“Listen here, you little piece of—”
“Calm down, Sedo. Don’t let him get into your head.”
Morton’s laughter rolled through the factory, thick and ugly. Adam watched the brothers carefully, cataloguing every twitch, every shift of weight. Sedo’s rage was loud and clumsy. Morton hid his behind humor. Eric—Eric smiled too easily. That one was dangerous.
“Morton’s right,” Eric said, patting Sedo’s shoulder. “No need to get worked up over some no-named bastard. He’s not the first bug to bark… but we’ll make sure this is his last.”
The brothers smiled in unison.
Adam smiled back.
“All Priests, get in here!” Morton roared.
The sound slammed into the factory walls and rebounded, a command steeped in authority and blood. Panic rippled through the prisoners like a shockwave. Adam watched them scatter—some bolting for paths they didn’t know would save them, others froze for half a heartbeat before instinct took over. He didn’t blame them. Running was better than waiting.
Within seconds, Adam stood alone.
He didn’t move.
Less than a minute later, twenty black-robed figures rushed into the open space, skidding to a halt as they dropped to their knees.
“Bishop Morton, why have you summoned—?”
“I don’t want excuses from incompetent trash!” Sedo bellowed. His body quaked with every word. “This is the third escape attempt this week!”
The Priests pressed their foreheads to the floor. Adam could smell their fear even from here—sweat, desperation, the metallic edge of terror. They didn’t dare look up. Under guild law, a Bishop could slaughter them on a whim.
“…Who told you to prostrate—”
“Enough,” Eric cut in, his voice smooth. “Let me handle this.”
He stepped forward, smiling as though this were a negotiation instead of an execution.
“I’m in a good mood today,” Eric said. “So I’ll make this simple. Look up.”
The Priests obeyed instantly. Adam caught their expressions—eyes wide, faces pale, mouths slightly open as if they’d been holding their breath for hours.
Eric pointed.
“Do you see that bastard?”
Twenty heads turned toward Adam.
“Y-Yes, Bishop.”
“Good. Whoever brings me his head walks free. Five minutes.”
Something broke.
The Priests surged forward, weapons sliding from sleeves and hidden compartments. Adam felt it immediately—the hunger in their eyes, the knowledge that only one of them would live. They weren’t here to kill him. They were here to outpace each other.
A flicker of apprehension crossed their faces as Adam met their gaze.
Then fear of failure drowned it out.
“You better not struggle!” the fastest Priest snarled, lunging forward. Twin swords flashed toward Adam’s stomach, precise and merciless.
Adam twisted aside at the last instant.
A halberd screamed toward him from the flank.
He pivoted, kicked the shaft, and felt the vibration run up his leg as the weapon deflected—just in time to knock an arrow off course. He leapt.
Steel hissed past where his head had been.
Shurikens tore through the air, spinning wildly. Adam arched his body midair, forcing his muscles to obey through pain and adrenaline. He felt exposed—too exposed.
They didn’t care.
Projectiles flew upward, indiscriminate and savage. One Priest screamed as another’s blade clipped him. Adam hit the ground, and something punched through his thigh.
He screamed as the spear pinned muscle to bone. Fire erupted through his leg. Laughter followed.
“Got him!”
Before Adam could rip free, two khopeshes slammed into his shoulders, biting deep. The force sent him crashing onto his back. The world blurred. Pain screamed through every nerve.
The Priests descended.
They clawed at him like animals, hacking and tearing, screaming over one another as they fought for position. Blades struck flesh. Someone’s foot slammed into his ribs. Adam tasted blood.
Then… nothing.
“What the hell are you doing?!”
Eric’s scream cut through the factory.
Adam stood.
Blood dripped from his clothes—but it wasn’t his, pooling beneath his feet. The Priests surrounded him—motionless. Their weapons hung limply in their hands. Their eyes were empty, unfocused.
Over a minute had passed.
“Kill him!” Sedo roared. “Are you rebelling?!”
No one moved.
Then, without warning, the Priests turned on each other.
Adam didn’t blink.
They laughed as they slaughtered one another—high-pitched, broken sounds that scraped against the air. Blades hacked into flesh. Blood sprayed across the walls. Limbs hit the floor with wet thuds. One Priest danced atop a corpse as he stabbed another through the throat.
