Demonic Conqueror [LitRPG, Isekai, Progression]

The first wrench in their plan came when Armand Calloway left his house several hours earlier than expected.

Simon had figured that the man was more likely to go hunting than stay home and snooze, but this was barely nighttime. A decent number of people were still walking the streets of Caelryn. Hardly optimal conditions for a serial killer on the prowl – too many witnesses that could catch him in the act.

Initially, Simon felt a flash of concern, wondering if Armand had somehow found them out...yet those worries were expunged when he caught a glimpse of the man's face.

No trace could be seen of the detached layabout from before. Where there had once been apathetic indifference, there was now passion, boundless and cruel. His lips had spread up into a rapturous smile, stretching so wide that it was close to tearing his skin.

Calloway hadn't left early to throw off their plans – he just couldn't wait even a minute longer to indulge himself.

Tailing the killer as he searched for prey wasn't especially difficult. He still rarely bothered to check if anyone was following him. Armand was so tunnel-visioned that Simon and Katarina scarcely needed to put in effort to remain hidden.

However, the timing of it all put them in an awkward position. Finding the right moment to strike was going to be tricky.

While a direct confrontation might be inevitable, they would have preferred to ambush the madman. A Level 28 opponent didn't leave much room for margin of error. Hit him hard, hit him fast, and take him down in one fell swoop.

Yet that would mean unveiling Simon's Demonic arm and using Kill from afar. If it were in the dead of night, with no bystanders around, they would've already attacked Armand...but each street they followed him down had at least a few people nearby.

People who definitely wouldn't keep their mouth shut if they saw a Demon suddenly assault an 'innocent' man.

Wish I could just show them what I've seen with Sin Scry, Simon mused. Although they'd probably assume I was fabricating the visions to deceive them. Kat only grew to trust me under extreme circumstances – and honestly, based on what she's told me of Demons in general, she still shouldn't have. It'll be an uphill battle to–

Armand took off running like a bolt of lightning.

The change was so abrupt that neither Simon nor Katarina responded right away. One instant, they were leisurely shadowing their target; the next, he'd sprinted around the corner and out of view. He was fast – much faster than the both of them.

Horrified comprehension set in as they chased after him, realizing two all-important details. First, their moment of inaction had cost them ground that they desperately needed to make up.

And second, Armand still hadn't given any indication that he knew he was being followed. He wasn't running from them.

He was running at someone.

When Simon turned the corner, his feet slamming against Caelryn's dirt roads, the sight that unfolded before him was of little surprise. The street was empty save for a young, isolated, disheveled-looking boy...and Armand Calloway, his jeweled knife held high in the air, a portrait of pure bliss painted on his face.

Simon shapeshifted his arm and prepared to Kill. It wouldn't matter. The knife would come plunging down long before his spell had finished forming. His heart pumped with hot adrenaline as his mind coldly analyzed the situation, seeking a miracle he knew did not exist.

*Thunk.*

Armand froze in place. With his free hand, the murderer reached up to gingerly touch the crossbow bolt sticking out of his neck.

Katarina had shot him in the blink of an eye.

Simon allowed himself a modicum of relief. He'd underestimated how much the extra Dexterity would hasten her aim and precision. Guess a miracle isn't needed when you have allies to cover your bases.

The whisper of Kat's arrow rushing through air finally drew the isolated youth's attention. If the circumstances had been less dire, Simon would've thought the look on his face to be comical. He wore the perplexed, disbelieving expression of someone who was beginning to understand – a bit too late – that his day was slightly different now than it'd been three seconds ago.

"RUN, YOU ABSOLUTE FOOL!" Kat bellowed. Her shout snapped the boy out of his stupor, prompting him to turn tail and flee as if his life depended on it, which it very much did.

Simon immediately reverted his arm to human form. I should be safe. They weren't focused on me, and Armand picked a street without anyone else around. The youth hadn't seen enough to blab, and the murderer was reasonably fixated on the arrow lodged in his throat. If they slew Calloway tonight, there wouldn't be witnesses left to spread gossip about Caelryn's new Demon in town.

The transmigrator was tempted to just charge up Kill and fire it while Armand's back was turned...yet that would only be a waste of MP. Simon didn't hold any delusions that the spell would find its mark now that Armand knew of his and Kat's presence.

Perhaps it still would've hit a normal person, but normal people didn't tend to examine a grievous crossbow injury with disdain rather than alarm.

"Perfect."

It wasn't the voice Simon had anticipated. Serial killers were supposed to sound creepy and off-kilter; like they were monsters dressed in human skin, feigning a pretense of civility until they could pull off the mask and unleash who they truly were inside. Armand just seemed...

Tired. As if he'd been planning all day to see his favorite band at a concert, and it had gotten canceled at the last second due to inclement weather.

"This was perfect," he droned, his body twitching with irritation. "Pristine." Blood oozed out of his neck wound, though not as much there should be. "Immaculate." He tilted his head to avoid another crossbow bolt. "A flawless moment in every way."

Dregs of unfathomable hatred crept into his tone. "And you've defiled it."

Armand turned around to face them. When he fixed his eyes upon Katarina, his anger stalled, then morphed into shock, before at last settling on amusement.

"Oh." A note of twinkling laughter escaped him. "Oh, oh. It's you."

Katarina's white-knuckled grip on her crossbow tightened. "You remember me."

"How could I forget The One Who Got Away?" Calloway gazed at her with something akin to reverence, as if she was a unique, cherished prize. "The shame burned that night. Red of hair and bold of wit, just a slip of a girl – yet you bested me then, when no one ever has."

He rubbed his fingers across his stomach, idly tracing the spot where Kat had stabbed him. "You know, it would be intolerable if more were like you. Don't think I could abide so many setbacks. Need the essence, you see. But one unexpected failure? That's special. That's variety."

