Cursed Devourer

The air in the tent was thick with tension, the darkness clinging to every surface like a living thing. Shadows pulsed along the walls, moving unnaturally, as if they had minds of their own. The orc shaman stood tall, his blood-red eyes burning with eldritch power, his staff still planted into the corrupted ground.

Malik stretched his neck, rolling his shoulders with an eager smirk. For the first time since arriving in this world, he had a real opponent.

This wasn't some mindless orc brute.

This was a true battle caster—a being whose strength came from a source other than raw physical power. Malik could feel the sheer density of mana coiling around the shaman, thick and suffocating, like a storm gathering just beneath the surface.

"This is it," Kairo murmured in his mind, his voice almost thrilled. "Your first real fight in this body. Let's see if you were reborn strong, or if you need to earn it."

Malik's smirk widened.

He didn't need encouragement.

With a sudden burst of motion, Malik vanished from his spot, the ground beneath him cracking as he propelled himself forward. He appeared in front of the shaman in an instant, his hand already shifting, his fingers elongating into razor-sharp dragon claws aimed directly for the orc's throat.

The shaman's staff pulsed, and a wall of black energy exploded outward.

Malik's claws collided with the barrier, sparks of corrupted mana flashing in the air as the impact sent a shockwave through the tent. The ground beneath them trembled as if reacting to their power.

Marithia's eyes widened as she watched, her heart hammering in her chest.

"Fast—" she thought, barely able to keep up with Malik's movement.

The shaman didn't budge, his massive frame still towering over Malik, his expression one of twisted amusement.

"You are strong," the orc rumbled, his voice unnaturally deep, as if layered with something otherworldly. "But you are reckless."

His staff flared—and Malik's body was suddenly encased in black lightning.

A raw, crackling surge of power danced along his limbs, the dark electricity burning into his flesh, the sensation both agonizing and unnatural.

But Malik didn't scream.

Instead—

He grinned.

Malik's form twisted, his flesh shifting instinctively as scales formed across his arms, absorbing part of the magical onslaught. His body adapted instantly, reducing the damage enough for him to push forward despite the pain.

The shaman's eyes narrowed.

"Dragonkin?" He murmured, unable to conceal his confusion.

Malik gripped the staff mid-strike, his claws digging into the dark wood, and with a sudden flex of his muscles, he shattered the barrier in front of him.

The orc reacted fast, swinging his staff in a wide arc. A wave of black spikes erupted from the ground beneath Malik, aiming to skewer him on the spot.

Malik leapt backward, flipping midair, draconic wings sprouting from his back in a flash of black and gold.

The moment his feet hit the ground, he dug his claws into the earth and launched forward again. His form blurred, and before the shaman could fully register his movement—

Malik was inside his guard.

His elbow smashed into the orc's ribcage, the impact sending shockwaves through the shaman's massive frame. The air boomed as the force of the blow sent cracks along the floor beneath them.

The shaman grunted, staggering, but he was durable—far more than an average orc.

With a snarl, he slammed his staff into the ground again, and tendrils of black energy surged upward, aiming to bind Malik's limbs.

Malik twisted, his flesh shifting once more, his legs morphing into a mixture of human and draconic muscles, allowing him to rip through the tendrils effortlessly.

But the shaman wasn't finished.

"Drown in the abyss!"

A pulse of pure shadow erupted from his body, and in an instant—

The entire room was consumed in darkness.

...

From the sidelines, Marithia could only watch as the tent was swallowed in a void of black mana, Malik's form disappearing from view.

Her pulse was racing.

Her grip on her sword was tighter than it had ever been, the handle creaking beneath her strength.

She wasn't sure what unsettled her more—the raw power of the shaman, or the fact that Malik wasn't losing.

No—he was enjoying himself.

That smirk, that casual arrogance, the way he fought like he was playing with prey rather than facing a true threat.

She bit her lip, frustrated at herself. At how much she hated the way her stomach twisted whenever she looked at him.

At how much she hated that despite everything—despite his mocking, his impossible confidence, his reckless abandon—

She was drawn to him.

"Fuck him."

She forced herself to refocus. They'd only known eachother for a couple of hours at most and he'd left a lasting impression.

If he died, she told herself, she wouldn't care.

But the problem was—

She knew he wouldn't die here.

...

Inside the void of darkness, Malik couldn't see.

