Chapter 12

Jack Avery was grappling with the utter absurdity of his newfound powers.

"Why is my hand quicker than a knife? Why does Adrian's chest crumble like a cookie? What's the deal with this endless strength?"

Just then, a voice—both alien and familiar—whispered in his ear. It was Cyrus Hall, the rightful owner of the body he now inhabited.

"Damn it, they all deserve to die."

"I'll pay any price to see them buried alongside me."

Jack's vision clouded as he was assaulted by a flood of memories that belonged to Cyrus Hall. He saw a young, delicate boy, around seven or eight years old, laughing innocently while nestled in his mother's arms. The scene abruptly shifted to that same boy cowering in a corner, trembling as the sound of a heated argument echoed from outside.

"Madam, please behave with decorum! I am the true mistress of the Hall estate!"

"You wretched woman, what gives you the right to marry him?"

A striking, arrogant woman slapped Cyrus's mother across the face. The Duchess recoiled in horror. "Why would you strike me?"

"Strike you?" The Princess of Westlin scoffed, pressing her foot against the Duchess's abdomen, "What does it matter if I killed you?"

The Duchess's face turned ghostly pale. "Please, no, I'm...I'm with child..."

"I know, expecting again, right?" The Princess increased the pressure on her stomach. "Your vile bloodline has no right to bear his children!"

Overcome with fear, Cyrus tried to intervene to stop the ruthless woman, but he was too small, too weak; the servants restrained him effortlessly. He could only watch helplessly as his mother was tortured to death.

Blood slowly pooled beneath her, and his gentle mother lay on the ground, her once warm eyes now empty and filled with despair for the world.

The woman who had murdered his mother was not only spared punishment but also became his stepmother.

Cyrus Hall, devastated and desperate for justice, brought his accusations about her crimes to his father. However, his father imprisoned him for a month, releasing him only when he recanted his testimony, dismissing it as hallucinations induced by demons.

The Princess had no intention of letting him off the hook easily, but his father did manage to offer him some protection. Although he was generally shunned, Cyrus did not endure much more physical abuse. Still, the death of his mother, his father's cowardice, and the apathy of the royal court and the church inflicted deep psychological scars on him as a child.

No one believed his account of his mother's death; no one accepted that the Princess could be a murderer, nor could they fathom that the royal family and the church were complicit in shielding such a demon.

Adrian represented Cyrus's first glimmer of hope—he believed his cousin would support him and that his uncle would seek justice for his mother's death. Unfortunately, neither came to pass. His cousin broke his promise to take him away; his uncle, despite his vocal outrage, ultimately didn't dare oppose the royal family.

At fourteen, Cyrus encountered a vampire named Alexis. Inheriting his mother's striking beauty, Cyrus blossomed like a rose—not dew-kissed but blood-stained—his despair and hatred enhancing his allure. Alexis was instantly and deeply infatuated. Initially, Cyrus thought his end was near, but the obsession he saw in Alexis's eyes ignited a sliver of hope.

Here was a formidable man. Could Cyrus leverage his strength to exact revenge on the detestable empire that repulsed him?

He seduced Alexis, using his powers to concoct a meticulous plan. He aimed to find the Sacred Heart and undergo the First Embrace to become an immortal vampire, but instead, he discovered a forbidden ritual at Alexis's estate.

This ritual, requiring the blood of numerous foes and the heart of someone who deeply loved him, could bestow demonic powers to massacre the living. Simply turning into a vampire was insufficient to annihilate the empire, but wielding demonic powers could.

Cyrus loathed the cruel Princess of Westlin, the queen who protected a murderer, the church that failed to distinguish right from wrong, his ineffective father, and all the foolish citizens who endorsed such despotic governance.

They all deserved to die. He resolved to exterminate them all, to personally deliver them to hell.

Thus, at fifteen, Cyrus began orchestrating this monstrous ritual.

Gail was his initial chosen sacrifice. A poor, unfortunate soul, Gail would offer his heart unconditionally for the smallest act of kindness. Cyrus, with his extraordinary beauty, noble status, melodious voice, and soothing words, effortlessly ensnared Gail in an intoxicating fantasy from which there was no escape.

The first execution of the ritual failed, but it produced an unexpected benefit—his personal butler and the only person he truly trusted, Lucas, acquired powers beyond imagination, rivaling even the vampire Alexis.

This unexpected success emboldened Cyrus; he knew the ritual was viable. If he could just successfully perform it, he would attain the tremendous power necessary for his revenge.

Thus, he meticulously prepared for a second attempt, this time with a spell circle enveloping the entire castle, set to attract even more enemies.

Although Gail was a failed subject meant to be discarded to Alexis as fodder, a twist of fate from the ritual also endowed him with some powers, and he was resurrected as a vampire. Unperturbed by an extra set of loyal hands, Cyrus kept him on as a "maid."

For his next sacrifice, Cyrus Hall chose his cousin Adrian, who was already deeply infatuated with him. After Cyrus declared his feelings, Adrian was completely mesmerized, swept up in a whirlwind of emotions, unable to differentiate one day from the next.

