Dungeons and dragons. For a game created back when the tech industry had yet to be revolutionized, it introduced the rare feature of creativity, an aspect that relied on each player's imagination and the group as a whole. Through this medium, countless fantasy elements emerged, limited only by one's creativity.
And right now, I am experiencing this firsthand. But instead of dragons, it was dungeons and demons. The missions I had taken led me east of Koladar, and as I progressively completed the quests, I'd be drawing closer to another significant city—one which, after extensive digging in Koladar's meager library, I discovered was titled the Evernight City. Akshabar City, where my family and clan once ruled as governors, was a place of beautiful morning dawns with glacial elements serving as a perpetual backdrop.
'The main blood call's signal I have right now has been shifting constantly from north of Koladar, which is toward the capital, and toward the southeast to Akshabar. Are they transporting the survivor to lure me?' I mused as I approached the first town which had commissioned the demonic activity investigation and culling.
The town was quite lively, smaller than a city but well on its way to resembling one. Buildings of varying heights created a jagged silhouette against the brightening morning sky, their architecture a mixture of stone foundations and timber upper stories with steep-pitched roofs designed to shed the seasonal rains. Smoke curled from chimneys as inhabitants prepared morning meals, and the scent of baking bread wafted through streets already bustling with early vendors setting up their wares.
At the gates, I showed a copy of the mission I remembered from what I had read and a copy of my card. Since the originals were back at Koladar with Melia, a little bit of matter manipulation with normal mana was more than enough to replicate the magical card and mission paper. The guards—two burly men in leather armor reinforced with steel plates bearing the town's crest—scrutinized both items with practiced eyes before nodding me through.
Of course, as any respectable mage, I had investigated all items I'd ever been given since beginning my interactions with the people of this world. So far, I'd been slightly impressed with their way of incorporating magic into normal daily lives. The adventurer guild's identification card had a mass-produced array that carried one's blood and mana signature, making it almost impossible to fake. It helped a lot in holding a person's information, such as their quest logs, assigned missions, and even functioned as a bank currency for rewards that exceeded what one could physically carry.
The mission paper, in turn, had its own formation that served as a contract and tracking system. When someone accepted a commission, it became tied to their card unless changed with consent. The mission paper was essentially a contract stipulating terms and conditions—the mission and requirements for successful clearing—and a signature from the issuer, pending acceptance by any willing adventurer, with the guild acting as liaison to regulate fees and eligibility.
After showing my identification, I entered the town, heading straight to the local adventurer's guild branch where I could gather more details and ask around. The guild hall was smaller than Koladar's but similarly designed—a sturdy two-story building with the guild's crossed sword and wand emblem hanging above oak doors reinforced with iron bands. Inside, the familiar scene greeted me: a central mission board surrounded by adventurers in various states of equipment and exhaustion, reception desks staffed by overworked clerks, and the persistent scent of leather, metal, and too many bodies in too small a space.
After extensive information gathering alongside the use of my soul senses, I came to the conclusion that there were indeed demons present—just that they were a very interesting branch of them. The reason for my resolute conclusion was that while gathering info, I actually bumped into one of said creatures in disguise. The being appeared to be a Bearkin—a race of humanoids with ursine features—but my soul sense detected the demonic essence writhing beneath the façade. Naturally, I tagged the impostor to follow him to his associates and moved along.
"Codex, what kind of demon was that?" I asked as I approached a nearby stall to taste the mouth-watering skewers of an interesting edible beast the vendor was grilling. The aroma of sizzling meat and exotic spices filled the air, making my stomach growl despite the grim circumstances.
"That was a mist demon, my lord," Codex replied inside my mind, his voice carrying a scholarly tone that somehow managed to convey disgust simultaneously. "A subspecies of the illusionist category of demons who are adept at copying aspects of their victims and completely taking over their lives. The original and normal form is actually a worm-like creature that can shapeshift to larger proportions depending on their strength. They usually infiltrate places and seep into victims, where they slowly learn, manipulate, and control their hosts like parasites until they end up devouring them and taking their place without anyone being the wiser. For the Bearkin you've just spoken to who's a demon in disguise, the poor lad must have died horribly after being consumed..."
Pitiful indeed, but at least I had a lead on the type of demons lurking around. All I had to do was search for more mist demons—whose naming completely contradicted the image I had in mind—and follow them.
