“What is that?”
“What is that?” I ask again, not bothering to hide my suspicion. The thing in King Baalrek’s hand pulses, red crystal laced with black veins, shadows twisting around it in a slow orbit. I realize I’m staring at sothing I never thought I’d see outside an old epic or a myth. I wish I knew more about Infernals. I wish Sir Greyson had told
just how rare this was. I have no idea if I’m supposed to bow, bargain, or just keep standing here and hope for the best.
King Baalrek does not move. He lets the crystal grow heavier, the power inside it flickering, as if he wants
to feel the weight. He studies my face, asuring whether I understand what I’ve just survived.
I wait for him to speak. The silence feels dangerous. I want to believe I earned this, but I know I only got this far because of the Grimoire. If this had been about fighting or mana, if it had been about raw force, I would be dead already. I got lucky. I had the right Skill for the wrong challenge.
The crystal stops spinning, the veins pulsing. I glance up at King Baalrek, waiting for an answer. He only stares, shadows writhing behind him.
I break the silence.
“I don’t know anything about Infernals. Not really.”
King Baalrek finally lifts his chin. A slow smile cracks across his face, more grave than kind.
“Not many of my kind remain,” King Baalrek says. “Not after the Three Apocalypses.”
I try to play it cool, but that phrase ans nothing to . I’ve studied so history, listened to Felisia and Sir Greyson talk about old legends, but nobody ntioned three apocalypses. I frown and ask, “What are the Three Apocalypses?”
King Baalrek turns, staring into the mirrored wall, watching the flas move. The heat in the room settles into sothing heavier, like history pressing down on every word.
“For now, you would be wise not to chase those answers,” King Baalrek says. “This world has scars that run deeper than you imagine.”
He looks back, the smile gone. “What is your na, child?”
I keep my voice steady.
“I’m not a child. My na is Jacob Cloud.”
King Baalrek repeats it, testing every syllable.
“Jacob Cloud.”
He rolls the na around in his mouth as if he ans to rember it, as if nas are things that can last longer than flas or cities.
I take a breath and look up at King Baalrek. The reward hovers in his hand, but I still don’t know what this room is or why it even exists. “Can I ask,” I say, “what is this room?”
King Baalrek turns toward
with a grave smile. “This is a place of rest,” he says. “This is also a place for our stories to continue to live on.”
I try to piece it together. “The inheritance of Infernals?”
“The inheritance of the Infernals,” King Baalrek says, his voice dropping low, “and more. But you do not deserve the knowledge yet.” His eyes cut through , weighing my worth. “You do deserve, however, a piece of the real power a true Infernal wields.”
I shift my weight, uneasy under his stare. “You an like a Skill? Or sothing more?”
“You have but a piece of our great heritage,” King Baalrek says. “Shadows and ash are nothing compared to the magnificent power of true darkness. And yet, you wield none of those.”
I frown, thrown by the phrasing. “Shadows and ash?”
“Shadows, ash, and darkness,” King Baalrek says. “A true devilkin wields all of them. That is why your class is but a mockery of our real powers.”
“Oh,” I say, because I honestly have no idea what he wants from .
He seems almost amused. “And you are about to learn.” King Baalrek flicks the red crystal and it spins in the air, pulsing. “Look closely, mortal.”
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My eyes widen. I realize it’s not just a crystal. It’s a Skill Crystal. “Is that—?”
“This is but the first Skill you will need if you want your class to evolve into its real form,” King Baalrek says.
“Infernal Wings of Ash,” he says. “Gold rank.”
I blink at him, thrown off. “But I already have a class. I just need to level it up, and find the upgrades to the set I’ve got.”
King Baalrek shakes his head. “Yours is an incomplete class. There are many pieces missing. Ash, darkness, shadows. You wield powerful flas for a mortal, but even those will never be enough. If you wish to reach the true power that the class is ant to unleash, you must master more than what the system handed you.”
He lets the words hang. “You will co across the divine at so point, and you shall recognize its power.”
I don’t even know what to ask anymore. “The divine?”
“It doesn’t matter,” King Baalrek says. “You are not ready for those answers.”
I don’t get it, and I say so. “I don’t get it,” I admit. But I reach for the Skill Crystal anyway. It hovers at my palm, and the mont my mana touches it, I feel a pressure like the heat of a forge building under my skin.
You have obtained [Infernal Wings of Ash] (Gold – Movent Skill).
Would you like to absorb this Skill?
