The moment she crossed into the collapsed section of the cave, everything changed.
The air grew dense, thick with rot and sulfur. Her lungs burned. The walls seemed to bleed faint shadows that pulsed with quiet heartbeat-thrums. Then she saw them—moving ahead in the gloom.
Imps.
But not like before.
Their names shimmered in a deep blood red, the color reserved for creatures that could snap her spine in a heartbeat. Their claws looked longer. Their bodies glimmered with aura. And worse—one of them turned, sniffed, and a fireball formed in its palm.
“Shit—”
She ducked behind a rock, casting Firebolt from cover. One… two… five bolts, until the air scorched and her hands shook.
The imp didn’t die.
It screeched, retaliated with a fireball of its own. The impact blasted her against the cave wall. Her health plummeted to a sliver, her ears ringing. Her screen cracked. Blood—real or imagined—leaked from her lip. Her arms trembled, and everything ached.
And yet… when the imp finally fell, her EXP bar leapt.
? [+185 EXP]
[LEVEL UP!]
[LEVEL UP!]
“Two levels…” she gasped, wiping virtual blood from her chin. “That thing nearly turned me into a pixel puddle.”
She glanced deeper into the cave. Her health bar flickered red. Mana was low.
“...Too risky.”
She turned to leave—but something caught her eye.
A faint glow. Not firelight. Not imp-aura.
Something… other.
She crept toward it, slow and quiet, past a set of collapsed archways. The air felt different here. Charged. Her skin prickled. Her breath fogged.
And then she saw it.
A hidden chamber.
Bookshelves lined the walls, most crumbling with age. A glyph-lit circle pulsed at the center of the room, broken and inactive. But amidst the dust, something glowed on the floor—faintly violet, like a dying star.
A book.
Thick. Bound in cracked leather. Pulsing with red and purple veins.
She picked it up.
? [You have discovered a Class Grimoire: WARLOCK – DEMONOLOGY]
You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.
Do you wish to accept this Class Evolution? Warning: This choice is irreversible. Details Unknown.
Amelia stared at it.
There were no stats. No perks. No safety net.
Just a name.
? [Do you accept?]
[Yes] – [No]
Her finger hovered.
? Demonology…
It sounded like power.
And power meant money.
She bit her lip.
“…Fuck it.”
? [Class Change Accepted: WARLOCK – DEMONOLOGY]
[New Spells Learned – 4 Total]
? Spell: Summon Imp (0/3)
– Summon 3 imps of randomized demonic element.
– Each imp is unique in skillset and appearance.
– Duration: 30 Minutes | Cooldown: 15 Minutes
? Curse: Amplify Damage
– Target takes 3x damage for 30 seconds. Cooldown: 60 seconds.
? Hex: Withering Rot
– Damage-over-time curse that causes bleeding, confusion, and mild panic.
? Soul Flame
– A purple variant of Firebolt. Burns both health and mana.
She stared down at her trembling hands.
And then cast Summon Imp.
A red sigil burst beneath her feet—ancient, jagged, wrong. It spun. Burned. The floor cracked.
Clawed hands crawled out of the stone, dragging up three forms like newborn nightmares birthed from hell itself.
The imps were small, lean, and pink—not cutesy pink, but raw flesh pink. Their horns curled like blackened branches, their eyes empty sockets glowing with faint embers. Each bore a different aura:
One twitched with electricity sparking along its claws.
One exhaled frost every few seconds, mist leaking from its lips.
One had shadow clinging to its body like smoke, vanishing when she blinked.
They bowed to her. Not like pets.
Like servants. Bound.
And then they grinned—rows of jagged teeth curling wider than their skulls.
? [Demonic Pact Formed – 3/3 Imps Active]
Her skin crawled. Something hot carved itself into her back. She hissed and nearly dropped her staff.
Runes. New ones. Invisible, but burning. Marking her as changed.
And the whispers? Louder now.
Not from the game.
From within.
She smiled, cold and breathless.
“Let’s go hunt.”