Utilizing Lucas's power, Cyrus orchestrated a massacre that incited widespread panic and unrest throughout the empire, giving them even greater incentive to pursue him. He needed the blood of more foes, so he deliberately drew them to assault the castle.

Once everything was set, the spell circle was activated, and the forbidden ritual successfully commenced. Jack Avery was imbued with demonic powers.

Through this rapid succession of memories, Jack finally grasped the storyline of the game. He felt profound sympathy for Cyrus Hall's plight but could not endorse Cyrus's planned retribution. Killing the Princess, seeking vengeance on the Queen, and punishing the Duke might be justified—they were complicit in their sins.

But why direct his fury at innocent civilians? Living under such tyranny, the common folk had no choice but to eke out whatever small joys they could find. Why should they suffer for Cyrus Hall's vendetta?

Cyrus's story was heart-wrenching; his experiences had been excruciating, and he had borne far too much... Yet, inflicting even greater pain, catastrophe, and despair on innocent people made him no better than the Princess he detested. Both were projecting their anguish onto those uninvolved in their ordeals.

Why turn into the very monster you're fighting against in the pursuit of revenge?

This question halted Jack in his tracks. His own life hadn't been as filled with misery as Cyrus's, yet he held resentment towards his absentee father, his mother who left him to forage through trash bins for food, and Miles Sinclair, the man he once trusted deeply who ultimately forced him to drop out of school.

Jack hadn't resorted to drastic measures like Cyrus, but he was also mired in bitterness, losing his identity and giving up on his dreams. He isolated himself in his cramped apartment, avoiding any human connection. If he continued on this path, might he too eventually lash out at the world just like Cyrus Hall?

It's often said that the clearest perspective comes from those who stand outside looking in.

When Jack snapped back to reality, the castle was eerily silent, like a grave.

The invaders of the castle were all dead, their bodies drained of blood and stacked like dried logs, unrecognizable as once human.

Jack's brow furrowed involuntarily.

Lucas and Gail were kneeling on one knee, their posture one of solemn reverence, "Congratulations, young master, on fulfilling your deepest desire."

Jack felt a formidable power surging through his body, a sensation beyond what ordinary people could understand. His body seemed filled with boundless energy, his senses were sharpened, and he could discern even the faintest whispers from afar.

He now possessed an infinite force, the kind that could tempt one to indulge their most primal urges.

At that moment, Alexis finally grasped the full extent of the situation, his expression one of surprise mixed with urgency, "Cyrus, you..."

In the bottom right corner of Jack Avery's vision, a prompt appeared:

[Temporary Skill: Whisper of the Demon – Effect: Induces sleep for 24 hours.]

It was the early hours of the seventh day, and in another 24 hours, he would complete the mission. Jack exhaled softly and deployed the sleep-inducing skill on the three people before him. With his newfound strength, all three immediately collapsed into a deep slumber.

Could it really be just a matter of waiting another 24 hours to beat the game?

Jack had no intention of going on a rampage; instead, he opted to stay inside the castle, patiently waiting out the day.

As dusk approached, the time left steadily diminished.

Reflecting on the game's entirety, Jack found the first half incredibly frustrating, but this final part made him thoughtful. Having studied computer science and participated in game development, he remembered a mentor's words—that a game should not only entertain but also enlighten. It was an art form, meant to surprise and delight players while also encouraging reflection and introspection.

As the midnight chimes echoed, Jack focused intently on the lower right corner of his vision.

Mission Progress – Day Seven.

Was it time to complete the mission? What would happen next?

Suddenly, blinking in disbelief, Jack thought he noticed an error.

Mission Failed – Reloading in one minute.

Why the failure? What had gone wrong?

Wasn't surviving seven days the objective? He had reached the seventh day, so why the failure?

Jack scrutinized the mission objective for a minute, and as the game reloaded, he realized:

Surviving seven days wasn't merely about reaching the seventh day; he had to survive only seven days—neither more nor less.

As everything faded to black, he was sent back to the midnight of the sixth day.

Alexis looked shocked. "Cyrus, you..."

Without hesitation, Jack cast the sleep spell again: "Keep sleeping; I can't deal with you three right now."

After another 24 hours, just as the seventh day was about to conclude, Jack timed his actions perfectly and stabbed himself in the chest at the last possible moment.

"Ah... that hurts."

Why did it hurt? Wasn't he immune to fatal injuries?

Clearly, something was wrong!

He glanced again at the lower right corner of his vision, and as expected, it displayed: Mission Failed.

Being no ordinary human, a simple stab to the heart wasn't lethal for him.

Now thoroughly frustrated with the game, Jack reloaded once more. Alexis wore an expression of surprise again: "Cyrus..."

This time, before they could react, Jack knocked them out. As night fell, he tried to "commit suicide" an hour early. However, as he attempted to pull the knife out, his wound began healing instantly, pushing the blade out...

As midnight struck, he realized that being overly powerful had its drawbacks. Was dying really supposed to be this difficult?

After yet another reload, just as Jack was about to incapacitate the trio again, an idea occurred to him.

If he couldn't kill himself, maybe all three of them together could manage it.