Fire raged within Max's soul.
His breath was uneven, his body shaking—not from fear, but from uncontrollable fury.
They had taken Vaelis.
They had ripped the only shred of warmth he had in this place.
Now, the system appeared before him, its glowing text hovering in the infernal sky.
[LEVEL UP REQUIREMENTS: SLAY 100 MONSTERS]
Max clenched his teeth.
"100?" His voice was hollow, laced with venom.
"100 are not enough."
His grip on his sword tightened.
"I will erase their entire species."
---
There was no hesitation.
Max charged.
The horde of demons before him barely had time to react before his blade cleaved through the first one—its blood spraying across the charred ground.
Another demon lunged.
Max twisted—his remaining arm striking with deadly precision.
A third fell.
A fourth.
His movements were relentless, fueled by blind wrath. His body was battered, broken, but his hatred burned hotter than Hell itself.
The battlefield was a storm of chaos—his sword cutting down creatures one after another. Fifty slain. Sixty. Seventy.
Then he saw it.
A slime-like beast—its shifting form pulsating with unstable energy.
A monster capable of detonation.
Max grabbed it.
He didn't think.
Didn't strategize.
He threw it into the heart of the demon's base.
The creature exploded.
A blinding shockwave tore through the land, a volcanic eruption of destruction.
The screams of one hundred creatures filled the air.
Then—silence.
---
Max stood among the wreckage, chest heaving, body drenched in blood.
The system flickered before him.
[LEVEL 1 → LEVEL 2]
He had done it.
He had erased them.
But the world did not grant him victory.
Instead—
A shadow rose behind him.
A towering figure, armored in darkness, its presence suffocating.
The boss had arrived.
And it was not pleased.
Max turned, raising his blade—
But he was too slow.
A monstrous fist slammed into his chest.
His ribs shattered.
Blood spilled from his lips.
He collapsed, gasping for air—his vision spinning, his body failing him.
Before he could react, thick chains wrapped around his throat.
---
He was a prisoner.
Dragged deep into the abyss, his body bound, his mind swimming in agony.
The demons did not kill him immediately.
That would be too kind.
Instead—
They wanted him broken.
Max's first taste of torment was the bladed whips—each strike searing through his flesh, peeling away burnt skin.
The second was the heat—his body subjected to blistering temperatures, his wounds boiling under the infernal flames.
The third was starvation—days without food, his stomach twisting in unbearable hunger.
And the fourth—
The fourth was his mind.
They whispered to him.
Mocked him.
Told him how Vaelis's death meant nothing.
That his rage was useless.
That he would never escape.
Max screamed, fought, resisted—
But the torture did not end.
Hours. Days. Weeks.
Pain became his existence.
And slowly—
Slowly, cracks began to form within his soul.