Chapter 5: The Heir's Awakening
Kael collapsed to the ground, no longer having the strength to hold himself up. There was no glory, no resistance—only the dry impact of his body against the cold stone of the ravine. The air left his lungs in a broken sigh, and for a moment, he thought he wouldn't be able to pull in the next breath.
The poison burned inside his veins like liquid fire, his leg throbbed, swollen and numb, and his torn shoulder felt too open to still belong to a living body. His vision shook, darkening at the edges, while the sky above seemed distant, almost unreal. Kael blinked slowly, feeling the crushing weight of exhaustion and pain accumulate over him. Deep in his mind, a question arose, weak and nearly emotionless: "Is this... the end?"
The moment the question echoed in his mind, something cold and artificial overlaid the chaos of the pain. Reality seemed to glitch for a second, as if the entire world had been paused along with his failing breath, and then an invisible presence manifested before his blurred eyes, hovering above the blood-soaked ground.
[System] Bonus mission completed. Special condition met: First official mission finalized. Evaluation: Survival under extreme risk confirmed. Additional reward granted.
[Reward] Meliodas Template Integration: +2.8%
Kael remained motionless on the ground, feeling the weight of the words even without being able to react. His body was still broken, the poison still burned within, but something had changed. It wasn't relief. It wasn't strength. It was the cruel certainty that all that suffering had been seen, recorded… and accepted.
In the heavy silence of the ravine, while Kael's body still trembled on the edge between consciousness and collapse, the System's presence imposed itself again, sharper, closer, as if something had finally been recognized within him. The air around him seemed to compress, and a profound weight settled in his chest—not as immediate pain, but as the anticipation of something too great for a broken body to endure without consequences.
[System] Congratulations. First official reward registered. Special condition met: Extreme survival in initial mission. Heritage Protocol activated.
[Unlock Confirmed] CHARACTERISTICS OF THE DEMON CLAN
[System Log] With the initial awakening, deeper fragments of Meliodas' heritage have been recognized. Current status: Inactive. Incomplete. Merely existing. Observation: Awaiting sufficient endurance to prevent the destruction of the host.
[System Query] Do you wish to initiate the passive activation of racial characteristics? Warning: The process will cause sensations equivalent to a total body reconstruction.
I didn't have the strength to move my mouth. My tongue felt too heavy, my jaw locked, my whole body pinned to the ground as if it had already given up for me. Even so, inside my confused and weary mind, I answered. Not with words. Only with will.
Yes.....
[System] Mental confirmation accepted. Initiating passive activation of racial characteristics.
Seconds later, another window appeared before my blurred eyes, too stable for something that felt like it was happening inside me.
[Characteristic Loading] Initializing structural reconstruction. Progress: 0%
Then the pain came. Not all at once, but in layers. It felt as if my body were being dismantled from the inside. My organs contracted in the wrong way, tearing and remaking themselves at the same time. My bones vibrated, creaking as if they were being shattered and rebuilt piece by piece. My skin burned and pulled, as if it were being flayed and replaced layer by layer.
My heart failed. For a second, I thought it was over. Then another beat emerged—heavy, too deep. Then another strange sensation in my chest, as if something were trying to exist where there had been nothing before. Each pulse was wrong, painful, but insistent. The pain wouldn't let me pass out. It wouldn't let me escape. I understood in that moment: this wasn't healing. It was my body being rebuilt from scratch.
The pain only increased. There was no adaptation, no getting used to it. Every second was worse than the last, as if the System were testing how much I could take before finally snapping. My body arched on its own against the ground, my back curving in violent spasms. I felt my organs being rearranged by force, as if invisible hands were tearing me open from the inside to put everything in a new, wrong place. Air didn't enter my lungs properly; each breath came in short jolts, burning my throat. My vision flickered—white, then red, then dark—returning only to remind me that I was still there.
[Characteristic Loading] Progress: 12%
My bones began to ache in a profound way, impossible to ignore. It wasn't like a fracture or an impact—it was as if they were being crushed and reforged simultaneously. I heard pops coming from inside my own body. I felt ribs opening, shifting, snapping back into place. My jaw locked and I let out a low, animalistic grunt, because screaming seemed to require more strength than I had. My heart beat too heavily, then another pulse answered, out of rhythm, as if something were trying to learn how to live inside me.
[Characteristic Loading] Progress: 27%
The pain crossed a threshold. I began to shake uncontrollably, muscles twitching without my consent, fingers clawing into the stone until my nails tore and blood ran. I felt my skin sear and stretch, as if it were being ripped off and put back on multiple times. Something burned beneath it—invisible marks trying to surface and being forced back down. My throat finally gave way, and a scream tore out—hoarse, broken, sounding more like a wounded creature than a human voice. I couldn't stop.
