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041 Demonic Invaders
🕑 Added 2025-02-21 15:37:15 +0000 UTCBrukhelm’s body was no more, reduced to drifting embers and scattering dust. But I was not deceived.
A crimson ember streaked through the air, writhing with hatred—his demonic soul.
The instant his mortal shell crumbled, his soul fled, slipping through the smallest cracks in the Great Barrier like mist through a sieve. A flickering wisp of malice, retreating to whatever foul abyss had birthed him.
But even the most elusive specter could not escape my Divine Sense.
I had seen this countless times before. In Lost Legends Online, named demons never perished so easily. Players had long since uncovered the pattern—no matter how many times you slew them, they would return, stronger and more vengeful, until the developers finally gave an explanation:
Demonic souls did not perish with the flesh. They clung to existence, retreating to their infernal domain to fester and grow. To ordinary people, it was merely an unfortunate reality. To those with scouting skills, it was background lore.
To me, it was an unacceptable outcome.
I raised a finger, my voice cold. "Compel Duel."
Power surged. The demonic soul faltered, shackled by the skill’s binding force. It twisted, struggling in vain—its body was lost, but the duel could not be denied.
It surged forward in desperation.
I followed.
"Zealot’s Stride."
The shattered ground crumbled beneath my step as I launched into the air.
"Flash Step."
The world blurred. I reappeared midair, still locked onto my prey.
"Flash Step."
Again.
The soul darted wildly, zigzagging in erratic desperation. It was weightless now, unbound by flesh, nothing but will and instinct. A lesser pursuer would have lost sight of it within moments.
But I was not merely chasing it.
I was hunting it.
"Flash Step. Flash Step. Flash Step."
Each burst of speed closed the distance.
The soul writhed in panic, realization dawning. It had believed itself beyond reach, destined to return stronger, to haunt the world once more.
But this was no cycle of vengeance.
This was no expansion.
This was me.
And I would see to it that this demon had no sequel.
Even without the gift of flight, I reached him.
No weapons. No grand display. Just divine judgment.
"Divine Smite."
A golden radiance gathered at the edge of my hand as I swung down in a simple knife-hand strike. No embellishment, no flourish—just the certainty of execution.
The moment it connected, Brukhelm’s soul let out a silent scream. Soundless, yet I felt it in the very fabric of reality, in the way the heavens seemed to reject his existence.
A final pulse of light.
Then—nothing.
No rebirth. No second coming.
Only judgment.
The battlefield lay in ruin. The scent of scorched flesh and charred stone lingered in the air. The Great Barrier had long since faded, leaving only silence in its wake. What had once been a proud arena was now a graveyard of shattered stone and blackened earth.
And at its center, where Brukhelm had perished, lay the last remnant of Lu Gao.
A single skull—blackened, but whole.
I stepped forward, stopping before what was left of the once-proud young master of the Lu Clan.
Behind me, the survivors gathered.
Ren Jin stood with his arms crossed, his usual arrogance subdued. Chief Enforcer Liang Na lingered a step behind him, her sharp gaze dissecting me like a riddle she could not solve. The three elders—Pan Xia, Long Xieren, and Lei Fen—stood weary but composed, their expressions veiled. Whether they had remained to bear witness or offer support, I could not tell.
No one spoke.
They were waiting.
Waiting for an explanation.
Or for an excuse.
I exhaled and crouched, reaching out to touch the scorched remains.
In Lost Legends Online, possession by a Named Demon was no trivial affliction. If the host was slain while still possessed, their soul was lost—consumed in the demon’s final moments. Even the most potent resurrection arts could not call them back, not unless the demon’s taint was first purged.
Only one method could ensure their return.
A method requiring either vast resources or the presence of a champion with divine authority—a paladin, a priest, or a druid of the highest order.
I straightened, lifting my hand. My fingers traced the sigil of invocation, the sacred script glowing with celestial might.
The ultimate resurrection art. A technique that defied even the finality of True Death.
"Divine Word: Raise."
A pulse of radiant light expanded from my palm, flooding the ruins with sacred brilliance. The glow sank into the skull, suffusing it with warmth.
Then, the impossible took shape.
Bone reformed. Flesh wove itself anew. Veins and sinew knit together, pulsing with life.
The bare skull became a human face once more, pale skin regaining its color.
Lu Gao… returned.
The air thrummed with divine energy, the sheer force of the spell bending the fabric of reality itself. This was resurrection at its zenith—a technique that defied the natural order, seized the soul from the abyss, and left no room for failure.
The silence stretched, heavy and absolute.
Then, Lu Gao gasped.
His body jerked upright, eyes wild with unfiltered terror. Sweat poured down his face, his chest heaving with frantic, uneven breaths. His entire form trembled as if he had just clawed his way out of the underworld itself.