Since I had arrived at the town by simply running at a normal pace from Koladar, I had reached the place by early morning dawn and continued my investigation, but now silently since I did not want to alert the demons that someone was on their trail. To that end, I cast three spells: Camouflage, The Forgotten, and Subterfuge on myself.
The effects were instantaneous. Camouflage rendered me invisible, my form bending light around it rather than blocking it. The Forgotten created a subtle mental field that erased my presence from the minds of any who might have glimpsed me—they would forget I existed the moment their attention shifted elsewhere. Subterfuge was the most complex of the three, a spell that masked all traces of my mana signature, heartbeat, and even the displacement of air as I moved.
The combination made me a perfect ghost. Even the operatives who had been tailing me completely lost my trail after I cast the spells while entering an alleyway. From their perspective, I had entered with them watching and never emerged from the other end. It was quite amusing, but I didn't bother staying to torment them—their time would come in due time.
Tracking down the mist demon impersonating the Bearkin, I followed its movements through narrow streets and crowded markets. The creature moved with confidence, occasionally stopping to exchange seemingly friendly greetings with townspeople who had no idea a monster walked among them. Its path eventually led me to around twelve more mist demons impersonating various people—from guards to normal shop owners to even receptionists at the local guild branch.
I marveled at the depth of their infiltration, how much they wanted to manipulate and control everything. I even stumbled onto their scheme behind issuing the demonic activity mission—it was meant to help the mist demons and their camp get their hands on strong guild members, further deepening their reach and infiltration into larger locations like minor cities. Clearly, the invasion was proceeding well for them.
'Sadly for them, fate hasn't been in their favor for a while now,' I thought as I tracked down their stronghold, which was beneath the town, deep in the sewer system where they had created an appropriate space for their operations.
In my hidden state, I arrived at the inner district's town center, which was marked by a decent-looking fountain. Water cascaded from the top tier into sequential basins, each overflow creating a pleasant musical tinkling that masked my whispered incantation. I cast Digger, an earth spell that allowed me to phase through solid matter as if it were merely thick fog.
I descended through the ground, aiming for the tunnel opening where clean water was being produced for the fountain and then flowed downward once more to be circulated to other parts of the city. The spell created no disturbance in the earth, no crack or hole—just a perfect, temporary passage that sealed itself behind me as I passed through.
Inside the tunnel full of water, I activated a barrier around myself moments before submerging. The magical shield formed a skin-tight envelope around my body, keeping me dry while allowing normal movement. I simply went with the flow for around 500 meters of winding pipes—large enough to accommodate me without impeding water flow—which positioned me directly beneath the guild building, based on my senses.
Instead of ascending, I drilled downward once more, carefully manipulating earth, piping, water, and sewage to maintain the integrity of the infrastructure. My magical alterations were precise and temporary—redirecting water flow around my path, reinforcing tunnel walls to prevent collapse, and erasing all evidence of my passage. Any disruption might alert whoever was in charge or anyone who might notice.
Not that they were likely to detect anything, considering how quickly I was moving. The earth parted before me like water, closing seamlessly behind me, leaving no trace of disturbance. My passage was completely silent, my manipulation of the elements so precise that not even the most sensitive monitoring spells would detect the subtle shifts in pressure and material.
I emerged into a more open space of the sewer river underneath the town, where I could finally stand. The ceiling arched overhead, dripping with moisture and lined with patches of phosphorescent fungi that cast an eerie blue-green light over the space. The sewer tunnel stretched before me, a wide channel of dark water flowing sluggishly between walkways of crumbling stone.
I powered down my barrier but maintained my concealment spells as I moved through the darkness. With the silencing spell Hush cast to keep my normal jogging pace from being heard, I followed the open sewer tunnel deeper for around another 500 meters, which positioned me near the edge of the inner district from the center where I had submerged through the fountain.
Before me stood a domain barrier in place, spreading from the tunnel floor 20 meters up to the ceiling, covertly hiding whatever lay behind. I approached cautiously, extending my hand close to the barrier without touching it—direct contact might alert whoever had cast it. I spread my palm wide and cast Analysis on it to understand the barrier's properties.
The feedback I received through the spell, combined with my mana senses, revealed that the barrier was cast from an artifact powered with a large amount of energy, as it included spatial shifting properties. Should anyone not permitted to enter simply walk up, they would pass through without feeling anything unusual but would be silently and quietly teleported to the other end, as if they were taking a normal stroll. For such strong properties to be maintained...
'A demigod is in play... interesting,' I thought as I smirked, clearly undaunted.
