Chương 7: The Demon’s Watch

Luke stood motionless among the leaves, hidden in the low brush, when the forest finally opened ahead of him. The sight beyond the trees stole the breath from his lungs. An abyss stretched out before him, black and endless, so vast it seemed to swallow not only the light, but the world itself. It wasn't merely darkness. It felt alive, like a presence waiting beneath everything.

Staring into that rift filled Luke with the sickening certainty that something ancient beyond language was staring back, as if the void had eyes and every one of them had fixed on him. His mind offered only one thought, cold and absolute. Down there… there's nothing. Nothing but infinity. Suspended over the abyss, almost touching the darkness below, was a floating island.

At its center stood the ruins of a stone temple, weathered and silent, and between the forest's edge and that impossible island stretched the only path forward: a bridge. It was thin, narrow, and bare, with no railing, no supports, and no reason to exist. Luke doubted two people could cross it side by side. It hung over the impossible, too fragile to trust and too real to ignore. Physics had no place here. The floating island made no sense, and the bridge defied everything he understood about reality.

Yet none of that was what made cold sweat break across his skin. What terrified him was what waited inside the temple. Even from that distance, with the abyss yawning between them, Luke felt his muscles weaken. A tightness seized the back of his neck, and something twisted deep in his stomach. Every instinct he had screamed for him to back away, look away, and never turn toward that temple again.

At the heart of the ruins stood a throne carved from solid stone, and on that throne sat something that should not have existed. It was a creature made of darkness, from its skin to its blood to whatever soul it might possess. Motionless and towering, it radiated a monstrous presence even in stillness. The two curved horns rising from its head only confirmed what Luke already knew. It was a demon. The creature leaned slightly forward, its hands resting on the arms of the throne and its head lowered.

Maybe it was asleep. Luke couldn't see its eyes, and he was grateful for that, because he knew with absolute certainty that if they opened, he would not survive their gaze. If it had been stone, it might have passed for part of the ruins, but something deep inside him refused that lie. That thing was breathing. At the base of the throne, right in the center of the temple, sat a chest. It was small, plain, and alone. That was where the key was. Luke retreated slowly, slipping back into the safety of the undergrowth.

Only after he had put enough distance between himself and the clearing did he let his heart begin hammering in his chest. He had found it. The way out. Or the trap that had been waiting all this time to kill him. His breathing came short and heavy as cold sweat clung to his skin. That chest could be his way out, not just off this floor, but out of everything: the challenge, the prisoners, the constant hunger, and the death that had been closing in on him from all sides. With that key, he could move on.

He could survive. Luke looked once more toward the abyss, the bridge, and the temple. On paper, the task was almost laughably simple. Cross the bridge, enter the temple, open the chest, and leave with the key. Simple, except for the demon sleeping between him and freedom. He crouched at the edge of the waterfall and cupped his hands beneath the stream. The water was cold, and it had never felt so good.

He drank deeply, his throat burning with thirst, while the exhaustion of days spent walking, fighting, and surviving settled into his bones. Now that he knew where the key was, everything felt clearer, sharper, and somehow worse. It still hurt. He splashed water over his face, then scrubbed his arms and the back of his neck, washing away dried blood and grime. Leveling up closed wounds, but it didn't clean filth from his skin.

His body still carried the stink of battle: monster blood, mud, soot, sweat, and the metallic trace of his own injuries. When he returned to the gazebo, he collapsed into the wooden chair and sat there in silence. He had to do this. There was no other path left, and either way, he was already dead if he stayed here. The cave was almost empty now. He had wiped out nearly every creature on the floor. Only a few remained, and only because he had spared them on purpose.

He hadn't wanted corpses rotting near the place where he slept, but he knew he would finish them off soon too. Luke stood and began pacing around the table, drawing slow breaths as he tried to smother the anxiety clawing up his chest. Short phrases slipped from his mouth before he even realized he was speaking, a pathetic attempt to keep himself sane. Then he stopped and stared at the table. After a moment, he picked up a small stone and placed it in the center.

Around it, he arranged stacked leaves like crude walls. Between the leaves and the stone, he positioned a twig as a marker for the bridge. Finally, he stretched a torn scrap of paper over the stone and stared at the result. It was rough, improvised, and primitive. It barely deserved to be called a model, but right then, it was everything.

"I guess that counts as a map," he muttered, letting out a slow breath.

"Barely." A weak, humorless smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

"Now I just need a plan." So he made one, though not a good one. Days passed. Luke spent hours doing nothing but watching. Crouched behind the bushes, he circled the edge of the abyss, searching for new angles, trying to map the floating island and find some other way into the temple. But reality gave him nothing. There was only one bridge, one straight path leading directly to the throne. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

Every time he returned to the gazebo, he added another pebble to his model.

"Right… a few monsters in that area. Look like kobolds. Sleeping." He had started speaking aloud almost out of habit.

"Great. I'm one bad day away from naming a rock Wilson." Maybe it was madness, but talking helped ease the pressure. Silence had become too heavy to bear.

"And the demon still hasn't moved," he said, adjusting a few small stones around the larger central one that represented the throne.

"It just sits there." After all those days of watching, the boss hadn't shown a single sign of life. No twitch. No movement. Not even a visible breath. If it had been made of stone, Luke would have believed it was part of the scenery. But something in him refused to believe that. It was breathing. Even still, even asleep, it was alive. His thoughts returned again to the system message.

"These doors can only be opened from the inside if you possess the Statue Key, currently guarded by a Boss." Guarded. Not awarded after victory. The difference was subtle, but it mattered. Luke stood and paced the clearing again, muttering to himself as the idea took shape.

