Devil's System: A Necromancer's Rise

A grand hall with an obsidian throne. A woman wearing a cold expression sat upon it, while before her—a deep red-haired woman knelt with tense features.

"This is your last chance," the Queen's voice echoed.

"Do not repeat your mistakes again. This is already the nth time."

The red-haired woman clenched her fists. "I only wanted to help that tortured slave. I wasn't looking for trouble."

"NO EXCUSES!" The Queen slammed her armrest, shaking the chamber.

"You violated our laws by aiding them!"

The woman raised her head, eyes burning. "But—"

"NO BUTS!" the Queen cut her off.

"Leave. And do not dare repeat the same act again."

With a grim expression, the woman rose and walked away, her footsteps heavy as she exited the hall.

Nocturne's End.

A city where money and blood were the most valuable currencies.

Leon and Kazan walked among the crowd of masked nobles, passing by chained slaves.

"This is the filthiest place in the entire demon realm," Kazan explained flatly.

"Built through a collaboration between the Asmodeus and Mammon kingdoms—two demon lords who view suffering and wealth as entertainment and everything."

Leon observed his surroundings, his face hidden behind a mask. "Why do I have to wear this?"

Kazan pointed at a notice board.

"THE BELPHEGOR KINGDOM FALLS! Annihilated by an alliance of the Beelzebub & Leviathan Kingdoms under accusations of harboring Angelic races! Leon Astaroth, branded a traitor, CONFIRMED DEAD in battle!"

Leon gritted his teeth. "Bastards… They're using this to make themselves look good."

"Which is why they can't know you're alive," Kazan patted his shoulder.

"Now, focus. You must win the arena and become champion. That's the only way to enlist as a soldier and locate our potential allies."

Leon nodded. "What about you?"

"I'll pose as a chef. Gather intel from the soldiers."

They parted ways.

Bloodsport Bets Arena.

Leon, now using the alias Zero, wore an identification necklace around his neck. Upon entering, he saw thousands of fighters from various races.

But two figures stood out—a tall Elf with a bow, exuding a cold yet lethal aura, and a cloaked figure in black, face obscured by a mask, radiating terrifying energy.

"Attention, all participants!" an arena official shouted.

"The rules are simple: Each round consists of 500 fighters. You must battle to the death until only five remain. That's all!"

A brutish fighter approached Leon. "Hey, newbie? Wanna team up? Easier to win in a group."

Leon merely glanced at them before walking away without a word.

"Arrogant prick!" the fighter snarled.

"Just wait—you'll be the first to die in there!"

Leon smirked beneath his mask.

"All fighters! Round 1, enter the arena!" the announcer bellowed.

Leon stepped forward, surrounded by 499 bloodthirsty warriors. Masked spectators cheered, placing bets with raucous laughter.

The commentator's voice boomed:

"Welcome back to Bloodsport Bets, ladies and gentlemen! The time has come for another thrilling match!"

"Don't miss your chance to bet on your favorite fighter! Who among these 500 will emerge victorious? Place your wagers now!"

The host then shouted, "Now, who wants to bet on this masked fighter at the back?"

No hands rose.

"He looks weak!"

"Waste of money!"

Then, a single hand lifted.

"I bet EVERYTHING… on him… till the finals."

That voice—Kazan.

Leon grinned. "I won't let you down."

The crowd murmured in shock.

"What's he so confident about?"

"Probably just an idiot."

"BEGIN!"

The moment the battle started, Leon was immediately confronted by the five fighters who had tried recruiting him.

"This is your end, Zero!"

DING!

Before they could react, one of their heads flew off.

"Wha—?"

Leon was already behind them, his sword dripping with blood.

"You're… too slow."

In a flash, he slaughtered them all. Five corpses littered the ground in seconds.

The crowd fell silent.

"SHIT! WHO IS HE?!"

"WE'RE GONNA GO BROKE!"

Unfazed, Leon strode to the center of the arena, sword raised.

"Who's next?"

The remaining fighters hesitated, but it was too late.

Leon moved like the wind, butchering anyone in his path. Blood sprayed, screams filled the air.

Amid the chaos, the Elf and the cloaked figure watched with keen interest.

[LEVEL UP!]

Leon didn't stop.

He wanted more blood.

Once the slaughter ended, the arena fell silent, drenched in gore. Leon sat atop a pile of corpses, his breathing steady. He scanned the area, ensuring no opponents remained, then stood victorious, a satisfied smirk on his face.

The commentator roared:

"ZERO… HAS DELIVERED A MASSACRE BEYOND IMAGINATION! WILL HE BECOME THIS ARENA'S CHAMPION?!"

Leon raised his sword, pointing at the spectators.

"Who else wants to die?"

A chilling silence followed.

=== BAB 19 END ===