You have absorbed Infernal Wings of Ash.
“Yes,” I say. The crystal sinks into my palm. A rush of power shoots up my arms and into my back. Pain runs straight down my spine, but it is the pain of sothing new growing, not of sothing breaking. I feel mana pool in my core, then split out through my shoulder blades. Shadows and heat coil around , and wings burst out—black, feathered with ash and fire at the tips.
I nearly collapse from the surge. The wings unfold—huge, real, casting an impossible shadow. The mana cost hits
like a punch to the gut. I feel my reserves drop by a third just summoning them. Every beat is awkward. The wings are heavy, off-balance. I try to lift them and almost topple sideways. Every movent burns mana, each second draining
further.
King Baalrek watches, unimpressed. “This is not a Skill that bends easily to mortals. You think you can just—”
I tune him out for a second, opening the Grimoire. The Skill’s page slides into view.
The Grimoire chis.
[Infernal Wings of Ash – Gold Rank – Lv. 1]
Mana Cost (per second): 82 MP
Flight Speed: 1 m/s
Lift Capacity: 0.2x body weight
Ash Feathers (passive): Reduces fire and darkness damage by 22%
Shadow Flicker (active): Short-range dash, 4 m, 598 MP
Burnout Tir: 4 seconds sustained flight before collapse
Top Three Flaws (by flight instability):
Wing Pulse Lag – Mana output staggers between left and right channels, making the wings lopsided and jerky in motion.
Suggested fix: Sync mana flow through the Inferior Dorsal Veins; balance output at the base of the shoulder blades before each beat.
Shadow Vein Saturation – Mana pools in the Obsidian Veins along the lower back, causing turbulence and heavy drag during ascent.
Suggested fix: Direct excess mana into the dian Shadow Vein to bleed off turbulence at the end of each flap.
Ash Vein Starvation – Mana fails to reach the outermost Ash Veins along the wing edges, weakening feather cohesion and causing the wings to shed too much mass in flight.
Suggested fix: Pulse a steady trickle of mana into both Ash Veins with every third heartbeat, and reinforce by clenching the lower spine muscles before lifting off.
King Baalrek watches the wings unfurl and shakes his head, his voice cold and final. “You do not understand, Jacob Cloud. This is not a skill that mortals master. Even among my kin, most fail. The Wings of Ash demand flawless command over mana veins that do not exist in ordinary flesh. You will likely burn yourself hollow before you fly a single lap.”
He lets the words hang, letting the full weight of the warning settle between us. “You may wield the shape, but it will drag you down every ti you try to rise. That is the fate of mortals who chase the legacy of Infernals. This skill will break you if you treat it as another simple tool. If you force it—”
I glance back at the wings, already shifting my mana through the right channels. The instability smooths out in seconds. The wings stop dragging. The mana cost drops with every fix. I can already feel the flight coming under control.
[Infernal Wings of Ash – Gold Rank – Lv. 1 → Lv. 20]
Mana Cost (per second): 82 MP → 59 MP
Flight Speed: 1 m/s → 2 m/s
Lift Capacity: 0.2x body weight → 0.5x body weight
Ash Feathers (passive): Reduces fire and darkness damage by 22% → 32%
Shadow Flicker (active): Short-range dash, 4 m, 59 MP → 6 m, 39 MP
Burnout Tir: 4 seconds → 8 seconds
The Skill still has a long way to go but now I can feel the difference in my wings. With a small hop, I manage to stay in the air for a second, flapping the wings of ash before landing again on the solid ground of the Secret Room.
“Much better,” I say.
“What the—” King Baalrek barely catches himself. “How?”
But then he looks at the shadow bracelet on my wrist, at the wings, at . His jaw tightens, but there’s respect now.
“You are not done, Jacob Cloud. When you draw near the other skills you need, you will feel a signal. The bracelet carries part of my will. Trust it.”
“What?”
“Follow the bracelet to find the rest of my heritage. Farewell, for now.” King Baalrek steps back. Shadows gather around him. “We will speak again. Trust in your destiny, but never lose your will.”
His power surges. The secret room dissolves into black smoke, the mirrors shattering into nothing. I stumble, suddenly standing back in the Dungeon corridor, my mana still burning, the bracelet cold and real around my wrist.
I glance at the bracelet. I flex my wings one more ti, then let them fade.
“Well,” I mutter. “I guess I’m not even done with this Dungeon. What else could it possibly have waiting?”
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