Cursed Devourer

Malik exhaled, his body finally still after the chaos of battle.

The battlefield was silent, the only sound left was the crackling of residual divine flames flickering across the ruined land.

It was over.

He had won.

Leo and Katya—dead. The three-billion-man army—eradicated.

And with their deaths, came his rewards.

The moment Leo and Katya's souls were absorbed, the system had reacted instantly.

A flood of foreign knowledge poured into Malik's mind, as if the very essence of their abilities was being stitched into his existence.

His vision blurred for a moment as the system's voice echoed in his consciousness, the status window staying hidden.

[Abilities acquired:

– Blood Manipulation: The power to control and shape blood, both his own and others. Strength varies based on the amount available and his own control.

– Water Manipulation & Creation: The ability to create, shape, and command water at will. No external source required.]

Malik's fingers twitched, his body instinctively responding to the new knowledge, his mind already processing how to utilize them in battle.

"So this is how they felt using these abilities."

He raised a hand, concentrating. Blood surged within his veins, responding like an obedient pet, pulsing at his command.

He could feel it. Every cell. Every drop.

With a simple thought, he stopped his own heartbeat for a second—then restarted it.

"Amazing."

Next, he focused on the air around him.

From nothing, a sphere of water formed, hovering above his palm. The moisture pulled together effortlessly, bending to his will like an extension of his own flesh.

He clenched his fist. The water sphere froze instantly, then shattered into dust-like particles.

A smirk tugged at his lips.

'Useful. I'm incomparable to the me before fighting Leo and Katya.'

But it wasn't just the abilities.

It was the raw increase in power.

He felt faster, stronger, sharper. His movements carried even more weight, his very presence had become heavier.

[Stats Increased:

– Overall Boost of +500 in All Attributes

– Divine Energy Capacity Expanded

– Regenerative Adaptation Enhanced]

The system rang again.

His mind raced with possibilities.

With these new powers and the surge in his base stats, he wasn't just stronger—he was evolving.

"And I haven't even fought the King yet."

The thought sent a thrill through his veins.

But now, it was time.

His body moved forward, his feet crushing the scorched earth as he entered Potix.

...

The moment he crossed the threshold into Potix, something felt wrong.

The barrier that had previously cloaked the city had disappeared, yet there was no roar of civilians, no voices, no movement.

Only silence.

Malik's eyes scanned the empty streets. The city was massive, large enough to hold the entire population of 10 billion, and yet—there was not a single living soul.

His steps echoed against the paved roads as he walked deeper into the city, his sharp gaze analysing everything.

Then he saw it.

The bodies.

Billions of corpses, lying in the streets, slumped over stalls, collapsed in doorways, frozen in final moments of confusion and horror.

And worse—their souls still lingered.

"They were only recently killed." He voiced to himself, inspecting the mass-genocide littering the city.

His body reacted on instinct. His very presence pulled at the lingering spirits, and in mere moments, they flowed into him, billions of souls absorbed effortlessly.

Malik clenched his fists as his strength surged further and he almost instantly filled the quota for his quest, but his mind wasn't focused on that.

"Someone else did this."

His brows furrowed.

He had been fighting outside this entire time, yet he had noticed nothing. No screams, no disturbances, not even a flicker of their presence vanishing.

The barrier had blocked it.

The King had done this. It was the only person possible of such one-sided genocide.

But why?

"What the hell is he thinking?" Malik's voice echoed in confusion.

He tried to push the thought aside, continuing forward, his pace steady but his mind turning over every possibility.

The more he walked, the more dead he found.

Not just civilians, but soldiers, palace guards, workers. All of them.

He passed through the grand halls of the city, his eyes sweeping over noble estates, each one filled with corpses in lavish clothing, their faces still frozen in expressions of fear and confusion.

This wasn't war.

This was a purge.

A complete and utter extermination.

His fingers twitched.

'Is he insane? What purpose does this serve?'

As he walked toward the palace, Malik realized something else.

There had been no struggle.

No sign of battle.

Whatever killed them did so instantly—before anyone could resist.

'Even the strongest warriors didn't react.'

That realization made something unsettle in his gut.

The King hadn't just killed them.

He had erased them.

...

The grand palace stood in the center of Potix, a towering structure that could be seen from anywhere in the city. Its doors, usually guarded by hundreds of elite warriors, stood wide open.

Malik stepped inside, the echoes of his footsteps reverberating through the grand marble halls.

More bodies littered the ground.

But these weren't just soldiers or nobles.

