was there. Elias sniffed the air. Incense. Holy water. And fear. Lots of fear.
The system pulsed in his mind.
"New target detected. Alignment: False priest. Corrupted soul. Worth: 2,500 points."
Elias grinned.
Inside, Father Marcus knelt before the altar, whispering hollow prayers to a god who stopped listening years ago. His fingers trembled over a blood-stained rosary. The church had once been a sanctuary—before Marcus had turned it into a den of secrets, sacrifice, and sin.
The door creaked open.
"Father," Elias's voice rolled in like thunder, smooth but twisted with power. "Praying won't save you now."
Marcus turned, his face pale as the dead. "Who… who are you?"
"Call me vengeance."
Within seconds, Elias was on him. Fangs bared, eyes glowing a deep violet, he slammed Marcus against the altar. The priest screamed, holy water splashing uselessly across Elias's chest. Smoke hissed, but the Devil's Mark on Elias's shoulder flared brighter—and stronger.
"This house," Elias growled, "was once holy. But now it belongs to me."
He sank his fangs in.
Moments later, Marcus's lifeless body dropped to the marble floor, and Elias stood taller, stronger.
"Soul absorbed. New skill unlocked: Sacred Corruption."
A tattoo-like mark slithered up Elias's forearm, wrapping around his wrist like a bracelet of shadows.
"And so it begins," he whispered.
---
Meanwhile, far from the city, hidden within the mountains, the High Council of Exorcists stirred. They had sensed the corruption growing in Blackthorn—a spike of demonic power unlike anything they had felt in centuries. At their center, an old woman with eyes like frost raised her staff.
"He has returned. The Devil's vessel walks again."
Gasps followed. Some drew swords. Others whispered chants. One younger exorcist, Alaric, stepped forward.
"Let me go," he said. "Let me end him before it's too late."
The matriarch narrowed her gaze. "He is no longer just a boy. If you fail… the darkness will consume more than just your soul."
Alaric clenched his jaw. "Then I'll become the light that burns it away."
---
Back in Blackthorn, Elias stumbled into the underground lair he'd carved beneath the ruins of an abandoned theater. His body buzzed with energy, his fingers twitching as new powers began to take form.
The mirror showed him not as he once was—a broken boy betrayed and left to rot—but as a being on the cusp of something monstrous.
"I'm changing," he said aloud, his reflection grinning back with sharpened teeth. "And there's no turning back."
Suddenly, a system notification blared:
"Warning: Celestial interference detected. New challenger approaching."
Elias's eyes narrowed. "Already?"
He grabbed his coat, the black one with the blood-red trim, and stepped into the night. If someone was coming for him, they would have to bleed to earn the right.
Across the city, Alaric arrived under the veil of night. His coat billowed behind him, the silver sword strapped to his back humming with divine energy. He could feel the corruption radiating from the city's heart. It led him to the burned chapel. To the altar where a corpse lay.
He touched the blood. Still warm.
"He was here."
As if summoned, Elias appeared at the chapel entrance, his eyes glowing in the dark.
"Looking for me?" he asked.
Alaric drew his sword. "I don't kill mortals, but I slay demons. You're somewhere in between."
"Then let's find out what I really am."
Their battle cracked the night open. Sparks flew. Steel clashed with claws. Alaric moved with precision, a blur of light and fury. Elias countered with shadows, speed, and new-found strength. The Devil's System surged within him, feeding him just enough to keep pace.
But Alaric was skilled—too skilled.
A slash cut across Elias's chest, silver burning like fire.
He staggered.
The system shrieked: "Critical wound. Emergency evolution initiated."
Elias laughed through the blood. "You really want to see what I become? Fine."
His body twisted. Bones cracked. Wings of shadow burst from his back, and his skin darkened with ancient sigils. Alaric stepped back, sword raised.
"This isn't over," Elias said. "You're not ready."
And with a shriek that shattered glass, he vanished into the night, leaving behind a trail of scorched earth and a whisper on the wind.