Mystery: The Stranger

Chapter 4 Void Demons

"Perhaps it's not that this mark is too strong," Snow said, twirling the black horn-like object covered in eerie patterns between his fingers, his tone as calm as if discussing the weather, "but rather that you are too weak."

He glanced at the mist that had gathered again outside the altar, his fingertips gently tracing the cool lines on the surface of the mark, his eyes devoid of any inquisitive intent: "This mark is so faint, like spider silk, yet you haven't been able to erode it in the slightest—it's obvious whose fault it is."

Snow Serin understood. This matter involved the original creator, so there was no need to delve into it. Even if you studied a single leaf to its fullest extent, could you possibly uncover the essence of the entire forest?

"Insolence! How dare a mortal speak ill of the power of the void?" Xalatas's whisper suddenly sharpened, tinged with a hint of embarrassment at being exposed, but she was too lazy to dwell on the issue of strength. She would never be at a disadvantage in such matters. "So what if the mark is shallow? The existence it may involve is beyond the comprehension of a mere child like you."

Her tone shifted abruptly, becoming languid and seductive, with a practiced, persuasive quality: "But... there's no point in dwelling on these things. This 'junk' in your hand is far more interesting than that little bit of soul nourishment you just had."

"We all clearly saw the demon's memories just now. The divine path in this world truly deserves to be called a stairway to heaven."

Xalatas's laughter had a metallic crackle. "I can use the power of the void to temporarily isolate that mark and shield you from its effects—would you like to try absorbing it?"

"By consuming this trait, you will directly master the power of Sequence 6: malicious perception, demonization, foul language… all the abilities belonging to demons will be yours." She deliberately slowed her speech, each word like poison dipped in honey. "No need for long, arduous training; simply consume higher-sequence traits to ascend step by step. Is there any easier path to transcendence in this world?"

Xalatas chuckled softly, his tone carrying a seductive allure that could make anyone succumb: "With my assistance, it won't be long before you ascend to the level of a demigod, stand shoulder to shoulder with angels, and even... touch the realm of the true gods."

"As Natalie once said, all forces that come to you willingly will eventually demand an equal price at some turning point in fate." Snow didn't respond immediately, but instead softly repeated the proverb from his memory, his voice devoid of emotion.

"But now that we've come to a new world, it's equally foolish to simply reject it." He slowly clenched the black, horn-like object in his palm, the icy touch seeping into his skin. "We need to survive, we need to disguise ourselves. Even if... we have to don the skin of a demon."

Snow did not refuse Saratas's offer. He raised his hand and waved it lightly, stirring up the damp sea air. A clear water mirror instantly formed in front of him, its surface as transparent as ice crystals, clearly reflecting the body's appearance. It wasn't outstanding; it had the most common, ordinary appearance of a commoner on the northern coast. His eyebrows and eyes still carried a hint of youthful immaturity, his nose wasn't particularly high, and his lips were somewhat thin. His only remaining advantage was his vibrant youth.

"I knew you wouldn't let me down." Xalatas's cheerful laughter echoed in my ears, filled with undisguised satisfaction, and the void energy seemed to soften slightly as a result.

Snow ignored the laughter around him. He stared at the unfamiliar face in the mirror, then suddenly spoke, his voice so soft it was almost swallowed by the mist:

"Theoretically, since I'm helping you get revenge, your body should be at my disposal."

Even knowing it was just a meaningless farewell, he still spoke a few words to the boy who had long since died. Out of a tiny bit of so-called humanitarianism.

"Let's become demons together."

Snow weighed the extraordinary substance in his hand; the black, horn-like substance was soft, yet carried a chilling weight. Without hesitation, he tilted his head back and swallowed it.

The taste wasn't great. The first thing you tasted was a strong sulfurous smell, mixed with the unique rotten smell of the abyss, which made your throat feel tight. But that characteristic didn't linger; it quickly turned into a warm liquid that slid down your throat and into your stomach.

Directly consuming the extraordinary characteristics of a Sequence 6 demon from the Abyss Path to advance is an adventure that is almost suicidal. Even ordinary extraordinary beings, with sufficient mental strength, need to digest the power gradually. If they are not careful, they will be devoured by the violent malice contained in the characteristics and turned into monsters who only know destruction and killing.

