When all the tribesmen exited the cave, Demos walked over to a nearby stone slab covered in animal fur. It looked comfortable to him.
He lay down on the slab, then opened the system interface.
System Interface
Name: Demos S. Sparta
Age: 15
Level: 1
Health: 26/100
Strength: 10
Agility: 10
Intelligence: 10
Ability: (##$#) sealed | (#_#$#) sealed | (#$$#$$) sealed
Unique Ability:
Five-Colored Lightning: sealed
Ice Age: sealed
Language Pack Installed: Azuran Language
Skill: Hand-to-Hand Combat (Level 1)
Mission: THE FIRST TASK – Survive for 20 minutes (✓ complete)
Reward: +2 Strength, +2 Agility
Mission: BECOME THE LEADER OF A DYING TRIBE (✓ complete)
Reward: One-handed Axe
Punishment: Instant Death
Pre-recorded Message: ********
Demos squinted at the "Pre-recorded" label. He reached out and tapped it.
Suddenly, a voice filled the air—a voice that called itself his mother.
Voice: "Hi, my baby boy. It seems you finally found the recording I left you as a guide for this system."
Demos felt a wave of embarrassment. "Baby boy?"
The voice continued explaining the system and its functions.
Voice: "System points are what you can use to grow stronger—by adding them to your Strength, Agility, or Intelligence."
Demos listened attentively, trying not to miss a single word.
Voice: "You can also use an inventory. If you're wondering what that is—it's just a separate space you can store items in. Just think about the inventory and it will appear."
Demos did exactly that. As he focused, the system interface revealed a large one-handed axe. He tapped the screen—and the axe materialized in his right hand.
Surprised, Demos could only mumble one word:
Demos: "Beautiful…"
The metal gleamed with an ethereal silver sheen, adorned with intricate engravings that danced across the surface. Ancient runes pulsed with a soft blue light, glowing from within. The handle, made from rich, dark wood, seemed to absorb the surrounding light. It was wrapped in delicate golden filigree, adding a touch of elegance to the weapon's power.
As the light hit it just right, the blade glowed with an inner radiance, as if imbued with ancient magic. It wasn't just a tool—it was a masterpiece.
The voice snapped Demos back to reality.
He placed the axe beside him and continued listening.
Voice: "You'll be given system points for what you create and the techniques you teach. You'll also earn points by completing missions."
Finally understanding how the system worked, Demos smiled—and added his rewards from the first mission.
System Update
Name: Demos S. Sparta
Age: 15
Level: 1
Health: 95/100
Strength: 12
Agility: 12
Intelligence: 10
Abilities: All Sealed
Unique Abilities:
Five-Colored Lightning: Sealed
Ice Age: Sealed
Language Pack: Azuran Language
Skill: Hand-to-Hand Combat (Level 1)
Missions:
THE FIRST TASK (✓ complete) – Reward: +2 Strength, +2 Agility
BECOME THE LEADER OF A DYING TRIBE (✓ complete) – Reward: One-handed Axe
Punishment: Instant Death
As Demos allocated the final points to his Strength and Agility, the air was suddenly shattered by a blood-curdling scream.
His scream.
It sent shivers down the spines of every tribesman outside the cave. Time itself seemed to freeze. A malevolent energy seeped into the world—a presence that clung to every breath, every heartbeat.
The scream lingered, echoing through the darkness, leaving Demos breathless and overwhelmed by the unbearable pain flooding his body.
His gaze darted around the cave, panicked. The jagged stone ceiling loomed above. The air was heavy with damp earth… and blood. Something metallic tainted the air.
His head throbbed. Memories blurred.
He remembered assigning system points…
The scream…
Then—nothing.
He struggled to sit up, but dizziness forced him to lie back down. When it passed, he noticed something astonishing:
His body—completely healed. No cuts, no bruises. No scars. It was as if he'd never been injured at all.
Had the system done this?