Then came the scream.
Low, raw, and guttural—it tore from his throat like something primal, something dredged up from the depths of his very being.
The elders took a step back. Even Ren Jin’s usual bravado faltered.
Lu Gao clutched his head, fingers digging into his scalp as he convulsed. His breath hitched, ragged and uneven, like lungs struggling to remember how to breathe.
Then, his gaze found mine.
His pupils shrank. Recognition and confusion warred in his eyes, a silent battle between disbelief and memory. His lips parted, but no words came. His entire body spasmed once before he hunched forward, clawing at the earth beneath him as if grounding himself in something real.
I said nothing.
The memories were returning. Possession was no mere affliction—it was an invasion of the soul, a violation of the self. He had been nothing more than a vessel, his will shackled while Brukhelm wore his flesh like a puppet. That wasn’t something one simply woke from.
His voice came at last, hoarse and broken.
“…I was dead.”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“I…” His voice cracked. He gritted his teeth, hands curling into trembling fists. His breath grew shallow, his body rejecting the truth even as his mind recalled it. “I was gone. I could feel myself fading. I was…” His throat bobbed, as if swallowing back bile. “…devoured.”
I let him have the moment.
Behind me, the gathered cultivators stood frozen in disbelief. Resurrection was a rarity in itself—but this? This was something beyond their understanding.
One moment, Lu Gao was awake.
The next, he slumped forward, his breathing slow, steady.
Sleep had claimed him. His body needed rest. His soul needed time.
And none here could blame him.
For five long breaths, silence reigned.
Then, the interrogation began.
"You." Lei Fen's voice was like a sharpened blade as he pointed at me. "Explain exactly what just happened."
Pan Xia followed without missing a beat. "What vile technique did you just use? If the Lu Clan practices such arts, they must take responsibility!"
I blinked.
Liang Na folded her arms, her gaze piercing. "That demon recognized you." Her voice was calm, measured—but the slight twitch of her fingers betrayed the tension beneath. "It called you Paladin—and it did not do so lightly. Why?"
I remained silent.
Truth be told, I wasn’t entirely sure myself.
A demon—one of the Fallen Angel type, no less—had recognized me on sight and called me Paladin. I could make a few guesses. Maybe it was because I wielded holy arts? Maybe my battles in Lost Legends Online had marked me in some unseen way?
But none of those explanations made sense in this world.
Ren Jin, who had been silent until now, finally spoke. "What is a Paladin?"
I hesitated.
How was I supposed to answer that?
Seeing an LLO demon here was troubling enough.
Long Xieren narrowed his eyes. "You hesitate."
Liang Na pressed further. "Why? Do you know the answer or not?"
I sighed, rubbing the back of my head. "I don't not know… but I don't have a great answer either."
That earned me a round of unimpressed looks.
Pan Xia exhaled sharply, crossing his arms. "Then tell us this—what technique did Bu Lu Keng use?"
I assumed that was what we were calling the demon now. Bu Lu Keng? Didn’t exactly roll off the tongue.
I shook my head. "Not sure. Something tied to his demonic nature."
Lei Fen's expression darkened. "You just slew him. Surely you must know what he was using."
"Yeah, well." I shrugged. "He’s dead now. Not like he can tell us."
That… did not improve the mood.
Ren Jin studied me carefully. "You are hiding something."
I didn’t deny it.
Because honestly? I had more questions than answers.
But that didn’t mean I had to answer to them.
I had let them push and prod, had tolerated their suspicions and accusations, because I figured it was natural after everything they’d just witnessed. But the way they spoke—the way they demanded—made it clear. They weren’t seeking understanding. They were looking for an excuse to put me in my place.
Me.
Did they think I was some wayward junior they could intimidate? Some errant disciple they could reprimand? Didn’t they see just what I did?
Spite curdled in my chest. I had tried to be patient. I had wanted to talk this out, to keep things civil. But if they wanted to test my limits—if they wanted to see just how vast the difference was between us—then fine. I would educate them.
I let out a slow breath, letting my gaze sweep over them, my silence pressing down like a storm cloud. When I finally spoke, my voice carried the weight of an unshakable truth.
"You lot have some nerve," I said, my tone filled with mock admiration. "You see something beyond your comprehension, and the first thing you do is assume demonic technique. You witness a miracle, and rather than reflect on your own ignorance, you point fingers and demand explanations, as if I owe you anything."
Lei Fen stiffened. Pan Xia's brow furrowed. The others bristled at my tone, but I wasn’t finished.
"Pan Xia," I turned my gaze on him first, my words dripping with derision. "You speak of responsibility? Tell me, what responsibility did you take when Brukhelm possessed Lu Gao? When he rampaged under your very noses? Because from where I’m standing, it was me who stopped him. Me who ensured he would never return."
