The System Awakens: Rise of the Champion - Chapter 125

Chapter 125: Chapter 125: This Is Just Torture
Everyone watched with wide eyes and expressions of utter disbelief as hundreds of demons of all shapes and sizes marched out from the demonic summoning circle.

Each one wielded a variety of weapons, their appearances imposing and intimidating.

Though most of them were lower-ranked demons, that did not make them any less terrifying.

They were, after all, demons, evil incarnate, creatures feared by all.

By their very nature, demons were wickedness given form.

Just their presence alone was enough to instill overwhelming fear.

An army of 1,200 demons emerged, and with them came a thick miasma, an energy unique to the demons of all Hells.

This energy was known to be poisonous, venomous, and destructive.

Like a corrupted tide, it swirled outward, corroding everything it touched.

The very land beneath their feet darkened, turning a sickly brownish-black as it succumbed to the demonic presence.

“He… is a ruler of Hell?” Sir Holloway muttered, clutching his head as he struggled to comprehend the situation.

“A r-ruler of H-hell? What does that m-mean?” Elfie stammered, while Shiru used every bit of her strength to keep herself from falling unconscious.

Even though they were far from the battlefield, the effects of the unfolding chaos reached them, weighing heavily on their bodies.

“That crown… I was wondering why it felt so familiar. I remember now. It’s called the Hell’s Ruler’s Crown. It can only be wielded by those who have earned the right to rule over a territory of biblical Hell. And if he is wielding it now, that means…”

Sir Holloway’s eyes widened further in shock as realization struck. “The only way Damian could have acquired it is if he defeated another ruler and took their place.”

A wicked grin spread across Damian’s demonic face as he watched his legion of demons march forward, radiating an aura of pure intimidation.

Within seconds, the entire army of 1,200 demons had emerged from the summoning circle, standing in unwavering formation before their ruler.

“We greet the new 63rd ruler of Hell,” the demons intoned in unison, kneeling on one knee and stabbing their weapons into the ground before bowing their heads in respect to their new ruler.

“Ruler, huh? Feels good… but once I become the king, you guys would refer to me as ‘King,’ right? That would feel even better, wouldn’t it?” Damian said casually, waving his hand.

It wasn’t just the demons in his army kneeling before him.

Every single being watching the war raised their eyebrows in succession, as if they’d just heard something ridiculous.

And it was ridiculous because Damian had just claimed that he would be called King, not merely a ruler.

A king of demons?

That meant he was declaring himself the king of biblical Hell itself.

It wasn’t just the spectators who were shocked by his statement.

Even the other rulers of Hell, watching from their domains, wore a variety of expressions.

But one thing was certain: Damian had intrigued them beyond what anyone could have expected.

Even the current king of Hell observed the scene with a small grin on his face.

There were even some gods, true gods, paying attention to this event.

They didn’t particularly care about his claim or whether he could accomplish it.

What interested them was the consequence of this unknown being rising in power so fast.

So fast that even a god would call it ridiculous.

Even more unbelievable was the fact that Damian had once been just an ordinary human, not long ago in fact.

Yet he had somehow evolved into a true high human, something no other human had achieved before him.

And now, as if it were nothing more than a trivial matter, he had transformed again, this time into a high demon.

Not just any demon.

A high demon, a rank that stood above almost all demons, second only to the progenitor of demons themselves.

First of all, there was no way for a human to turn into a demon without the intervention of a demon progenitor.

And yet, no demon progenitor existed right now.

In fact, there was no progenitor of any race in existence at this moment.

So how had this human, no, this demon, no, this being managed to transform into a high demon?

Everything about him, everything he was doing, was incomprehensible.

These were things that should have been impossible.

“Anyway,” Damian shrugged. “Now, the purpose of me summoning you.”

“Issue us the order, my lord. We shall get it done,” said a male demon standing at the front.

Judging by his aura and demeanor, he was the commander of this legion of demons under Damian’s rule.

“Well, it’s nothing much, it’s just…” Damian turned his eyes toward the plebeian vampires sprawled on the ground, shaking, trembling, shuddering, quivering, shivering, all consumed by fear.

“I just want you to kill every single one of them… Actually, you know what? Don’t kill them. Instead, remove their hands and legs from their bodies. And if they regenerate them, do it again. Keep doing it until they can’t regenerate anymore. But don’t kill them. Leave the noble vampire to me. I want to deal with him myself.”

“As you wish, my lord.”

The moment Damian’s words left his lips, the demons moved in unison.

In mere seconds, they appeared before the hundreds of quivering plebeian vampires.

Without hesitation, they began detaching limbs one by one.

A collective chorus of agony erupted as their screams filled the air, a twisted symphony of suffering.

Even those in Damian’s own faction, his most ruthless followers, felt a pang of unease at the horrors they had unleashed upon their enemies.

“Aaahhhhh…!”

“Please… stop…”

As vampires, they had incredible regeneration, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t feel pain.

They felt everything.

And the demons, with the same sadistic grins on their faces, continued to cut, stab, cleave, dismember, sunder, cull, and eviscerate every single limb. But they didn’t stop there.

As demons, they were naturally sadistic beings.

Torture was their pleasure.

They wielded their weapons however they pleased, twisted and jagged instruments designed to inflict the most excruciating agony.

They didn’t just sever limbs; they ripped out guts, cut off tongues, smashed testicles, plucked out teeth, drilled into eyeballs, and tore out organs, sometimes one by one, sometimes all at once.

These horrors were inflicted upon the plebeian vampires again and again.

Right now, the vampires’ greatest ability, their insane regeneration, was nothing but a curse.

No matter what was done to them, their bodies rapidly healed, only for them to endure the torment all over again.

