Ethan didn’t remember how he got to the cabin. The last thing he remembered was speaking to Hellion.
The horse had not even blinked at the fact that he had killed the people who had raised him.
It was more interested in the self mutilation he did to his own soul and psyche instead.
While Vivian was undoubtedly annoying, rude, aggressive, obnoxious, a mean drunk, a total alcoholic.....
He lost his train of thought for a second while thinking of all the bad things he could say about her.
However, no matter how many negatives she had, there was always one good thing he would never forget.
She had been there for him. He had once been weak and feeble and would have not made it through the Church’s ’program’ if not for her.
To call that place a Church was sacriligeous in itself. The place was merely a facade to train and sell child soldiers, assassins and bodyguards.
They were so perverse in their desires ti create a better product that they even used human experimentation. Vivian’s freakish strength was the results of the work on her.
As for Ethan himself? He was given unnatural flexibility and durability. He could be soft when he wanted to be or unnaturallt hard if needed.
His ’gift’ from the church was tested in the most inhumane ways imaginable. They used blades and chainsaws to try and cut off his limbs and shot him with bullets to see the effects.
Ethan’s eyes shifted from his wandering thoughts to the cabin around him. The place was quiet, the walls of rough-hewn timber giving off a faint earthy scent. A single window let in pale light that fell across a small table near the bed. On it rested a red fruit, polished as if someone had carefully placed it there.
Next to the fruit lay a folded piece of parchment, the corner tucked neatly beneath its weight. Ethan frowned, his body tense as he reached toward it. The handwriting on the note was clean, deliberate, almost too careful. Whatever it said, it was meant for him.
He unfolded the note with careful fingers, his eyes scanning the lines.
You who believe you are bound for Hell, must help the others escape from it. Charge forward as a knight.
The signature at the bottom was unnecessary. The words carried Hellion’s weight, as if the horse itself were speaking directly into his skull. Ethan let out a long breath, the message burning in his mind.
"How the fuck can a horse write a note...." he grumbled in disbelief
Whatever this fruit was, it was not just a gift. It was a command, and Hellion expected him to follow.
Ethan lifted the fruit, weighing it in his palm before sinking his teeth into the flesh. The sweetness hit first, but it was instantly drowned out by a wave of heat so sharp it felt like his tongue had been set ablaze.
He gagged, eyes watering, clutching at his throat as though that would smother the fire roaring through his mouth.
"This... is the spiciest thing I’ve ever eaten," he rasped, voice hoarse.
The burn spread downward, churning in his chest, searing his insides. Then, just as he thought he might collapse, glowing letters shimmered before his eyes.
[You have consumed the Fruit of Hellion]
[Abilities shall be enhanced.]
[Level has been Set to Level 20]
[Blessed by Divinity has initiated Race Change]
[Race shall be set to Infernal Hound]
Ethan stumbled back against the wall, gasping as the glowing letters continued to burn in the air before him. His vision blurred, not from the heat in his mouth, but from something twisting inside his very bones. His skin prickled, shifting as if invisible hands were molding him into something new.
His nails dug into the wooden floorboards as the fire in his chest spread to every limb. It was pain unlike the blades, chainsaws, or bullets from the Church’s experiments. This was worse, yet beneath the agony lurked a dark exhilaration, a rising hunger that was not his own.
His breath came out ragged, smoke curling past his lips. For the first time in years, he felt afraid of what he was becoming.
Ethan’s body trembled as the system’s light carved itself into his being. His black hair began to shimmer, strands shifting shade by shade until they glowed with a deep fiery red, like embers smoldering in the aftermath of a blaze. He reached up, clutching a handful in disbelief as the color burned brighter with every passing heartbeat.
A sudden weight tugged at his spine. He staggered forward, groaning as something pushed its way out from the base of his back. When the sensation eased, he turned slightly, eyes widening as a wolf’s tail, thick and coarse, flicked behind him.
The fur was the same fiery red as his hair, every strand catching the faint light from the cabin’s window.
[Race change Complete]
He slumped to the floor, chest heaving as the final notification echoed through his vision. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, each pulse carrying heat that refused to fade. The fiery hair that now framed his face stuck to his damp skin, while the wolf’s tail twitched restlessly, as though it had a will of its own.
He dragged himself upright, leaning against the wall for support. His reflection in the glass window stared back, alien yet unmistakably his. The sharp glow of his new eyes, faintly tinged with crimson, unsettled him most of all. He looked less like a man and more like a predator barely caged in human form.
Then he remembered the words that Adam had told him before he logged in. He needed to check his stats.
As soon as he said that, a new screen flickered into existence in front of him.
-Race: Infernal Hound
-Title: Hellion’s Knight
-Level: 20 (0/10,000,000 EXP) Thɪs chapter is updatᴇd by 𝚗𝚘𝚟𝚎𝚕·𝚏𝚒𝚛𝚎·𝚗𝚎𝚝
Skills: Cerberus (Unique), Flame Charge, Magma Spear (Unique), Flame Mastery (C), Infernal Resistance (D), Appraisal (Innate), Battle Sense (Innate)
Equipment: Lavasunder (Unique)
Lavasunder...? Guess that’s my weapon now."
Almost as if the word itself carried power, a heavy pressure materialized in his hand. Flames coiled in his palm, twisting together until they solidified into a long obsidian-black spear streaked with glowing crimson veins. The weapon pulsed faintly, like molten rock sealed in steel.
It was beautiful in a brutal, destructive way. The head of the spear curved to a wicked point, edges serrated as if meant to tear through more than just flesh. Every inch radiated heat, enough to make the air shimmer.
When he gripped it tighter, a faint hum echoed in his ears. He wasn’t the smartest guy but with this spear in hand, he knew what he had to do.
When there was a fight to be had, he was meant to charge in first