My players are too fierce!

Congratulations to David Day on his class change to Demonologist!

[As the first player in the entire server to undergo a class change, you've been inducted into the Hall of Fame!]

[Based on the type of demon enslaved: Book Demon (High-Ranking Archdemon), the following initial skills are obtained.]

【Skill 1: Weakness Curse (Beginner)】

[Cost: 10 Sanity Points]

Type: Curse

[Effect: Has a certain probability of weakening the target's physical strength. Regardless of whether the curse affects the target, it will also affect the caster.]

[Skill 2: Weakness Revealed (Beginner)]

[Cost: 10 Sanity Points]

[Type: Mark, Curse]

[Effect: Intervenes with spiritual power, marking the target's vulnerable area or forcibly creating a weakness, lasting 30 seconds. Regardless of whether the curse works on the target, it will also affect the caster.]

[Skill 3: Tracing (No Rank)]

[Consumption: Depends on the object being depicted, with a minimum of 10 sanity points and no upper limit. Other special materials such as spirit liquid may vary.]

[Type: Special]

[Effect: Mimics the powers of various demons depicted in the book]

[Currently Available: Read Me! (Headless Scholar, Sabotage/Control)]

3 skills.

He basically lacks any direct combat skills that can be used in public, thus solidifying his role as a support character.

Ugh.

David sighed, staring at a book clipped to his waist, about the size of a Xinhua Dictionary.

The Demonologist's Notebook, the core tool of the Demonologist.

This is made up of his flesh and blood and a part of the "Demon's True Name Collection".

It can be considered the medium connecting him to the book that was placed in the tavern.

Of course, under the current circumstances, the landlord's family also had no surplus grain to lend him.

This has resulted in his little book being completely empty, with only a weak, chicken-like servant demon on it.

He imported it himself.

Ugh.

He sighed again, stroking the journal, his eyes fixed ambiguously on the original body placed before Roland.

Is this the result of their union?

That look sent a chill down the spine of the person who was wearing the cover.

"Ahem...can I take a look at yours..."

Emma quietly approached David Day, acting coy but with a burning passion in her eyes.

After all, this is quite taboo even in the Nest; it's tantamount to directly saying, "Hey Old Deng! I'm going to steal your secret weapon! Give it to me!"

She didn't study demonology in depth, probably because of its inherent dangers. Those in the den of demons were quite restricted, and little knowledge of it was ever passed down to the lower classes. What she did learn was usually general knowledge.

How much she can learn depends on her ability.

"Then you see."

David closed his eyes and fell backward.

Is it really more comfortable to warm yourself by a fire in a virtual game than to sunbathe in real life?

That's outrageous!

Emma glanced back at Roland, who was completely oblivious to what she was doing, his head bowed as if he were taking notes.

She waved her hand and pointed to David Day lying on the ground.

Roland made no response.

She breathed a sigh of relief.

Let's just take it as his consent!

She learns as much as she can, and it's all earned through her part-time jobs!

At this moment, Roland was studying nothing else.

It was that memory that belonged to Marcus, spherical, crystal-like.

If you look closely, it seems there's a younger version of Marcus inside.

[Usage Requirements: ≥1 unit of flesh and blood]

Tasks always need to be settled.

He can't use it directly on himself, so he'd better find a guinea pig.

At this moment, the other four players, having gained a slight understanding of the Demon Scholar's skills and characteristics, stopped paying attention.

The specific data still needs to be tested in practice; you can't get anything of value just by looking at the panel.

Kashima and Hachimede couldn't stay idle, so they brought in swordsmen to reinforce the tavern.

The toad went to explore the tavern's cellar.

On a whim, he sent it to the swordsman.

The implication is quite obvious.

The swordsman summoned all his teammates and consulted Hakimed.

He received a glare from the latter.

"Damn it, why are these guys so lucky, while I don't get any suitable rewards!"

Muttering curses under his breath, Hakimed hammered the planks with even more force.

"You two, come here! Be alert!"

After saying that, he threw a hammer to each of the two laborers and forcibly dragged them into the infrastructure construction team.

The swordsman chuckled, scratched the back of his head, and pondered how to use the crystal ball.

Um...

Did he fall to the ground?

Snapped--

The crystal ball shattered, and the swordsman fell heavily backward, losing consciousness.

Roland put down his notebook.

The five senses are connected to the swordsman.

It was as if the person had been split in two.

Every spell comes at a price.

Even if True Sight is a spell given by the system.

One is in the tavern, belonging to him; the other belongs to the swordsman, and for now, it is all darkness.

Yeah, it's still really uncomfortable after using it for so long, like someone has split it in two.

Connecting five people makes it a six-part administrator.

That's why he has only summoned five players so far.

-

The swordsman woke up.

I slowly stood up amidst a wave of dizziness.

He was standing in a huge, magnificent arena.

The sand on the ground was soaked and turned blood red.

The enthusiastic audience was shouting in the stands.

"Kill him!"

"Execute him!"

Crimson Arena

Marcus's murmur came to my ears.

Here, no matter who you are—a bandit, a heretic, or even a slave—as long as you are strong enough, you can get a chance.

[Success and fame, admired by thousands]

The murmurs ended with a sigh.

"What the hell are you standing there for?!"

"I paid!"

Someone threw a stone.

But perhaps he was too weak, or perhaps the arena was too big, a hundred and eight thousand miles away from where the swordsman stood.

But the pebbles brought him back to his senses.

Looking at the short, muscular man in front of me.

Short?

The swordsman paused for a moment.

But the sword in his hand was clearly a standard-issue longsword...

Looking down, I realized he was just too tall, like a little giant.

So that's what it means to "substitute into memories".

Step by step.

As he advanced, the other party slowly retreated.

The swordsman saw his face clearly.

It was very dark, and its unarmored upper body was covered with knife scars.

About five steps away, the other person suddenly roared and charged at him.

The audience became even more enthusiastic.

Blood! More blood!

His head flew high into the air before crashing to the ground. His lips trembled, as if he could not believe that he, the undefeated champion of the arena, would end up like this.

Hot blood spilled on the scarlet sand made the sand appear even redder.

The swordsman confirmed that he hadn't even realized what the other person was doing.

But the hand started moving on its own.

That feeling...

[Let the slaughter begin.]

Until the end of the world.

The scene shifts, and he is standing on this scarlet sand again.

This time, he has two opponents.

The other person's face began to blur.

The collar around his neck became even heavier.

Similarly, this time he still couldn't see the other person's movements clearly; his body moved on its own.

Someone threw something down again.

They're not pebbles, they're gold coins.

The screen keeps turning.

Rainy days, snowy days, scorching sun.

The audience's cheers were never deterred by the weather.

The flashbacks became faster and faster, but the body became more and more adept at killing and more and more mired in it.

And the swordsman who experiences this memory is the same.

The same scorching sun.

This time, his opponent was a captured knight.

At least that's what the audience was shouting.

The opponent's strength is not in terms of physical power, but rather in terms of skill.

He was even more powerful than Marcus; he almost killed him.

But it was only a little short.

Only one person can survive in this arena.

This is the rule.

He could no longer hear the shouts from the audience.

Is it over?

"Your destiny should not end here."

He saw the hem of a purple robe.

"Arise, my champion! Continue the slaughter for the Empire!"

[Obtained Class: Gladiator!]

-

Meanwhile, at the tavern.

A loud explosion, loud enough to echo throughout the entire town, woke Roland.

Someone has arrived, and they've made quite a commotion.

interesting.