RISE OF THE HOLY DEMONIC GOD

The moment Rey stepped out of the carriage, his jaw almost dropped.

In front of him wasn't the "simple house" Hosric promised. Instead, a two-story home stretched across twice the space of his old place.

A trimmed garden decorated the front. Its polished walls and carved stonework radiated wealth.

A house fit for a family of six. Yet, to Hosric, it was nothing more than a minor residence.

"Uhm… Uncle, is this the right place? Did we… make a mistake?" Rey asked carefully.

Hosric raised an eyebrow. "Why? Don't you like it? Your mother told me you'd be fine in something smaller. Maybe I should've arranged a bigger one."

"No, no! That's not it. It's just—this house is way too big for me alone. A small apartment or even a hotel room would be better."

Hosric stared at him as if Rey had just grown horns.

"An apartment? A hotel? Have you lost your mind? If my sister heard this, I'd be dead before sunset. No chances taken—you'll stay here, and that's final."

"But—"

"No buts. I'm your elder. Listen like a good nephew."

Rey's lips pressed into a thin line. Arguing felt pointless. Hosric was like his mother's copy—unyielding when it came to "what's best."

Smug from his victory, Hosric tapped the car horn twice.

The front door creaked open. A man and a maid stepped out, both in their mid-thirties. They bowed deeply.

"Greetings, Master. As ordered, the house is cleaned and fully prepared," the man said before taking items from the carriage inside. The maid stayed, waiting quietly.

Rey blinked. "Uh… who are they?"

"Servants," Hosric replied casually. "They've managed the house for years. If you need more, just let me know."

"Right… servants. Of course." Rey gave a stiff nod, burying his discomfort and followed him into the house.

Hosric's expression shifted. The casual air vanished, replaced by a heaviness that filled the room.

"Listen carefully, Rey. This isn't your city anymore. The capital plays by different rules."

Rey straightened, sensing the weight behind his uncle's voice.

"The Ashcroft Family rose after your father's death. Backed by the royals, they spread like wildfire, producing Psychic-type artists as easily as growing wheat. In a few short years, they seized control of everything.

"Their main estate is here, in this city. Every influential branch, every key figure—it all circles around this place. You must understand the scale of what you're walking into."

Hosric's tone sharpened.

"The family head alone is a Mid-Disciple Psychic Martial Warrior, seasoned in countless battles. Several elders sit at the Early-Disciple rank, and the number of lower ranks is impossible to count.

"And there are rumours of a Peak Disciple Rank expert in seclusion, pulling the strings from behind. Add the Royal Family backing them, and you should see it clearly—this is the most dangerous ground you'll ever step on."

Rey stayed silent, absorbing every word.

"Other noble families will join the entrance exam too," Hosric pressed on. "Even the Ashcroft young master. Your competition won't just be difficult—it'll be ruthless. If you cross the wrong line here, you won't just lose. You'll vanish into some hidden dungeon, never seen again."

He rose, leaving Rey with nothing but the suffocating weight of his words.

Outside the door, Hosric exhaled, heavy and tired.

'Hope you understand, kid. The world you're chasing isn't one for the weak. If you fall into their games, even your body won't recover. Sister… I only wish your son wouldn't stumble into the same secret that killed his father.'

Inside, Rey slumped onto the couch. His eyes widened, then narrowed.

"…Ha. Hahaha… HAHAHAHAHA!"

Aiden stirred. "What's so funny? Did your uncle tell you a joke?"

"No." Rey's grin twisted. "I thought I was strong enough to face a Duke family. But now… I realise I'm just a bottom feeder. My strength means nothing. Power only matters if no one can stand above you..."

"Otherwise, you're just a pawn in someone else's game."

His laughter grew darker, anger bubbling beneath.

Aiden smirked in the corner of his mind. 'Good. At least you've seen the mirror once. Better you learn now than fail later.'

Rey leaned back, letting the fire in his chest burn.

After an hour of restless thought, exhaustion finally dragged him into sleep. By evening, he woke, refreshed and resolute.

