Becoming a Monster

Chapter 465: Chapter 464: Rite of Corruption

The chieftain hesitated to speak at first.

The beings’ presence was almost suffocating. Not just because he was strong, but because of who he represented. The chieftain would never forget the general who bestowed it with its current power.

It feared its lord just as much as it worshiped her.

The chieftain shivered when it quickly noticed the leader’s displeasure from its silence. It glanced behind it before lowering its head again. When it finally spoke, its gaze remained fixed on the stone floor.

”Si—sir! I haven’t confirmed the demon’s existence myself. What I know is only from what I’ve been told by my new general. Otuk! Step forward.”

The chieftain called out without turning back. A heavy scuffle sounded behind him, the sound of a huge being moving with somewhat clumsy, hasty steps. Metal clanks rang with every moment it made along the way.

He was the fallen chieftain. And although he was made into one of the chieftain’s own personal guards, his appearance was still the same.

Barely the same.

Multiple scars crisscrossed his hide, scars that didn’t heal even with his regeneration.

Since he came there, he has been challenged by trolls and goblins throughout the village. Each challenge was from those who sought his position as one of the chieftain’s generals.

Each step caused the floor to tremble. The elf leader regarded him without change. The elves behind him didn’t bother to hide their disdain. To them, this creature was even beneath a wild beast.

Their contempt was heightened even more by his presence. A non-demon creature who was still stronger than they were.

The chieftain spoke again, not daring to waste the leader’s time any further.

”This is the troll I spoke of in our message. He was once a chieftain who resided in that forest. And it was barely a few days ago when he confronted the demon and its warriors directly before coming here.”

Neither Otuk nor the chieftain said anything else.

Under the elf’s direct gaze, Otuk felt something crawl through his chest.

It wasn’t pressure. Not like mana bearing down on him. There was no force pushing him to his knees.

It was worse.

It was the same sensation he had felt before the power spike in the forest. Back then and even now, it wasn’t fear that he felt; it was inferiority.

The elf leader studied Otuk. He could sense more frustration from the beast than the subservient fear that encompassed the others.

A faint glint appeared in his eye.

There was a faint sense of approval. Not of Otuk’s character, but what it represented. Because only intense emotions and deep, negative desires shaped demons of true value. Desperation, hatred, obsession. Those were the foundations of power.

And a powerful demon meant a stronger tool to be had at their disposal.

If this were another time, the elf leader would not have lingered on such a thing. A failed chieftain would have been beneath notice.

But circumstances had changed.

Reports of humans summoning a so-called Hero and Saintess had begun to circulate. Prophecies that the generals once dismissed as convenient myths were now being treated with caution. As a result, the generals had become more active.

Even the Demon King himself had acknowledged this prophecy. That alone was enough to shift priorities.

The generals had become more active. More aggressive in securing assets that could tip the scales in their favor. The coming war was not merely a conflict; it was an opportunity. A chance to rise in standing beneath the Demon King’s gaze.

And to serve his lord, the elf leader wouldn’t miss the chance to secure greater weapons.

”Troll,” The elf leader disregarded Otuk’s name. To him, a tool that hasn’t proved its value doesn’t deserve to have an identity.

”Don’t waste my time, tell me everything... and don’t leave a single detail out.”

Otuk barely resisted looking up. Everything? What constituted everything? Should he start with the day when he sent out his scouts? Or maybe he only wanted to know about the day he led the attack himself...

He couldn’t be sure, but the longer he pondered, the smaller the room felt. So he could only start from the very beginning to be safe.

From the day the world went through a change. Creatures he never seen or heard of before, appearing out of nowhere. The outburst of two strong auras fighting one another immediately after. One of those auras belonged to the drake that unspokenly ruled the forest.

Otuk spilled it all.

The story was long-winded, mixed with the barbarically crude language, and the elves behind their leader began to show visible impatience. In their view, the creature was wasting their leader’s time.

But one glance towards their leader caused a shift in their attitudes. Each of them straightened in a heartbeat. Their expressions feign seriousness as if they were taking every word to heart.

What was mundane to them was taken very seriously by their leader.

Because to him, a demon that could appear without being created was rare. No, it was nearly impossible.

Demons were either born or turned. Powerful ones did not simply emerge without notice. Especially not without the Demon King knowing.

And yet, this one had gone unrecorded.

There was a reason no true demon had ever claimed Ashenveil Forest. It sat right in the middle of multiple contested borders. It was encroaching on the humans, elves, and beastkin alike. Leaving it unclaimed was for purposeful reasons.

