Evil Is Death System

Ban's name was short for banish. It was a funny name the doctors at the Verdant Gloria Sect used to call him to distinguish him from the other sect elites.

That's right, sect elites.

Ban was an inner court disciple to the outside world, and had his name on the newspaper this morning for completing the seven stairs to heaven.

However, he didn't complete any staircase, and hadn't moved in sixteen years. Instead, his life energy was being drained every morning and turned to expensive pills for Vile Cultivators.

Vile Cultivators, as Ban found out by listening, ran operations like this all across Atlandia - the world Ban lived in since his mother died when he was young and stupid. The people from the Verdant Gloria Sect, as he found out, especially went to orphanages to look for recruits for their next generation blessed program.

The recruits would all be smiling and would bow to the white cape wearing elites as they were picked. Ban had been happy the day he was chosen and gamboled along with the recruiters to the sect.

It was widely published that he won a fierce competition of basketball to become champion of the youth enlistment program. However, the real program involved him fighting thirteen wolves with his bare hands with two other children as grown men urged them to give up.

Ban had a father who knew martial arts and taught him a movement technique to parry simple attacks. He'd imagined the wolves mouths were swords, and his fist a divine weapon.

With a blood red fist, he killed the wolves in an extremely fierce battle, but his only reward was getting to pose for a photograph for the local magazine. If he didn't smile, the publicity team promised him he'd have to fight the wolves again.

He did as he promised and took a photograph with a cheerful smile, and was brought to the outer sect where it was said he trained for three years. By fifteen, according to the publicity department, he'd made it to the inner sect and stood a chance at becoming an elite.

The truth was a much more dark and harmful reality. His blood was being harvested for Vile Cultivators part of the Inception Marcus Clan who were known for being some of the kindest men on the planet.

However, the Inception Marcus Clan was more of a nightmare then anyone in the world could comprehend. They had caused calamities in the north, south, east, and west. Convinced the entire world a continent was uninhabitable while they were using it to train elites.

Regularly wiped out entire villages on a whim, and then went into offer help to the women who were asleep the entire time. After bringing them to their clinics, they then proceeded to put them to sleep and use them for experiments and sometimes if they were pretty to sell on the open market.

If you can imagine a clan that represented hell, then you knew the Inception Marcus Clan. Ban knew them especially well since he heard it talked about for seventeen years every day during his draining.

He was a thin boy no thicker then a twig with a blank expression that barely registered on the doctors infusing water into his body for the next days blood collection. He was an excuse for the doctors to talk about their daily lives, and meant little to them more then shit.

They left as usual, and would be back tomorrow.

When they came back, though, Ban wasn't on the bed.

Immediately, the bells in the ward were rung. If anyone saw Ban on the streets, this noble clans attenuated hero, there would be a massive Public Relations nightmare on their hands.