I Died and Became a Noble's Heir

Chapter 559: But the reward...

The stat increases were dramatic, elevating his capabilities beyond what his base form could achieve, even with all his equipment and blessings active.

But more important were the additional notifications that appeared as he reviewed his transformed state.

[Demonic Transformation Available: Once Per Week]

[Transformation Effects:]

[All Stats +150]

[All Damage Output ×2]

[Health Regeneration +300%]

[Menacing Aura: Passive Effect]

[Warning: Prolonged or frequent use of Demonic Form in Erbeon will mark you as a demon to all enhanced perception. Bounty hunters, religious orders, and kingdom authorities will prioritize your elimination. Use with caution in populated areas.]

Jack evaluated the warning with a tactical assessment.

Once per week, the limitation meant he couldn’t maintain demonic form constantly.

Still, the stat boost and damage multiplication made it a devastating trump card for situations where overwhelming force was required.

The menacing aura was a double-edged benefit. It was useful for intimidating enemies, but also marking him as a target for anyone dedicated to demon hunting.

His inner skinsuit remained beneath the scales, the tactical garment preserved despite his transformation.

As with his Infernal Conversion, his demonic form layered over his existing equipment rather than destroying it.

But understanding how the transformation functioned meant understanding what had triggered it. Demon blood.

This was the effect of reaching 1,000 Demonic Essence. This is what Dreknar wanted. For him to reach the next stage of becoming a demon.

But if this was the transformation at 1000, what happened when he reached 5,000? 25,000? 100,000?

But then Jack thought about something else.

God’s Blood.

The trees were grown from Sarin’s blood. Mystically preserved and concentrated into a form that others could consume.

Twenty-one trees total across Tartarus Spire.

If he found and consumed all of them, if he absorbed one hundred percent of Sarin’s preserved essence...

What would that make him?

But someone who’d consumed a god’s blood, who’d integrated that power into their own framework, who could potentially learn and master techniques designed for divine physiology by rewriting their vessel to accommodate such abilities.

’System, what about the God’s Blood trees in Erbeon? Can I use those?’

[God’s Blood Trees in Erbeon are diluted derivatives. Consumption would register as 0.000000001% of Sarin’s Blood. Only the twenty-one original trees within Tartarus Spire contain sufficient concentration to contribute a meaningful percentage toward complete absorption.]

The trees scattered throughout Erbeon were descendants or copies, their divine essence so diluted through generations that consuming them would be essentially worthless for his purposes.

Only the originals mattered.

The twenty-one trees Sarin had personally created and planted throughout the tower before his disappearance.

His goal crystallized with absolute clarity. Find all twenty-one trees. Consume them completely. Absorb 100% of Sarin’s preserved blood and see what capabilities it unlocks.

If God’s Blood could heal Elemental Necrosis at less than five percent consumption, what would complete absorption accomplish?

Would it allow him to use Sarin’s legendary techniques without the catastrophic backlash that had nearly cost him his arm?

Would it grant him additional elemental affinities, pushing him toward the mad god’s legendary mastery of all seven fundamental forces?

The possibilities were staggering, the potential power gain transcending simple stat increases into a fundamental elevation of his capabilities.

Jack stood alone in his destroyed throne room, seven-foot-four frame casting a long shadow across broken stone, blood-red eyes glowing in the damaged lighting, wings folded against his back, and tail swaying gently behind him.

He’d solved the Elemental Necrosis problem.

Gained demonic transformation.

And discovered a path toward power that might eventually let him match the legendary god whose techniques he’d been recreating through instinct.

The hunt would be long and dangerous, requiring him to navigate politics and power structures he’d only begun to understand.

But the reward...

Subsequently, a series of new notifications appeared, which caused him to pause abruptly.

[Congratulations! You have earned a New Title!]

[Congratulations! You have earned a New Title!]

[Congratulations! You have earned a New Class!]

------

Draven’s domain stretched endlessly in all directions, the perfect grassland bathed in eternal afternoon light that held no visible source.

A gentle breeze moved through the tall grass, carrying the scent of flowers that existed purely because the divine realm decided they should.

Near a small rise in the landscape, a simple wooden table had manifested.

Dark oak that looked solid enough to belong in a mortal tavern rather than a god’s personal realm.

Two chairs sat on opposite sides, currently occupied by Draven and Death as they shared wine in companionable silence.

The wine was ordinary enough by divine standards. Rich red vintage that would have cost a fortune in the mortal world but was simply an acceptable refreshment for entities operating on cosmic scales.

"You’re brooding again," Death observed, his tone carrying a mix of concern and amusement. "I can tell because you’re staring at your wine like it personally offended you rather than actually drinking it."

Draven’s demeanor remained unaltered, his golden eyes intently focused on the goblet’s contents, as if perceiving something far more profound than mere fermented grapes. "I’m thinking. There’s a difference."

"Thinking about Jack," Death stated. "About whether he’ll forgive you for the curse. About whether telling him the truth would make things better or worse. About how much he reminds you of..."

"Don’t," Draven interrupted sharply, his grip on the goblet tightening as cracks began to spread. "Don’t finish that sentence."

Death raised his free hand in a placating gesture, his armored fingers reflecting the domain’s sourceless light.

"Fair enough. But you know he’s going to find out eventually. Jack’s too smart and too stubborn to let mysteries stay mysterious. He’ll dig until he finds answers, even if those answers destroy everything you’ve been trying to build with him."

Draven finally took a drink, the wine’s taste doing nothing to improve his mood. "I know. That’s what makes this so complicated. If I tell him the truth, he’ll think I’m manipulating him toward some predetermined destiny. If I don’t tell him and he discovers it himself, he’ll assume I was hiding it because I can’t be trusted. There’s no winning move here."

"Welcome to mentorship," Death replied with dark humor. "Where every choice is wrong, and the only question is which mistake causes the least damage."

They sat in silence for several moments, both gods lost in thoughts of champions and consequences, and of the weight of decisions made millennia ago that continue to affect the present.

Then something shifted in the domain’s atmosphere.

It was subtle, barely perceptible even to divine awareness, but both gods felt it simultaneously.

A presence entering their realm, consciousness manifesting in space that should have been private.

Draven’s posture straightened immediately, his brooding expression giving way to something more alert. "Jack?"

He turned toward the spot where the presence was solidifying, prepared to launch into a conversation about the curse, Aurora, and everything that had been left unsaid during their last confrontation.

Then he saw who had entered his domain, and his entire demeanor changed.

Aurora Sunblade, positioned twenty feet away, observed both deities with an expression that conveyed both familiarity and mischievousness, her blonde hair gently swaying in the continuous breeze.

But what made Draven’s blood run cold wasn’t her appearance or clothing.

It was the presence radiating from her form.

A potent, unmistakable divine energy enveloped her, like a visible aura.

This aura surpassed what typical individuals could achieve, even with divine blessings, contractual agreements, or extensive periods of cultivation.

"What do you want, witch?" Draven’s voice carried a venomous tone that caused the surrounding vegetation to recede visibly.