Twenty seconds later, silence returned.
Adam stood in the center of it all, surrounded by gore and ruin. He straightened slowly, ignoring the remains of the surrounding massacre.
The Cartman Brothers stared blankly.
Fear. Confusion. Rage. And a host of emotions flashing across their faces.
Adam smiled, savoring their confusion.
“Brothers,” Eric whispered, voice tight. “No more underestimating him. Formation. Now. That ability—if we don’t end this fast—”
Adam tilted his head.
“Are you done whispering?” he asked mildly. “Or are you sending more?”
Sedo snapped. “Don’t get cocky, brat! You beat some E-rank trash—”
Adam laughed.
It came out harsh and uncontrolled, tearing at his chest. He clutched his stomach, breath hitching as the sound echoed.
“…Sorry,” he said, still chuckling. “I didn’t mean to laugh. It just slipped.”
Morton’s eyes glowed faint red as he stared. “You read intel on us?” he asked.
“A lot,” Adam affirmed with a nod.
“Then you must know about my ability.”
Adam nodded again, noticing the distinct glow in the man’s eyes.
“You’re just a D-rank trash,” Morton spat. “What do you think you’re going to do?”
Adam shrugged. “One-on-one? I’d win,” he said. “But you fatties would never let that happen.”
Sedo snarled. “Then cry about it if it’s unfair.”
“Unfair?” Adam grinned. “No. You misunderstood.”
The temperature suddenly dropped.
Ice formed midair, sharp and sudden. Dozens of icicles manifested at once, hovering for a fraction of a second before launching toward Adam from every angle.
The impact thundered through the factory.
“Did you get him?” Sedo asked eagerly.
“I don’t miss,” Eric said—then stopped.
Six red stains bloomed within the frozen field.
“As expected,” Adam’s voice said calmly. “You got bored of all the talking.”
The ice shattered.
A roar shook the factory. Adam stepped forward, and abominations emerged beside him.
Morton’s hands trembled. “This… this is not possible…” he muttered.
Their ranks were impossible.
Adam smiled.
“You see,” he said softly, “I’m just like you.”
He looked at them with open delight. “Why fight a fair fight when you can win via a one-sided beating.”
Sedo leaned closer to Morton, his voice barely carrying over the low hum of the factory.
“Morton… how strong are those things?”
No answer.
Sedo frowned. “Hey—Morton? How—”
He stopped.
Morton’s face had gone slack, his pupils dilated, breath shallow. He looked… wrong. Not wounded. Not tired.
Terrified.
Eric noticed it too. His gaze lingered on their brother longer than it should have.
Sedo’s patience snapped. He struck the back of Morton’s head with an open palm.
“Snap out of it! How strong are they?!”
Morton jerked. “Huh? Why did you—”
“Forget that,” Sedo cut in. His eyes flicked between Adam and the looming Demonkin. “Can we win?”
The silence that followed was heavier than before.
“Morton,” Eric pressed, keeping his voice steady. “Answer him.”
Morton swallowed. His throat worked as if forcing the words out physically hurt.
“We need to leave. Two of them… at least B-rank Awakened.” His voice dropped. “We retreat—”
Too late.
Adam moved.
The world lurched as he and the Familiars exploded forward, the sudden acceleration ripping apart the brothers’ formation. Adam didn’t give them time to think—he never did.
They split cleanly.
Nokum and an unranked Demonkin thundered toward Sedo. Salma and another unranked Demonkin veered for Eric. Adam himself angled toward Morton, one more unranked Demonkin pacing him half a step behind.
Never let them fight together.
Adam had memorized the intel. The brothers were strongest when layered, their abilities overlapping into something far more dangerous than the sum of its parts. He wouldn’t allow it.
With Nokum and Salma, coordination barely mattered. Their presence alone warped the battlefield.
And Adam wanted this over quickly.
Luck, rare and fleeting, had smiled on him tonight. If Vicar had known about the two Disaster-ranked Demonkin accompanying him, this mission would have been far less pleasant.
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Adam closed the distance with Morton in a blink.
“Who said you could leave?” Adam asked, smiling as their eyes met.
Morton’s face drained of color. “Who are you?” he demanded. “What do you gain from this?”
