Without a moment's hesitation, Ryo’s hand shot out, gripping Belicus by the face, his fingers digging into the orc lord’s skull with an unyielding force. With a sudden burst of power, he hurled the beast far away from the frightened civilians. As Belicus soared through the air, Ryo followed, his arm flaring with black flames, Manus Daemonium’s power swelling in his grasp.

  “Here’s your boost to Hell,” Ryo muttered coldly, a twisted grin spreading across his face as he thrust his fist forward. The black flames ignited around his arm, radiating an ominous glow as he collided with Belicus' stomach.

  The force was unimaginable. Belicus let out a roar of pain as the flames seared through his armor, scorching his insides. The beast was sent hurtling backward like a ragdoll, smashing into the side of a distant mountain, causing the earth to tremble under the impact.

  Ryo stood at the edge of the ruined landscape, his gaze locked on Belicus, who was still struggling to rise from the crater. His grip tightened around Manus Daemonium, the dark aura pulsing around his arm like an ominous storm. The earth itself trembled beneath him, and dark clouds swirled overhead, as if answering the call of his power.

  Belicus, his body now covered in black flames, let out a guttural scream of agony as black cracks spread across his stomach, sucking the very essence from his being. His regenerative abilities, once so powerful, faltered against the overwhelming darkness consuming him.

  Ryo’s grip on Manus tightened, the air crackling with the weight of his fury. The sky above rumbled as though it were about to collapse, and the earth beneath them seemed to buckle in fear. With a cold, detached look in his eyes, Ryo’s voice rang out, commanding the heavens themselves.

  “Durklam.”

  As he spoke the word, a chilling screech tore through the air as his fist began to glow with hellish energy, the ground itself shaking in response. Ryo's fist descended with unstoppable force, crashing into Belicus’ body. The impact was cataclysmic—an explosion of darkness and flame erupted from the point of contact, sending shockwaves through the land.

  The earth beneath them turned black, as though the very life was being drained from it. And as Ryo’s fist continued to drive down, thousands of black shadow thorns erupted from the ground, spiking into the air like a forest of nightmare, each thorn screaming with the tortured souls of the damned. The entire battlefield was drowned in the soul-chilling cry of darkness.

  Belicus, once mighty and proud, was now nothing but a shattered husk, his body collapsing under the weight of Ryo’s power.

  But Ryo wasn't done.

  Without a word, he raised his other hand. A soft, eerie glow pulsed from his fingertips—High Heal.

  The magic surged through Belicus’ mangled body, mending flesh and bone just enough to keep him from slipping into death. Just enough to make him feel everything.

  Belicus let out a shaky breath, his body twitching, charred muscles spasming. Then, with a furious roar, he lunged and grabbed Ryo's arm in desperation.

  But Ryo didn’t flinch.

  He stared down at him with cold fury, then gripped Belicus’s arm back—Manus Daemonium responding instantly. Its black armored plating hissed as a thousand crimson thorns erupted from it, spearing through Belicus’s arm like drills from hell. The thorns appeared and vanished in split-second bursts, each time tearing more flesh, more nerve, more sanity.

  Belicus tried to scream.

  Ryo silenced him with a devastating uppercut, Manus slamming into his jaw with bone-shattering force. The orc’s jaw hung loose for a moment—until Ryo gripped it with his armored hand and ripped it off, veins and bone tearing with a sickening sound.

  Then, his eyes glinting with something darker, Ryo reached for the now-limp arm—the same one Belicus had grabbed him with. He dug his fingers in, twisted slowly, and began ripping it free, inch by inch, as Belicus convulsed in mute agony.

  Every second was a message.

  Every movement was punishment.

  This was no longer battle.

  It was judgment.

  And then Ryo stepped forward.

  He tapped the gaping, bleeding wound where Belicus's arm had been ripped off—his touch searing like acid. Then he muttered coldly,

  "May the darkness consume you."

  The shadows answered.

  From the wound, a black hand burst out, clawed and twisted. Then another. And another.

  Dozens of shadowy hands emerged from Belicus’s body—his back, his chest, his neck—each one writhing and grasping with hunger. They clawed at him mercilessly, tearing flesh from bone, digging into his insides, pulling at nerves and sinew like threads.

  Belicus tried to scream again, but there was no jaw.

