Athanasia: My Hacker System

John didn’t just recognise the archetype; he realised the bait had been swallowed whole.

Thousands of them were now on the ground, leaving the safety of their silver decks to loom over what they perceived as easy prey. He could clearly identify the hierarchy: the winged demons were the elite, the commanders of this floating circus.

Ten of them stepped forward, moving with leisurely, arrogant steps as if they were enjoying a moonlit stroll rather than preparing for an execution.

"The last we heard, the human race had never risen from the dirt," one of the winged Demons said, lazily spinning a pair of arched, short scythes. The blades whistled through the air, humming with a volatile energy. "Tell me, little monkey... Which race is dominating your zone? Who are you serving?"

"And what benefits would we get if we told you?" John asked, his voice steady. He didn’t answer immediately; he wanted to probe their minds. Behind him, he could feel Ricky vibrating with the urge to demand an explanation of what these things were.

John’s knowledge of demons was limited to Earth’s mythology, the legends of a heinous, cunning race infamous for brutality and a love for chaos. Looking at them now, he could tell the local legends were likely underselling the reality. These weren’t just chaotic; they were organised malice.

"How about this?" the scythe-wielder sneered, his red eyes glowing. "You tell us what we want to know, and I promise you a swift, painless death. I’ll even let you keep your heads."

"Oh, no thanks," John said, scratching the back of his head with feigned nervousness. "I was hoping for a better deal. The Dragons back at the other zone offered us much better treatment than that. If this is all you’ve got, I think we’ll just stick with their scheme..."

"What are you talking about?!" the Demon barked, his scythes stopping mid-spin.

The mention of the Dragons sent a visible ripple of unease through the ranks. In the new world, the power hierarchy was a rigid thing, and the Dragons sat at the apex of the twelve races competing in the ongoing apocalypse.

To hear that these lowly humans were already in service with Dragons made the demons’ greed flare even brighter, and their caution started to revolt even stronger.

"Tell us more," another Demon stepped forward. He was taller than the others, his wings larger and his armour more ornate. He was clearly the high commander of the landing force.

"Provide us with their coordinates and their numbers, tell us everything about their scheme and play. In return for your service, you shall receive this."

He touched a heavy, blackened ring on his finger. In a flash of grey light, a massive white stone appeared on the ground beside him. It was half the size of the Demon itself, a refined gemstone that sparkled brilliantly with whiteness under the dancing lights of the aurora.

John’s vision identified it instantly: it was the lowest grade of Mana gemstone, practically a scrap compared to what Goven had described. Yet, John played his part perfectly. He gasped, his eyes widening with feigned greed.

He stumbled forward a half-step, his hands trembling as he reached out toward the stone before catching himself and pulling back, looking terrified yet desperate.

The demons watched his performance with smug satisfaction. This was exactly how they expected a lesser being to act, starving for scraps, willing to betray anything for a single piece of worthless wealth. It reaffirmed their dominance and pushed away any lingering doubt about why two humans were wandering the plains.

"I... I’ll tell you everything," John said, his voice shaky. He paused, a deliberate silence that was the cue for the next act.

"No! Stop!" Ricky shouted, stepping forward and grabbing John’s arm. He played the role of the terrified, loyal subordinate to perfection.

"We can’t tell them anything! If the Dragons find out we talked, they’ll burn us alive before we even reach the gates! Please, think about the other humans we left behind!"

"We’ll kill them first," the Demon holding the gemstone laughed, a terrifying sound that vibrated in the air.

"The Dragons are full of themselves, preening in their high nests. To a lowly race like yours, they are gods. To a mighty race like us, the true lords of the sky, they are nothing more than ants to be crushed under our boots. Just tell us where they plan to muster their attack, and we will exterminate them before they can even draw breath!"

’Sandbox ability... Show a group of five hundred Dragon race members,’ John thought, his mind working fast.

As the demon ranted, John activated his illusion ability. The timing was perfect; the visual memories of the Dragon girl and her kin were still fresh in his mind. He didn’t just project a flat image; he imagined the weight of their scales, the shimmer of their wings, and the arrogant looks on their faces.

He spread the illusion over fifty specific locations, packing the phantoms into a dense formation that appeared to be flanking the demons from the direction of the western distance.

Thanks to the focus of the entirety of the Demons, they didn’t notice the Dragons at a far distance.