From the side, Sedo roared, “Don’t listen to him! Morton, this could be another trick!”
Adam didn’t look away from Morton, but he felt it—the shift in Sedo’s presence. The man believed this was deception. A bluff.
Good, Adam thought. Doubt kills faster than fear.
Sedo slammed his palms into his own stomach.
Once.
Twice.
The sound echoed wetly through the factory. With each strike, Sedo’s eyes brightened, bleeding into an unnatural green as his abdomen swelled grotesquely.
On the tenth strike, pale green liquid dribbled from the corners of his mouth. Where it hit the steel floor, the metal blackened and sagged as if decades of corrosion occurred in seconds.
Sedo’s stomach ballooned to triple its size. His skin turned gray and rough, but his eyes burned like emeralds.
Nearby, Eric transformed as well.
Ice crawled over his body, forming layered armor that locked into place with sharp, cracking sounds. Spiked gauntlets formed along his limbs, and curved protrusions erupted from his spine—blood-red ice that pulsed faintly against the cold blue of the rest.
Only Morton remained outwardly unchanged.
But Adam felt it.
The glow in Morton’s eyes sharpened, focusing into something precise and dangerous.
“No B-rank Awakened would go to this trouble,” Morton whispered grimly. “It doesn’t matter if this is another illusion … one side dies here.”
Adam stood still.
He watched them change.
His smile widened.
It had been a while since anyone had taken him seriously enough to bare their fangs this early.
“Well?” Adam said lightly. “If you’re going to do something—do it.”
Sedo answered with violence.
His body swelled again, muscles bulging unnaturally before he convulsed—and vomited.
A tidal surge of foul-smelling, pale green liquid erupted from him, spraying in all directions. The volume was obscene. The pressure relentless.
Steel floors hissed and collapsed. Machinery melted into bubbling slag. The factory screamed as the acid consumed everything it touched.
Most of it poured directly onto Nokum and the unranked Demonkin.
The torrent swallowed them whole.
Adam couldn’t see either of them through the deluge—only the ceaseless rain of destruction.
Across the factory, Eric attacked.
Icicles screamed through the air in an unbroken barrage, detonating against Salma and its partner with explosive force. As Sedo’s corrosive vomit drifted toward him, Eric’s ability altered the battlefield again.
The temperature plummeted.
Instead of freezing, the liquid vaporized.
A thick, purple mist flooded the factory, rolling across the floor and crawling up walls. Anything it touched corroded instantly, dissolving into nothing.
“Even if you are B-rank,” Morton shouted, “you’ll die here! No one survives our attacks!”
Adam felt it then.
Pressure.
It crushed down on him from all sides—violent, absolute—then vanished just as suddenly.
He couldn’t move.
Neither could the Familiars.
The factory disappeared.
In its place was a vast white space, crisscrossed by glowing geometric patterns that stretched endlessly in every direction.
Morton’s voice echoed, disembodied.
“So what if you know our abilities? Knowing is meaningless if you can’t stop them.”
Adam listened calmly.
He couldn’t see Morton—but he could feel him.
“…You aren’t the first to underestimate us because of rank,” Morton continued. “And like the rest, you’ll die here.”
The words rang through the white void.
Adam chuckled.
“We’ll see if you can still laugh when I’m done with you…”
Even though Morton remained invisible to Adam, he could feel the venom behind the words, sharp and deliberate. He motioned to his Familiars, commanding them as naturally as breathing.
“Two of you—find him. Attack.”
Their eyes flared a savage red. In a heartbeat, restrictions that had held their bodies snapped. They surged forward—but the change was immediate and disorienting. One teleported over sixty meters away, vanishing from Adam’s line of sight. The other walked upside down, drifting two hundred feet across the void of the World of Solitude.
Morton’s laughter echoed, omnipresent and jagged.
“You think you’re the only one with tricks? My World of Solitude controls everything here. No matter what you do—it’s pointless. Just wait for your death!”
Adam’s calm didn’t waver. “Return here,” he said.
The Familiars faltered. One sprawled across the floor, limbs twitching uncontrollably; the other rotated in midair, spinning like a grotesque clockwork toy. No matter how hard they tried, Adam’s command couldn’t reach them fully. A sudden chill brushed Adam’s skin—the temperature of the World of Solitude plummeted. He frowned.