  Only a muffled gurgle of mute agony as the shadows dragged him apart—slowly, intentionally—like vengeance made manifest.

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  Ryo simply watched, eyes cold and unforgiving, as the orc lord was unmade piece by piece.

  As Belicus’s torn, screaming body lay in silence—lifeless, broken beyond repair—Ryo stood over the corpse, shadows curling around his arm like serpents.

  He knelt.

  Pressed a hand to the shredded remains.

  And whispered coldly,

  “Get up. I’m not done with you yet.”

  A pulse of abyssal energy shot into Belicus’s chest.

  [SYSTEM NOTICE: Forbidden Skill ‘Revive’ Activated. Caution: Reviving target at 2% health.]

  Belicus’s eyes shot open—bloodshot, panicked. His body twitched violently, trying to scream—but no voice came.

  "Welcome back," Ryo murmured with a grin.

  "Now scream for me properly this time."

  The system echoed a chilling remark:

  [SYSTEM COMMENT: Mercy was never part of his programming.]

  Ryo stepped back, just a few paces—enough to give the demon his stage.

  He raised his arm, Manus Daemonium humming with a sinister resonance.

  "Moracul?."

  The word rippled through the air like a curse.

  In an instant, the skies darkened—and a swarm of black, glinting needles materialized, spiraling in the air like a storm of death.

  Thousands of them.

  Belicus’s eyes widened in pure dread. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t scream. He just watched.

  Ryo grinned.

  Then flicked his fingers.

  The needles rained down.

  Piercing.

  Slicing.

  Tearing.

  Over. And over. And over.

  Belicus's body was shredded like a canvas in a hurricane of razors, black blood splattering across the broken earth. Every nerve set ablaze, every second dragged into eternity.

  But death wouldn’t come.

  Ryo clenched his fist again.

  "High Continuous Healing," he said flatly.

  [SYSTEM NOTICE: Target Belicus is being forcefully healed... indefinitely.]

  Belicus’s flesh began to regrow—only to be impaled again. And again.

  He was trapped in an eternal cycle of agony and rebirth.

  Ryo’s voice was low, cruel:

  "Don’t worry... I’ll stop when I get bored."

  A sharp clap echoed through the ruined field—

  and all the needles froze mid-air.

  Then, like falling ash, they crumbled into dust.

  Belicus collapsed, gasping, twitching, body mangled, spirit shaking. His breath came in shudders—his eyes darting, cowering like prey.

  Ryo walked forward slowly.

  Each step like a death sentence.

  He stopped in front of Belicus, towering over him with Manus Daemonium pulsing at his side.

  “You look scared.”

  Ryo smiled coldly.

  “Good. But I think we can make things… more heated.”

  He extended his hand, fingers glowing with dark energy.

  “Make the enemies feel more pain…”

  He whispered:

  “Doloribus.”

  A sickening red aura shimmered over Belicus, sinking into his broken skin like living fire.

  Belicus's eyes widened. His body stiffened.

  And then—he screamed. A scream that didn’t even sound human anymore.

  Ryo leaned in, his smile widening.

  “Don’t worry…”

  He whispered softly.

  “It’s just a spell that multiplies your pain…

  By a thousand.”

  Then, cold as ice:

  “Now. Let’s see how long you last.”

  Ryo held a single blackened thorn in his hand—

  slender, jagged, dripping with dark essence.

  The tip glowed faintly, like it remembered every scream it had ever caused.

  Without a word,

  he drove it straight into Belicus’s chest.

  SHUNK.

  Belicus's eyes rolled back as he roared in agony,

  the sound echoing like a beast being torn apart.

  It wasn’t just pain—

  it was suffering that clawed at his soul.

  His limbs convulsed,

  his veins lit up in crimson fire,

  and his throat choked mid-scream,

  as if even his voice couldn’t survive what he was feeling.

  Ryo didn’t blink.

  “Never felt that before, huh?”

  His voice was calm. Cold. Measured.

  “This one doesn’t kill.”

  He twisted the thorn slowly.

  “It just reminds you of every pain you’ve ever ignored…

  all at once.”

  And as Belicus writhed and sobbed without tears,

  the system echoed coldly in the background:

  > “Warning: Subject is experiencing terminal soul-level agony.”

  Ryo tilted his head.

  “Only the beginning.”