Cursed Devourer

Malik suddenly charged, his robe shifting slightly as he amplified his speed.

The Shadowfang turned too late.

His fist slammed into its side, sending it skidding backward, its body collapsing trees in its path like they were brittle branches.

Kael shot him a sharp look.

"You're just now deciding to fight?"

Malik didn't answer.

His glistening eyes behind the hood remained fixed on the Shadowfang.

"This thing is weak, but it's not the real threat here."

Kael's team was strong, but Malik noticed it.

Their attacks weren't as coordinated as they should be.

They were holding back.

They weren't truly fighting to kill.

"They're testing me."

The realization clicked into place like a blade sliding into its sheath.

They had never intended to split the bounty.

They were planning to betray him the moment the Shadowfang died.

"Unfortunately, I won't be easy prey."

Malik shifted his stance, pretending to struggle, slowing down just slightly.

Kael's expression shifted subtly, confirming his suspicions.

"They're waiting for me to exhaust myself."

So, he played along.

As the Shadowfang lunged, Malik twisted midair, narrowly dodging a swipe of acid-coated claws. Instead of counterattacking, he allowed himself to stumble, his breath coming out harder, faster.

"Looks like you're tiring, Malik," Lena noted, watching him closely.

Malik's lips curled under the shadow of his hood.

"Not as much as you think."

With a sudden burst of speed, Malik stepped past the others, closing the gap between himself and the Shadowfang in an instant.

The creature barely had time to react before Malik's fist shot forward, smashing through its eye socket.

CRACK.

Bone shattered beneath his strength.

The Shadowfang let out a gurgled snarl, its body convulsing violently as Malik ripped his arm free, his hand coated in blackened blood. The beast collapsed, its skull caved in, its life snuffed out in a single, final moment.

The battlefield fell silent.

Then, Malik exhaled slowly, flexing his fingers. "Took you long enough to stop squirming."

He turned.

The mercenaries weren't celebrating.

Instead, they were staring at him.

Weapons raised.

Kael let out a slow breath, shaking his head. "I'll be honest, that was impressive. But you're not getting the reward."

Lena twirled a dagger between her fingers, her smirk widening. "You fought well. But we never said we'd split the bounty with you."

Malik chuckled—low, slow, amused.

The night held its breath.

No wind stirred the leaves. No insects chirped. No creatures dared to move. The world itself seemed to shrink in on this moment, as if nature understood the weight of what was about to unfold.

Kael, leader of the mercenary group, gripped his cursed obsidian greatsword with fingers that no longer felt steady. The weapon pulsed, drawing in mana from the surrounding air, but it did little to calm the cold dread creeping up his spine.

This was wrong.

Everything was wrong.

Malik stood amidst the carnage, his black hood obscuring his expression, but Kael knew—he felt—the amusement rolling off him in waves. His posture was relaxed, casual even, as if none of this mattered. As if their betrayal had been expected.

And then Malik spoke, his voice a low murmur, almost pitying. "You thought I was your prey."

A ripple of tension shot through the remaining mercenaries.

Lena took a step back, her glowing tattoos flickering as her instincts screamed at her to run. Dren, swallowed thickly, his fingers twitching with restrained fire magic. Torik, adjusted his grip on his shield, but even his enchanted armor couldn't stop the beads of sweat rolling down his forehead.

Orin, who had always been the coldest, the most collected, was staring at Malik like he was some eldritch horror pulled from the depths of nightmare.

"You…" Kael exhaled, barely able to force the words out. "Wh-what are you?"

Malik tilted his head. Slowly, he lifted his hood just enough to reveal his mouth.

And he smiled.

Rows of razor-sharp teeth, gleaming under the moonlight.

A predator's grin.

"I wonder..."

Then, before their very eyes, he bent down and tore a chunk of flesh from the Shadowfang's corpse.

The sickening sound of tearing meat, the squelch of fresh blood.

Malik chewed thoughtfully, his cosmic eyes burning as his body absorbed the beast's DNA.

The mercenaries froze.

Dren took an involuntary step back. "What the fuck—"

Lena gagged. Orin's hands trembled.

Kael felt it in his soul. This was not a man. This was not a mercenary.

This was something ancient, something primal.

And then Malik laughed.

It wasn't the cocky laughter of a man toying with weaker opponents.

No.

This was the laughter of something that had never truly been caged.

Something that had only pretended to be human.

"I've spent so long pretending to be human since I arrived here," Malik exhaled, stretching his neck as a dark, liquid energy pulsed beneath his skin. "But the truth is... I'm not like you."

His voice dropped to something deeper. Darker.

"I was never like you."

The air grew thick and oppressive as he unleashed the tsunami of killing intent he kept locked within.