Morton’s voice, cruel and distant, sliced through the void again.
“No matter what you do—it’s useless. No one leaves my Domain. Soon, the poisonous gas will kill you. I can’t wait to extract your ability!”
Adam’s lips quirked into a grin.
Years of intelligence and pattern recognition flashed through his mind. He knew this scenario. The trio had hunted far stronger Awakened using the same blueprint: Morton ensnared the target in his Domain, then Sedo and Eric unleashed their combined might. The trapped prey—helpless against the poisonous gas within the Domain—would perish slowly, painfully, and inevitably.
finally, Adam’s body trembled, anticipation sparking in his veins. A real Domain. This sadist finally did something useful.
Domains were rare, almost mythical among Awakened. Only a handful ever manifested one, and the strength of the Domain always hinged on the user’s connection to their Blessing. Inside it, the user ruled absolute control—so complete that even the strongest could succumb to its influence.
From Elliot’s files, Adam already knew the rules. Morton’s World of Solitude triggered upon checking a target’s rank. If the target was less than three ranks above him, Morton could assess it and mentally trap them in the Domain. The barrier projected false reality, a simulation indistinguishable from the real world—but pain, outside interference, even luck, could do nothing. Failure to escape could crush the mind entirely.
Morton’s projection reappeared, gloating.
“You’re trembling already. I can’t wait to watch you squirm. Your death will be long… and exquisite.”
Adam laughed, low and dark.
“What’s so funny? Think—”
“The last few months have been awful,” Adam cut him off, eyes glinting. “But today’s harvest… makes it worthwhile. Who would have thought I’d get a Domain so soon?”
Morton’s brow furrowed, confusion flickering across his spectral face.
Adam’s laughter intensified. Yes. This is going to be fun.
Morton’s patience broke. “Enough!” he snarled.
He commanded the mental barrier in Adam’s mind to detonate—force him into suffering.
Nothing happened.
Morton’s projection froze. His control was evaporating. The World of Solitude should have collapsed alongside the barrier he created in the victim’s subconscious—but it didn’t.
Adam’s laughter echoed again, rancorous, endless. Beneath his feet, a black spot began to bloom. It spread rapidly, devouring the light, swallowing the domain itself. Morton's eyes widened in terror.
“Why the serious face?” Adam teased, stepping forward. “I thought you were sending me to hell. Well… if you won’t act, I’ll come over.”
Morton’s jaw dropped. Adam moved unimpeded across the Domain. His steps expanded the darkness beneath him, consuming Morton's world as if it were paper to fire.
“How… how is he moving?” Morton whispered, dread twisting every nerve.
Adam’s voice, calm and clear, carried across the void.
“I can tell you how… if you want.”
Morton spun, searching for the source—but the Familiars and Adam were gone. Darkness had swallowed half of the Domain in an instant.
“I’ve been waiting for this,” Adam said, eyes gleaming as the black tendrils rose, coiling around Morton's projection. “Your ability is impressive… but I had to see it for myself. I hope you enjoyed it—because this is the last time.”
The tendrils tightened, dragging Morton downward. His protests were a broken scream, cut short as he shattered into a million fragments. The World of Solitude imploded behind him, devoured by Adam’s creeping void.
Purple gas, previously filling the factory, now clung to the wreckage. Machinery lay twisted, rusted, decayed. Within the toxic haze, Morton knelt, blood streaking his pale face. His eyes—once glowing with malice—were dull, listless.
Before him stood Adam, blue eyes blazing through white hair, flanked by three aberrant Familiars. Between them, two motionless bodies bore gruesome wounds. A harbinger of death, unmistakable, and unyielding.
To Adam’s left, Sedo lay splayed across the floor. A jagged hole rent his abdomen, blood and unidentifiable fluids pouring from the wound. His guts were exposed, writhing slightly as the last of his life clung to him.
To his right, Eric’s body was a ruined sculpture. He lay face-first, blackened burn marks running across his scorched flesh. The crimson spike on his back had long since shattered, his spine crumpled beneath it. Both legs were mangled into a twisted tangle of bone and tissue. Consciousness had long since fled him.
Adam’s gaze swept across the devastation.
How quickly a battlefield can turn, he thought, his smile unreadable. All it took was the right counter, the right timing.