[Characteristic Loading] Progress: 49%
"Enough..." I thought, but the thought was lost in the sea of agony. My entire body felt too heavy to exist. The poison in my veins reacted with the forced regeneration, burning even hotter, like acid mixed with fire. My chest constricted with force, and for a moment I thought all my hearts were going to stop at once. The pressure was absurd, as if something were pushing from the inside out, trying to take up too much space. My consciousness began to slip, sliding away, but the pain pulled me back every time I nearly blacked out.
Consciousness returned slowly, along with the weight of the hard ground beneath my back and the hot, thick air entering my lungs. The reddish light still came from above, filtered through the jagged rocks, illuminating broken shadows around me. The smell of dried blood, poison, and sulfur was everywhere, mixed with the dust of the ravine. I opened my eyes with difficulty and saw the motionless bodies of the creatures scattered not far from me, exactly where they had fallen. I hadn't gone anywhere. I was still there. My body felt heavy and sore, but strange in a different way—
—firmer, as if something had been reinforced from the within while I was unconscious. The pain existed, deep and constant, but it wasn't chaotic. When I took a deep breath, nothing tore, nothing burned. I was alive. And I had woken up right there, in the same spot where I had almost died.
[Characteristic Loading] Progress: 68%
I started begging without realizing it. Not to the system, not to anyone in particular—just for it to end. Every nerve felt exposed, screaming all at once. My vision fragmented, tears mixed with blood running down my face. The ground beneath me was hot, or maybe it was my own body boiling. I felt something settle in the depth of my chest—heavy, stable, as if it had finally found a permanent place. The heartbeats began to align; still strong, still wrong, but firmer.
[Characteristic Loading] Progress: 86%
The final stretch was the worst. It was as if the System had decided to finish everything at once. A wave of pain surged through my entire body, from head to toe, tearing, rebuilding, sealing. I screamed until my voice failed completely, until only air escaped my open mouth. Then, suddenly, the pain began to recede. It didn't disappear—it just moved away, leaving behind a body that was destroyed, but whole.
[Characteristic Loading] Progress: 100%
The silence that followed was heavy, almost oppressive. The pain retreated suddenly, leaving behind a body that was seething with heat. The exhaustion hit me all at once, absolute and crushing. The cold floor beneath my back was the last thing I felt before everything went black, sinking into a deep, dreamless void.
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Hours later, consciousness returned gradually. I opened my eyes with difficulty. The purple light of the Underworld seemed sharper, the shadows denser. I hadn't gone anywhere. I was still there, on the floor of the ravine.
I forced my body to move. My muscles protested, but not with the weakness from before. It was a stiffness of new power. I rolled onto my side, propped my weight on my arms, and stood up. I walked to a nearby rock and let myself fall into a sitting position, breathing deeply. The air entered my lungs more efficiently. My heart—or rather, my hearts—beat strongly. Not in panic, but with a heavy, dense cadence.
"Status."
[Template Integration: Meliodas — 6.0% complete]
[User: Kael Black] [Body Age: 15 years] [Race: Low-class Demon (Confirmed)]
[Current Location: Underworld]
[Physical State: Malnutrition cured | 100% Healthy | Moderate Fatigue | Latent Regeneration detected]
[Mental State: Calm | Adaptation in progress]
[CRITICAL WARNING: Partial Immortality Curse active.] The user cannot die permanently. Any lethal damage will trigger forced regeneration, with high energy cost and psychological wear accumulation. Physical death will be reversed repeatedly until remission conditions are met.
[Basic Interface unlocked.]
[Available Commands:]
Missions (3 active)
Characteristics (Limited)
Skills (None active)
[Note:] The system operates in standby mode until minimum physical maturity or initial template integration is achieved. Forcing premature activations may result in corporal overload.
I stared at the interface for a few seconds. I took a deep breath and focused on the command that caught my attention the most. Even with my body still heavy, I concentrated my mind and selected the option.
"Characteristics."
The interface reacted immediately, changing before my eyes.
[CHARACTERISTICS — TEMPLATE: MELIODAS]
Integration: 6.0%
Demonic Physiology — ACTIVE My body no longer follows human biological parameters. Bones, muscles, nerves, and organs have been adapted to withstand extreme levels of physical and energetic stress. My physical strength is constantly amplified by latent demonic energy, allowing for denser strikes, greater impact, and weight-bearing far above normal without immediate muscle fiber rupture. My endurance is elevated: fatigue accumulates more slowly, pain is partially dampened, and the body remains functional even under severe wounds, as long as at least one vital nucleus remains active.