It was merely a buffer to deter intrusions without provoking retaliation or forcing other nations into a corner.

As long as the demons focused on human lands, the fragile balance endured.

The demons understood this very well.

The other nations say that they support one another, but for years, they have never risen to the occasion to fully support humans against them.

While humans burned through their strongest elites in endless conflict, the others watched carefully. They fortified their borders. Expanded their influence. Built their kingdoms higher and stronger, all while feigning concern.

That was why the demons never fully pushed beyond human lands. The moment they threatened anyone else, the alliance would be forced to rise as one.

And now, a demon that shouldn’t exist stood in the middle of it all, one that could unravel decades of careful planning.

At least, that was one way to look at it. But the elf leaders generally cared more about the demon’s identity instead. So much more that he was ordered to come personally to verify the demon’s origins.

The elf leader cared little for the balance between nations. What mattered to him was his lord’s commands. And he cared more for the demon’s identity.

So much so that he had been ordered to come personally to verify it.

If the demon was truly a demon, a corrupted creature, or the remnant of another lord. Then the next question mattered far more.

How did it come to be?

Because if Otuk’s account was true, then this could potentially be a true demon. A demon that had existed long ago in this world before any of them ever did. Before the current order was ever established.

And if his general could present such a being to the Demon King... then his standing would rise without question. Perhaps even enough to be granted a position as one of the three lords, directly under his command.

The elf leader said nothing. He stood there as Otuk’s account settled into place. Weighing every inconsistency, not dismissing a single detail.

Then, without warning, he spoke.

”Troll, come here.”

Otuk stiffened. His instincts flared, but his body moved before his mind could argue. Each step toward the elf felt heavier than the last. When he stopped, the distance between them was barely an arm’s length.

The elf leader moved. Otuk never saw it happen.

A thin line opened across his hand.

For a heartbeat, Otuk didn’t understand what he was seeing. Then warmth followed. Blood ran down his fingers, dripping onto the stone floor.

His first instinct was to react. To defend himself, the only way he knew how. But something deeper screamed louder.

Move, and I’ll die.

The elf leader’s hand was already lowered. Blood coated his fingers. And then magically it began to be absorbed. Drawn away in a slow pull toward the ring on his finger. The surface began to glow softly, with nothing else happening afterward.

Otuk’s focus shifted to the ring. Curiosity replaced what had just happened.

The elf leader met his gaze.

”You’ve earned the right to shed your weak shell. Now I will grant you the power to prove you are useful to our lord.”

He lifted his own wrist and sliced it open without hesitation. Blood poured freely.

It spilled on the ring in a steady flow that was absorbed instantly. As the last bit of it vanished, the air changed.

The pressure hit without mercy.

An aura flooded outward from the elf leader, rolling through the hall and beyond it. Every creature in the barracks felt it.

Those inside the hall suffered the worst of it.

Kill, carnage, violence. Each creature there was being filled with the most intense desires, and each of them were fully aware of their sanity being eroded away by it.

The elf leader steadied himself, then he removed the ring, letting it fall.

The moment the ring struck the stone floor, blood surged outward from beneath it, racing across the ground to create a sigil. It expanded until both the elf leader and Otuk stood within its boundary.

Otuk’s body locked before he dropped to his knees. An unrestrained roar tore from his throat, one that was filled with pure rage.

And bliss.

His claws dug into the stone as his spine threatened to deform, muscles swelling and tightening beneath his scarred hide. His breath came in violent bursts, foam gathering at the corners of his mouth as the impulses flooding his mind finally found a vessel willing to receive them.

The elf leader finally showed an expression of emotion.

He was shocked. Not by the transformation itself. But because he could sense the corruption and power being absorbed into Otuk with every passing second.

Trolls were violet, blood thirsty creatures by nature.

To absorb the amount of negative energy Otuk was now absorbing meant he possessed an abnormal degree of self-control for his kind.

Or.

There was something anchoring all of it. A singular fixation strong enough to give shape to the madness.

And that... pleased the demonic energy far more than blind rage and selfish desires ever could.

The warlock chieftain was no longer staring towards the ground. Reluctance reflected in its gaze as it witnessed Otuks’ transformation firsthand.

It expected the Elf leader to agree to its request, turning his future right-hand general into a demon.

But now, as it watched the transformed unfurl. It’s already accepted that its position as chieftain has been lost.