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Myriad Devils

In the year 2081, humanity has endured the aftermath of the apocalypse, but significant changes have unfolded. The remnants of humanity are now concentrated in six cities, the last bastions of civilization. After being exiled from the city lord's manor, Anon, the son of the supreme commander, encounters a "devil" named Seth. Seth offers to satisfy Anon's thirst for knowledge and the immense power that accompanies it. In return, they plan, helped by the forces behind Seth, to assassinate Anon's father, the lord of humanity. A treacherous journey, fraught with calamities and tribulations... Anon will unhesitatingly walk through this path, whether that be for his dead mother, or for his own selfish desires.

Six3 · Fantasia
Classificações insuficientes
76 Chs

In slowness is steadiness

Anon shook his head in disappointment.

It was clear that Seth wasn't going to reveal anything to him.

His right arm became a blur as he threw a swift jab at Seth's unsuspecting face.

But Seth seemingly saw through this, evading the jab and closing the short distance between him and Anon.

Surprisingly, he did not attack; instead, Seth placed his ear against Anon's chest.

Although Anon had his guard up, somehow, Seth managed to break through it right before his eyes.

Anon's eyes glared at Seth as the red-eyed boy began doing something strange.

Seth chuckled, tracing his fingers lightly across Anon's chest. "Don't you sense it? The runic characters encircling your heart... one command, and they will crush it!"

Anon grinned.

Seth was simply too close to dodge a knee to the gut.

"Ugh…" He coughed up a mouthful of blood as his pupils constricted, watching Anon's leg loom larger in his vision. Though it seemed to approach slowly, he realized he couldn't evade it.

Too quick, it was too quick!

With a bang, Anon's right shin connected with Seth's forehead, creating a strange sound.

"Don't try speaking such bullshit lies to me."

At those words, Seth's mind raced.

How?

'No matter how fearless he is, my demonic nature entering his body should have assaulted his spirit and amplified his fear.'

Considering Anon, who often suffered from nightmares, Seth concluded that the runic characters should have been even more effective.

However, by assuming this, he had only set himself up for confusion.

Nickyle closed the door to his dorm room and clicked his tongue in annoyance.

Sitting on the edge of his bed, he was unbothered by the darkness, staring into the void before him, lost in thought.

'When that trash contacted me about this Anon, I ignored him.'

Nickyle inwardly mused.

After all, why would he pay attention to Cassius's words, the words of some waste?

Especially when said waste was speaking of an orphan bookworm?

'But this orphan bookworm is not just intelligent; he's a bastardly stellar genius?'

Nickyle, the young master of the Orland family, didn't know whether to laugh or cry.

"What bullshit!" he exclaimed.

A mocking smile spread across his face as he asked no one in particular, "Am I supposed to believe something so silly?"

After a pause, his smile turned cold.

"Alright, prove it to me..." Nickyle growled softly.

"Prove to me that you're truly one of those geniuses who can perceive stellar cosmic energy with the spirit of a mere mortal."

On his ring finger was an obsidian black ring that flickered with a dim light. Suddenly, a holographic screen appeared before him, showcasing an aged face.

"Greetings, young master," the old man in the holographic screen said, bowing. "Why have you called?"

The dim blue light illuminated Nickyle's face, revealing his dark expression.

"There's a boy here," Nickyle uttered softly, "His past, I desire to know."

He thought inwardly, 'A child killing two thieves or whatever; the department of order in his area would naturally have records of this.'

This story seemed too unbelievable, but if there were records of these two thieves, even if Anon's story was bogus, it would be nearly impossible to disprove.

This exemplified the power of a truth-filled lie.

"By any chance, is this boy Anon?" The old man said, "The orphan who finished first in Blackridge district's final exam rankings."

"After seeing this, we did some digging and discovered that this boy was the reason for Seth Constantin's transfer to St. Hope High School."

Nickyle smiled, pleased, upon hearing his words.

Useful subordinates were always greatly appreciated.

Bosses who failed to appreciate them were simply fools lacking intellect, and Nickyle was certainly not one of them.

"Indeed, old man, you never cease to impress." Nickyle said, continuing by explaining the whole scenario.

"Oh, I see," the old man nodded. "It's very suspicious indeed."

"How rare it is to find a mortal spirit that can perceive stellar cosmic energy! More than extraordinary luck, this requires talent that only children like the young master, sons of great families, can possess."

In the darkness of his dorm room, Anon sat on his bed, lost in thought.

"Although he hadn't used his second principle, I defeated him relatively easily this morning. Now, after the increase in his spirit's strength and the revelation of a third principle, I had only defeated him through luck."

There's a saying that when one wins, they learn nothing; one only learns about their flaws after facing defeat.

He had won, but looking back, he realized that if Seth hadn't been so confident in instilling doubts in his mind, his seemingly simple victory wouldn't have been so straightforward.

'But why did he think he could fool me so easily?' Anon wondered.

Knowing Seth, he was someone that calculated his every move, a mistake like that…

'What if this was also an effect of his principle? What if I was supposed to feel fear?' Anon's expression reflected his doubts.

'But in that moment, I was completely aware that there was no threat to my life.'

As he pondered this, his mind fell silent, thoughts halted, until a flash of inspiration lit up his eyes.

'No, the fact that I was so confident and aware my life wasn't threatened is, in itself, strange.'

Anon pondered aloud, "Trying to have Seth explain the truth of his principle and then repeating the process for confirmation is a no-go; he won't do it."

For a moment, he was enlightened.

Enlightened about what had once been confusing.

About the confusion that he faced with his second principle.

A principle that continuously appeared akin to sand that slipped through the space between one's fingers. 

But his thumping heart slowed.

His chaotic mind calmed.

His excitement eased.

'Still, to understand this principle… How?'

Anon pondered aloud, "To try have Seth explain the truth of his principle and then doing that process over just to confirm is a no go, he'll never. Do I have to risk danger to find out?"

Risk his life?

Had he ever truly done that?

He experienced many things, but risking his life wasn't one.

One must understand that in the old world, if two humans desired to kill each other and engaged in a death battle, that was truly risking one's life, because at that time, no two humans were worlds apart in strength.

But although he had killed before, it was never in a situation where his life was on the line.

One could even argue that he had the choice to subdue; instead, he opted to kill.

Whether this was right or wrong was beside the point.

'Anyway, this will have to wait until I enter the military academy,' Anon concluded.

In the military zone, there were no situations where he would have to risk his life.

Of course, if someone tried to assassinate him, that would be different, but surely no one would be foolish enough to do that, right?

As he reached this conclusion, he cleared his mind.

Clearing out all unnecessary thoughts, he began to sense the stellar cosmic energy.

He was about to begin the act of cultivation.

This process was much slower than simply strengthening one's spirit through a magic ritual or using treasures to expand or reinforce the illusory basin used to extract more out of one's principle.

However, for those without treasures or magic rituals, the simplest method was often the most effective.

The term was cultivation.

It was slow and somewhat outdated, yet within its slowness lay steadiness.

The stellar cosmic energies in the air glimmered as they responded to Anon's will.