The simplest solution here, instead of breaking the barrier, was as follows: with my right hand's palm still hovering just above the energy field, and with the help of Analysis, I picked up on the mana frequency of whoever was casting as well as the artifact's signature. I then cast a barrier with my left hand that covered me to fit my form, incorporating the information the analysis spell was providing, constantly matching the barrier before me.
The process required exquisite precision. I had to simultaneously analyze the complex barrier patterns, create a mimetic field around myself that perfectly matched those patterns, and ensure that no trace of my own mana signature leaked through. It was like creating a perfect key for a lock while the lock itself was constantly changing its tumblers—a feat that would have been impossible for anyone without my extraordinary control and understanding of such mystical energies.
With that done and without hesitation, I placed my palm on the barrier and simply walked through into a space entirely different from the dreary, damp, dark, and smelly sewers.
Before me stretched a simple camp outpost full of Dark-walkers, mist demons, and blade demons—more than 50 in number, with my soul sense completing the count to around 65. Clearly, this was a place they had occupied for some time for there to be such variety.
The space was far larger than the sewer tunnel should have allowed—a cavern at least a hundred meters in diameter, with the ceiling rising thirty meters above. Magical lights hovered throughout the space, casting harsh illumination over a scene of organized military efficiency. Tents and makeshift structures had been arranged in concentric circles around a central command post. Weapons racks stood at strategic points, and along the perimeter, corrupted altars glowed with malevolent energy, likely used for communication with higher demonic powers.
Dark-walkers moved with predatory grace on patrol routes, their shadow-like forms occasionally phasing partially into darkness before reemerging. Blade demons—humanoid figures whose limbs terminated in wicked metal edges that seemed fused with their flesh—were stationed at defensive positions, their bodies unnaturally still until they periodically rotated positions with military precision. The mist demons were the most unsettling, as they wore their stolen faces and bodies like ill-fitting clothes, occasionally allowing their true forms to ripple beneath the surface when they thought no one was watching.
Since I was still at the periphery and wanted to complete the massacre in absolute silence, I decided to take control of the convenient spatial barrier deployed. In the same state of synchronization that I had established with it, I subtly injected my own signature, masked with the demon's one and the artifact's, targeting the artifact itself. From the mana I had sent forth with my intent, I located it at the center of the camp.
The artifact was an interesting object—a pyramidal crystal approximately half a meter tall, hovering above a pedestal inscribed with infernal runes. It pulsed with sickly purple light, occasionally discharging arcs of energy that connected to smaller crystals positioned throughout the cavern, maintaining the spatial warping effect that concealed this base from detection.
My main focus, however, was not on the artifact itself. Once I had subtly taken control over it with my intent and without alerting the demigod-ranked mist demon who was in charge of it, I paused to take inventory of what I needed to do. The moment I canceled the demon's control over it, they would be alerted, as the very space meant to protect them would become their graves.
Still in my hidden state, I muttered, "Contract in place, check. Guild card, check. Sword, check... now I'm ready to rumble..."
With a thought, I removed all concealment and hidden spells on myself just as I stripped the artifact of the demon's control, which elicited a resounding howl of anger and agony, as there was most definitely a backlash.
"WHO DARES?!" The scream echoed throughout the cavern, a sound of rage tinged with pain as the connection to the artifact was forcibly severed. The voice belonged to a figure at the center of the camp—a being that appeared humanoid at first glance but moved with an unnatural fluidity, as if its bones were merely suggestions rather than solid structures. Its skin rippled with suppressed fury as it whirled toward where I stood, its eyes widening as it detected my presence where nothing had been a moment before.
Since the scream caught the attention of everyone in the camp, they all trembled at the Class-2 demigod's aura that flared outward in waves of malevolent pressure. I just raised my arm like a good little student and shouted, not with much volume, but definitely enough to be noticed:
"I dare! Over here!!" I exclaimed mockingly, waving my hand "Nice to meet you! I'm a C-ranked adventurer, sent to handle you all!" I said excitedly and moved, sword in hand, toward the nearest group of demons.
My blade flashed with cold precision as I cut through the first three demons before they could even register my presence. Their bodies fell apart in neat sections, dark ichor spraying in arterial fountains that didn't have time to hit the ground before I had moved to my next targets. The sword sang through the air, a whisper of death that left dismembered limbs and severed heads in its wake.
'This is gonna be fun,' I thought as all the creatures in this particular space focused on me and attacked, their killing intent palpable in the air...