Death Heir’s Devouring System

The moment the two Champions clashed, the sheer power of the shockwave they caused swept Azrael off his feet.

'Monsters,' he thought, barely managing to cling to the vines, stopping himself from falling off the rock.

He sharpened his focus as much as he could. Yet the only thing he was able to perceive were the afterimages the two Champions left during their clash.

The ground slowly began to crack, the massive rock shaking under their might.

Thick, hard to see—through smoke rose high in the air, obscuring Azrael's view and making it even harder to see.

'Even if it was of his own volition, you have killed a Champion before,' Azrael reassured himself, keeping his nerve calm.

After several agonizing seconds, the clash halted, allowing Azrael to creep in closer.

Just as he suspected, the duel between the two had concluded; the man lay on the ground, his body staining the ground crimson.

The wounded woman, meanwhile, clutched the severed part of her arm, desperate to stop the bleeding.

She had to pay a hefty price for her victory.

Still, losing a limb or two was nothing new for a Champion of such a high caliber, not to mention this was just a simulation—real death couldn't find them here.

With a sigh, she flicked her finger, calling forth a healing potion.

Now with all of her obstacles dealt with, she was going to return to top condition and continue on her path toward the Ashen Vow's flag. She had been tasked with stealing it and bringing it back to the Crimson Accord's base. Since they didn't have a single Champion, she wasn't supposed to be met with much resistance.

Or so she thought. Only for her eyes to widen.

A silent figure had crept in behind her and had swung with a deadly scythe.

Under normal circumstances, even a perfectly executed ambush shouldn't have been enough to end her.

Yet, due to the simulated exhaustion and blood loss, her senses were too slow to move in time.

Azrael's scythe created a beautiful arc as it struck the woman in one fluid motion.

The body of the Champion collapsed, lifeless, silently.

Just like that, both factions had lost one Champion each.

Quite a heavy blow.

However, Azrael wasn't done. The second he beheaded the woman, he moved even faster, relying on [Ghostwalk] to keep his movements silent.

Undetected, he leapt from one rock to the next, his mind racing, making sure to remember every turn, every step he took. Once he stole the enemy's flag, it was certain that he would be followed.

It wasn't only about slaughtering them one at a time; survival meant mapping every step before he took it.

Going past several fights and sneakily killing a Chosen or two who had gone off course, he finally reached the rock that the Crimson Accord faction was using as their base.

To his surprise, there were fewer people on the defense than he expected. It seemed that the faction had decided to focus on the offensive.

A bold move indeed.

One that Azrael welcomed with open arms.

"Okay, let's try it," he mused, proceeding with his plan.

*****

A depressed man sat nearby the Crimson Accord's flag, trying to calm his raging nerves.

This was ArcLancer. After being so mercilessly beaten by Azrael, he had suffered a great scar to his reputation. Not only him, but the duo he had paired up with at the battle royale had been completely slaughtered by a single man.

A single man with a hidden expression behind a featureless bloody veil.

"Gods," a chill ran down ArcLancer's spine, remembering the encounter.

[What is he still streaming?]

[I tell you this man doesn't have a job. That is why he doesn't dare turn off the stream.]

[Won't it be funny if he is behind on this month's rent?]

[Even now he clings to the leading faction, too much of a coward to ever side with the losers!]

Irritated, ArcLancer read the messages one by one. He usually didn't bother, since the chat had always been faster than he could keep up with…

But after the early fiasco, his viewership was at an all-time low.

'I need to keep them engaged,' he thought, biting his nails anxiously.

He found himself in a dilemma; earlier, when he had been beaten to a pulp, his viewership had risen to new heights, entering the trending page for the first time… But now he was even less relevant than usual.

'I am almost missing the one that beat me earlier; if I can meet him again, I bet my viewership will increase once more.'

Since there was nothing to see for the viewers, he tried to raise their attention in the only way he knew how.

Enraging them.

"Like it or not, the Crimson Accord faction is in the lead. And it is only natural that I must be part of the very best!" He swept his blonde hair to the side, showing his premium created avatar.

[I bet you look like shit in real life!]

Unfortunately for ArcLancer, this wasn't working. Just as he was scrambling for new ideas, a shout snapped him back to his senses.

"A bird!"

The warning had come from the Chosen positioned at the highest vantage point, leading all the people in the defense group to shift their attention.

At a distance, a giant bird with silver, almost ash-colored feathers flew several meters above the ground, with two crimson eyes blazing with pure hatred.

"This has to be a Remembrance! We are under attack!"

Upon that realization, all the Chosen abandoned their posts and lunged at the flying creature, eager to be the first to exterminate it.

Since ArcLancer had been busy staring at the reactions of his viewers, he was one of the few too slow to react, leading him to decide that it wasn't worth bothering. The others were going to deal with it anyway.

A second later, he heard a quiet echo behind him—not the sound of footsteps but of a lifeless body toppling to the ground.

Alerted by the noise, he spun. His eyes landed on a familiar figure with hidden features behind a bloodied veil.

Unknown by ArcLancer, this was Azrael.

Upon seeing Azrael's figure, ArcLancer froze on the spot, too terrified to move a muscle. Even the thought of doing so made his skin crawl.

Azrael, paying him no attention, dispatched another distracted Chosen by beheading him before heading toward the flag.

A second later, he gripped it firmly and pulled it out.

'So far so good.' Azrael thought.

But his newfound relief was short-lived, as a voice resonated in the minds of every Chosen taking part in the game.

[The Crimson Accord's flag has been stolen!]