Demonic Regeneration (Passive | Partially Active): Demons possess the natural ability to regenerate any lost part of the body—limbs, organs, and tissues—using vital energy and demonic darkness. However, demonic hearts cannot be regenerated. As long as at least one heart remains intact, existence is maintained. Demons can also reconstruct body parts using darkness, creating temporary replacements until real regeneration is complete. The efficiency of regeneration varies by demonic lineage:
Low-rank demons regenerate with greater difficulty and energy cost.
High-rank demons regenerate faster, more stably, and more completely. Internal wounds do not disappear entirely until full immortality is reached. The exterior may regenerate, but internal damage remains latent, accumulating physical and mental wear. As long as the head exists, any demon can regenerate the body from it. Even if the head is severed, regeneration is still possible from the body, provided there is enough energy. Critical Exception: Attacks based on high-level Holy Magic, especially from archangels, disintegrate demonic matter at a molecular level, nullifying regeneration and vital nuclei. Status: Regeneration unstable | Limited by incomplete template integration.
Dark Energy — LATENT There is a natural affinity within me for demonic energy, a dense and unstable force circulating below the surface of my body and consciousness. It responds to my emotions—especially rage, survival instinct, and combat intent. While latent, this energy is not consciously controlled. It manifests passively, reinforcing physical actions, resistance, and recovery without the need for direct activation.
Corruption Resistance — PASSIVE My mind and essence possess a high tolerance for external influences of a demonic nature. Curses, negative energy, spiritual pressure, and domination attempts have a reduced effect on my consciousness.
Demonic Hierarchy — PASSIVE (HIDDEN) My presence carries a latent demonic authority, inherited from a superior lineage. Lower-level demons instinctively react to this hierarchical pressure, manifesting respect, fear, or involuntary submission.
Multiple Vital Nuclei — ACTIVATED There is the potential for the formation of multiple demonic hearts, each acting as an independent vital nucleus. As long as at least one nucleus remains functional, definitive death is denied.
I closed the interface. I looked at my hands; they were no longer shaking. I placed a hand on my chest. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Seven different rhythms, pumping life aggressively. I was a living anomaly. A predator in the body of a teenager.
I stood up and walked to the nearest wolf carcass. The old iron dagger, which had felt heavy before, now felt like a toy. With a swift movement, I sliced through the beast's flesh. The blade glided as if the scaly skin were rotten cloth. I ripped out the fangs and ears with a strength I still didn't know how to measure. I tucked them into the backpack which now seemed to float on my back.
The walk back to the outer districts of Lilith City was a reality test. I no longer walked along the edges, afraid of the shadows. I walked down the center of the road. Small infernal creatures, which usually preyed on wounded low-class demons, fled in desperation as soon as I entered their range of perception. They felt what the System called Demonic Hierarchy. They smelled a King.
The silhouette of Lilith City appeared on the horizon like an open wound in the fabric of the Underworld. But I wasn't looking at the glamorous lights of the upper towers. My destination was the Lower City, District 9—a labyrinth of twisted iron, sulfur smoke, and souls that had already given up the fight.
The moment my feet touched the uneven pavement of the main street, the atmosphere changed.
District 9 was noisy by nature: the sound of metal being hammered, the cries of merchants selling rotten meat, and the sobbing of reincarnated orphans. But as I moved forward, a vacuum of silence followed me. I wasn't trying to be discreet. Every step of my heavy boots echoed like a drumbeat on the dirty asphalt.
I was no longer the invisible boy who hugged the walls. I walked down the center of the avenue, spine straight, shoulders broad.
"Look at that..." a scaly-skinned demon sitting on a crate began to mock, pointing toward me for his cronies. "The trash came back covered in—"
He stopped mid-sentence. As I drew closer, the latent Demonic Hierarchy began to leak from me like a heavy, invisible gas. The air around me seemed to vibrate with a density that the lungs of a low-class demon couldn't process. The man on the crate felt a sudden tightening in his chest. His laughter turned into a dry gag. He didn't know why, but his body commanded him to stand up and bow his head.
The psychological shockwave spread.
Thieves lurking in the alleys, ready to pounce on anyone who looked wounded, retreated into the absolute darkness. They saw the dried blood on my clothes, they saw the rags I wore, but their predatory instinct triggered a fire alarm: That isn't prey. That's the owner of this place.
