John was born with no talent.
No power. Nothing special.
His family threw him out when they found out. Called him useless. Said he would only bring shame.
At just seventeen, he was abandoned.
He lived in the slums. Starved. Worked dirty jobs to survive.
Years passed, and for the first time, he thought he had found happiness. He met a woman.
She was kind. She smiled at him like he mattered. He fell in love. Married her. He thought he finally had something to protect.
But life was cruel again.
She cheated on him. With his best friend. In their own home.
When he caught them, they laughed. They called him weak and said that they were only pretending all this time.
That night, John walked to a bridge, ready to end it all. He didn't wish to live in this cruel world.
But someone stopped him.
A man in robes. A cult leader.
He didn't offer pity—he offered purpose. He told John the truth: the world is rotten. Full of lies. Full of monsters hiding behind smiles.
Only a full purge could fix it.
And that's what the Demon King would bring.
John made a contract with a low-level demon—a "divine messenger" of the Demon King.
The pain nearly tore him apart, but it gave him power. For the first time in his life, he felt strong.
Years passed; after surviving countless suicidal missions, he became one of the leaders of their cult, The Drowned Pact.
They were a small cult, with the strongest of their forces being at apprentice rank, but they were loyal. Full of broken people like him.
Then the chance for them to rise above other cults arrived.
A mission was assigned.
Capture the princess. Kill the students. Wreck the academy.
It was dangerous. Maybe even suicide.
But one of the younger disciples of Greed—one of the Seven Deadly Lineages—offered assistance.
Though weak himself, he commanded powerful cults.
He couldn't join, but he sent one of his stronger cults to stall the elites and professors.
All John had to do was lead the slaughter of the weak and capture the princess.
And he would do it without hesitation.
Because the world took everything from him. Now, he was going to burn it all down.
That was the same reason he was here today.
John looked down at the black-haired boy.
Crimson eyes that once burnt with rage now trembled in fear.
He was amused at first—the kid had appeared all of a sudden and made one of his attacks disappear. That shouldn't have been possible for an Initiate Ranked Individual.
John had almost offered him a place in the cult.
But the kid had been silent. Cold. Arrogant. Refused to answer a single question.
John's patience snapped.
So what if he had an artifact? He couldn't even dodge a half-strength punch. properly.
Typical spoilt noble brat. All pride, no substance.
This one—he would kill slowly.
Tear him apart for daring to act high and mighty.
Maybe take the artifact, too.
The boy's eyes trembled. His figure was shaking slightly.
His mouth opened and closed as if to say something.
Soon John was in front of the boy.
"Let's see if you still keep that pride," he muttered, "when I'm pulling your arms out one by one."
The boy's silence finally cracked.
"Please, sir, spare me." He pleaded; tears started to form in his eyes.
"Give me the artifact you used to defend against my attack." John said.
The boy slowly raised his trembling hands.
In it, he held his katana—his one hand on the hilt and the other on the edge of the blade.
"This is… the artifact," he muttered, voice shaky. "Just don't kill me…"
As if I'll spare you.
He reached out his hands towards the blade.
Just then—he heard a swish sound.
His shield artifact shimmered to life to protect him from something.
Is someone attacking me?
Before he could understand anything.
John's breath hitched. His body froze.
His vision flipped—sky below, ground above. For a second, he couldn't tell if he was falling or flying.
Then he saw the boy's face.
No longer afraid. No longer trembling.
A calm, emotionless expression stared back at him—cold and sharp.
In that instant, John understood.
Alden thought as he looked at the approaching demon contractor.
He could feel from his gaze that the enemy didn't consider him much of a threat anymore.
But Alden couldn't take the risk. He decided to solidify his act.
He shook his body ever so slightly. He even controlled the movements of his eyes to appear scared.
He continued to track the enemy through his Spirit Domain.
Just then the robed figure stopped a few steps away from his position.
"Let's see if you still keep that pride," he muttered, "when I'm pulling your arms out one by one."
Alden let tears flow from his eyes, acting as desperate as possible. "Please, sir, spare me."
The robed figure smirked and asked about the artifact Alden had used to make his attack vanish.
Alden hasn't attacked yet. The enemy was still a few steps outside his range.
So he threw a bait. His sword.
He raised his katana with both hands. One on the hilt and one hand on the dull edge of the sword.
It was the perfect position that would let him attack at a moment's notice.
The demon contractor reached out for the katana.
The moment he entered Alden's range.
His fingers twisted. The grip reversed in a blink.
From his crouched position, Alden's body spun low, pivoting on one knee.
His other leg swept outward for balance—like a dancer mid-turn.
He activated his [Ruinous Severance], letting out bursts of energy at right moments.
Just as the sword was about to make contact, a shimmering shield barrier formed around the demon contractor.
But Alden was prepared.
He activated the effects of his Sword of Chaos–the one to ignore any magical or physical defence.
His katana shifted. The metal twisted unnaturally, pulsing with dark, formless energy.
It passed through the barrier.
Before the demon contractor could even scream, his head was neatly sliced off his shoulder.
The head flew through the air as a crimson arc erupted from the now headless shoulder.
Alden didn't even glance at the fallen demon contractor and just flicked his katana to clean the blood on it before sheathing it back.
He had defeated an enemy a major level higher than him.
He could have won without using deception, but that would have cost time and more energy. It would've been inefficient.
Voidheart deactivated.
His breath finally hitched.
His mana was drained and his muscles ached.
Although he hadn't taken that much damage, it was still a considerable amount.
He took out a healing potion and a mana potion. He poured it in his mouth without a second thought.
The stench of blood lingered in the air, and the severed head lay still at his feet.
Alden closed his eyes for a moment, letting the tension fade from his shoulders.
The battle was over. But not the war.
He turned toward the ruins, where more cultists waited. His first plan was to join with Aziel and Cecilia. Then move toward Amyra and Nyx.
Then, without a sound, he vanished.