Warlock of War: My Ares System



Then, beneath the luminous grass, colonies of minute, bioluminescent insects thrived. Their ethereal glow matched the neon green surroundings, creating an intricate, living tapestry of light and movement within the underbrush. These tiny creatures, with translucent wings and delicate antennae, floated about in a mesmerizing contemporary dance, their presence adding yet another layer of enchantment to the already surreal landscape.

Among the colossal mushroom stems, peculiar creatures, resembling a fusion of insects and flora, scuttled and swayed. Their bodies mirrored the spotted pattern of the mushrooms' caps, offering them camouflage amidst their towering homes. These creatures moved with an uncanny grace, tending to the fungi as if they were caretakers of this mysterious realm. Their eyes glowed with an inner light, hinting at a deeper connection to the luminous energy that permeated their environment.

"You must be wondering why we were teleported to this place, correct?" 

I was too angry at him to even attempt to respond, but lashing out now would be stupid. Though it pained me to admit, I couldn't beat him on my own. So I either had to wait for any external assistance or find the perfect ground where my powers could flourish to their highest potential. 

"Kekekeke… Leviathan that sly bastard… You must be thinking this poison can't harm us. We're to the level where even the most dangerous serpent in hell could hardly erode our earwax, but it would be foolish to underestimate hell in general. Even I am not safe from this gas… as if we stay here for too long, we may not come back in a solid form." 

He was trying to fool me. Obvious, right? 

"You think I'm lying?" Beezlebub continued to laugh with black lightning sprouting from his palms. "Our throne worlds were canceled upon teleportation… should we try this again or are you too scared?" 

Once again, he was trying to fool me. Taunt me. Make my mind swirl. It was so obvious that I couldn't help but laugh back at his pitiful attempts to enrage me… or was he trying something else? Did he want something else from me? This fight wasn't beneficial to him, so why would he even want to- 

I stopped my train of thought. He was already working those slimy black tentacles of his into my mind. So, without a second of hesitation, I equipped my spear with pure and utter death before swinging once. It's just a simple swing. Nothing more, nothing less. 

VWOOM 

The once-vibrant mushroom caps, which had illuminated the forest with their vibrant green, now lost their luster. They turned a sickly, pallid shade of gray, their glow fading into an eerie, spectral dimness. The radiant beauty of the biome was replaced with a haunting and mournful pallor.

The very air grew heavy with a sense of sorrow as the slash of death cut through the underbrush. It left behind a hushed and eerie silence as if the forest itself mourned the loss of its vibrant life. The gentle rustling of leaves and the distant calls of creatures had been silenced, replaced only by a sense of foreboding emptiness.

The once-thriving flora, once teeming with life, now stood as hollow, skeletal remains of their former selves. Their leaves crumbled into dust, and their branches twisted and contorted in unnatural agony. The very ground beneath my feet seemed to sink into despair, the once-fertile soil now barren and lifeless.

And this was all that happened. Beelzebub just stood there, unaffected despite the wave of death hitting him directly. Clearly, he was adapted to deathly traits… which is part of my predictions, but still… I was hoping for at least some damage. 

"[Fly King's Embrace]." 

The atmosphere grew thick with an oppressive dread, and every fiber of my being tingled with a sense of impending doom. The world itself seemed to hold its breath as if nature itself recoiled from what was unfolding.

Amidst the eerie silence, I could hear a faint, ominous buzzing that seemed to resonate from the very depths of the underworld. It was as if the symphony of malevolent insects was a harbinger of unspeakable horrors. Then, emerging from the shadows, Beelzebub's sinister form began to contort and twist, as though the laws of reality had surrendered to his unholy power.

Bum Bum…

His once-human shape dissolved into a nightmarish maelstrom of shadowy, iridescent wings, each appendage seemingly alive with its own malevolent intent. These wings produced an otherworldly, sickly sheen that cast grotesque and ever-shifting patterns across the landscape, adding to the surreal terror of the scene. The dissonant drone they emitted was a symphony of torment, a chorus of the damned that penetrated the very core of my soul.

Bum Bum…

The demonic flies that emerged from this grotesque vortex moved with horrifying precision, their tiny, obsidian-black bodies forming a living, writhing tornado of malevolence. Their minuscule, needle-sharp mandibles snapped relentlessly at the air, creating a nightmarish cacophony of menacing clicks and snaps that reverberated through the marrow of my bones. They nipped at the very fabric of reality itself, leaving behind trails of despair and torment in their wake.

