Mystery: The Stranger

Chapter 6 Openly Displaying Malice

The pale purple aura of evil energy receded like a tide, and Snow Serin's surging aura suddenly subsided. His originally nearly two-meter-tall, burly figure shrank back at a visible speed, eventually settling at a normal height of about 1.7 meters.

He raised his hand and rubbed his somewhat heavy temples. As his fingertips brushed against his skin, he could still feel the lingering itch from the fine lines that had just disappeared—strange marks left on his body by void energy in his demonized state, like some kind of cursed totem that had come to life.

"A familiar feeling." Snow glanced down at his well-proportioned but not particularly strong arms, and was fairly satisfied. It was like a new mobile phone; after changing the screen layout and shortcut settings, it would suit his usage habits. As for a perfect physique, that wasn't something ordinary people in this era could aspire to. Being able to fill their stomachs and keep their lives in famine and war was already a blessing from heaven.

"Your demonization lacks a strong physical body and powerful spell resistance, but it comes with greater energy consumption and instability," Xalatas's voice came from the side, carrying a somewhat casual comment.

She had now revealed her shelled virtual form: goat-like, curved black horns pointed to the sky, bat-like wing membranes shimmered with a dark purple luster in the setting sun, and large expanses of exposed dark skin were covered with fine scales at key points. A thick tail swayed gently like a cat's. Her heterochromatic pupils swept over the remaining patterns on Snow's body, and she suddenly chuckled, "Those patterns are quite interesting, though. They remind me of the arcane runes of Azeroth, only... even more sinister, as if woven from the whispers of the abyss."

Snow raised an eyebrow, momentarily at a loss for words to explain.

He couldn't very well say that this wasn't orthodox demonization at all, but rather that he had forcibly taken advantage of the racial characteristics of Void Demons, disassembled and reassembled the scattered knowledge inheritance within the extraordinary characteristics, and then used the demonic vocabulary containing magic as a "contractor" to forcibly maintain the physical body from collapsing due to disorder and imbalance—this kind of piecemeal approach, like something out of a small workshop, would probably be laughably crude in the eyes of truly high-sequence beings.

"This is called... skirting the line of mythical creature forms."

Since it was the first time Snow had seen a "living" Xalatas, he paused for a moment before uttering this sentence, his tone tinged with a hint of helplessness.

He didn't expect Salatas to understand, since normally only extraordinary individuals who advance to Sequence 4 and enter the realm of demigods would begin to transform into mythical creatures. He was currently only Sequence 6, and the reason he could achieve this was entirely due to the abnormal modification of his extraordinary characteristics.

Snow has always followed the path of a spellcaster, and his physical body is sufficient for his needs.

He had learned some spells of shadow, fel, arcane, and holy light, but he had just put them on the guise of demonic pathways. As long as he didn't use light spells that demons instinctively abhorred, outsiders would have no idea what his true abilities were.

Sequence 6 is actually a bit weak. The "Demon" trait he had previously consumed was not enough to provide any substantial boost. He didn't want the trait's madness to erode his spirit, so he simply customized this form, which emphasizes mobility, based on the template of the Void Demon: short-range teleportation, shadow stealth, and spirit realm traversal. These abilities are far more to the caster's liking than brute force and resilience.

The only difference is that activating demonization consumes more resources and is less stable, but these are insignificant issues compared to the overall strength.

By consuming more of the same extraordinary traits, you can add attributes from other places.

"This practice of using one's own body as a magical material for enchantment is quite interesting."

Xal'atath casually replied without asking further questions. She had witnessed all sorts of astonishing creatures on the continent of Azeroth, and Snow's "borderline" demonic form was hardly a shocking sight. What she was more concerned about at the moment was her own growing emptiness and hunger—helping Snow organize and guide the directed expression of his demonic characteristics had consumed a significant amount of her primal energy.

Xalatas's gaze swept over the scattered corpses and abandoned village not far away, his tone tinged with a hint of eagerness, "Where do we go now? Take out the nearby baron and become a minor lord on the border ourselves?"

Snow looked down at his robes, which had been torn to shreds during his demonic transformation, and his exposed skin was still stained with blood and dust.

He bent down and casually tore off a few relatively clean pieces of coarse cloth from a nearby corpse that was still relatively well-dressed. He clumsily but quickly wrapped them around his waist, covering his vital parts. After doing this, he raised his hand and a ball of pale blue flame appeared out of thin air, landing on the pile of corpses around him.

The flames burned silently, pale blue tongues licking the corpses. There was no black smoke, only a faint smell of burning filling the air. Snow watched the bodies gradually curling up in the flames, a faint trace of regret flashing in his eyes.

Most of these people were villagers who had been driven to their deaths by the baron's tax collectors. If they had lived, they could at least have become taxpayers—in this chaotic border region, people were more precious than gold and silver.

Well, in this era where gods roam the earth and all sorts of extraordinary beings are unusually active, collecting taxes is quite difficult.

The tax collectors dispatched by the baron were themselves low-sequence extraordinary beings, while desperate commoners, in order to resist taxes, would also summon demons through incomplete rituals obtained from unknown sources. A series of vicious cycles of conflict turned this land into a hunting ground where the strong preyed on the weak, which could be considered a kind of "fair" give and take.

"Of course." Snow turned around, the melancholy from before gone, replaced by an ambitious smile. He stroked the black dagger in his palm—the "Blade of the Dark Empire" that sealed Xalatas—and asked with certainty, "What's the first step to becoming a border Count?"

Before Salatas could answer, he had already given his own answer, and started walking towards the baron's castle outside the village: "Of course, I should become a border baron first."

Saratas's eyes lit up, a hint of excitement flashing in her golden pupils. She quickly followed Snow's footsteps, her bat-like wings fluttering gently, her tone carrying a playful encouragement: "Let's go, Knight Snow! Let's, in the name of justice, punish that evil lord who drove an entire village to its death by demanding taxes!"

Although his spiritual form was still sealed within the dagger, Xalatas's presence was exceptionally strong. Despite walking behind Snow, he was as clearly imprinted on Snow's consciousness as if he were sensing the innate malice within himself.

Snow knew perfectly well that this was exactly what Xalatas wanted—for extraordinary beings on the demonic path, the increase in power inevitably comes with the erosion of their characteristics, amplifying malice, losing conscience, gradually becoming inhuman, and approaching the abyss—an irreversible trend. What Xalatas did was use her power to reshape the demonic characteristics within him, allowing her to take over the ever-growing madness and malice.

To use her power, one must accept her influence. That's fair, and Snow understood that from the beginning.

The pale blue flames were still burning, engulfing the ruins and corpses of the village, as if erasing the traces of this tragedy.

Snow walked slowly, making sure the unfortunate baron could at least enjoy his last supper.