411: Miracle Pond 411: Miracle Pond Max stood at the edge of the mysterious pond, his eyes tracing the dark, mist-veiled surface that shimred faintly with violet hues.
There was sothing ancient about it, sothing that made even the air around it feel heavier—thicker.
He slowly stepped into the water, letting it rise up past his boots and soak into his clothes.
The mont his skin made contact with the water, a strange yet deeply soothing sensation spread through his body.
It was cool—cooler than any water he had ever felt—but it wasn’t a biting cold.
Instead, it was like the embrace of a gentle night breeze, like the breath of the forest itself cradling him in silence.
‘The water in the pond… it’s dense, but calm,’ Max thought, his eyes narrowing slightly as he stood still, allowing the sensation to wash over him.
It wasn’t just his body that felt soothed—his mind began to quiet as well.
The usual restlessness, the flickers of rage, grief, and guilt that he had just experienced when he got his mories back of that day slowly lted away.
Curious, he lifted his right hand slowly, the Infernal Demon Tattoo etched into his skin glowing dimly beneath the surface.
‘Let’s see how it reacts to infernal energy,’ he thought, and began to channel just a sliver of the power sealed within him.
A faint hum echoed through his palm as thin, red threads of infernal energy began to rise like smoke from the tattoo—twisting and curling upward in a nacing dance.
Normally, the mont this energy surged, Max would feel a wave of hostility, a heaviness in his chest, or an overwhelming pressure clouding his thoughts.
But here… nothing.
No resistance.
No malice.
No pull toward chaos.
Instead, the energy flowed smoothly, calmly, as if the water around him reached out and embraced it.
The violet shimr beneath the surface reacted softly, flickering in rhythm with his energy, not to suppress or reject it—but to balance it.
He could feel it clearly now: the pond was purifying the negativity that ca with the infernal energy, stripping away its corrosive edge and leaving behind sothing raw and clean.
Sothing controllable.
“This…!” Max’s eyes widened slightly.
It was the first ti he had ever released infernal energy without feeling like he was losing a part of himself.
There was no madness.
No whispers.
Just peace.
The pond wasn’t just suppressing the dark energy—it was harmonizing it with him, allowing him to feel it without being consud by it.
His heart slowed, his breaths beca deeper, and a rare sense of clarity settled over him.
For the first ti since awakening the Twelve Layered Infernal Demon Tattoo… Max felt in control.
Truly, completely in control.
Max understood it better than anyone else alive—just how dangerous a twelve-layered Infernal Demon Tattoo truly was.
It wasn’t sothing to be taken lightly.
It wasn’t just a mark etched into flesh—it was a seal of power so imnse and volatile that even channeling a fraction of it could threaten to tear him apart from the inside.
He had experienced it firsthand.
The mory of what happened back in the Hall of Mourning Depths was still vivid, still burned into his mind.
He rembered how the infernal energy had surged uncontrollably the mont he tapped into the tattoo’s power.
It hadn’t stayed confined to the palm where it was etched.
No, it had spread—wild and violent—rushing up his entire arm like a living fla, threatening to consu him in madness.
That incident had been the first true warning.
‘I think only till the eleventh layer could one control this power,’ Max thought, piecing together everything he had seen and experienced.
He recalled how the other leaders across the Valora Continent—those who had dared to use the infernal tattoos—had managed to maintain their sanity and precision.
But all of them, without exception, had only ford up to the eleventh layer.
None of them had touched the twelfth.
The mont he had been forced to take on the twelfth layer, everything changed.
It was as if the line between man and demon had blurred—and for a mont, he was no longer himself.
He clenched his fists, the mory still fresh.
‘The twelfth-layered Infernal Demon Tattoo… it wasn’t ant for ordinary humans.’ The realization hit him like a heavy weight.
That level of infernal power, that degree of energy—it was sothing that only soone like Mark, the one known to be born of infernal energy itself, was ever ant to wield.
Max wasn’t supposed to survive it.
No one was.
And maybe… that was why he had never heard of a single human forming the twelfth-layered tattoo before.
Not because no one dared.
But because no one could.
‘It’s all my new physique’s fault,’ Max thought bitterly, sitting cross-legged just above the surface of the pond, his body gently floating on the still water like a leaf caught in a tiless current.
‘Maybe I made a mistake… by listening to the system and awakening a physique that is comfortable with infernal energy,’ It had felt like the perfect match at the ti—a body that could house infernal power without tearing itself apart.
But now, he wasn’t so sure.
Because what use was acceptance when control was lost?
Max stared at the dark, glowing water beneath him, feeling the strange calm it offered.
‘Now… ti to fully unleash the Infernal Demon Tattoo.’ He closed his eyes, took in a deep breath, and exhaled slowly.
Then, without hesitation, he let loose the full power of twelfth layer of infernal demon tattoo—releasing everything at once.
Fwoosh!
In an instant, it was like sothing ancient and primal had been ripped free from the core of his being.
A deep red light burst out from his right hand, and sheer infernal energy roared to life.
Red strings of convulsing, volatile power burst from the Infernal Demon Tattoo and surged upward—snaking over his wrist, spiraling around his forearm, crawling hungrily toward his shoulder.
His right eye snapped open, burning crimson like a fla given form.
For a brief second, Max was himself.
Then the flood hit.
CREATORS’ THOUGHTS ShinGotLost Your gift is the motivation for my creation.
Give more motivation!
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