But he didn't need to.

He could feel the magic, the sheer density of the mana shifting through the air.

And more than that—he could sense the shaman's presence.

"This magic is powerful," Kairo murmured. "But you can break it."

Malik smirked. "Yeah?"

"Yes. But you'll need more than brute force. You'll need—"

'A heart that could withstand it.' Malik understood.

Malik exhaled, focusing inward, pushing his shifting abilities beyond what he had ever tried before.

His heartbeat slowed.

His bones twisted, reshaping.

His lungs expanded, his chest tightening as something ancient stirred within him.

His human heart vanished and in its place, a dragon's heart began to beat.

The darkness reacted instantly, rippling as Malik's body began radiating heat— so hot it was comparable to the Devourers Flames, if not more potent.

The shaman faltered, sensing the change.

And then—

Malik breathed.

A deep inhale—and then a roar of golden fire erupted from his mouth, consuming the void in an instant.

The darkness was obliterated, vanishing as the intense flames engulfed the shaman, incinerating the black mana that surrounded him. He was quick to try and defend, enhancing his forearm with layers of mana and raising it in a hurry. But it was futile. This was true dragon fire.

The orc screamed in agony as the beam of golden flames melted through flesh and bone, his forearm now nothing but a gruesome stump of mangled muscle and jagged bone.

The tent was in ruins, its supports crumbling under the pressure of the sheer magical forces clashing inside. The once oppressive darkness had thinned after Malik's burst of dragon fire, but the battle was far from over.

The orc shaman, though gravely wounded, was still dangerous. His remaining hand gripped his staff tightly, his mana surging, thick with raw hatred and the deep, guttural chants of ancient magic.

Malik stood across from him, his body radiating heat, his claws still glowing faintly from the fire he had just unleashed. His breath was slow, controlled, his muscles tensed, ready to react.

For the first time since arriving in this world, Malik faced a true opponent.

This was no mindless brute. No mere orc warlord.

This was a battle caster, a true wielder of forbidden arts. And Malik was going to test himself against everything the shaman had to offer.

"You're holding up well," Kairo murmured in his mind, his tone approving. "But he's not done yet."

"I hope not." Malik grinned, his canines gleaming in the eerie light.

He didn't need encouragement.

With a sudden burst of motion, Malik vanished, his speed shattering the ground beneath him as he launched forward with a flap of his wings. His claws elongated, dark scales spreading over his forearms as he swiped for the shaman's throat—

The orc reacted instantly.

His staff flared, and a wall of corrupt mana exploded outward, blocking Malik's strike with unnatural force. Sparks of black and gold magic crackled in the air, the impact sending a shockwave through the broken battlefield.

Marithia, still watching from a distance, felt the force of their clash hit her like a physical weight. Her warriors had struggled against the shaman for minutes—Malik had been fighting him for seconds and was already matching his power.

The shaman let out a deep growl, his glowing eyes narrowing.

"You… are no mere warrior."

His stump of an arm still smoked from where Malik had burned it away, but instead of recoiling in pain, the orc merely gritted his teeth and snarled.

With a sudden burst of movement, the shaman slammed his staff into the ground, chanting in his deep, layered voice. The ground beneath them trembled before it ruptured, massive black spikes of hardened shadow magic erupting from below in a deadly arc.

Malik leapt, his wings flaring as he twisted through the air, avoiding the first wave of spikes.

But the shaman wasn't done.

The spikes shifted mid-air, bending unnaturally, twisting like living tendrils to impale Malik from all sides.

His instincts flared, and before he could fully think, his right arm shifted—hardening into thicker dragon scales, reinforcing itself like armor.

With a snarl, he lashed out, his claws shattering the incoming spikes like brittle glass.The impact shattered them, but the force sent shockwaves through his body, pushing him back.

"He's adapting," Kairo noted, his tone almost amused. "You're not the only one learning during this fight."

Malik landed low, his feet digging into the torn ground. His chest rose and fell, his breath steady, but he could feel it now—the strain.

The shaman was fighting smart. He wasn't relying on just raw mana or strength. He was controlling the battlefield, forcing Malik to react.

And that—that wasn't acceptable.

The shaman let out a thunderous roar, and the shadows in the room thickened again, swirling like a storm, wrapping around his body in jagged tendrils of pure darkness.