The Martial Market awaited.

His weapons were in shambles—the daggers dull, the sword worn, the spear bent, the shield shattered, the katana chipped. Only his bow and heavier weapons survived intact.

He lined the broken pieces before him.

"…Useless now. Time to squeeze out the last bit they've got left."

<Devourer's Grasp>

Black matter shot from his body like a starving beast. It devoured each weapon whole, chewing through steel until nothing remained. The maw closed with a satisfied burp before melting back into his skin.

Rey swallowed hard, shaken by the glimpse of that endless abyss.

'Hope I never end up on the other side of that mouth…'

[Detected. Several weapons devoured by Relic: Zero.]

[Items dissolved. Added to summonable inventory.]

[Stats gained ▶ +3 STR, +2 AGI, +4 END, +1 STA.]

[No traits, skills, or abilities found.]

Rey flexed his fingers. His body felt slightly sturdier, but the change was too small to matter. Compared to the massive leaps he'd already undergone, this was barely a ripple. Only a realm breakthrough would move the needle now.

He summoned his cloak, wrapped himself in shadow, and slipped out.

The partial technique cloaked him completely—silent and invisible. Without special skills, no one in this city could spot him unless they stood leagues above his level.

He kept his distance from the sprawling mansions. No need to bump into a Stage 3 monster dressed as a noble martial artist.

After weaving through the streets, sometimes losing his sense of direction, he finally reached the Martial Market.

It pulsed with energy.

Hunters haggled loudly, waving bloody hides and glistening fangs. Merchants called out prices from beneath wooden signs.

Weapons clattered as smiths displayed blades fresh from the forge.

Unlike his city, where such trading was hidden in shadows, here the market sprawled openly, with its own district sanctioned by the capital's management.

Hunters and martial artists thrived here, apart from commoners who wanted no part in their bloody business.

Blending in was easy. Faces were hidden everywhere—hoods, masks, cloaks. No one questioned a stranger. Even the spies set outside his house still thought he hadn't left.

Aiden's quiet assurance echoed in his mind. "You're clear. No tails."

Rey walked deeper into the market, watching Apprentice and Initiate rank artists trade piles of beast hides and bones for coins. It reminded him of the underground market—chaotic, alive, but strangely familiar.

His storage bulged with materials. He needed a buyer who could handle bulk.

He found what he was looking for in the shop lanes—stores that specialised in beast materials. The kind that was bought, weighed, and processed on the spot.

Pushing open the door of a modest-looking shop, Rey slipped inside.

The crowd was light, nothing unusual. He walked straight to the appraiser's desk.

"I want to sell some beast corpses. Stage 1 and Stage 2. Bulk."

The appraiser's hand froze halfway through flipping a ledger. "Bulk? How much?"

Rey listed the numbers calmly. The man paled.

He'd never handled more than a hundred bodies in his life. Rey was offering him more than two hundred.

"P-please wait here, sir. I'll… call the manager."

A coworker hurried over, bowing as he guided Rey toward the back. He seated him in a small cabin—clearly the manager's office—near the butchery and storage. Juice was offered. Rey declined. Thɪs chapter is updated by novｅlfire.net

"Just bring your manager. I don't have time to waste."

The worker nodded and sprinted off.

Minutes later, an older man walked in, a stained file in hand, blood still drying on his pants.

"I hear you're selling in bulk," he said, voice steady. "May I know how much?"

Rey leaned back casually. "Looking at this shop, I'll say… twenty-five percent of what I've got would probably drain all your cash."

The manager's face twitched. "Sir, don't belittle us. If we fail to satisfy you today, I'll personally pay twenty percent of the market value out of my own pocket."

His eyes burned with conviction.

Rey smirked, amused, and raised his hand. "Then let's see if you can keep your word."

The manager expected him to signal men to unload carts. Instead, black energy flared. From Rey's hand, heaps upon heaps of beast materials crashed down, forming miniature hills across the floor.

The room froze.

The manager's blood ran cold. Such a storage ability… only high nobles or top-ranked martial artists carried that kind of space.

