DKIE CH2: The City of Giant Rocks

Regret.

Luka deeply regretted going to that café before transmigrating—at least he could have had one last proper meal.

Then again, with a new body, the meaning of being full wasn’t quite the same anymore.

The Wastelands were severely lacking in resources. In the past, besides exiled demonfolk, only desperate criminals fleeing their enemies would come here.

Magical beasts survived solely by devouring one another.

His original body had little magic power—no energy that magical beasts would find appealing. His only talent was an extremely weak presence, which was the only reason he managed to survive after being banished.

He couldn’t practice magic, and the only thing he was skilled at was archery.

However, in this barren land, there were no wild rabbits or boars for him to hunt. The remains of magical beasts were far too saturated with energy—one bite could easily cause him to explode.

Trying to walk out of here on his own was impossible.

Relying on the heart… Just then, the heart actually spoke on its own.

After signing the blood contract, Luka could now hear its voice in his mind.

“Go east, you can get out.”

As if he’d believe it was being so kind.

Seeing the boy remain motionless, the eerie heart became even more unsettling.

“Wait a moment.” Luka didn’t expose his doubts and remained calm. “Let me chew on some bark first.”

“??”

Luka carefully selected the freshest tree bark he could find, moved his jaw, and eventually spat out the parts he couldn’t swallow.

From morning till night, Luka ate bark when he was hungry and drank rainwater when he was thirsty.

Soon, he was on the verge of achieving mastery in eating trees without spitting out the bark.

Even though his body couldn’t sense magic elements, compared to an ordinary human, his digestion and physical endurance were far superior.

At night, Luka found a random cave, leaned against the rock wall, and prepared to rest and recover his strength.

The cold stone was rough and freezing, but his expression remained unreadable. Deep down, however, he was cursing the Demon King and the Saint for eighteen generations.

Starving. Thirsty.

No phone, no food, no internet.

Silently, calmly, Luka underwent a soft, measured descent into madness.

Even before being exiled to the Wastelands, the original owner of this body had lived in near-captivity. Unable to practice magic, he had spent most of his time reading books.

While traveling, Luka carefully organized his memories.

This world revolved around the Holy Demon Continent. Here, dragons soared through the skies, orcs roamed fiercely, and the Holy Court, famed for its radiance, stood tall.

Elves, dwarves—legendary races of all kinds coexisted on this land.

With so many races vying for resources, conflicts and wars were inevitable.

As a result, absolute strength ruled supreme.

With his current abilities, Luka was basically an insect. If someone decided to kill him in passing one day, he’d probably just have to accept it as bad luck.

“Give me back my law-abiding society.”

Luka mourned internally.

No. Luka quickly snapped out of it. He had survived against all odds—there was no way he’d settle for a miserable life at the bottom of the food chain.

If he could even transmigrate, who was to say he didn’t have the legendary luck of a protagonist?

“System? A wise old mentor inside my head…?”

He called out several times. Nothing.

Unwilling to give up, Luka racked his brain, his thoughts scattering in all directions.

Then, suddenly, he clenched his fists—he really had found a way to survive hidden in his memories.

Faith Ascension.

Magic relied on magical elements, while faith-based power thrived on the fervent beliefs of others.

The best part? Faith-based cultivation didn’t require overcoming heavenly tribulations.

Luka never wanted to get struck by lightning again.

Unfortunately, he was currently as weak as a baby chick. Forget earning believers—he’d be lucky if no one crushed him underfoot.

“This method has a slim chance of success… but it’s better than nothing.”

With a slightly clearer mind, Luka temporarily settled on a possible future career path.

The night was cold and silent.

Lost in thought, he gradually closed his eyes, seemingly falling asleep.

Perhaps because he had eaten too much tree bark, he was even chewing in his dreams.

Time flowed along with the moonlight.

At midnight, the skeletal hand holding the heart suddenly twitched.

The bones disappeared temporarily as the deformed heart floated into the air, leaving the cave.

In the darkness, Luka’s eyes suddenly snapped open, all traces of exhaustion gone.

“A thing with only a heart and no eyes dares to play mind games with me?”

Failing to tamper with the blood contract had dimmed the heart’s color—it was clearly injured.

Yet after only a short recovery, it was already eager to stir up trouble again.

Luka took off the bow and arrows from his back. Seemingly aware of his opponent’s destination, he circled around from another direction.

The heart drifted silently back to the pool of blood from before.

The dwarf’s ‘corpse’ was still there.

In truth, he had not completely died—his deformed heart had left a way out.