Bum Bum…

The malevolence exuded by these tiny fiends was not just felt; it was a palpable, suffocating force that filled the air. I could sense their evil intent as they swarmed, their eyes glowing with an unnatural, burning crimson. The ground beneath their writhing mass withered and decayed, and the heavens above blackened past night as if the moon itself shrank from the grotesque transformation unfolding below.

Bum Bum… Bum Bum… Bum Bum… Bum Bum… Bum Bum… Bum Bum… Bum Bum… Bum Bum… Bum Bum… Bum Bum… Bum Bum… Bum Bum… Bum Bum… Bum Bum… Bum Bum…

『Status』

[Name: Cy Benoit]

[Race: Aquatic Demon] 

[Class: King of Burden]

[Title: Savior of The Famished]

[Level: 0/100] (0/250) XP Needed

[HP: 500/500 MP: 250/250 SP: 300/300] - Above Human 

[Strength: 350] - Above Human 

[Defense: 250] - Above Human 

[Magic: 200] - Above Human 

[Speed: 200] - Above Human 

[Skills: [Greater Spear Coating] Greater [Spear Enhancment] [Greater Magic Sensing Radar] [Greater Miasma Sensing Radar] [Haste] [Empower] [Eagle Eye] [Presence of The True Night] [Complete Shadow Magic] [Wave of Darkness] [Portal of Darkness (Partial)] 

[Death Manipulation] 

[Knight of Darkness Skills: [Armor of The Abyss] [Spear of The Abyss] [Determination of A Battle-Hardened Knight] [Undying Will for The Lord]

[King of Burden: [Poor Man's Unison] [Hoplessness to Hope] [Hope Manipulation]

[Passive Skills:  [Poor Man's Greed] [Broke Man's Hunger] [Lost Man's Heart] [Lion Heart] [Constitution of a Tarturling] [Prisoner of Tartarus] [Iron Speech] [Demon's Gluttonous Stomach] [Potion Organs] [Blessing of The Mermaid Queen of Mana] [Partial Immortality]

[Rune Path: [Darkness of The Night Spear Cover] [Throne World: Funeral of The Living] [Death's Departure] [Locked] [Locked] [Locked] 

[Equipment: [Magic Ring] [Storage Ring] [Blessed Dark Spear]

… 

(A few years prior) 

There was a time when I used to hate my status. I was poor. So poor that I rarely had something to eat. Normally it was just water strained through a cloth to try and get the clumps of dirt and miscellaneous items out. 

"How pitiful…" 

As I observed the young boy whose face I could hardly make out, it was disheartening to witness his health deteriorate as he succumbed to a series of various illnesses. Each ailment seemed to weigh on him, casting a shadow over his once-vibrant spirit.

It began with a persistent cough, a dry, rasping sound that echoed through the room. His face, once rosy with youth, had grown pale and drawn. The coughing fits wracked his fragile frame, leaving him exhausted and breathless. The sound of his labored breathing filled the air, a constant reminder of his battle against the sickness that had taken hold.

Fever soon followed, causing his temperature to soar. Beads of sweat formed on his fevered brow as he lay in his bed, restless and uncomfortable. His once-bright eyes now dulled with discomfort and fatigue. The warmth of his body radiated with fever, and he clutched at his thin linen in a desperate attempt to find relief.

As the days passed, new symptoms emerged. His throat grew sore and inflamed, making each swallow a painful ordeal. The boy's appetite waned, and he struggled to find solace in a comforting sip of lukewarm soup. And his voice, once filled with youthful enthusiasm, had grown hoarse and weak.

A rash appeared on his skin, a red and angry eruption that itched incessantly. The boy's fingers scratched at his irritated flesh, leaving behind marks of discomfort. The itching only added to his distress, and he longed for a respite from the torment.

In the midst of his physical suffering, the boy's spirits also took a toll. He became increasingly withdrawn, his laughter replaced by sighs of pain and exhaustion. The world outside his window, once a source of wonder and adventure, now seemed distant and unreachable. 

The balls of excitement sitting within each one of his eyesockets drooped with sorrow as he saw his friends playing outside. He wanted to play as well. But the second he climbed out of bed, he toppled to the ground. His head then swerved back and forth, looking for help until he finally saw me. 

It was my face. My younger face.