Morton’s voice trembled, disbelief laced with fury.
“How… how is this possible?!”
He couldn’t comprehend it. Moments ago, he had the upper hand. He had the Domain, the leverage. Now, Adam had unmade it—and reduced his brothers to ruin. Even as a rank-B Awakened, Adam shouldn’t have been capable of decimating them like livestock.
Adam strolled casually toward Morton, his voice light, teasing.
“Are you sure you want to know?” he asked. “While you were busy showing off, they got the beating of their lives. If you’d been paying attention, maybe you could’ve delayed it a minute or two.”
Morton’s eyes turned bloodshot, burning with hatred. There was no one he despised more than the youth standing before him.
Adam’s smile widened, almost cheerful, almost playful.
“If only looks could kill, right?”
Morton spat at him, the only outlet left for his wrath. But before the projectile could reach Adam, Nokum’s massive hand intercepted it, tilting Sedo’s head into its path. Morton’s body tensed… and then his jaw exploded under Nokum’s strike, bones shattering in a single, merciless hit.
Adam didn’t flinch. He could have easily sidestepped, but letting Nokum enforce justice had a certain… poetry to it.
Even Salma, usually playful and detached, growled low, the sound vibrating through the factory. Its focus burned with nothing but the desire to reduce Morton to ash.
Morton’s voice cracked, strained and ragged.
“Mon… mon… ster… yo-you will… pa-pa-pay… fo-for… this…”
Adam’s smile brightened, the humor of the situation sharpening into something darker. He tilted his head, eyes glittering with a sinister light.
“You… of all people… calling me a monster?” he said. “What’s wrong with being a monster?”
He took deliberate, measured steps toward Morton’s kneeling form, looming over him.
“You think I’m a monster? Then I’ll show you what a real monster looks like. Consider this payment… for your Domain.”
Before Morton could react, black tendrils surged from the shadows. They coiled around Sedo and Eric’s bodies with impossible speed, tight and unyielding. Adam’s grin never faltered as the tendrils twisted and squeezed. The brothers’ muffled screams erupted into ear-piercing, bone-snapping howls that reverberated through the factory, mingling with the hiss of corroding machinery and the thick, oppressive mist of the purple gas.
Morton flinched, horrified, powerless to intervene. Each second, the tendrils constricted further, and the sounds of agony lessened, replaced by the sickening crunch of sinew and bone. Within sixty seconds, the writhing mass of darkness had compressed, shrinking to the size of oranges, leaving behind nothing but the echo of terror and the shadow of Adam’s control.
Adam’s eyes glimmered. Calm and merciless. Morton realized, too late, that all his tricks, every layer of his Domain, had been undone—and all that remained was Adam, standing above the ruin, a true predator, smiling at his helpless prey.
[Devouring Completed.]
[Would you like to begin assimilation?]
[Yes!] [No!]
Adam smiled as he stared at the notification. All traces of Eric and Sedo—two of the infamous Cartman triplets—had been reduced to nothing more than lingering masses of volatile energy.
His gaze shifted to Nokum and Salma.
“Let them devour it,” he muttered.
Both Familiars flinched.
Then came a roar from deep within his subconscious.
“Are you out of your mind?” the demonic voice snarled. “You should strengthen yourself first before empowering them. Do you want them to betray you?”
Adam frowned. They can betray me?
His eyes flicked back to Nokum and Salma.
Nokum remained dignified, its molten gaze occasionally drifting toward the remnants of Eric and Sedo. Salma, on the other hand, made no attempt to hide its hunger—its tail wagged furiously, eyes burning with anticipation.
[Are you willing to proceed with the previous command?]
Adam looked back to the system prompt.
“Don’t do it!” the demon hissed. “Trust me!”
Adam exhaled slowly, studying the Familiars. They couldn’t speak, but the expectation in their eyes was unmistakable.
“System,” he said firmly, “do it.”
“You idiot!” the demonic voice howled. “Do you have any idea what you’ve just done?!”
Adam didn’t reply.
[Assimilation commencing…]
Blackened tendrils erupted from the devoured mass, streaking toward Nokum and Salma. They pierced into their fiery bodies, embedding themselves deep within molten flesh.