Luka’s final strike had not precisely pierced the dwarf’s heart. The heart seized the opportunity to cast a forbidden technique, using the blood left on the ground to keep the dwarf barely alive.

No—strictly speaking, he had only half a breath left.

Healing him would require a great deal of effort.

The deformed heart forcibly suppressed its anger, transforming the blood into countless thin threads that channeled power into the dwarf.

Time passed, second by second. The dwarf’s eyelids trembled slightly, showing signs of regaining consciousness.

The deformed heart increased the output of its power. In the dark forest, an eerie incantation seemed to echo—

“Rise again, my dwarf.”

The egg drop soup was ruined, but fortunately, there was a backup.

The dwarf’s fingers twitched. Guided by the blood threads, he slowly stood up.

The heart’s blood vessels narrowed slightly—it was almost done.

Whoosh!

But just at this critical moment, an arrow sliced through the air.

The long arrow came with the force of a piercing wind, striking precisely into the dwarf’s forehead. Blood splattered, and the dwarf’s just-opened eyelids seemed nailed in place. The narrow slit that remained revealed only sheer terror.

In the distance, under the full moon, Luka stood atop a tree, his bow still drawn.

First the chest, now the head.

A chilling smile appeared on his pale face. Without caring whether the heart could see him, he directed his grin at it and said, “Good evening.”

After channeling power into the dwarf, the deformed heart was in a temporarily weakened state.

Hearing the wind whistle past, it reacted half a beat too late.

The corpse collapsed heavily once again, a few specks of mud splashing onto the heart’s surface.

Luka leapt down from the tree and walked forward under the moonlight.

At last, the longbow had served its proper purpose.

With the bow slung across his back, the young man, at first glance, resembled an elf under the moonlight.

However, his actions soon shattered that illusion. Since he lacked the ability to conjure arrows with magic and firmly believed in the virtue of thrift, he stepped on the dwarf’s body, grasped the arrow shaft with his slender fingers, and yanked it out forcefully.

Then, after wiping it clean on the dwarf’s clothes, he placed it back into the quiver behind him.

Everything was settled.

As if nothing had happened, Luka looked at the deformed heart and said, “Since we’ve already signed a blood pact, we should introduce ourselves.”

The deformed heart possessed a kind of brainstem-less beauty.

After a long silence, a sinister voice rang out:

“How did you know I would come to revive the dwarf?”

Luka smirked. “I told you, we should introduce ourselves.”

After forming the pact, the heart hadn’t even bothered to ask his name. This meant that not only did it not intend to interact with him long-term, but it didn’t even care about short-term cooperation.

The heart would leave itself a way out—so would he.

By deliberately leaving the dwarf a sliver of life, he forced the heart into making a choice. If it attempted to save him, it would undoubtedly drain its power.

The weaker it became, the more advantageous it was for Luka.

The heart fell silent for a moment, then said, “A mere ant like you is unworthy of knowing my name.”

“Oh.” Luka didn’t press further. “My name is Luka.”

Dipping his finger in the dwarf’s blood, he wrote his name on the ground and said, with surprising politeness, “Now that I’m your only option, hurry up and take me out of the Wasteland.”

The air was eerily still.

Both sides stood locked in a standoff.

In the end, the deformed heart was the first to lower its blood vessels.

It drifted through the forest once more, absorbing the scattered remnants of life essence. When it had recovered somewhat, it finally showed a bit of sincerity—lending Luka a trace of its magic.

Instantly, Luka’s steps became swift as the wind, allowing him to move at an inhuman speed.

As he traveled, he didn’t forget to loot the corpse, managing to pick up a few gold coins.

The deformed heart exuded disdain. “So, this continent has degenerated to the point where gold is used as currency?”

Luka sneered.

Keep up that act—one day, you’ll get struck by lightning just like me.

The Wasteland wasn’t vast, but it was by no means small.

For half a month straight, Luka barely rested four to five hours a day. When yet another dawn broke, the distant outline of a city finally came into view.

The city gates were built from massive stone blocks, towering and imposing.

The Demon King’s pilgrimage had not been entirely without merit—at the very least, on the road from the Wasteland, not only were there no dangers, but even living creatures were rare.

Everyone avoided this place like the plague.

Luka warned, “Looking like that, you’ll scare people.”

In an instant, the heart transformed into an elegant feathered quill. The raven-black feathers were etched with delicate blood-red patterns.

Luka was momentarily taken aback.

This quill—he had seen it before in a book. At the time, he had thought its design was exquisite, and ever since, he had never been able to forget it.

