Leveling From Hell

The scorching heat relentlessly burned Arzael's pale skin as he carefully stepped back into the unforgiving realm of the Underworld, the dreaded Layer 1. The air itself seemed to sear his lungs with every breath, carrying the acrid stench of brimstone and decay.

A thick, suffocating veil of crimson mist clung tightly to the barren and desolate battlefield, where the ground cracked and bubbled with molten lava beneath his feet like the veins of a living, burning beast.

Far away in the distance, the haunting, guttural roars of demons echoed ominously, resonating through the heavy air like the heartbeat of the Underworld itself. Each sound was a reminder that this place was far from safe.

Arzael exhaled a slow, steady breath, watching the faint plume of steam escape his lips, his gaze briefly flickering to the glowing interface of his internal system clock hovering at the corner of his vision.

Level: 10

EXP: 71 / 200

HP: 790 / 790

"The cooldown for Gatewalk is still far from ready," he thought to himself with a hint of frustration, his crimson eyes narrowing. "I need to hold my ground here, endure, and make the most out of every single second to improve and grow stronger."

His footsteps were firm yet measured as he cautiously traversed the treacherous terrain of the boiling lava field, each step making the brittle ground crunch beneath his boots.

Out of the ruins, a few small but vicious demons suddenly emerged, their bodies ablaze with flickering flames and their sharp fangs glistening menacingly under the crimson haze.

Their eyes locked onto him with burning hatred and primal fury, their snarls tearing through the stillness.

Arzael immediately understood that standing still and defending was not an option here; the only way forward was to fight.

Without warning, a small demon lunged forward with terrifying speed, its claw slashing directly into Arzael's arm.

-100 HP

+20 EXP

Pain surged through him, coiling into strength, his muscles tense as the system converted his wound into raw power.

HP: 690 / 790

EXP: 91 / 200

"Damn, got hit after all," Arzael muttered through clenched teeth, rubbing the wound as blood started trickling down his arm in a thin crimson stream. "So getting damaged here actually grants EXP? That's completely different from the slow pace of the Overworld. If only I possessed an Immortal skill or some kind of endurance boost to survive longer without dying... I'm willing to endure the pain if it means I'll grow stronger."

Despite the sharp, stabbing pain radiating through his arm, he refused to retreat or show weakness. His gaze hardened, his expression calm yet predatory. With resolve, Arzael activated his skill Shadow Pierce.

A swift shadowy blade of pure black energy shot forth, cutting cleanly through the air with a high-pitched hiss towards the demon that had attacked him. In an instant, the blade pierced the demon's neck, severing flesh and bone with merciless precision, sending it crashing to the ground, lifeless.

The remaining smaller demons, sensing the threat he posed, became increasingly aggressive and relentless, their movements jerky and animalistic.

Arzael took a step back, carefully observing their footwork, the twitch of their claws, and the rhythm of their attacks, waiting for the perfect moment to strike again.

Suddenly, another demon managed to slash its claw across his leg, opening a deep, painful wound that burned like molten iron.

He furrowed his brow in determination, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "Can I really endure this? I have no choice but to survive."

With lightning speed and precision, Arzael activated his newly acquired skill, Blood Reaving, a lethal technique that allowed him to drain the blood of his enemies, simultaneously replenishing his own vitality.

His crimson eyes flashed dangerously as he surged forward with renewed strength, his movement like a shadow slicing through the fog, striking down the demon before him in one clean motion.

+45 HP

+22 EXP

EXP: 151 / 200

Letting out a relieved sigh, Arzael scanned his surroundings with a predator's caution.

Among the scattered ruins, something gleamed faintly, catching his eye like a spark in the gloom. Intrigued, he approached, each step slow and deliberate, and carefully picked up the object.

"Finally, a sword worthy of me," he whispered, his voice filled with a mix of hope, hunger, and resolve.

[Item obtained: Crimson Edge] (Lv 1)

Effect: Each enemy slain increases the sword's power

Rarity: ???

The sword felt surprisingly light in his grip, yet radiated an undeniable strength that seemed to hum in the air. Its blade was wrapped in a blazing red aura, pulsating with raw energy, as if it were alive and eager to drink the blood of his enemies.

"This is the weapon I've been searching for," he said solemnly, fingers tightening on the hilt. "The more enemies I kill, the stronger this blade becomes. It's perfect for me."

Before long, a much larger demon emerged from the dense crimson fog, its towering silhouette blotting out the distant glow of the lava.

Its monstrous face was terrifying, with razor-sharp fangs and a muscular frame covered in pitch-black skin that seemed to absorb the light around it. They moved as a pack, their snarls and growls filling the air, rumbling like a storm about to break.

Arzael braced himself, his muscles coiling in readiness. He relied on his high agility to swiftly reposition, dodging and weaving through their relentless barrage of attacks with movements as fluid as smoke.

With sharp reflexes and deadly precision, he thrust his Crimson Edge into one demon with Shadow Pierce, the blade cutting through with terrifying ease, then immediately activated Blood Reaving to drain the demon's blood, restoring his own strength as warmth surged back into his limbs.

+40 EXP

+42 EXP

+85 HP

EXP: 233 / 200

LEVEL UP!

Lv: 10 → 11

Available Stat Points: 2

A satisfied smile crossed Arzael's face as he swung the Crimson Edge through the air, feeling the surge of new power coursing fiercely through his veins, each heartbeat echoing with raw strength.

"This hellish place is ruthless beyond words, but I am prepared to endure and train here, no matter what."

Though the cooldown for Gatewalk was almost complete, he decided to stay a little longer, determined to prepare himself better before venturing back to the Overworld.

His entire body buzzed with unfamiliar sensations.

The pain that once drained him now served as fuel for his strength, the agony transforming into something intoxicating. The more he suffered, the stronger he became.

"This isn't hell at all, this is my heaven."

Arzael's steps were unwavering, his eyes blazing with fierce red light as he marched deeper into the inferno, ready for whatever horrors awaited him.