A large bat lunged at Vale's face. With a swift movement, he ducked under its sharp fangs, narrowly avoiding the attack. As he did, he summoned his weapon. Before the bat could turn around, the Ordinary Katana materialized, and Vale thrust its blade forward.
The sharp clang of metal echoed through the tunnel. Vale's eyes widened as he saw the creature block his strike with one of its wings. That's when he realized—this bat was much larger than the previous ones, perhaps even twice the size.
But its size wasn't the only difference. Under the glow of his torch, its wings shimmered, not like flesh, but like polished metal.
Before Vale could study the creature any further, it swung its other wing. A sharp whisper cut through the air as it sliced toward him, but he reacted fast, sidestepping the attack and slashing again.
His strike connected, but the Ordinary Katana failed to cut through the creature's tough hide.
Vale gritted his teeth and picked up the pace. A flurry of slashes followed, each strike aimed with precision. Metal clashed against metal, sparks bursting into the darkness as their battle raged on.
Cracks began to form. The creature's metal wings struggled under the relentless strikes of Vale's katana. He raised his weapon high, ready to deliver the final blow.
But before he could bring it down, a sharp edge of the bat's wing sliced into his left shoulder.
Pain flared through him as warm blood trickled down his arm. Gritting his teeth, he twisted his body, narrowly dodging the follow-up attack from the monster. Using his remaining arm, he slashed forward.
The blade connected.
The force of the blow sent the creature hurtling into the cave wall. The impact shook the tunnel, dislodging loose rocks from above. Before the monster could recover, the wall crumbled down, and a cascade of rubble buried it beneath a pile of stone.
[ You have slain a C-Rank Dormant Monster: Ironwing. ]
Vale ignored the familiar voice in his head, his focus shifting to the wound.
It was deep. Blood trickled freely down his arm, and a numbness had already begun to set in. He needed to act fast.
With no other options, he grabbed his torch, its heat radiating against his fingers. Gritting his teeth, he pressed the searing stone against the open gash.
Flesh sizzled. A sharp, nauseating pain shot through his body. He twisted in agony, every nerve screaming in protest, but he didn't let go. Cold sweat dripped down his face as he held the torch in place, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
Finally, he pulled it away, feeling the slight resistance of charred skin clinging to the torch. His stomach twisted at the sight, but the bleeding had stopped.
Without hesitation, he tore a strip from his pajamas and wrapped the wound tightly. The pain still throbbed beneath the makeshift bandage, but now a lot more manageable.
Vale took a few moments to rest, steadying his breath and calming his racing heart, then he shifted his focus onto the lifeless body of the creature under the rubble.
Stepping forward, he moved the pile of rocks aside and tore the monster's flesh open, as he did, a dark mana crystal revealed itself, slightly larger than the ones he saw previously. Without hesitation, he stretched his arm and fed the crystal to the dark spark.
Although Vale wasn't sure what feeding the spark did, he had no choice and so he decided it was better to feed the spark than to leave the crystals behind out of spite.
The moment the spark vanished, Vale pushed himself to his feet. His body felt heavy, the wound still pulsing with pain. A dark expression settled on his face as the realization sank in—this was what life in the Demon Realm truly looked like. An endless struggle for survival.
Many loved to romanticize the idea of venturing into the Demon Realm—facing fearsome monsters alongside loyal companions, acquiring powerful artifacts, growing stronger with each battle, and, of course, finding love, just as the countless novels and stories depicted. Tales of heroism and adventure painted it as a place where the brave thrived, where those with enough determination could carve out their own legends.
But the reality was far grimmer.
The Demon Realm was not a place of grand adventures or destined bonds; it was a cold, merciless abyss filled with isolation and despair. Few ever made it out alive, and even fewer remained unchanged by its horrors. Vale had known of its unforgiving nature long before he found himself trapped within it. Both his father and brother had been here before, their stories serving as cautionary tales to prepare him for what lay ahead.
Yet now, standing amidst its bleak and desolate expanse, he realized that no amount of warning could have truly conveyed the sheer terror, the suffocating loneliness, or the overwhelming sense of weakness that this realm inflicted upon those who dared to face it.
This—this was far worse than anything he had ever imagined.
Vale let out a slow, weary sigh, accepting the grim reality of his situation. Then, without another word or thought, he strode forward.
Minutes blurred into hours. Time lost its meaning as Vale pressed on, his footsteps echoing in the suffocating silence. The air around him felt heavy, thick with an unsettling stillness that gnawed at his nerves. Every breath was shallow, as if even the atmosphere itself resisted his presence, reluctant to let him move forward.
Then, after what felt like another hour, something changed.
The torch in his hand flickered.
At first, it was subtle—a momentary dimming of the light, as though the very essence of life was being pulled from it. But then, the shifts became more frequent. The once-blazing heat had dwindled to a feeble warmth, barely noticeable against his skin, a stark contrast to the intense heat that kept him alive in the freezing cold.
Vale's grip tightened on the handle, but the flickering persisted, unpredictable and erratic. Shadows danced around him under the flickering light and within moments, the light shone brightly one last time before dying.
Darkness swallowed everything.