The feathered quill spoke in a human voice: “I know exactly what you’re thinking and what you like.”

It was a display of power, a declaration of its vast and unfathomable abilities.

Luka looked at it and silently thought: Idiot.

The quill pen had no reaction, its tail end raised high, maintaining the posture of the proud.

Luka sneered inwardly: You don’t know shit.

He concluded another point—the thing could occasionally sense matters related to desires and preferences.

A thousand meters ahead was the City of Giant Stones.

The only checkpoint connecting the Wasteland and other fortresses was here, and a long line stretched before the city gate.

Standing at the end of the line, Luka’s slightly black-tinted hair drew some side glances.

On the Holy Magic Continent, such hair color was extremely rare.

The news about the Demon King’s son had long been sealed off, and those who knew had already become corpses. No one was aware of his identity. The people in line ahead of him only sensed weak magical energy from him and sneered to their companions:

“A lowborn.”

Behind him, a voice rang out, blunt and impatient:

“You, move to the back.”

A beastman who arrived after Luka had placed a heavy hand on his shoulder, shoving him aside.

Luka swayed slightly, like a wobbling doll, but stood firm again.

He kicked a pebble beneath his foot, and as it rolled away, he said, “Learn from it.”

Not only should you roll, but roll swiftly.

His impolite tone startled those nearby. They had probably never seen someone so oblivious to the situation.

Luka remained unmoved.

If he yielded once, there would be a second time, and at this rate, he would still be queuing up next year. The fact that so many different races stood in an orderly line at the city gate, without flying overhead or using spatial scrolls, proved that the City of Giant Stones had strict regulations.

He was certain that the beastman wouldn’t dare to make a move here.

Sure enough, the beastman refrained from acting and only spat viciously, “Just you wait!”

Suddenly, the sky darkened, cutting off the beastman’s threats.

A flock of griffins soared overhead in formation. The largest among them stretched over twenty or thirty feet in length, carrying a small mobile house on its broad back.

“Who are they? Such a grand display.”

“Are you from some border town? That’s the Rhine Family. Their businesses span across the entire Holy Magic Continent.”

Most cities offered them special privileges—flight restrictions didn’t apply to them.

On one of the griffins, a man brewing magical beans appeared to be under thirty. His narrow, squinting eyes held a calculating glint no matter whom he looked at.

“That kid is interesting.”

The vice president beside him glanced downward but, among the sea of heads, failed to see anything noteworthy.

“What kid?”

The squinting-eyed man pointed him out.

From their thousand-meter altitude, a mage’s vision remained unaffected. The vice president clearly saw the small scene below.

“He doesn’t seem special.”

“The City of Giant Stones borders the Holy Tosei in the west, the Wasteland in the east, and the Frozen North beyond. He’s just a kid with no significant magic, no escort—where do you think he came from?”

“That is… quite intriguing.”

Before long, the long queue vanished from their sight. The two shifted their focus back to discussing trade affairs, paying no further attention to an outsider.

At the City Gate.

Luka queued for nearly three hours, experiencing firsthand the power hierarchy of the continent.

Those with special tokens didn’t have to queue.

Those with valuable skills, such as alchemists desperately needed in the city, also bypassed the line.

The most powerful families, like the Rhine Family, could simply fly over.

When Luka’s turn arrived, a city guard stated,

“One gold coin per day. How long will you stay?”

Combat was forbidden inside the city, making it a natural safe zone, though the entrance fee was outrageously high—even elite mages working as bodyguards didn’t charge that much.

“Three days.” Luka took out three gold coins scavenged from looted corpses.

Complete corpses were rare in the Wasteland. Many had already turned into bloody pulp along with their money pouches. Even after scouring the area, he had only managed to gather a dozen or so gold coins.

Behind him, the beastman, upon seeing Luka take out gold coins, flashed a malicious grin.

Luka stepped into the city gates without hesitation.

As he walked, he coolly analyzed his two biggest challenges:

1. Making money.
   The City of Giant Stones was bustling with trade, but prices were absurdly high. If he didn’t find a way to earn, his meager wealth wouldn’t last long.
   
2. Handling the beastman.
   Luka had sensed his ill intent back in the queue. Strike first before being struck—if he didn’t deal with him soon, he’d be the one getting robbed instead.
   

He needed a hired hand.

Naturally, he turned to the quill pen.

This thing was strong, and killing a beastman should be easy.

Just days ago, he had been struggling with basic survival. Now that he was inside the city, for the first time, he started pondering the origin of the heart.

