The Ultimate Skill System: Absorb, Upgrade, Create, Transfer-Chapter 40 - : Fallen Angels

The sun hung low in the sky, its golden light fading into a deep, fiery orange as it dipped closer to the horizon.

The once-bright rays now cast long shadows across the grassy fields surrounding the village of the Cervitaurs.

The air was thick with tension, heavy and oppressive, as if the world itself could sense the impending danger.

The usual sounds of nature—the chirping of birds, the rustling of leaves, the distant calls of animals—were absent, replaced by an eerie silence.

Even the wind seemed to hold its breath, as though afraid to disturb the fragile peace that lingered over the land.

From the distance, a dark shadow began to spread across the horizon, creeping closer like a storm cloud rolling in from the sea.

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It moved with a deliberate, menacing purpose, blotting out the fading sunlight and casting the land into an unnatural twilight.

As the shadow drew nearer, its form became clearer—an army of demons, their black wings cutting through the air like blades.

They descended upon the village like a flock of ravens, their movements synchronized and precise.

Each demon bore a red halo that floated above their heads, glowing faintly like embers in the dark. Their armor, black as the void, seemed to absorb the light around them, creating an aura of darkness that made them appear even more sinister.

One hundred demons landed on the grassy field, their heavy boots crushing the delicate blades beneath them.

The ground trembled under their weight, and the air grew colder as their presence filled the space.

[Common: Demon — 11.]

Among them were warriors clad in spiked armor, their weapons glinting with a malevolent light.

Archers carried bows made of bone, their arrows tipped with jagged, obsidian points.

Towering tanks, their massive shields as large as boulders, stood at the front, their eyes glowing with a dull, menacing red.

Mages, their armor adorned with skulls and chains, radiated an aura of dread that made the very air feel heavy. Their red eyes, glowing like embers, fixed on the entrance of the village, their gazes filled with hunger and malice.

At the front of the demon army stood their captain. His black armor was more ornate than the others, with intricate carvings that seemed to writhe and shift in the dim light.

The edges of his armor were lined with jagged spikes, and his helmet bore a pair of curved horns that twisted upward like the branches of a dead tree.

He stepped forward, his heavy boots sinking into the soft earth, but he paused when he noticed a small gathering at the village entrance.

What caught his attention first was Keiran, a human sitting calmly on a large, flat stone.

Behind him stood the Cervitaurs, their antlers glinting in the fading light. They held wooden spears, their hands trembling slightly as they prepared to defend their home.

Their eyes, wide with fear, darted between the demon army and Keiran, who showed no sign of concern.

Keiran's expression was blank, almost bored, as he observed the demon army with disinterest. His posture was relaxed, one leg crossed over the other, and his hands rested lightly on his knees.

[Uncommon: Tenebros — Level 32.]

The demon captain laughed, the sound deep and menacing, echoing from within his thick black helmet. "A human," he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "What is a weakling like you doing in such a dangerous place? You wear a crown—does that mean you are important?"

His words were laced with mockery, and the sight of him, towering and fearsome, made the Cervitaurs shiver in fear.

Their grip on their spears tightened, but they remained rooted in place, their eyes fixed on Keiran.

Keiran stood up slowly, his movements deliberate and unhurried. He brushed a speck of dust from his armor, the fabric rustling softly as he adjusted it.

His eyes, calm and unreadable, met the demon captain's gaze.

The Tenebros removed his helmet, revealing a strikingly handsome face with sharp features and long, flowing black hair.

His skin was pale, almost porcelain-like, and his red eyes glowed with an otherworldly light. Despite his beauty, there was something unsettling about him—a coldness in his gaze, a cruelty in the curve of his lips.

"You are more human-looking than I thought," Keiran remarked, his tone flat and unimpressed.

The demon captain raised an eyebrow, amused by Keiran's lack of fear. "What did you expect?" he asked, a smirk playing on his lips.

"Horns," Keiran replied simply.

The demon captain chuckled darkly as he placed his helmet back on. "Then you will die knowing the truth," he said, his voice low and threatening. "I am Magani Iduwaga, a fallen angel. You puny humans are shaped based on our beauty—mere imitations, filled with flaws."

Keiran didn't respond. Instead, he yawned, stretching his arms as if he had just woken from a nap.

The gesture infuriated Magani, who spread his massive black wings and launched himself at Keiran with a furious scream.

"Your foolishness will be your last undoing!" he roared, his sword glowing with a sinister red light as he swung it toward Keiran.

Keiran didn't flinch. He raised his fist, and in an instant, the air around him seemed to crackle with energy. He used Iron Fist. His hand glowed faintly, the light growing brighter as he focused his power.

With a single, powerful punch, he struck Magani in the head. The impact was so immense that it created a shockwave, sending a cloud of dust and debris into the air.

The ground beneath them cracked and splintered, forming a massive crater where Magani's body now lay crumpled. His head and helmet were completely obliterated, reduced to nothing more than ash and fragments of metal.

The Cervitaurs and the demons alike stared in stunned silence, their eyes wide and jaws hanging open.

Tenebros were known to be among the more powerful demons, responsible for wiping out countless tribes. Yet Keiran had defeated one with a single punch, and it hadn't even seemed like a challenge for him.

The Cervitaurs, who had been trembling in fear moments ago, now looked at Keiran with a mixture of awe and disbelief.

One of the demons, breaking free from his shock, shouted, "Destroy him!" The command spurred the others into action, and they surged forward like a tidal wave, their weapons raised and their eyes burning with rage.

The ground shook under the weight of their charge, and the air grew thick with the sound of their footsteps and battle cries.

Keiran sighed, as if annoyed by the inconvenience. He opened his mouth and unleashed Pyroclastic Roar, causing the air around him to grow unbearably hot.

The temperature rose rapidly, causing the grass beneath his feet to wither and turn to ash. His eyes glowed with a fierce light as he unleashed a torrent of fire so intense that it melted everything in its path.

The flames roared like a living beast, consuming the demons in an instant. Their armor, their weapons, even their bodies were reduced to ash, leaving nothing but scorched earth and the faint smell of sulfur in their wake.

When the flames subsided, the field was empty, save for the charred ground and the lingering heat that radiated from it.

The Cervitaurs, who had been watching in awe, now looked at Keiran with a mixture of fear and admiration.

Their spears, which they had gripped so tightly moments ago, now hung limply at their sides. Their eyes, wide with disbelief, darted between Keiran and the scorched field where the demon army had once stood.

Keiran glanced at the charred ground and muttered, "I overdid it. Now I can't absorb their skills."

[Don't worry, Master. Their essence still lingers for 24 hours, even though their bodies have been completely obliterated.]

Keiran nodded. "That's a relief," he said, his voice calm and steady. He turned to the Cervitaurs, who were still staring at him in disbelief.