And then—he shifted.

A ripple ran through Malik's body, the transformation starting slow—before exploding outward.

Scales tore through his flesh, rippling across his limbs, gleaming with an obsidian sheen. His arms split into four and stretched, muscles expanding as his fingers elongated into curved talons, each claw wickedly sharp. His legs reshaped, his bones snapping and reforming, becoming digitigrade, like a true apex predator.

His tail extended, thick, whip-like, its end now barbed and dripping with a viscous, green venom.

Then his wings burst forth. Colossal, black wings that pulsed with golden veins of mana.

The earth trembled beneath his weight.

Four slitted, glowing golden eyes blinked open, illuminating the darkness.

His maw expanded, rows upon rows of razor teeth forming into a monstrous snarl, dripping with acrid venom.

The transformation had been instantaneous. Flawless.

And impossibly wrong.

Kael's breath hitched. "That… that's not possible."

Dren's eyes were wide with horror. "Even dragons don't shift that fast—"

Malik's voice rumbled, now layered with something inhuman. "I'm special."

His wings unfurled, casting a massive shadow over them. The trees shook, leaves trembling in their wake. The sheer presence of him was enough to send a primal fear coursing through their bodies.

Kael knew then.

This wasn't a battle.

This was a massacre.

And they were already dead.

Malik moved first.

A shadow in the moonlight. A blur of motion too fast for the eye to follow.

Lena didn't even have time to phase.

One moment, she was standing there—daggers raised, her tattoos pulsing as she tried to teleport—

The next, Malik's jaws clamped around her torso.

A sickening crunch. The wet rip of tearing flesh.

Her lower body collapsed, her upper half still dangling from his maw.

Her wide, glassy eyes stared ahead, the light already gone from them.

Dren screamed, his hands erupting with fire, his most powerful incantation spilling from his lips in sheer terror.

Malik exhaled.

The acidic venomous dragonfire that spewed from his throat engulfed Dren entirely in a thick wave of green.

The flames didn't just burn him. They consumed him.

His body melted, bones turning to sludge, his scream dying in a sickening gurgle.

Torik roared, lifting his enchanted shield, its runes glowing as he redirected the blast. The fire curved, dispersing around him.

He was the only one who survived the attack.

Malik admired that.

And then he ripped his shield in half with a simple swipe of his claws.

Torik's stunned gasp barely escaped his lips before Malik's clawed tail shot forward, impaling him through the chest.

His eyes rolled back. His body jerked, then fell still.

Orin tried to run.

Malik let him.

For five seconds.

Then, with a single beat of his wings, he soared forward, landing in front of the archer in an instant.

Orin's bow fell from his trembling hands. "P-Please—"

Malik's claws pierced his stomach, lifting him off the ground.

His body twitched violently before going limp.

Kael was the last one standing.

His hands shook. His once-legendary sword, his weapon of honor and destruction, felt like dead weight in his grip.

He was breathing too fast, his vision tunneling.

Malik tilted his head.

"Do you get it now?"

Kael couldn't answer.

He couldn't speak.

This was no man. This was no shapeshifter.

This was a calamity made flesh.

Kael knew, then, that he had never stood a chance.

Still, he raised his sword.

Malik smiled, a terrifying image when coupled with humongous dragon's maw.

"Good. At least you have the dignity to die fighting."

...

The night smelled of blood and fire.

Malik stood among the shattered corpses, his monstrous form still looming over the devastation. His black-scaled wings folded against his back, his golden eyes glowing in the dim moonlight. The bodies of the mercenaries lay in broken heaps, torn apart by claws, crushed beneath monstrous strength, incinerated by acid and fire.

But Kael was still alive. Barely.

His breath was ragged, his arms limp at his sides. His obsidian greatsword, once the symbol of his dominance, lay uselessly in the dirt.

Malik tilted his head, amused. Even at death's door, he still clung to pride.

But pride meant nothing in the face of hunger.

His tail snaked forward, wrapping around Kael's throat. Slowly, purposefully, he lifted the dying warrior from the ground, bringing him close, so that Kael could see the sharpened fangs, the inhuman hunger gleaming behind Malik's yellow slits.

"M-My… brother will—"

Malik bit into his chest.

CRACK.

Kael let out a choking sound—more shock than pain—as Malik ripped through flesh, through ribs, through bone. He dug deeper, his jaw unhinging further, his teeth sinking into the still-beating heart within.

And then—he tore it free.

A wet, grotesque squelch echoed through the forest as Kael's lifeless body dropped like discarded meat.

Malik held the heart in his clawed fingers, watching the way it twitched weakly in his grasp. Still pumping. Still trying to live.

Then, without hesitation—he swallowed it like a fruit.

Warm. Raw. Pulsing.