Somewhere in his memory, he recalled reading about a sealed entity in the Exiled Lands—a terrifying existence that even the Demon King had personally investigated, yet found nothing.

The Demon King’s Pilgrimage was fundamentally an act of resource plundering, and the Exiled Lands shouldn’t have been within its scope.

“Could it be… the Demon King was using blood as bait to lure out the sealed entity?”

Yet, the eerie heart had endured and remained dormant… until shortly before Luka traveled to this world when it finally began absorbing energy.

The more he thought about it, the more plausible it seemed.

A freshly killed corpse contained the purest energy, which dissipated by the second after death. If his theory was correct, then—

That thing had patience.

The quill pen had once scoffed at the use of gold coins as currency.

Yet, gold coins had been circulating for over a thousand years.

Which meant—

This thing had existed for at least a thousand years.

“How about a bet?” Luka’s eyes flickered. “Let’s bet that I can figure out your identity within the time it takes to finish a cup of tea.”

The feather pen laughed unceremoniously at his foolish dream.

“If I win, you’ll be my enforcer three times.”
“And if you lose?”
“I’ll launch a suicide attack and deliberately provoke a powerful expert.”

“……”

A redefinition of a suicide attack—one that harms himself but not his enemy.

This wager struck directly at the feather pen’s heart!

It wished nothing more than for Luka to hurry up and die. Since their contract was just a low-level blood pact, it wouldn’t have to bear too much backlash. By then, it could simply go find another host in an ordinary city.

“Deal.” The feather pen was afraid he would back out and agreed instantly.

The corners of Luka’s lips curled up. He found a secluded spot, and the two cheerfully signed their second contract.

When Luka stepped out again, his gaze swept across the scene.

The majority of the population in the City of Giant Stones were humans, mostly merchants, and the various races coexisted in relative harmony.

At that moment, several different factions were gathered outside a roadside tavern, chatting.

“One of the Demon King’s pilgrimage sites is actually set in the Wastelands.”

“Who cares? The Wastelands are full of criminals; it doesn’t matter if they all die.” The speaker furrowed his brows. “But slaughtering three regions in one go… It seems the Demon King has grown even stronger.”

Luka suddenly stepped forward and tossed a gold coin onto the table, signaling that he would cover the drinks.

Then, he naturally joined the conversation. “The Demon King should be the most powerful being of our time.”

The bald man gave him a glance and corrected him, “One of the most powerful.”

In the Holy City of humanity, there were beings just as capable of challenging the Demon King.

Luka added, “The Demon King unified the Demon Realm and established the Underground City. He is also the most successful.”

If not for the free drinks, these men would have already cursed him out for praising the enemy.

Judging by his appearance and aura, Luka seemed more human than not, so no one suspected his identity. He suddenly murmured, “There are plenty of successful figures, but what about the most failed?”

Luka turned to the group. “Looking at the history of the Holy Demon Continent, who do you think was the biggest failure?”

“Alex.”

Anyone worthy of being recorded in history was never an obscure nobody, and the group answered in unison.

Aside from common knowledge, Luka’s original body had little understanding of the continent’s history. His focus had always been on magic potions and black magic, eager to escape his weak physique.

Just as Luka was about to ask further, the group once again spoke in unison, “Without a doubt!”

The feather pen: “……”

Luka could practically feel the thick resentment radiating from the feather pen at his waist. It was so strong it nearly weakened his stance.

Clearly, he had already uncovered the feather pen’s origin.

Even a Demon King, reduced to nothing but a heart, would struggle to survive.

Determining the identity of a lone, surviving heart wasn’t difficult.

First, it must have once been one of the strongest beings on the continent—stronger than the Demon King.

Second, it had failed.

Lastly, considering Luka’s earlier deductions, it had died long ago, and it had died miserably.

Such an existence could not have been an unknown figure.

From a few drunken men, Luka listened to the legendary story of Alex.

No one knew Alex’s exact race. Some said he was a vampire; others claimed he was a necromancer. This enigmatic figure had once commanded an army of millions of undead, sweeping across the land undefeated.

At his peak, Alex had nearly unified the Holy Demon Continent. Unfortunately, his brutal methods sparked widespread rebellion, and in the end, he still fell.

After his death, necromancers as a race gradually declined over the next thousand years until they vanished entirely.

Alex had also been the most brilliant schemer.

He successfully split the elves into factions. To this day, dark elves and high elves remained locked in endless conflict.

Posterity only saw the outcome—Alex had failed.

Thus, in their eyes, Alex was the greatest failure of all.

Yes, without a doubt.