They were familiar.

Malik's gaze landed on a golden throne that had been overturned, a lifeless hand hanging limply over the edge.

His stomach tightened when he recognized the face from the papers back when he lived in Lochma.

Glendell.

His face was frozen in a look of pure terror, his once-proud features twisted in death. His eyes were wide open, mouth agape, as if he had died mid-scream.

Nearby, collapsed against the wall, lay Theon.

His sword was still clutched tightly in his hands, but there were no wounds on his body. It was as if he had been struck dead instantly, his lifeless body leaning against the wall like a discarded puppet.

And a few steps away from him—

Rose.

The youngest of the King's children.

Her lifeless body was curled up on the ground, her delicate features marred by the same expression of sheer horror.

"The King killed his own children."

Malik's fingers twitched as he processed what he was seeing.

Why?

What possible reason would the King have for doing this?

Malik had killed billions—but even he could admit, there was some logic to it. War. Survival. Strength.

But this?

This was different.

This was something darker.

Malik's flames flickered violently, his energy responding to the unease settling in his chest.

"This man isn't just strong. He's something else entirely." He muttered in disbelief.

The only thing left now—

Was to face him.

Malik stepped forward.

And with one powerful kick, he slammed open the throne room doors.

...

The golden doors of the throne room exploded open, shaking the grand hall as their impact rattled the stone foundation. Malik stepped inside, his form wreathed in smouldering divine flames, the echoes of his footsteps resonating through the vast, empty chamber.

At the far end of the room, seated upon an obsidian throne, was King Leviathan.

His lips curled into a smile- not of arrogance, not of condescension, but of genuine amusement. His golden eyes shimmered with something akin to admiration, as if he were gazing at a work of art finally completed.

Malik did not speak. He did not attack. He only advanced forward, his gaze locked onto the King, watching, waiting.

As he walked, Malik's helmet melted into the rest of the armour, revealing his expressionless face.

The moment he stopped, Leviathan exhaled, his voice smooth, almost welcoming.

"Ah, Malik," Leviathan greeted, his tone warm, almost fatherly. "You've finally arrived."

Malik wasn't surprised, but he still felt uneasy.

"You were expecting me."

The king chuckled. "Of course. I always have been." His grin grew wider.

Malik's eyes darkened, his voice edged with a quiet, controlled fury. "Then tell me..."

His fingers flexed at his sides. "Why? Why did you kill them all? Every single person in this city. Even your own children."

Leviathan laughed.

Not a cruel laugh.

A genuine, light-hearted chuckle, as if the answer was so obvious it amused him.

"Because they had to die," Leviathan said, reclining on his throne. "To make you stronger. To help you complete your quest."

Malik's breath hitched.

There was no mockery in his voice, no attempt at justification. The king spoke as if it were a simple matter of fact.

"Otherwise," Leviathan continued, his golden eyes glimmering, "how else would you hope to face me? Since they were destined to die for your growth anyway, I figured- why not do it for you? Make things convenient."

Malik's fingers twitched, his chest tightening- not with anger, not with grief, but with confusion.

"You... know about my quest."

He ignored the King's reasoning for killing the people and his children. He didn't care. He had tunnel vision on the fact that Leviathan knew something he thought impossible.

Leviathan's smile widened.

"Ah," he exhaled, tilting his head. "So you really don't get it." His voice tinged with a gentle yet condescending tone.

Malik's jaw tightened. "What are you talking about?"

Leviathan sighed, stroking his chin with his fingertips.

Then his gaze sharpened.

"This was all a stage," he said, his voice carrying absolute certainty. "A stage set for you."

Malik didn't move.

His flames flickered, but he kept his stance firm. "What? You're saying this was all planned?"

Leviathan tilted his head slightly, the amusement never leaving his face. "Not planned- ordained."

Malik's stomach twisted, but he didn't let it show. "You're saying I was born for this? That I was always meant to be this way? To become this?" He scoffed.

"Is this your idea of a joke?"

"Not a joke. Not born to be 'just strong'," Leviathan corrected, his voice almost reverent. "You were born to be unshakeable. Unyielding. A will so absolute that even fate itself could not break."

Malik's heartbeat slowed, his fists clenched at his sides, the air around him becoming excruciatingly hot.

"That- this doesn't make sense. The system only appeared when-"

Leviathan cut him off.

"The night your parents died," he said smoothly. "Or should I say—

The night you killed them."

Malik's entire body locked up.

His mind snapped to a place he had long buried beneath blood and fire.