Chapter 34: First Stage

The room was silent, lit only by the flickering glow of a lamp resting on the table. The book lay open in Damon’s hands, and the pulsing red of the engraved letters seemed alive, as if each sentence were a sigh from another dimension.

He had already lost track of time. The world around him had vanished—there were no windows, no distant footsteps in the mansion’s corridors, no Aria to interrupt his concentration. There was only him and those pages, drenched in a dark energy that seemed to claw at his soul with every line.

Damon took a deep breath, keeping his spine straight, and scanned the passage he was studying again.

“Emotions shape the essence. Love and hope are fragile, easily dissipated. But pain, anger, and hatred are flames that never die. It is from them that true strength is born.”

He repeated those words in his mind, savoring every syllable.

“Emotions…” he murmured. “That’s what you feed on… that’s what I’ll feed on.”

He turned the page, and new diagrams appeared. The book showed stylized bodies, lines of energy marking internal pathways that converged on the chest and then spread out like roots. A few words burned in crimson red: “Fill the core with your scars. Bring forth the pain. The greater the wound, the greater the source.”

Damon closed his eyes.

And then he dove in.

Loneliness was the first memory that came to mind. That dark, stuffy room, always lit only by the bluish screen of an old computer. The curtains always closed, blocking the sunlight from touching his skin.

This was how he had spent much of his previous life: hidden. Each day felt like a colorless repetition. The mangas and novels he consumed were his only escape, but even they tasted bitter—because deep down, he knew he was only burying himself deeper in a bottomless pit.

The emptiness of loneliness burned like a hot iron.

He felt his chest heave, as if an invisible hand were crushing his heart. And yet, he didn’t turn away.

The book had been clear: he needed to tear himself apart, to strip away any mask, until his soul was naked and vulnerable before its own shadows.

The second memory came with brutal force: anger.

Resentment against a world that seemed to have denied him everything. Resentment against those who laughed, lived, loved—while he rotted in silence. Hatred against himself, for never having found the strength to change.

He clenched his fists, his knuckles cracking. His breathing became ragged, heavy.

“Damn…” he whispered. “This hurts more than I expected.”

The pages before him began to glow brightly, reacting to his pain, as if feeding on that whirlwind of feelings. Red symbols rose from the surface of the paper like living smoke, streamers of energy that wrapped around his arms, his chest, trying to penetrate his flesh.

Damon couldn’t resist. He let himself sink even deeper.

And then, like a blade piercing his heart, the most painful memory of all shot through his mind.

The voice.

Cold, direct, cutting.

“You’re dead weight.”

Ester.

The words echoed in his mind with the same clarity as the night before. He saw her face in his memory, her icy eyes, her arrogant posture, as if every syllable had been spat out with utter contempt.

That sentence hadn’t just wounded him—it had stuck with him like a stigma.

Dead weight.

Dead weight.

Dead weight.

Damon felt his anger explode. It was no longer against the world, nor against himself. It was against this woman who had reduced his existence to nothing with a single sentence.

His teeth gnashed. The veins in his neck stood out. His heart pounded like a war drum.

“I AM NOT DEAD WEIGHT!” he roared, his voice echoing through the room.

It was at that instant that something broke inside him.

The core that had lain dormant in his chest opened like a gaping abyss. The black and crimson energy of the book gushed into him, sucked in like blood from an open wound. The pages trembled, sending red sparks dancing through the air before being swallowed by his skin.

The entire room shook, and the flames of the lamp flickered.

Damon fell to his knees, bracing himself against the bed. A wave of pain coursed through his bones, as if he were being torn apart from within. Red lines appeared on his arms, like luminous veins, connecting to the core that now pulsed in his chest.

It was a feeling of absolute hunger.

Devour. Consume.

An insatiable desire roared within him, demanding to be fed.

And at the same time… power.

A wild, intoxicating power that made his body vibrate. He felt his muscles tighten, the air in his lungs burn like fire, and his senses expand like never before.

At the edge of his vision, messages flickered:

[You have mastered the First Stage of the Technique: Crimson Night Eater]

[Your core has been corrupted – Demonic Affinity +20%]

[Warning: Your hunger will increase progressively]

Damon took a deep breath, trying to regain control. Sweat dripped from his forehead, wetting the collar of his shirt. He sank back against the bed, panting, the book still open before him, the pages now calm—but still alive, pulsing in harmony with his heart.

For a few moments, he just lay there, breathing heavily, as if he had just been through a bloody battle.

And in a way, there was.

“So that’s it…” he murmured, a tired, crooked smile playing on his lips. “That’s the power of a demonic cultivator…”

The memory of Ester’s voice still echoed in his mind. But now, she didn’t make him feel like a burden. On the contrary: that anger had been the catalyst that had made him break through the first limit.

Dead weight?

He looked up, the red of the messages still reflecting in his irises.

No.

Never again.

[Name: Damon (No Last Name)]

[Age: 19]

[Cultivation: Apprentice]

[Race: Incubus]

[Talent: Low]

[Level: 3]

[HP: 100/100]

[STR: 16]

[AGL: 14]

[VIT: 16]

[STM: 13]

[INT: 15]

[DEF: 13]

[Blank Points: 0]

[Skills: Touch of Asmodeus]

[Traits: Battle Focus]

[Martial Skill (Swords): Novice]

[Martial Skill (Spears): Novice]

He looked at his stats, and they were still stagnant… “I haven’t defeated anyone… so of course my level won’t increase…” He muttered… However…

[DING!]

[REWARDS BEING DELIVERED!]

[You received 40 blank points!]

[You reached level 10!]

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