Korvus had barely a moment to process his shocking transformation before survival instinct kicked in. The beach around him was rapidly becoming a battlefield as newly hatched demons turned on each other in primal hunger.
He scanned his surroundings with growing alarm. Unlike the rest of the infant demons whose actions seemed guided purely by instinct, Korvus retained his human consciousness—and with it, an awareness of just how precarious his situation was.
Think, Harry... No, Korvus now. Think like a demon.
His first instinct was to devour his eggshell, just as he'd seen the other demons doing. Korvus turned to the shattered remains of the black shell that had housed him and hesitantly picked up a fragment. The shell felt warm in his clawed hands, and as he brought it to his mouth, a strange compulsion overtook him.
He bit down.
The taste was unexpected—not unpleasant, but alien, like crispy rice that had been charred over an open flame. As he chewed and swallowed, a strange warmth spread through his body, and with it came knowledge.
Images and sensations flooded his mind: dark corridors of power, hierarchies of demonic entities, and most importantly, a deeper understanding of what he had become. With each fragment of shell he consumed, more information crystallized in his consciousness—not as formal education but as innate knowledge, as though he'd always known these things.
When he swallowed the last shard, three distinct phrases emerged in his mind, clear as day:
The Essence of the Involate Self. The Essence of the Blank. The Essence of Training.
Korvus froze mid-chew, recognition washing over him like ice water.
"No way," he whispered. "These are... these are Meta Essences."
In his previous life, he'd spent countless hours browsing 'Create Your Own Adventure' forums online. One particular thread had featured a collection of "Meta Essences" - theoretical powers that users had designed to be perfectly balanced yet incredibly versatile. He'd saved the images, studied them, even incorporated aspects into his fiction.
But he'd never imagined they could be real.
The Essence of the Involate Self: total immunity to control, perfect biological immortality, and freedom from imprisonment.
The Essence of the Blank: limitless potential to learn any skill or discipline without limitation.
The Essence of Training: accelerated learning and the ability to maintain skills without practice.
These weren't powers he'd created—they were concepts he'd admired and studied from internet forums in his past life. And now, impossibly, they were part of him.
"Status," he murmured reflexively, a command common in the fiction he used to write.
To his surprise, a translucent panel materialized in his field of vision. Unlike the elaborate customization system he'd created for characters in his stories, this was a simple status screen, displaying basic information:
Name: Korvus Meryer Ywatt Alucard Lundisha Bloodborn Skywalker
Race: Demon
Form: Newborn (Premature)
Hierarchy: Bottom of the low rank
Attribute: Dark
Strength: 11
Speed: 10
Magic Energy: 12
Vitality: 14
Skills: None
Essences: Involate Self, The Blank, Training
Korvus stared at the panel in disbelief. A status system—not the elaborate creation system he'd written about in his fiction, but a simple way to quantify and track his abilities. Even in this limited form, it was an advantage most demons probably didn't have.
A shrill scream nearby yanked him from his reverie. Two demons were fighting over a third, smaller one. The smaller demon's struggles grew weaker as the others tore at its limbs, and Korvus watched in horror as they finally ripped it apart. A ball of pale light—a soul—emerged from the corpse, and the victors fought over it with renewed fury.
The sight triggered another realization—one that sent ice through his veins despite the scorching heat of the magma beach.
Souls. They're harvesting souls.
He'd written about worlds where souls were power, but this wasn't his creation. This was something else entirely—a realm where the concepts he'd encountered and explored had somehow become reality.
Korvus glanced down at his small, clawed hands. He was smaller than most of the others—likely due to what the inherited knowledge told him was a "premature hatching." His status panel confirmed it. If the other demons noticed him, they would see easy prey.
He needed to move. To hide. To think.
As if confirming his fears, a four-eyed demon nearby turned in his direction, nostrils flaring. Korvus didn't wait to see what would happen next. He scrambled backward, his new demon body moving awkwardly as he adjusted to limbs that didn't quite work the way he expected.
The four-eyed demon took a step toward him, then paused, head tilting as though listening to something. It turned away suddenly, distracted by an easier target.
Korvus used the opportunity to retreat behind a large, unhatched egg. His heart—or whatever passed for it in this form—hammered against his ribs. He needed a weapon, a tool, something to defend himself.
Without the creation system he'd given characters in his stories, he'd have to rely on more conventional means. But the essences—those incredible, impossible essences—gave him advantages no newborn demon should have.
According to The Essence of the Blank, he could learn any discipline or skillset, even those he shouldn't be capable of. And with The Essence of Training, he could do so at an accelerated rate.
Looking around at the battlefield the beach had become, Korvus noticed something interesting. Most of the newly hatched demons fought with pure instinct—clawing, biting, using brute force. But a few had already developed more sophisticated techniques. One demon with silver skin was using what looked like crude fire magic, while another had fashioned a sharp weapon from a broken eggshell.
I can learn those skills too. Faster and better than they can.
Korvus peered around the egg, watching as the stronger demons began to move away from the immediate area, either having claimed their first souls or seeking easier hunting grounds. The beach was littered with broken eggs and the bodies of demons who hadn't survived their first hour of existence.
In the distance, he spotted a demon different from the others. This one seemed more deliberate in its movements, less frenzied. It was examining something in its hand—not a soul, but what appeared to be a crudely fashioned revolver. As Korvus watched, the demon fired the weapon at an approaching attacker, the sound echoing across the beach.
That's... not supposed to be possible for a newborn demon.
Something about that demon tickled at Korvus's memory, but he couldn't place it. He filed the observation away for later consideration.
For now, he needed to focus on immediate survival. Moving carefully, he crept toward the nearest unattended body—a small, insect-like demon with six legs and a carapace that had been cracked open. No soul hovered nearby; it had already been claimed. But the body itself might provide materials or insights.
As he examined the corpse, Korvus felt a strange sensation—knowledge flowing into him as he studied the demon's anatomical structure. The Essence of the Blank was already working, helping him understand demonic biology simply through observation.
"Fascinating," he murmured, running a clawed finger along the creature's exoskeleton.
More shrieks erupted from further down the beach as a new wave of eggs began hatching. Soon, the newly born would join the fray, and the competition for souls would grow even fiercer.
Korvus stood, his mind racing with possibilities. He didn't have the tools to craft elaborate weapons like the demon with the revolver, but with his essences, he had something potentially more valuable: adaptability.
The purple moon hung low in the sky, casting long shadows across the magma beach. In the distance, more eggs were washing ashore with the crimson tide. More demons would soon be born, and the cycle of violence would continue.
But Korvus was determined not to be just another victim in this demonic hierarchy. He had knowledge the others didn't. He had a status system that could guide his development. And most importantly, he had three rare essences that, if he understood them correctly, gave him advantages the others could only dream of.
"Time to level up," he murmured, a phrase from his human life that felt strangely appropriate in this hellish new existence.
With that, he turned his attention to the beach ahead, already scanning for his next opportunity. In the demon realm, hesitation meant death. And Korvus intended to live.