Their magma-like skins pulsed violently as both Familiars screamed—sounds so warped and unnatural that even the unranked Demonkins collapsed to the ground, prostrating themselves without Adam’s command.
A moment later, the tendrils expanded outward, forming a cocoon that completely engulfed both Familiars.
[Assimilation Completed!]
Adam stiffened.
What happens now?
The thought had barely formed when fractures split across the cocoon. Cracks spiderwebbed rapidly.
Adam took a step back.
The cocoon detonated.
And then—he saw them.
The feral savagery that once defined Nokum and Salma was gone.
Nokum appeared more human than before, its skin still glowing faintly like molten stone beneath flesh. Salma had abandoned its lizard-like form entirely, emerging in a humanoid—distinctly feminine—shape, magma veins tracing elegant lines across her body.
“You will regret this!” the demonic voice roared. “Mark my words!”
Then system notifications erupted.
[You have infringed on The Omen Order!]
[The Omen has recorded your existence!]
[Connection to Omen has strengthened!]
[The Omen has recognized your existence!]
[Connection to Omen has strengthened!]
[The Omen has identified your Path!]
[Connection to The Omen has strengthened!]
[The Omen will allow your existence!]
[Connection to Omen has strengthened!]
[The Omen is wary of your existence!]
[Connection to Omen has strengthened!]
[Familiars Successfully Strengthened!]
Name: Salma
Race: Omen Being
Class: Berserker
Abilities: Magma Manipulation; Breath of the Northern Winds; Body Transformation
Omen Rank: Demonkin (Havoc)
Loyalties: Undecided
Name: Nokum
Race: Omen Being
Class: Warrior
Abilities: Sword Master; Breath of the Underworld; Body Transformation
Omen Rank: Demonkin (Havoc)
Loyalties: Undecided
Adam was still reading when movement caught his attention.
Nokum and Salma approached.
Their strides were confident. Their molten eyes sharp. The arrogance in their posture was unmistakable—the arrogance of power.
Adam didn’t avert his gaze.
They stopped three feet away.
Then, both dropped to their knees.
Adam’s brows shot upward.
And then he heard it.
“I greet you, Lord.”
They spoke in unison, voices cracked—as if awakened after countless years of isolation.
Adam froze.
They… spoke?
Holy fuck.
[Ranked Demonkins have recognized you as a Lord!]
[The Omen has bestowed you a title!]
[Title: Lord (Candidate)]
[Loyalties of your Familiars have been updated!]
[Loyalties: Lord of ???]
Adam stared at the notifications, his mind struggling to process the cascade of changes.
“You?” the demonic voice whispered, disbelief seeping through its tone. “They chose you?”
Its voice turned bitter. “How can one man be so fortunate…”
“What do you mean?” Adam asked.
Silence.
He studied the title again. Lord.
From the demon’s reaction alone, he knew it carried weight—far more than the system let on.
They’re ranked higher than me now, Adam thought. And yet… loyal.
He inhaled sharply.
“Rise,” he commanded.
They obeyed instantly.
“We have much to discuss,” Adam said calmly, “but now isn’t the time. Return.”
“Yes, Lord.”
They bowed and vanished.
Adam turned toward Morton.
“You’re still alive?” he said pleasantly. “Let’s fix that.”
Morton never had the chance to scream.
Black tendrils burst from Adam’s arm, wrapping around the man like living restraints. Within seconds, Morton was fully encased.
Then came the screams.
Shrill. Desperate. Maniacal.
The mass shrank. The screams intensified.
Then nothing.
An orange-sized orb hovered before Adam.
The Cartman Brothers were completely erased.
[Devouring Completed.]
[Would you like to begin assimilation?]
Adam paused.
“…Yes.”
The orb surged into his mouth, detonating into raw power.
Adam doubled over, groaning as if every cell in his body were being torn apart and reforged simultaneously. His reflection shimmered in the blood beneath him, eyes flickering between crimson and azure.
Is it supposed to hurt this much?
He staggered forward, refusing to fall.
Then darkness claimed his vision.
[Assimilation Completed!]
[Title Acquired: Domain Inheritor!]
[Domains Gained:]
Manipulator — Absolute Control
Illusionist — World of Phantasm
Devourer — World of ???
Dominator — Conqueror
[You have received 20 Omen Points!]
