historical

Damian's friends were likely worried, wondering where he had gone. He hadn't informed anyone and had dedicated all his time to learning the magic called Anchor. It was no easy task, but with the help of his newly acquired ability purchased using Erotic Coins, Damian significantly improved his learning rate. After sixteen hours of constant training, he finally succeeded.

Returning to the temple within the canyon, Damian's friends approached him. "Damian, where have you been?" asked Aurora, her face filled with concern, imagining the worst.

Natasha and Lila were there, engaged in training, while the others were occupied with their own matters. Placing his hand on Aurora's shoulder, Damian reassured her, saying, "I'm okay, calm down. I was formulating a plan to deal with the demon, and I think I've come up with something. I'll be away for a few days to see if it works out."

"But we can help! You don't have to do this alone," Aurora insisted.

"She's right, you know," Magnus added.

"I know, but I'm still not sure if it will work out. It's dangerous. Besides, I need you all here taking care of things until I return."

That was the best excuse Damian could come up with in such a short period. He couldn't reveal that he was going to a distant land to kill people, absorb their blood essences, and increase his power until he could slay the demon. It would be too much, and even though they were his friends, they wouldn't approve. Damian wanted to protect them. He wanted to put an end to Miller, but it had to be done alone.

Aurora and Magnus didn't press the matter further, accepting Damian's decision. They didn't agree with it, of course, but they had to respect his choice. "Alright. Good luck, but let us know if you need anything," Aurora said, moving closer to him and embracing him.

After bidding farewell to his friends, Damian headed to his office and entered his secret room, the one with the petrified giant snake. He intended to perform the Anchor spell. Creating the spell wasn't too difficult after Damian had practiced for many hours. He could see a floating cube in the air once the spell was successfully cast, and he felt a connection to the target. It was as if it were a part of him.

"I hope no one finds this place," Damian thought, leaving the secret room and the temple.

Instead of sleeping and resting a bit after nearly a full day of training the spell, Damian decided to embark on his journey, leaving Lemoria in search of distant lands—lands filled with people to kill. He at least wanted to target individuals who weren't innocent in an attempt to alleviate his guilt. For that reason, he decided to head to a somewhat remote area, approximately 2000 kilometers away from Lemoria, a place known for its lawless cities overrun by bandits, assassins, and all sorts of scum.

With his Telekinesis, Damian soared through forests, plains, and mountains, flying so high that it was impossible for the people on the ground to notice his presence. He held a map in his hands, fully aware of the dangerous path he was treading—a tangled web of three cities known for harboring criminals, lawless havens.

It took Damian two days to reach the first city. He made occasional stops to rest and sleep, as it had been a while since he had done so. He still had about four days left before the week closed in, the time limit set by Miller before he would seize the city.

There were no guards, no sign of authority. The city was known as Blackthorn, and almost 95% of its inhabitants were criminals. These were people who were shunned in any other city, and that's why Blackthorn was established—a sanctuary for those who embraced wickedness.

No ruler dared to challenge the city. With a multitude of criminals and possibly even hidden powerful figures, it was a risk no one was willing to take. Furthermore, Blackthorn was situated far away from most major cities, offering an additional layer of protection.

The smaller neighboring towns lacked the necessary power to confront Blackthorn. Lemoria could intervene if it wished, but it was distant, and there were no immediate benefits to doing so.

Damian's arrival in Blackthorn sent ripples of curiosity and tension through the city. As he descended from the skies, his eyes scanned the grim streets and dark alleyways, taking note of the hardened criminals who regarded him with both suspicion and curiosity.

Unleashing his necromantic powers, Damian summoned the ethereal energy of the Bone Spear. With a swift motion, the spectral weapon materialized in his hand, pulsating with malevolent power. The criminals, sensing danger, began to scatter, but Damian's telekinetic abilities prevented their escape.

He effortlessly lifted the criminals into the air, their bodies suspended and helpless. With a twisted grin, Damian tore their flesh, extracting the vital essence of their blood, fueling his own dark magic and augmenting his attributes. The streets of Blackthorn echoed with cries of pain and despair as Damian continued his relentless onslaught.

His mind became clouded, consumed by a mixture of power and darkness. Each life he ended added to the weight of his guilt, yet he justified it as a necessary evil to combat the greater threat posed by Miller. In his twisted logic, slaying these criminals was a way to cleanse the world, even if it stained his soul.

As Damian left a trail of carnage and destruction in his wake, the once lawless city of Blackthorn now bore witness to a different kind of terror—the wrath of a man who walked the line between hero and villain, driven by a relentless desire for vengeance and justice.

+3 Attributes

+4 Attributes

"Scatter! The demon is upon us!" The desperate cries of the criminals echoed through the streets of Blackthorn, their fear palpable in the air. Each life claimed by Damian's hand fueled the surge of raw power coursing through his veins, propelling him closer to the strength he sought.

The criminal denizens of Blackthorn quickly pieced together the identity of the rumored demon, and in a display of grim determination, assembled a formidable force of fifteen of their most battle-hardened bandits to confront him head-on.

With a deft motion, Damian unleashed his Bone Spear, a weapon forged from the depths of necromantic arts. But his assault met an unyielding obstacle in the form of a towering, hulking mercenary, his imposing figure adorned with muscle and a massive shield that defied the onslaught.

A flicker of intrigue danced in Damian's eyes as he observed his formidable adversary. This was no ordinary opponent; this was a test of strength and skill that would push Damian to his limits.

A momentary pause settled over the battlefield, a charged silence pregnant with anticipation. Damian's voice cut through the tension like a razor-sharp blade. "Impressive," he acknowledged, his words laced with a mixture of respect and a hunger for the impending clash.

The mercenary's lips curled into a sinister smile, a glimmer of sadistic pleasure gleaming in his eyes. "You will find no victory here, demon!" he thundered, charging forward with a thunderous footfall that reverberated through the ground beneath them.