Smoke curled into the sky, thick and choking, blotting out the stars above. Flames danced across rooftops, devouring wood, flesh, and memory. The scent of scorched earth and charred blood hung in the air like a curse.
In the center of the inferno knelt a boy, no older than fifteen, blood dripping from a deep gash across his brow. His name was Jin Taeha, and everything he had ever known—his parents, his friends, his home—was now gone, reduced to nothing but ashes and blood.
He clutched the body of his younger sister, her hand limp in his grasp, her eyes wide and empty, staring at a sky she would never see again. Her once-vibrant laughter echoed in his skull, mocked now by the silence that surrounded him.
The village was dead.
Only the crackle of flames and the soft hiss of dying lives remained.
Jin didn't weep. He couldn't. The tears had dried hours ago, and now, there was only an aching void inside his chest. A terrible hollowness, like a pit that had swallowed everything but his heartbeat.
It was then that the voice came.
[System Detected: Compatible Host Identified]
Initializing Protocol: Eternal Path…
Binding Sequence: Complete.
Welcome, Jin Taeha.
Current Status: Critical
Would you like to survive?
[Y/N]
Jin blinked. At first, he thought he was hallucinating. The golden letters floated before his eyes, suspended in the air like a spirit's whisper.
“...What... is this?” he croaked. His voice was hoarse from smoke and screaming. He hadn’t spoken since the attack began.
Warning: Host is nearing death. Time remaining: 3 minutes, 27 seconds.
Confirm: Do you wish to survive?
A flicker of anger stirred within him. It felt distant, buried beneath exhaustion and despair. But it was still there—a tiny ember in the ashes.
Survive? For what?
Everything was gone. His father, the village blacksmith. His mother, who always wore the same red scarf. Even Hayeon, his little sister with the crooked teeth and soft hands—gone.
What was the point?
And yet…
He remembered what his father once told him on a cold winter night as they hammered steel over the forge:
"The strong endure not because they are brave, but because they don’t stop walking. Even if all that's left is pain, you walk."
Taeha looked at the burning corpses of his family. His throat tightened.
“…Yes.”
System Confirmed: Survival Protocol Engaged.
Initiating Emergency Qi Infusion…
You have accepted the first Quest: "Survive the Night."
Reward: Basic Martial Physique / Access to System Interface.
Pain slammed into him.
It felt like molten lead poured into his veins. His limbs convulsed, his eyes rolled back, and a scream—raw and primal—tore from his throat. His entire body burned as if it were being reforged, bone by bone, nerve by nerve.
His wounds closed. The blood dried. His breathing slowed and deepened. And then, he stood.
Stronger. Clearer.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Alive.
The world around him seemed different—sharper. He could hear the crackle of each flame, the whisper of wind against the trees. His vision pierced the smoke like a hawk’s.
But he wasn’t alone.
A figure moved through the smoke like a phantom.
Tall. Dressed in black robes. A silver mask covering his face. He walked calmly through the burning village, untouched by flame or fear.
Taeha stepped back instinctively.
The man stopped a few paces away, tilting his head.
“Still breathing?” the stranger said, voice rough like gravel. “Didn’t expect that.”
“Who are you?” Taeha asked, hand tightening on the broken knife at his waist.
The man chuckled. “Dead men don’t need to know names. But you—you're something different. You're... cracked, but unbroken. Like flawed steel.”
He looked Taeha over.
“Come with me,” the masked man said. “Or stay here and die again. It makes no difference to me.”
Taeha hesitated. He looked around—at the burned bodies, the wreckage, the still-smoldering corpse of his home.
His fingers tightened.
He followed.
They traveled for days—through blackened forests, over broken ridgelines, across paths no map dared mark. The masked man didn’t speak again, and Taeha didn’t ask.
The System whispered to him in the silence.
[New Path Unlocked: Demon Cultivation Detected]
Warning: Host Qi Signature is adapting to demonic affinity.
Basic Martial Physique upgraded: “Infernal Vessel Lv.1”
Trait Gained: Pain Resistance (Minor)
Eventually, they reached the foot of a mountain range so tall the peaks were hidden in the clouds. Carved into the black stone was an enormous gate, guarded by men in red and black armor.
On the gate was a sigil—a twisted flame encased in chains.
The mark of the Heavenly Demon Cult.
The masked man gestured forward. “Welcome to Hell.”
Inside the mountain, Taeha was stripped, bathed, and thrown into the Outer Disciple Pit, where the lowest ranked trainees fought for food, water, and space to sleep. It was a lawless pit of orphans, criminals, and the discarded.
He was given no name. Only a number—142.
The first night, someone tried to steal his food.
Taeha shattered the boy’s nose with a single blow and dragged him through the mud by the hair.
The System pinged.
Quest Complete: Establish Dominance
Reward: +1 Strength / Unlock Combat HUD
He slept with his back to the wall and his knife beneath his palm.
Every night, someone challenged him.
Every night, someone failed.
In the darkness of the pit, he began to change.
Not just physically. His muscles hardened, his bones strengthened, his reflexes sharpened—but more than that, his mind became steel. Cold. Focused. Unforgiving.
And the System never stopped whispering.
Every fight was logged. Every motion calculated. Weaknesses detected. Errors corrected. Taeha absorbed every lesson like dry earth swallowing rain.
One day, a senior disciple came to the pit.
He challenged Taeha publicly, laughing at the idea of a “rat” from the dirt thinking himself worthy of training.
Taeha answered without a word.
He didn’t just beat the senior disciple—he broke three of his fingers, cracked two ribs, and left him unconscious in the mud.
By nightfall, whispers filled the outer quarters.
“Did you hear about 142?”
“He used only two strikes…”
“No mercy… like a ghost…”
The masked man came that night.
He watched Taeha from the shadows, then spoke.
“You’ve adapted faster than I expected.”
Taeha looked up. “You never told me why you brought me here.”
The man knelt. “Because you lost everything. And now, you have nothing left to corrupt. That makes you useful.”
He stood and turned to go.
Taeha’s voice stopped him.
“What is your name?”
The man paused.
“…Mo.”
And then he vanished into the dark.
A week later, the summons came.
Outer Disciple 142 was to be tested before the elders.
The trial: survive the Bone Steps—an ancient path filled with traps, qi-disrupting runes, and ancestral pressure designed to crush the unworthy.
No one had passed in four years.
Taeha entered alone.
Three hours later, he emerged—limping, bloodied, but alive.
Elder Mo watched from the upper balcony, arms folded.
“He’s ready,” he said to no one in particular.
The High Elder beside him scoffed. “He’s reckless. Unrefined.”
“He’s hungry,” Mo replied. “And the hungry can be shaped.”
That night, Taeha was summoned to the inner sanctum.
There, beneath a mural of the First Demon Emperor tearing through armies with a black flame, Elder Mo stood waiting.
“Do you still wish to survive?” he asked.
Taeha didn’t flinch. “I want to kill the ones who destroyed my village.”
Mo smiled behind his mask.
“Then you’ll need more than survival. You’ll need power.”
He walked forward and placed a hand on Taeha’s chest. His qi surged like a tidal wave, slamming into Taeha’s core.
System Alert: Advanced Demonic Qi Imprint Detected.
System Permission Upgrade In Progress…
New Master Detected: Elder Mo.
System Synchronization Initiated.
The pain was worse than anything before.
But Taeha gritted his teeth.
Didn’t scream.
Didn’t fall.
When the energy faded, he stood trembling, panting—but alive.
Mo nodded, satisfied. “From now on, you are not Number 142. You are Jin Taeha—my disciple.”