They remained conscious through it all, feeling every bit of agony as their bodies were mangled, mutilated, and restored, only to be torn apart once more.

Since they were vampires, they wouldn’t die from blood loss, clotting, or dismemberment.

Destroyed organs would regrow, severed limbs would reattach, and even their mutilated bodies would recover unless their hearts or brains were utterly destroyed.

As long as they had energy, they would regenerate infinitely.

Unfortunately for them, that energy would take a long time to deplete.

And until it did, they had no choice but to scream and endure the endless torture of the demons.

“This is just one-sided torture…” Elfie muttered, gulping.

“And here you all were, debating whether he could even get strong enough to survive this war,” Sir Holloway stated with an incomprehensible expression.

“It’s not that he has just grown stronger, he has grown too strong in such a short time. It’s ridiculous.”

“At what cost? He’s a demon now,” Shiru muttered, still unable to shake off the fear from seeing the terrifying form Damian had taken.

Watching the hundreds of demons he had summoned mercilessly torturing the vampires made her even more afraid of them.

And believe me, she wasn’t the only one who felt that way.

“I don’t think so… When he appeared here, he was clearly a High Human. It could be possible that his transformation into a demon is temporary, or it could be a side effect of the Crown of the Ruler of Hell that he wields. After all, only a demon can rule Hell. Or…” Sir Holloway hesitated, another theory forming in his mind.

But it was too absurd, too ridiculous, to even voice out loud.

Because if it were true, then Damian might just be the most broken existence this universe had ever seen.

He didn’t even want to entertain the thought.

Their attention turned back to Damian in his full glory as a High Demon.

While the lowly vampires suffered under the extreme torture of the thousand demons, the noble vampire Aeron Brenlith, the arrogant fool responsible for this entire catastrophe, was facing a far worse fate.

Damian’s massive demonic hand, tipped with razor-sharp claws, clutched tightly around Aeron Brenlith’s neck, strangling him.

The noble vampire struggled, unable to breathe.

Instinctively, he activated his bloodline ability, flames erupting from his entire body in a desperate attempt to burn Damian and break free.

But it was useless.

Damian had an insane resistance to fire.

There was no way the meager flames of a young noble vampire could harm him.

The High Demon smiled as he watched Aeron struggle.

Since his transformation, Damian had gained not only all the racial abilities of a High Demon but also their sadistic nature.

Seeing Aeron squirm was oddly satisfying.

“Oh, I just had an idea,” Damian muttered, suddenly releasing the noble vampire.

Aeron stumbled to the ground, gasping for breath.

Damian could feel the absolute terror and resignation emanating from him.

Aeron regretted everything, everything that had led to this moment, especially making an enemy out of Damian.

Even under such overwhelming pressure, his mind clung to one logical conclusion: the only way out was to surrender.

After all, they were being tortured because of the war.

If the war ended, so would their suffering.

And it was clear Damian had no intention of letting them live, but he also wasn’t going to kill them quickly.

So the only escape was to admit defeat and put an end to this nightmare.

But before Aeron could open his mouth to surrender, something felt off.

A sudden heat spread through his body, followed by an excruciating pain.

He tried to scream, but no sound came.

The harder he tried, the deeper the agony grew.

And that’s when he realized something was stabbing into his neck.

A pure white sword with a dark handle had pierced straight through his throat, its blade burning scalding hot.

Blood began to pour from every hole in his body, and even that blood was literally boiling, bubbling out with smoke under the effects of the holy sword, [Mercy, The Sword of Salvation].

Damian knew exactly what he was planning to do, but he would never let that happen.

Aeron Brenlith was dead.

That was a fact.

But not before he suffered for at least a couple of hours in complete, unimaginable pain.

Damian watched as every ounce of strength drained from the noble vampire’s body.

He struggled endlessly, writhing under the torment caused by the holy sword.

Every time he mustered the will to pull the blade from his neck, the weapon seared his hands, burning him the moment he touched it.

The High Demon, Damian, raised a single finger.

A silvery white flame flickered to life above it.

The moment it appeared, several demons nearby froze.

Their attention snapped toward him, their expressions twisting with shock as they sensed something dangerously unnatural radiating from him.

Holy flame.

The impossible.

Like every other being, demons had weaknesses.

One of their greatest vulnerabilities was [Holy Essence], the energy behind holy attacks.

Demons were creatures of pure negativity, the embodiment of darkness and corruption in the universe.

Then how was the High Demon Damian wielding holy flames?

[Holy Essence] was something that only beings aligned with the positive side of the universe could control.

And yet, there it was, burning at his fingertip.

Another absurdity.

Sir Holloway’s eyes widened in yet another wave of disbelief.

“This is… How can this be possible?”

Even Archdemons, noble vampires, and even gods, beings with profound knowledge of the balance between positivity and negativity, were stunned by the sight.

Damian, however, didn’t care what they were thinking.

He was simply doing what needed to be done.

With a flick of his finger, he tossed the tiny holy flame onto the noble vampire’s trembling body.

The moment it touched him, the flame exploded, rapidly spreading over his form.

Silvery white fire engulfed him, consuming him completely.

“AAAAAHHHHHHHH!”

His scream, piercing, agonized, and wretched, cut through the chaotic battlefield.

Even amidst the war, his suffering stood out the most.

Damian grinned, his demonic face bathed in the glow of holy flames.

The eerie light made his features even more menacing.

“Don’t worry,” he said, his voice laced with cruel amusement.

“You won’t die. I’ve controlled the intensity of the flame… but it will burn you continuously, without ever killing you.”

He could already sense multiple presences closing in on him. Let them come.