But Snow is different—he is an extraordinary being. The Dark Priest's exquisite control over the mind, the void, and the soul makes his mind as hard and stable as steel tempered by ice, enough to withstand the impact of this violent power.

The power of the demonic pathway erupted within him like a volcano awakening, scalding energy surging and swirling wildly through his veins, bringing waves of tearing pain wherever it passed. Then, a pure malice, like a persistent, insidious affliction, began to try to infiltrate his mind, to merge with his soul, and to tempt him to unleash the violence and destructive desires deep within him.

Normal promotions don't hurt much, but this is just an ordinary human body. Skipping Sequence 9 to Sequence 7 and directly consuming the characteristics of Sequence 6, the body transforms into a demon and undergoes flesh and blood modification, which is naturally quite painful.

Snow frowned slightly, a fine layer of cold sweat beading on his forehead, yet he remained conscious. With a thought, an invisible mental barrier instantly enveloped the core of his soul, firmly blocking the malice that attempted to influence his mind, and forcibly suppressing it back into his flesh and blood, allowing it to surge within his body, but it could never cross the line.

"You're still so cautious, even though there's nothing to be afraid of." Xalatas's laughter echoed in Snow's ears, tinged with mockery and teasing. "This little bit of power isn't enough to make you more cold-blooded. Relax and just accept it."

The woman was practically laughing to death as she spoke. How could someone who could kill his own teacher be worried about such a small amount of malice affecting his mind?

Snow ignored her teasing and didn't bother to explain, focusing solely on controlling the surging power within him. Saratas, unconcerned, instead posed the most crucial question, her tone tinged with anticipation:

"Snow, tell me—what kind of demon do you want to be?"

Demonic pathways are inherently highly individualized. Demons of different races are distinct, possessing their own unique abilities—Battle Demons wield fire, Shadow Demons lurk in the shadows, Corruption Demons manipulate plagues, and Blood Demons are bloodthirsty and belligerent. Even demons derived from the same race will exhibit differences due to individual variations.

The reason for this lies in the core of this path: "promoting malice". The malice of every person and every creature is unique: the resentment of orc slaves is fiery and pure, the greed of nobles is sinister and deep, the obsession of mages is obsessive and crazy... Individual will, unique mind and biased desires together create demons of various forms.

Even though Xal'atath doesn't fully understand the supernatural system of this world, she is well-traveled and has lived long enough that simple information, combined with her experience in Azeroth, is enough for her to have her own understanding of the demonic path.

Normally, during promotion, the corresponding demon race is automatically matched based on one's malice. However, Xalatas can use the power of the void to guide the energy of extraordinary traits, which means that Snow can completely break free from this constraint and freely choose his race and specialization.

The classification of demon races is basically open-source information; there were relevant records in the memories harvested from the soul of that Sequence 6 demon.

"There is no fixed rule for the birth of a demon; malice is its nourishment, and will is its framework." In Snow's spiritual world, or rather, on his stable island of the mind, the figure of Xalatas transformed into a flowing cloud of shadowy mist, with countless tiny void runes flickering and floating within it.

"But with me here, the power of the void will guide you. You need not be bound by your own malice; you may choose any of the known demonic races in the abyss—the Balrog who wields fire? The Shadow Fiend who lurks in the shadows? Or the Corruptor who controls plague?"

A slender, shadowy thread emerged from the mist, gently wrapping around the dark red aura surging within Snow's body—the core of his demonic nature, bound by a mental barrier.

Snow didn't hesitate for a moment. The pain of advancement and the intense concentration of his mental energy made his thoughts exceptionally clear. Almost the instant the question was posed, he immediately determined his answer, his voice carrying an undeniable firmness: "Of course, it's the Void Demon."

"Oh?" Xalatas's voice carried a hint of surprise, which quickly turned into deeper interest, causing the shadowy mist to churn a few times. "That's quite an unconventional choice. You remember things quite well; those harvested memories weren't wasted."