And the sheer volume—Stage 1 hides numbering in the thousands, dissected cleanly, preserved perfectly.

The butchers whispered in awe, asking which master butcher had prepared such flawless cuts. Rey brushed them off with a polite smile.

Then came the fifty Stage 2 beasts. Skins, bones, and organs of quality they rarely saw, even once in a year.

And finally—the towering remains of the Pseudo Stage 3 mother beast, still exuding a faint, oppressive aura despite death.

The manager's knees nearly buckled.

'An Acolyte rank… at least.'

His throat went dry. One mistake here, and his head would roll before his body hit the floor.

"C-close the shop!" he barked, voice trembling. "Everyone, in the back! Start counting—now!"

Workers and appraisers rushed in, sealing the doors. Piles were divided, sorted, and tallied in hushed urgency.

The manager clutched his file, sweat dripping down his temple. His mind spun with panic.

This wasn't some rogue hunter. This man belonged to a family—or worse. If he failed here, the outcome was already painted in his imagination. His own body sprawled on the floor, head staring blankly back at him.

No. He couldn't afford to fail.

He needed his boss. Now.

He left for a few minutes and returned with a new change.

The manager hurried back in, face glowing with relief. His workers, who had been fretting over the astronomical sum, immediately straightened when they saw him.

Rey, who had been quietly waiting with crossed arms, raised a brow at the man's cheerful expression.

"Sir," the manager began respectfully, "I spoke with our shop owner. Unfortunately, he's outside the city and cannot meet you in person. However, he contacted several of his associates. Their managers will arrive shortly with funds so we can gather the full amount for your trade."

Rey leaned back, calm but faintly detached.

"No problem. I can wait. If the amount is generous, we'll do business. Otherwise—" his gaze flicked toward the bustling street outside "—there are plenty of other shops."

"As long as you get your money, you don't mind the method, correct?" the manager asked carefully.

Rey gave a casual shrug. "Exactly."

The man bowed slightly and rushed back to confer with his uneasy workers. The total sum had shaken them—an amount that could sustain a common family for generations.

Alone, even their owner would have struggled to produce such wealth. Only through the combined effort of several shops could this deal move forward.

Moments later, three more managers entered, their expressions tight but respectful. After hushed discussions, they approached Rey.

"Sir," the lead manager said, voice steady despite the tension, "we've agreed on a total of 9.16 million Dracins. However, for honouring us with such a bulk sale, we're rounding it up to 11 million."

A heavy silence followed. Rey said nothing.

The managers exchanged worried glances, mistaking his quietness for dissatisfaction. One is prepared to raise the offer.

"Sir… is the amount not to your liking?"

Rey finally stirred, snapping out of his daze. In truth, he had been frozen by the number.

"…Ah. No, it's fine. Barely within the range I expected." He hid his surprise behind a calm tone.

Internally, his thoughts swirled.

'I thought I'd get maybe one to four million. Eleven? That's… beyond what I dared to hope.'

"Then please, provide the account for the transfer," the manager requested, already pulling up a transfer pad.

Rey passed him a discreet card—the same one he had once received from the Martial Association after the raid. The manager's eyes flickered in surprise, but he said nothing, only processing the transfer.

When Rey checked his balance, he froze again. 11.5 million Dracins.

He smirked inwardly.

"Giving me half a million extra? You must still be making quite the profit."

The manager stiffened. "N-no, sir! That's only a goodwill gesture for future cooperation. Please don't misunderstand."

Rey rose, tucking the card away. "Relax. The amount is sufficient. I'll take my leave."

Just as he turned, the manager hurriedly called after him.

"Sir! Don't you want a receipt? At least a name for our registry?"

"I don't need a receipt. But for the registry… put the team name as Raven Nest."

And then he vanished from sight.

The manager blinked in awe, believing Rey had simply dashed away with inhuman agility. In truth, Rey still lingered invisibly.

Aiden's voice echoed in his mind, sharp with irritation.

"Why give them that name? You're leaving traces unnecessarily."