It tasted… different. Richer. He could feel something burning in his veins, crawling through his flesh, latching onto his very soul.

And then—

[SYSTEM UPDATE: You have devoured an Advanced+ Ranked Human. ]

[Analyzing biological structure… Success. ]

[Your racial trait [Soul Devourer] has been enhanced.]

[NEW EFFECTS ADDED:]

[Devouring humans grants additional stat growth. Advanced+ humans grant +15 stat points upon consumption. ]

[Experience gained from human kills increased by 300%.]

[You have leveled up! [Level 3 → Level 6]]

[Total Bonus Stat Points Earned: +15 Intelligence(Title) +15 (Soul Devourer) + 15 (Level Up) = 30 Points Available for Distribution.]

Malik breathed in deeply, letting the information settle.

"This…"

His claws flexed.

"This changes everything."

He took a moment to assess his priorities.

His stats were growing, but he still had glaring weaknesses.

[Distributing Stat Points… ]

[ +15 to Mana ][ +15 to Soul ]

The mana boost would increase his shifting capabilities and his ability to sustain dark magic longer.

The soul boost would get him closer to summoning Kairo.

He had no real reason currently to focus on physical stats, his shifting allowed him to bridge the gap and empower himself beyond what the stats could show.

As soon as he finished, another system screen flickered to life.

[Ability Integration Complete]

[New Ability Gained: Predator's Perception ]

[- Allows detection of mana fluctuations within a set radius.]

[- Can sense movements that disturb the flow of ambient mana.]

[- Passive ability; can be refined with further use.]

Malik's four slitted eyes flickered, shifting his focus outward.

The world became sharper.

Mana was everywhere, flowing like currents through the trees, the earth, even the corpses beneath him.

His vision adjusted.

He could see the faint remnants of mana in the air—the residual trails of where people had moved, the flickers of energy dissipating from their bodies.

"This will be useful."

Kairo's voice hummed in his mind, low and contemplative.

"You realize what just happened, don't you?"

Malik shifted his stance, his massive wings folding as he began reverting to his humanoid form.

"Elaborate."

"The system clearly favors you killing and eating humans, more so eating them."

Kairo's words were matter-of-fact, but Malik could hear the underlying intrigue.

"300% increased experience for humans, an additional 10 stat points per Advanced+ devoured—compare that to mana beasts, which give you next-to-nothing but DNA."

Malik frowned, recalling his past life.

"It reminds me of the way the system treated humanity in my world, like it held a grudge other than my own."

The same bias.

The same favoritism toward eliminating humans.

Kairo chuckled darkly.

"And what does that tell you?"

Malik's jaw tightened.

"It means humans are more valuable to kill than beasts."

"Exactly."

Kairo's amusement was palpable.

"It also means that if you want to reach Master+ in six months, hunting mana beasts alone won't be enough."

Malik processed the information, his mind rapidly forming new strategies.

He needed DNA for his evolution.

But for raw stat growth and leveling?

Human-based missions.

"We'll need to adjust our goals."

Kairo grinned through the link.

"I'm glad you understand easily."

It all made sense now.

The first three levels had come slowly, steadily, through hunting mana beasts. But this—this was exponential.

Humans were worth far more.

Mana beasts were powerful, yes, but humans were dangerous in a different way. They built empires. They waged wars. They changed the world.

And now, they would make him stronger.

He exhaled, rolling his shoulders, feeling the surge of power coursing through him. Even now, his body was adjusting, the stolen vitality weaving itself into his muscles, his bones, his very essence.

He flexed his fingers, watching the subtle increase in his strength, his reflexes sharpening, his senses growing more defined.

Malik looked at the scene of carnage around him. "Now, I need to clean this up and prepare a story."

A lone survivor returning to the guild, after a known party had vanished, would be suspicious.

With a slow breath, he lifted his hands. Dark mana coiled in his palms, an eerie, unnatural mist rippling outward.

"Necrotic Consumption."

An ability created on the spot, utilising his growing mana pool, dark magic, and the acidic property gained from the shadowfang.

The shadows twisted, crawling toward the corpses, devouring them piece by piece. Flesh withered, blackened, crumbled into dust.

Bones turned to ash. Blood soaked into the ground, vanishing without a trace.

The only remains left… were those of the Shadowfang.

Malik smirked beneath his hood. "That should be enough."

He turned away, stepping into the darkness of the forest.

The guild would be expecting him soon.

And Malik had always been a good liar.

With the corpses erased and his body adjusting to his newfound strength, Malik's next move was clear.

He would return to Vel Ryn's mercenary guild and claim the bounty.

No one would suspect a thing, and if they did, what could they do?

After all—he was the only survivor.

And the dead… told no tales.