Sitting up slowly, Demos inspected his torso. Smooth, unbroken skin. He felt… different.
Stronger.
Faster.
Suddenly, visions flooded his mind—battles, skills, encounters. But they weren't his memories. They belonged to someone else—someone with power far beyond his own.
Just as he was about to reopen the system interface, a voice echoed inside his head.
He froze.
Dumbstruck, he spun around in circles, snatched the axe from the slab, and dropped into a combat stance. No one was there.
The laughter echoed again—loud, unsettling.
Voice: "Hahahaha! Hey hey hey! That's not how you greet your mother."
Demos: "…Oh, it's just you. Is this the method you meant when you said you'd contact me?"
Voice: "How rude."
Voice: "And yes. This is the only way I could think of."
Still on guard, Demos narrowed his eyes, but he needed answers.
Demos: "Why am I here? What is this place? What happened to the nation of Sparta? Who brought me here, and why?"
Demos: "And who the hell are you? You keep saying you're my mother…"
The voice sensed his hostility.
Voice: "There's no need to be hostile, Demos. I'm sorry I couldn't protect Sparta. I was the one who brought you here."
Voice: "I did it to gather the four races and rebuild Sparta."
Demos: "…Four? Sparta has always had three races."
Voice: "No, my son. Sparta has always had four—and it always will."
Demos: "Hahaha! I knew it. You can't be trusted."
Voice:sighs "Disrespectful child…"
Demos: "So you're saying the First King didn't even know there was a hidden race?"
Demos: "You're saying he hid an entire fucking race?"
Fury ignited in the voice's tone.
Voice: "You little disrespectful bastard! If you weren't of S. Sparta blood—my blood—I'd kill you where you stand."
The voice calmed.
Voice: "The reason no one knows of the fourth race is because they were sealed away. The only ones who knew were King Leonidas S. Sparta—and me. The First Queen. The only Goddess of Sparta."
Demos: "Impossible. That's a lie. All Spartans know the First King and Queen disappeared during the Blood Rain and the Cry of the Heavens."
Voice: "…Hahahaha. Is that what they're calling my masterpiece?"
Demos: "Wait—your 'artwork'?"
Voice: "It happened when I discovered my husband was dead."
Demos: "So he did die… What happened to him?"
Voice: "That's not important right now."
Demos: "…Fair. But how am I your son? Aren't you supposed to be my grandmother?"
Voice: "Yes… and no."
Demos: "What do you mean?"
Voice: "When I returned from my masterpiece, I found Sparta in ruins. But I found you—half-dead, locked in an underground prison."
Demos: "Who destroyed Sparta? And how are you not my grandmother anymore?"
The voice released a suffocating divine pressure. Demos dropped to his knees, sweat pouring down his face.
Voice: "You disrespectful little son of mine! Shut your mouth when I'm speaking!"
He gasped, trembling. Blood spilled from his mouth. He coughed violently, breathing heavily.
He was beginning to realize…
He was speaking to a true god.
When the pressure lifted, Demos stared at the system interface, wide-eyed, drenched in fear.
Voice: "It's not time for you to know who destroyed Sparta. Just keep getting stronger."
Voice: "Now… where was I? Ah yes—I found your broken body in that prison. I didn't even recognize you. But when I saw that silky white hair—hair that only a true S. Sparta possesses…"
She told him how she dove into his memories to discover what had happened—but was disappointed.
He had been imprisoned before Sparta's fall.
Imprisoned because he was the illegitimate son of the king and a lowly maid.
Voice: "After seeing your memories, I began the healing process."
Her voice was colder now.
Voice: "Your body was too damaged. The wounds were too deep. I tore out my own celestial veins to keep you alive—but it wasn't enough. You began to disintegrate."
Demos stared at the interface, trembling.
Voice: "I had to think fast. I had to seal you inside one of my divine abilities—a power that preserved your body and gave you time to heal."
Demos' eyes narrowed.
Demos: "…What ability?"