Rey smirked faintly.

"Just instinct. Besides… it suits me. Raven Blade, Raven Nest—it connects." His mind drifted briefly to the chaos he had once sown in his home city under that alias.

He shook it off and moved on. Weapons were his next priority.

Most stalls sold only low-grade weapons, while even popular ones sell only Low Stage 2 beast weapons, far too fragile for his current strength. After some searching, he heard whispers of a blacksmith famed for forging high-grade arms.

Rey queued patiently for half an hour until it was his turn.

The smith wasn't an old craftsman as Rey had imagined, but a man in his forties, broad-shouldered and tanned from years of labour.

His body was like a furnace itself, power etched into every muscle. Charcoal dust clung to his skin, and the clang of tools surrounded him.

The man's eyes swept over Rey once, sharp and assessing.

"State your request. I don't waste time. If you bore me in five minutes, you're out." His voice rumbled with authority.

Rey smiled slightly at the directness. "Fine. I'll be straightforward. I want a double-edged sword, a heavy shield, a spear, and a set of daggers. Also—"

He reached into the air, pulling his katana from storage with a flash of cold steel. "—Can you repair this as well?"

The smith's gaze sharpened. A flicker of intrigue crossed his features at Rey's casual display of storage ability, though he quickly masked it.

"…Show me the blade."

The blacksmith raised a brow after examining it.

"You could buy weapons like that outside. Why bring me a commission for such trivial things?"

Rey's gaze sharpened.

"I'm not looking for scraps. I need Peak Stage 2 weapons at a minimum. If you can forge Stage 3, even better."

He braced himself for mockery, but none came.

Instead, the man studied him with a craftsman's eye.

"Hm… judging from your frame, you're strong. Still, Stage 3 weapons are no joke. They're heavy, unforgiving, and demand control you may not have. In battle, one misstep could cost you. My advice—take Peak Stage 2. They'll suit you best. As for your katana, I can reinforce and repair it."

Rey shook his head, his voice firm.

"Just make the weapons I asked for. That's all."

The smith exhaled heavily, then nodded.

"Fine. But you'll pay 3 million Dracins in advance. The total cost will be seven million. The katana will be ready tomorrow. Agree?"

He expected haggling. Instead, Rey calmly transferred the sum.

The smith blinked, stunned.

"Wait… Dracins? I thought you'd send Dragon Points mistakenly. You—actually paid in Dracins, most made this mistake at first time, maybe you're not a newcomer at all?"

"Yes," Rey answered flatly. "Start the work. I'll be in the city until the entrance exam ends. I'll need the weapons before then."

"…Understood." The man folded his arms, masking his surprise. "Name's Rastin. What about you, kid?"

He emphasised the word kid, hoping to crack the boy's mask.

Rey stopped mid-step. His eyes turned cold, voice edged with quiet threat.

"First, I'm not a kid. Second, my name isn't something I hand out freely. If you want to know it, prove yourself worthy. But be warned—knowing it may cost you your life."

The air chilled as his words lingered. Rey turned and walked away, leaving Rastin standing frozen, his attempt at bravado reduced to ash.

"…What a fool I am," the blacksmith muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. "Trying to act cool with someone like that… cringe. Never again." He buried himself back into his work, shaking his head.

Meanwhile, Rey made his way home. The streets seemed heavier tonight, his instincts sharp.

Aiden's voice echoed in his mind.

"Eyes on you have doubled on your house. Someone's starting to catch onto the news of your arrival in the city."

Rey's jaw tightened.

'So much for freedom here. The noose is already tightening.'

When he reached his residence, he ate the dinner the servants had prepared—but not before testing it for tampering in secret.

Every bite reminded him he was living atop a landmine, one careless step away from detonation.

And so, another day ended—rich in coin, heavy in suspicion.

But soon, the true threats would emerge.

To be continued…

Hope you guys enjoyed the chapter, and now the real fun begins with the true threats and Rey, as the journey takes a turn no one expects.

So I hope you'll add it to your library so you don't miss out.