And yet, John knew that against a high-tier race like this, illusions wouldn’t trick them long enough. They were too sensitive to Mana fluctuations. But this was only the first layer of his deception.

’Remote Access Trojan!’

John had been itching to deploy this specific ability since the moment he acquired it. He wasn’t certain if his raw Strength stat surpassed the elite winged commanders, so he didn’t risk targeting them yet. Instead, he swept his mental gaze over the thousands of wingless demons standing in the rear, the grunts and low-tier Demons.

The ability lasted for a sixty-second window. As the timer ticked down, a cascade of system notifications flooded his peripheral vision, announcing the results of the attribute comparison.

Whenever a target’s Strength was lower than his own, a surge of synaptic feedback hit John’s brain. It was an exhilarating, god-like sensation, like suddenly gaining a second, third, and fiftieth body at a distance, all waiting for his command.

The system prompt kept blinking in his vision: [Issue Command].

’Shout with all your might, pointing towards the west: Dragons are here!’ John issued the order halfway through the Trojan’s duration. Suddenly, the disciplined silence of the demonic ranks shattered. Fierce, panicked shouts erupted from various spots within the crowd, catching the commanders off guard.

"Dragons are here! The Scaled Ones are upon us!"

The scattered, frantic nature of the shouts created immediate, localised chaos. As the demons turned their heads toward the west, John seized control of an even larger group of puppets.

He knew by now the Demons would have spotted the Dragon illusions he cast. Yet the first and safest move would be for them to let the high ships take the lead and attack. It was a result he didn’t want to see happen.

’Take up your weapons, run towards the west, don’t stop!’ At his mental command, dozens of Demons suddenly broke rank. They drew their different weapons and sprinted toward the western plains, acting as if they had spotted their mortal enemies in a dire situation.

Seeing their own soldiers charging without an order was the ultimate catalyst for the rest of the army’s instinct. The few Dragons at a distance were the tip of the iceberg. Much more was coming, and they needed to act fast.

But John wasn’t finished. He needed a finale.

’Sandbox ability... Make a colossal dragon, rising up for three thousand meters, roaring fiercely and waving its claws around.’

Five separate, gargantuan Draconic shadows erupted from the horizon. They were so massive they seemed to blot out the dancing aurora itself, their spectral roars vibrating in the marrow of everyone present.

"Here they are," Ricky muttered, as if he were expecting all this to happen. He had noticed John’s eerie silence and knew his friend was scheming for something. Seeing the Demons break ranks and the colossal draconic phantoms appear, Ricky realised it was time to play his part.

"The Dragons! They’re coming from the zone in that direction!" John shouted, his voice cracking with feigned terror as he pointed toward the west. "We need to run! We need to hide before they burn us all!"

"Attack at will!" the winged demon commander roared, his rage finally overriding his caution. "Let the ships rain hell upon them! All units, advance!"

He turned toward John, contempt dripping from his face. He tossed the massive gemstone into the dirt as if it were a piece of worthless gravel.

"You are free to stand behind and watch, lowly humans. Stay in the dirt where you belong. We’ll show you how vast this world truly is, and how weak your scary Dragons are when faced with the Pirate Fleet!"

John didn’t hesitate. He lunged forward, scrambling in the dirt to catch the gemstone, cradling it like a man who had just found the meaning of life. This final, pathetic display killed the last lingering doubt in the demon’s mind.

"Hehehe, look at him," the winged demon sneered, turning on his heel. "Follow me! For the glory of the fleet!"

He dashed forward, leading thousands of his kin in a thunderous charge toward the west. However, John was far from done. He had one last puppet to position.

’Stay behind and say you’ll keep an eye over us,’ John commanded, using a final thread of the Trojan ability to command a wingless Demon.

As the army ran into the distance, one demon stopped and turned around, looking at the humans with a vacant expression. Ricky looked confused, not understanding what was going on, wondering if John’s scheme had failed. But John remained calm and unfazed, as if he had everything under his control.

John knew the illusions wouldn’t hold forever. Once the Demons reached the western edge and found nothing but thin air, they would realise they had been played. Their rage would be absolute, and they would turn back to slaughter the humans who had tricked them.

But John was already three steps ahead. As the distance between the main demonic force and his position grew, he reactivated his Remote Access Trojan to target the stragglers.

His eyes glowed with a cold light as he issued the final, lethal command to every Demon under his control.

’Turn your blades around. Kill!’