Conversations died. The sound of footsteps around me ceased. When I passed a group, people flattened themselves against the walls, leaving a five-meter-wide corridor just for me. The fear wasn't loud; it was icy and paralyzing. I could hear their racing heartbeats—a rhythmic, pathetic sound compared to the symphony of seven hearts now ruling my chest.
I stopped before the double doors of the Mission Administration Building. The structure was made of grey stone, stained by the acid soot of the Underworld. Lower-middle-class guards, armed with energy spears, stood at the entrance.
Normally, they would kick someone with my appearance to the back of the line or demand a bribe just to let me in.
I walked toward them. The guard on the left, a demon with reptilian eyes, gripped his spear tightly, ready to block the path. But when I came within two meters, Meliodas' aura—even at 5%—collided with him. The guard felt the weight of a thousand years of sin crushing his spirit. His spear trembled. The metal of the weapon clattered against the stone floor.
O guarda sentiu o peso de mil anos de pecado esmagando seu espírito. Sua lança tremeu. O metal da arma tilintou contra o chão de pedra.
He didn't say "stop." He didn't say "who are you." He only swallowed hard, sweat dripping down his neck, and stepped aside, opening the door for me before I even touched it.
I entered the main lobby.
The interior was a chaos of bureaucracy. Hundreds of demons pushed each other in lines, screaming at clerks behind reinforced glass. The smell of old paper and despair was unbearable.
I took the first step into the hall.
The effect was like dropping an ice cube into boiling oil. The noise ceased in waves, starting from the entrance and spreading to the back of the building. One by one, the demons stopped screaming. The clerks stopped stamping. The silence that followed was absolute and terrifying. Hundreds of eyes fixed on me.
I was covered in black blood, my backpack dripping entrails onto the grimy marble floor. But it wasn't the filth that scared them. It was the feeling that the Demon King himself had decided to walk among the rats.
I walked down the central aisle. The sound of my boots was the only sound in the entire building. Someone in line dropped a stack of documents; no one bent down to pick them up. The fear was palpable, like static electricity that made everyone's hair stand on end.
I stopped at Counter 4.
The clerk, a descendant of the Phenex, the same one who had treated me like a walking corpse hours earlier, was counting some coins, distracted. He didn't notice the silence of the lobby immediately.
- "I already told you that Form B-12 must be filled out in—" he began, looking up with an expression of supreme disdain.
His voice died. Color drained from his face instantly, leaving him pale as a ghost. He looked at me—the boy he thought would already be digested in the stomach of some wolf—and felt the pressure. The air in the booth seemed to have been replaced by liquid lead.
- "Black... Kael Black?" His voice came out as a high-pitched squeak, devoid of any authority.
I said nothing. I just stared fixedly into his eyes. My red eyes didn't blink. They didn't just see the clerk; they seemed to be judging his very existence.
With a slow and deliberate movement, I reached for my shoulders and pulled off the backpack. I slammed it onto the metal counter.
Thump.
The sound of heavy meat hitting the metal echoed through the silent lobby. I turned the bag over. The three heads of the infernal wolves slid out. They were immense, their venomous tongues still lolling out of broken jaws. Black blood began to flood the counter, dripping onto the clerk's keyboard and papers.
He recoiled so far that his chair tipped over. He scrambled to his feet, leaning against the wall, eyes wide with pure terror. He knew what those creatures were. He knew that no one of low class should be able to kill three of them alone, much less return without a single visible scratch.
- "Payment," I said.
My voice wasn't loud, but it carried the weight of a divine command. It vibrated through the glass, through the counter, straight into the clerk's bones.
- "Y-yes... of course... right away... Mr. Black," he stammered, his hands shaking so much he could barely open the safe.
While he counted the coins, I could feel the gaze of the entire lobby on my back. It was no longer the look of contempt for an orphan. It was the look of dread for a monster that had just shown its teeth.
He pushed the leather pouch with the 150 Lucif through the gap in the glass. The coins clinked. He didn't dare ask me to sign anything.
I took the leather pouch, feeling the weight of my first real gain. But I didn't move away. I leaned closer to the glass, my face inches from his.
- "Where can I exchange this for Essentia?"
The clerk swallowed hard, his Adam's apple jumping in his neck. "A-at the Central Bank... the high-class sector. But they... they don't like people from the outer districts there..."
- "They'll learn to like them," I replied with a smile that made the clerk immediately look away.
I spun on my heels and walked toward the exit. The corridor of demons, now even wider, awaited me. No one dared to breathe loudly until I crossed the double doors and vanished back into the smoke of the street.
District 9 had a new nightmare. And he had just received his first payment.
End of Chapter 5.