Pan Xia opened his mouth, but I cut him off with a sharp scoff.
"And Lei Fen," I shifted my attention, watching his expression darken. "You seem convinced I must have understood the demon’s techniques simply because I defeated him. By that logic, should I assume that because you failed to stop him, you must be in league with him?"
Lei Fen’s hands clenched at his sides, but he didn’t interrupt.
I smiled coldly. "Liang Na. You’re a sharp one, aren’t you? You noticed the demon called me Paladin and jumped straight to suspicion. How amusing. Tell me—when a monstrous being recoils at the mere mention of my existence, do you think that means I am its ally? Or that I am its natural enemy?"
The silence that followed was thick.
I exhaled, shaking my head. "I’ve indulged your questions. But do not mistake my patience for weakness." My voice turned colder, more cutting. "Let me remind you all of a simple truth—I am stronger than every single one of you. If I wished to keep secrets, not one of you could force them from me. If I wished to leave, not one of you could stop me."
I took a slow step forward, letting them feel the weight of my presence. "And if I were truly your enemy, you would not still be standing here."
The tension in the air was suffocating. Even Ren Jin, who had been so keen to pick at my words, seemed unwilling to meet my gaze.
Good.
I hadn’t wanted to do this. I would have preferred an honest conversation. But if this was the only language they understood—if respect had to be taken rather than given—then so be it.
I declared, my voice carrying one final warning.
"Next time, think carefully before you question someone who saved your lives."
I let out a slow breath, weighing my options.
In the end, I stuck to the simplest answer—I was a wandering cultivator.
Technically true, if one considered my constant state of being lost as "wandering."
I leaned into that explanation, sidestepping the finer details. But I did share one crucial truth: just how far I was from home.
“I am not from this land,” I admitted.
Pan Xia gave me a flat look, but there was something different in his eyes now—caution. “That much is obvious. We have eyes, Senior.” His words were polite, but his posture had shifted, no longer carrying the arrogance of before. He dipped his head slightly. “Forgive our earlier disrespect.”
I could feel it in the air. The shift.
Before, they had treated me as an oddity—perhaps even a curiosity. But now? Now they were beginning to understand that I was something else entirely. Something that should not be taken lightly.
When I finally spoke, my voice carried a slow, deliberate weight.
“Forgiveness?” I echoed, letting the word settle between us. “You are quick to ask for it. Yet I wonder… if I had been weaker, would you have spared me such courtesy?”
Pan Xia flinched, barely perceptible. He did not answer.
Lei Fen, after a pause, bowed his head slightly. “We were… hasty in our judgment, Senior.”
“Hasty.” I tasted the word. “Is that what you call it?” I let out a quiet, mirthless chuckle. “You all seemed rather eager to question me earlier. To press me for answers as though I owed them to you.” I turned my gaze to Liang Na. “What was it you said? That I should explain myself?”
Liang Na stiffened. “It was not my intention to offend—”
“Oh?” I interrupted smoothly. “Then what was your intention?”
She fell silent.
I looked at each of them in turn, letting my gaze linger just long enough to make them uncomfortable. “Do you all make it a habit to interrogate those far beyond your cultivation?”
Another silence. Heavier this time.
Ren Jin exhaled slowly. “It seems we have overstepped, Senior.”
I tilted my head, considering him. Then, finally, I relented—just slightly.
“I do not seek to make enemies of you,” I said, my voice calmer now. “But let this be a lesson. The next time you meet someone whose strength you do not comprehend… tread more carefully.”
No one dared argue.
Liang Na, however, was neither easily placated nor intimidated. “Then, with due respect, may I ask where Senior hails from?”
I thought of Brukhelm’s words—how he had framed me as a foreigner from an unknown land. That gave me just enough of a foundation to build upon.
And probably, an opportunity to be honest.
“I come from beyond this continent. Beyond this world.”
The air grew heavier. Skepticism flickered across their faces, but no one dismissed my words outright.
Ren Jin studied me carefully. “Beyond this world?”
I nodded. “A different realm. A distant land unlike this one.”
A brief silence. Then Lei Fen frowned. “Realm?”
I hesitated, choosing my words carefully. "Yes… A vast world adrift in the void, circling a distant sun."
More blank stares.
Liang Na tilted her head. “You speak of the Heavens?”
…Oh.
They didn’t know.
To them, the world was not a mere sphere drifting in an endless void but an unbroken expanse beneath the firmament—a land of boundless mountains, rivers, and the eternal flow of the Dao.
Right. That was different from Lost Legends Online. There, people understood planets, stars, and the infinite cosmos. But here? The very notion was foreign.
I adjusted immediately. "Not quite. Think of it as… another plane of existence, beyond the reach of this one."
