Chapter 4 — The First Lesson
The first few days in my new home passed slowly. I spent most of the time simply existing: feeling the ground beneath me, the shadows around me, the faint pulse of mana in the canyon walls. Each breath of this new body reminded me that I was not human anymore. I no longer had lungs, but I still sensed the wind on my skin—or whatever passed for skin now.
I stayed low, moving silently, observing, testing my shadows, and learning to manage the small stream of magicules flowing through me. I had absorbed a few lesser demons and shadows already, but I hadn't yet faced anything approaching real danger. And I knew that would change soon.
"Master, low-level entities will provide limited growth. To improve, higher-level threats must be engaged."
"Recommendation: proceed with caution."
I nodded, though Cursed Sage could not see it. Her quiet voice in my mind had become my constant companion, guiding me, warning me, sometimes scolding me when I hesitated too long.
I know, I told her silently. I'm not ready yet.
It was early morning when I first felt the presence. I hadn't moved far from my canyon, just following a narrow ridge above the lava stream. The air felt… heavier. Thicker. And there was something else—an aura, cold and sharp, like ice on my soul.
"Master, detection: high-level entity. Probability of lethal outcome: high."
I froze. My body instinctively shifted into shadow, spreading tendrils along the rocks. The sense of dread tightened around me, but Cursed Sage's voice remained calm.
"Do not panic. Observation first. Analyze. Then decide."
I inhaled—or whatever counted as inhaling—and focused. Shadows whispered to me, stretching toward the presence without revealing my exact location. My body felt tense, but ready.
The demon appeared suddenly, stepping onto the ridge ahead. Taller than I had imagined possible for one of the Lower Demons I had seen before. Its horns were long, curved like jagged steel. Its skin was deep crimson, marred with black veins of mana. Its eyes… eyes that burned with intelligence, with instinct, with hunger.
I swallowed. This is it. My first real test.
"Master, threat assessment: Upper Mid-Tier Demon. Capable of instant kill. Strategy: avoidance, observation, or decisive attack if opportunity arises."
I didn't move. Instead, I let Shadow Lord extend a tendril into the rocks behind it, spreading slowly like liquid night. My tendril touched a small cluster of its shadows, absorbing information about its magicule flow, attack patterns, and defensive style.
"Observation complete. Probability of successful evasion: 72%. Probability of successful predation: 13%."
I exhaled quietly. Not panic. Just focus.
I can't fight yet. I'm not ready.
The demon sniffed the air—or whatever it used to sense its surroundings. Its head tilted slightly, and I could feel the aura shift, like a predator detecting a hidden mouse.
Cursed Sage whispered in my mind.
"Master, maintain concealment. Shadows are sufficient to mask your presence for now."
"If it discovers you, immediate escape or defensive shadow deployment required."
I obeyed. I melted further into the rocks, letting the Shadow Lord extend my signature across the ridge, faint but undetectable. My shadow became part of the environment, spreading tendrils into the fissures of the stone. The demon looked around, sniffed again, and after a tense moment, it moved on.
My heartbeat—or the closest approximation of one—slowed.
"Master, evasion successful. Shadow absorption data: collected. Analysis underway."
I sank to the ground and let my consciousness stretch into the shadows. Each movement, each heartbeat, each flicker of the demon's aura fed my skills. Cursed Sage parsed the data, feeding me insight I could use later.
I survived.
And in surviving, I learned.
For the next few days, I repeated the process. I observed other demons from the shadows, small skirmishes between creatures, subtle interactions, how mana pulsed in aggressive versus passive beings. I learned not just to hide, but to predict, to understand, to prepare. Every shadow I absorbed, every minor confrontation I witnessed, gave me a fragment of strength. My body shifted subtly, growing more stable.
Then I decided it was time to act.
A weak demon—a crimson imp with twisted horns—wandered too close to my canyon. I had seen it before, and I knew it was fast and aggressive. Not much stronger than the first few I had hunted, but enough to teach me the first real lesson in killing consciously, rather than accidentally.
"Master, strategy recommendation: strike from shadow, neutralize quickly, avoid exposure."
I let Shadow Lord extend a tendril along the canyon wall. The imp was unaware until my shadow tightened around it. Panic flared in its movements, but it was too late. I drew it into the darkness, carefully controlling the pressure so it wouldn't die instantly.
It struggled. It wailed. But I felt… no pride. No joy. Just cold calculation.
"Shadow extraction complete. Shadow storage: incremented by one. Experience gain registered."
I exhaled quietly, letting the shadow dissolve into me. My body felt heavier, denser, as if something inside had solidified a little more. Cursed Sage whispered approval, soft and submissive, and I couldn't help but feel a strange warmth.
This is how I grow, I realized. Not with glory. Not with power, but by surviving, by learning, by taking only what I need.
By the end of the week, I had absorbed multiple minor demons and their shadows. My body was stronger, more stable. Shadow Lord was responsive. Cursed Sage handled the analysis. Mimicry Core and Edit remained unused, but I felt them thrumming, waiting for opportunity.
I found a flat plateau near my canyon and claimed it as my territory. It wasn't much—rocks, shadows, a small stream—but it was mine. I didn't need more. Not yet.
"Master, territory secured. Recommendation: continue observation, expand shadow collection gradually, avoid high-level detection."
I nodded silently. Even alone, I could feel the weight of the Demon World pressing down. Everything here was predation. Everything here was survival. And I was just beginning to understand how fragile my life could be—even as a demon.
That night, I lay among my shadows, letting the mana of the canyon seep into me. I thought of Earth, of the boy I had been. How fragile, how foolish, how small. I was gone now. Haruto Kisaragi had died on the street. In his place was someone else—a Lower Demon, a shadow-bound being with twelve Unique Skills and the blood of seven ancient lineages flowing through him.
I didn't feel powerful. Not yet.
But I was alive.
And surviving, I realized, was the first lesson in becoming stronger.
"Master, one-year countdown confirmed. External reincarnation event approaching: Rimuru Tempest."
I closed my eyes and let the shadows envelope me. One year. One year to grow, to learn, to prepare for everything that was coming.
And I would not waste it.
End of Chapter 4