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Armand offered her a genuine smile. "I thank you. A life without the glamour of variety is no better than death."

His gratitude was punctuated by a third crossbow bolt flying towards him. Calloway dodged that one as well, moving mere inches to let it sail past.

In a quick, harsh motion, he reached up to remove the arrow still piercing his throat, barely flinching as scraps of flesh were torn out with it. Blood spurted from the open hole, yet its tide was already stemming, mana shining around the wound as it closed shut.

He's a spellcaster, Simon confirmed. At the very least, he can self-heal. That meant a battle of attrition was less favorable. Could still work, as Valtian warriors also required mana to empower their boosts of strength and speed, so gradually wearing him down might–

"Luck or skill?"

Calloway took a step forward. He raised his jewel-adorned dagger as moonlight reflected the nothingness in his hollow eyes. "How did you escape that night, Red-Haired One? Was it luck? Skill? Fate? Providence? Tell me. Tell me tell me. It's all I've thought about since."

Katarina answered by loading her crossbow with a fourth bolt. Simon unsheathed a longsword from its scabbard, taking a protective stance in front of her.

Neither of them entertained the slightest notion of fleeing. While it may have been smarter to retreat and regroup, come up with a safer plan, that would involve letting Armand roam free. Maybe even for a whole day.

Intolerable. Unacceptable. They couldn't stand to let him breathe for any longer. Katarina's loathing had far exceeded her self-preservation instincts, and Simon...

Truthfully? He just couldn't bring himself to feel worried. This wasn't like the Ravenous Wanderer, where they'd been forced into an impossible do-or-die fight against a hulking colossus. Armand was only a monster in spirit – not in form.

They could beat him. Would beat him.

And then they'd reap the rewards for a sinner well-slain.

Simon had vowed to not let his drive for EXP influence his decisions...but they were already committed to this fight. There was no harm in looking forward to what came after.

The Ravenous Wanderer was worth five Levels from combat and two bonus Levels from Heroic Valor, he recalled. Don't disappoint me, Calloway. You should be good for at least half of that.

"Oh, yes." As the murderer watched them ready for battle, the blissful grin of before returned to him. "That's how it should be. Speak my language. Dye my world with color. Show me your ESSENCE."

A sickly scent of decay assaulted Simon's nose.

Armand Calloway's skin began to ripple like water. The decay-smell intensified as his hair withered to the consistency of dry straw. Flecks of skin sloughed off and dissipated, revealing a gray, mottled pallor underneath. His pupils vanished like blue gems sinking beneath fetid muck, both eyes transforming into two pale silver orbs.

Yet despite his appearance, mana was surging within his body. Even from a distance, his power could be felt thrumming in the air, as if the rot within was strengthening him.

...Huh. Simon raised his eyebrows. I...see. Well.

Suppose I jumped the gun on him not being a monster.

He glanced at Katarina, hoping that she could shed some light on this development – but the woman looked as confused as he was. It was clear that she didn't have any idea what was happening to Calloway.

Simon turned towards the...man? Presumably? "Out of professional curiosity," he asked, "would you mind explaining what–"

An inhuman shriek sliced through the night. Like a puppet dragged along by its strings, Armand lunged at them, crossing the full length of the street in much too short a time.

"Barrier."

A shimmering rectangle of mana materialized in front of Simon and Katarina. Translucent, and shaded like the space between stars, it covered far past the height and width of their bodies.

Summoning the Demonic shield was the easiest thing in the world. Simon had been mentally prepping the spell since Armand began conversing with them, and his Fell mana was responding intuitively to his command.

There was no part of its arrogant nature that wanted this revolting creature to touch him.

40 MP should be sufficient. A Barrier fueled by 90 MP had delayed the Ravenous Wanderer's advance. Only briefly, but Armand wasn't remotely in the same weight class – not in Levels or his actual weight. Simon could afford to conserve more of his mana when defending.

His assumption was proven right a split-second later. Armand's knife clashed with the Barrier, scraping against the translucent rectangle with a sound of steel grinding stone. Strength bulged under the killer's putrefied skin, his limbs extending at painful-looking angles, so disjointed that his muscles rightfully should have torn apart.

The man himself had stopped moving. As much as Simon and Katarina were baffled by his change in appearance, Armand was equally dumbfounded by the Demonic arm now openly displayed. He'd been frozen stiff with shock.

Simon didn't waste the opportunity. You only got one 'Surprise! I'm a Demon!' moment per fight, and this was it.

Drop the shield. Grab him. Fell Harvest. He's fast, he'll stab me in retaliation, doesn't matter. Transmigrator's Body will keep me alive. Katarina can shoot him in the brain while I have him restrained. Drain, shoot, rinse and repeat. He reached forward–

And the Barrier shimmered, nearly fading entirely.

Simon paused. He hadn't given the command to cancel his spell yet. It would've been one thing if Armand had brute forced his way through the shield – that was within reasonable parameters – but this felt different. Rather than demolished, the Barrier was being...

Depleted.

Cognizant of the fact that his moment of surprise was slipping away, Simon grabbed Katarina and pulled her back. She hadn't anticipated that, but she didn't protest, having learned that questions were for after their lives were no longer in peril.

An eerie chill swept through the transmigrator as his Barrier disappeared. It was like a tiny fragment of something had been scooped out of him, making him feel just a little bit lesser than before.

Shoving down the dread threatening to rise up, he hastily checked his Character Sheet.

MP: 180 / 220

Just 40 MP gone. He'd only lost what it cost to form the Barrier – like if the spell had been destroyed normally. In time, his mana would regenerate, same as usual.

Those self-comforting thoughts did little to stop shivers from racing up and down his spine.