That explanation landed better.
Long Xieren’s eyes narrowed. “Another plane?”
“A separate world, inaccessible from this one by ordinary means.”
Pan Xia exhaled sharply. “Then you claim to be a cultivator from another realm?”
"Exactly."
Ren Jin’s gaze sharpened. “Then how did you arrive here? Ascension?”
A dangerous question. But I wouldn’t go so far as to call it Ascension.
“It was not of my choosing.”
Liang Na’s expression shifted. “You were summoned?”
"Something like that," I said smoothly.
They accepted the answer, though I could see the gears turning in their minds.
Before they could press further, I shifted the conversation. “My people have long been at war.”
Ren Jin’s expression turned wary. “With whom?”
I met his gaze.
“The Gods.”
A sharp intake of breath.
Lei Fen stiffened. Liang Na’s eyes widened, her carefully measured composure slipping for the first time. Long Xieren’s grip tightened on his robes. Even Ren Jin—ever unreadable—betrayed a flicker of shock.
“The Gods? The Immortals?” Pan Xia’s voice was barely above a whisper. “Why?”
I inclined my head. “For as long as my people have existed, we have waged war against them.”
The silence that followed was almost deafening.
Long Xieren’s voice was grave. “This is… unbelievable. Immortals? You claim to fight against Immortals?” There was something feverish in his eyes, as if the very notion threatened the foundation of his understanding.
Ren Jin, however, remained composed, though his gaze was sharp and searching. “And this war of yours… do your people win?”
I met his eyes.
“…Sometimes.”
The air thickened.
To them, this was no small matter. I could feel it in the way their postures tensed, in the unspoken weight pressing against the room.
I sighed, running a hand through my hair. I had to tell them. At least part of it.
The demon—Brukhelm—set off too many alarms. This wasn’t just an anomaly.
The Gods. Final Adversity. The Great Enemy.
They never struck first. They always sent others—their vanguard. Whispers in the dark. Seeds of corruption. Let the mortals tear each other apart before the true calamity arrived.
And Hell? Hell was always eager. It needed no invitation.
I exhaled and met their gazes. "That demon was not some wandering beast. It was part of something larger. I’ve seen this before.”
Pan Xia folded his arms, faking a cough. “Explain. Uuh… Respectfully, I ask Senior to explain.”
I nodded. “Demons do not merely appear. They spread like a plague. They offer power to the ambitious, salvation to the desperate, vengeance to the embittered. And when enough heed their call—when enough have succumbed to their whispers—Hell descends.”
Lei Fen’s frown deepened. “Are you saying this is the beginning of an invasion?”
I measured my words carefully. If I said too much, I could shatter their entire worldview. If I said too little, they might dismiss my warning.
“…It is a possibility,” I admitted. “I do not know how far along it is, but I do know this—demons do not act alone. If one has surfaced, there are more. Whether hidden or waiting, they are here.”
Liang Na’s expression remained unreadable. “And who commands them?”
I hesitated only briefly. “The Great Enemy.”
Long Xieren’s expression darkened. “You mean… the Immortals?”
A shudder rippled through the room.
“Gods,” I corrected. “I don’t know enough about Immortals to say, but it better safe than sorry.”
The word ‘Immortal’ carried weight—too much weight. The elders had lived their lives believing that ‘Immortals’ stood above the world, lofty and untouchable. That they waged war among themselves, but never against mortals.
And now, I had spoken the unthinkable.
A sharp breath.
Even Ren Jin, who had kept his emotions tightly reined, betrayed a flicker of unease.
“That is a heavy claim,” he said at last.
“I do not speak it lightly.” My voice was steady, unwavering. “And I do not speak falsehoods.”
Liang Na’s gaze was cold and assessing. “And you expect us to simply accept this?”
“I expect you to be prepared,” I said plainly. “Because the alternative is to ignore it. And if that is your choice, I promise you—you will regret it.”
That struck a chord.
Pan Xia’s brows furrowed, deep in thought. Lei Fen’s fingers drummed against his sleeve, his mind racing through the implications. Ren Jin’s piercing gaze never left mine, as if searching for any sign of deception.
“…If what you say is true,” Long Xieren said slowly, “then what do you propose we do?”
I exhaled. That was the right question.
“Be vigilant,” I said. “Do not assume this is over simply because one demon has fallen. Watch for whispers. For changes in men. For those who gain power too swiftly, or those whose words carry too much charm. Demons do not strike openly at first—they twist the world from the shadows, bending fate to their will. The greatest danger is not the enemy you see. It is the one that watches from the dark.”
A deep, lingering silence.
They did not speak immediately.
I could not tell if they fully believed me.
But I knew this much—they were afraid.
And they would not take this lightly.