"YOU… SHALL NOT LEAVE HERE ALIVE!"

A wave of black lightning exploded from his form, racing toward Malik in a crackling arc.

Malik moved instantly, his body instinctively shifting—his left arm growing black scales, his wings flaring outward, propelling him upwards to avoid the strike.

The lightning missed him, but the force of it obliterated what remained of the tent walls, sending wooden beams flying in all directions.

But Malik was already diving back down.

He twisted mid-air, his foot crashing into the orc's sternum, sending the brute staggering back.

The shaman grunted, but before he could counter, Malik's clawed hand lashed out, aiming for his throat—

Only for the orc to catch his wrist with unnatural speed.

Malik's eyes flickered in surprise, but before he could react, a pulse of dark magic surged through the shaman's grip, sending searing pain through his arm.

Malik snarled, his body instinctively shifting again, black scales spreading across his shoulder to block the worst of the damage.

He twisted, ripping his arm free, but the shaman was already on the offensive again.

Another wave of black spikes erupted from the ground, forcing Malik to dodge mid-step, but this time—

The shaman was faster.

A sharp incantation left his lips, and suddenly—the shadows themselves coiled around Malik's feet, binding him mid-motion.

"It's a trap."

Malik clicked his tongue, his body tensing—and then the orc's remaining hand was already moving, his staff raised high, a sphere of pure destruction forming at its tip.

Malik had one second to react.

He snarled, his chest tightening, something inside him roaring to life.

"Use it again," Kairo whispered. "You're holding back."

Malik's lungs expanded, his instincts flaring—he felt it now.

His heart had already changed when he used it before.

The moment his body had adapted, he had unknowingly shifted his human heart into a dragon's.

And with that change—

Came the breath of a dragon.

With a slow inhale, Malik pulled at the raw heat swelling in his chest, feeling the fire coil inside him, waiting to be unleashed.

And then—

He exhaled heavily.

A second burst of golden dragon fire roared from his mouth in a concentrated beam, the heat so intense that the wooden remains of the tent instantly ignited.

The shaman wasn't fast enough this time either.

His left arm was completely engulfed, the blackened flesh melting away in a sickening hiss of burnt magic and charred bone.

The orc let out a pained, rage-filled roar, staggering as his body reeled from the damage.

Malik ripped his legs free from the shadow constraints and advanced.

His claws ripped through the flames, his wings propelling him forward at blinding speed. Before the orc could even react, Malik's fist buried itself in his stomach, sending the shaman crashing backward into the smoldering ruins.

The battle was already over.

The shaman's body trembled, his remaining mana dwindling. His staff, once brimming with dark energy, now flickered weakly on the floor, his body barely able to hold itself upright.

But Malik wasn't done.

With a burst of speed, he was in front of the shaman in an instant, his clawed hand piercing forward, driving deep into the orc's chest.

The shaman let out a choked gasp, his glowing red eyes wide with disbelief.

Malik leaned in slightly, his smirk cold and cruel.

"You fought well," he murmured.

Then—with one swift motion—

Malik ripped his heart out.

The orc shuddered, his body convulsing violently as the last of his mana whispered into the air, fading into nothing.

And then—Malik did something that made even the mercenaries watching flinch.

He raised the still-beating heart to his lips—

And took a bite.

The rush was instant.

His veins burned, a rush of power, of knowledge, of something ancient and dark flooding into his very essence.

His blood shifted, his muscles twisting slightly, and for a moment—he felt the lingering remnants of the shaman's magic.

Malik smirked slightly, but kept his expression neutral, not wanting to reveal anything to the others.

He swallowed the last bite, exhaling slowly as he let the new energy settle within him.

"Ah," Kairo whispered, his voice tinged with interest. "So you really can absorb the traits of what you devour."

Malik remained silent, feeling the cold, twisted energy settle inside him.

This was not just an ordinary kill.

The shaman's magic had become his.

A pulse of power spread through his body—and suddenly, his vision flashed.

[LEVEL UP!]

The system notification appeared before his eyes.

[Malik - Level 2]

[+5 Stat Points from Soul Devourer]

[+5 Stat Points from Level Up]

[+5 Intelligence from Seeker of The Forbidden]

[Dark Magic Acquired]

Malik took a slow, steady breath, his mind whirling.

"This is only the beginning," Kairo murmured.

Malik grinned.

"Damn right."