"It has to be stealth. Even the way I walk matters. Maybe the bridge isn't just a path. Maybe it's a warning. One wrong step, and I'm dead." He stopped, inhaled slowly, and forced himself to think through every detail.

"I'll have to move silently. Light steps. No sound. Maybe even hold my breath. Every movement calculated. Nothing sudden. Nothing unnecessary. Just enough to move forward without waking it." His gaze dropped to the old leather bag left behind by the previous challenger, and understanding settled over him. That was why the last guy had left it behind. He hadn't wanted to carry anything. Not even the sound of fabric brushing against his body.

Luke looked down at his feet, then at the knife sheath strapped to his thigh. Maybe he needed to leave everything behind. Even his shoes. Armed or not, he had no intention of fighting that thing. But what if the demon could sense his presence? What if it was like him? Over the past few weeks, Luke had come to understand just how deeply the [Assassin] class had changed his body. Maybe his mind too. Even asleep, he noticed things: sounds, shifts, the faintest change in pressure through the air.

Any of it could wake him. If the boss had something similar, stealth would not be as simple as making no noise. It might sense more than movement. It might sense intent. Maybe Luke had to hide even from himself. He braced both hands on the table and took a deep breath.

"It's not just about moving slowly. It's about thinking less. Want nothing. Fear nothing. Threaten nothing. Become part of the place. Invisible. No ego. No focus. No future." His eyes returned to the stone that represented the throne. This challenge felt designed for an [Assassin], or at least for someone with a stealth-based class. Or maybe that was just coincidence. He didn't know. What he did know was that he was not completely helpless.

Luke pulled two small black spheres from his inventory and set them beside the improvised model.

"My salvation," he murmured, a faint smile touching the corner of his mouth.

"You two." He stared at the smoke bombs. They were his only cheat, his only margin of safety. If the demon woke before he reached the chest, Luke would throw one. Thick smoke would flood the temple, and in that instant, he would run, grab the key, and try to do the impossible. He didn't know if it would work. Maybe the demon didn't rely on sight. Maybe it saw heat, mana, intent, or something worse. It didn't matter.

The smoke bomb would be his distraction, his curtain, his last chance before everything went to hell. If the silent approach failed, if he made one mistake, if the creature moved, then the smoke would be all he had. It might be stronger and faster, but if it couldn't see him, maybe it couldn't hit him. Luke knew he could fail. He knew the smoke might mean nothing at all.

But the odds had been against him from the beginning, and all he could do now was set the stage for the moment everything collapsed and hope he lasted long enough. Later, Luke watched the kobolds in the forest. They were the last ones. Aside from the monsters on the floating island, these were the final creatures left on the floor, and his only remaining food source. Killing them now meant the countdown would truly begin. No more excuses. No more delays. But waiting was dangerous too.

Part of him had considered waiting for the prisoners to come down and letting them deal with the key before he tried something that insane himself. But Luke knew that was a fantasy. Worse, it was an excuse. The prisoners had no intention of opening the portal anytime soon. Maybe not even this year. Betting his life on their plans would be just as insane as trying to steal a key from a chest at the feet of a demon. So he lay in the undergrowth, perfectly still. Hours passed, and Luke did not move.

He was training his breathing, training his mind, trying to empty himself until his thoughts dissolved. Ironically, the harder he tried not to think, the louder his thoughts became. The solution, he realized, was not to resist them. The solution was to stop being Luke. He pictured a panther. The image formed clearly in his mind: a silent predator, nothing but eyes between the leaves, its body built to kill but in no hurry to do so. It did not rush. It did not hesitate. It waited. Luke imitated it.

Minutes passed, then an hour. A slight shift of weight. A muscle contracting almost invisibly. One step, maybe. Then nothing again. Ahead, the kobolds continued their routine. One dragged sticks. Another gnawed on a rock for no reason at all. The third simply stood there, watching the forest and sweating. It felt him. Not clearly. Not enough to understand. Just enough to be afraid. Just enough to know it was already too late. The kobold swept its eyes over the darkness ahead. The woods seemed alive.

Then something moved. A blade spun through the air and buried itself in the kobold's forehead. [You have slain a Cave Kobold – Lvl 5] Before the others could react, more blades came. They cut through the air and struck the ground around the kobolds, forcing them back. The one carrying sticks lifted its head in panic and saw a shadow shift between the trees. Then a stone dropped beside it. Instinct made it turn. That was the last thing it did. A blade came for its eyes, and darkness swallowed it.

[You have slain a Cave Kobold – Lvl 5] The third kobold trembled as the forest became a living maze around it. Shadows closed in from every side. The trees seemed to watch. It backed away, stumbled into something behind it, and slowly turned. Two eyes stared down at it. There was no anger in them. No pleasure. Only judgment, as if the kobold were less than an insect. The blade slid across its throat with surgical precision.

[You have slain a Cave Kobold – Lvl 4] Luke remained motionless, breathing slowly with his eyes closed, the panther still lingering inside him. [Your [Assassin] class has reached Level 5!] (+2 Agility, +1 Strength, +1 Vitality, +1 Perception, +1 Free Point.) [You have unlocked a new Class Skill] Luke exhaled. He had done it. For a moment, he hadn't used the [Assassin]. He had been the [Assassin], completely, not just in body but in mind.

He had uncovered something hidden within the class, something deeper than a simple skill or bonus. But when he opened the system menu to see his new skill, there wasn't just one. There were five. As Luke read the descriptions, his eyes widened. They weren't minor bonuses. They were absurd. And one of them made the demon possible.