Death Heir’s Devouring System

The wind swept his white hair to the side. His muscles ached, struggling to hold him in place.

'Don't look down,' he repeated in his head. In theory, even if he fell he was going to be fine—he was tied to the other Chosen, and if that failed, he could call forth Cinder. But he didn't want to test if the beast would be able to act fast enough to break his fall.

Extending his hand forward, he took a firm hold of an edge. His eyes widened as the weight of his body suddenly increased severalfold.

A Chosen had slipped and fallen. The rope held, distributing the weight equally around the others.

'Shit.' Cursing bitterly, Azrael threw a look down. This was one of the Chosen whose names he hadn't even bothered to remember. They hadn't managed to display even the smallest amount of competency to catch his attention.

Azrael simply assumed that the reason Seraphina had taken them on board was so that should the worst happen, she could use them as live bait in order to escape.

"Sorry." The Chosen bowed his head slightly once he got a firm hold once again.

'Useless,' with a darkened expression, Azrael continued to climb higher.

Their target was the windows. Since the entrance was blocked, this was the only way to enter. Unfortunately, since they were located fifteen stories high, it was going to take some time.

Breaking into a cold sweat, vision blurred due to the little oxygen and ears being assaulted by the staggeringly powerful wind, Azrael didn't falter.

Eventually, after several agonizing hours of climbing, he reached his goal. Resting his exhausted body at the ledge, he observed the view in amazement. Just now did his achievement finally sink in. The kingdom was so massive it easily rivaled the Golden Lands in sheer size.

Even the sight he had been able to witness upon Cinder's back paled in comparison to this.

'Is this how rock climbers feel?' He mused, waiting for the others to catch up.

Unsurprisingly, just after him, Seraphina reached the ledge as well. Followed by Isolde, despite her limited capability to perceive the world, she had reached the top without falling, unlike some other Chosen.

James and Rachel climbed up as well, followed by the other Chosen.

"We have to be careful from now on," Azrael warned, gaze stopping at Seraphina.

"If we break the glass, we would alert the ones inside, no doubt."

With a sigh, she called forth her light sword.

Then flames began to appear around her striking figure; the inferno swirled forward, beginning to coat the sword, enhancing its power.

Once the temperature rose so high it rivaled boiling magma, she silently pressed the sword against the glass. Slicing like it was butter, she began to carve a large hole for them to enter through.

Azrael was immensely relieved to see that she wasn't going to break the glass like last time.

Once her circular hole was finished, she removed the glass that she had cut. Instantly, overwhelming Corruption seeped from the hole and hit the Chosen full force.

Everyone—even Azrael—gritted his teeth. His instincts were telling him he had no business going inside. But the potential knowledge he would gain was so valuable that it was worth risking his life over.

Sealing their resolve by taking deep breaths, the Chosen entered.

Azrael squinted his eyes. The second he took a step into the interior, he felt crushing weight over his body like a mountain. Whatever he was about to witness was something far beyond his level.

He allowed himself to take a glance back. Isolde's hands were trembling. She was probably the one who suffered the most from being near so many powerful monsters, since she could sense the monsters' souls themselves.

Nevertheless, she ignored her feelings and kept going, causing Azrael's respect for her to increase even more.

Quietly reaching the other side, they jumped downwards. Going toward the edge of the inside balcony, they peeked over the edge.

Azrael's palms clenched into fists.

He had expected a literal army of Rook monsters, each one more terrifying than the last. He had also expected to see the Death Knight roaming around the area—or at least to have some clue about his whereabouts.

When the Marked had entered the Rift, the only clue they got for the foe they had to beat was: 'The one who stood against the King shall set this world free.' So it wasn't going to be a surprise if the Death Knight had fought against the King in the past and made some ruin of the interior.

But nothing of the sort was in sight.

In the mostly empty halls, a molten throne stood. Upon it sat a figure, a man with drained skin mimicking that of a husk. A crown sat atop his head, the golden material of both having been fused with his body, making the King look like nothing more than a statue.

Yet Azrael knew better than to underestimate; even from so far, he felt the dangerous aura.

Name: [King]

Race: [The Scalded Crown]

Danger Level: [Reaver]

Corruption Rank: [Profane]

The Chosen stood frozen; they had finally borne witness to the strongest being in the cursed lands, the one that was responsible for everything. The sight was so mesmerizing that they almost missed the two knights that stood to his sides—Golden Vanguards, just like the ones that guarded the gates outside.

'It's good that we reached the King. But there is no clue about the Death Knight anywhere.' Azrael's expression darkened as he gazed at Seraphina.

Unlike him, she looked relaxed, almost glad.

"We are on time," she muttered. Nonchalantly, she sat on the cold ground, taking a breather.

"What do we do now?" Azrael hissed. "There is no clue about the Death Knight anywhere! Did you lie to me? Was all of this pointless?"

She shook her head slowly. "No, we succeeded. Now we wait."

At her words, he frowned. The idea of arguing did pass his mind. However, before he did, two memories resurfaced in his mind. The first one was when Isolde had said she wasn't an oracle and that Seraphina would know more. And the second, when the guards patrolling around the camp had met them after escaping from the lava ocean, and how Seraphina had expected her friend to be escorted by a white-haired man.

In other words, him.

'Her secrets keep piling up. I just hope she isn't one to cause me trouble.'

Since he was tired anyway, he mirrored her actions and sat, letting his body rest from the exhausting climb. The others did as well.

Time passed. Each hour or so, Azrael would throw gazes at Seraphina. She didn't look worried in the slightest, making him believe that they were on the right path.

Eventually, Isolde's voice echoed in their heads.

[It's coming.]

A second later, explosions resounded from beyond the gates.

'Did the Proven find the King's lair and are now attacking?' Azrael thought, alarmed, calling forth his scythe.

The others got ready for battle as well. Their gazes fixed on the gates of the cathedral and the intense, powerful energy that resonated beyond them.

Not a minute had passed until the world stilled.

Slowly, the gates crashed open. A towering figure stepped inside.

With one hand it held its greatsword, and in the other, the two beheaded heads of the Golden Vanguards that had been outside.

Azrael instantly knew what he was looking at.

The Death Knight had come personally.

Silent as death itself, the abomination moved forward. Once it reached the center of the room, it threw the heads before the King.

The Chosen held their breaths.

And the King raised its hollow gaze.