My Goblin System : Levelling up with my SSS Class Devouring skill Chapter 241

She didn’t need to finish the sentence. Everyone understood the implications. The First Demon Lord would have been resurrected, and nothing in this valley—possibly nothing in the entire region—would have survived what ca next.

The temple’s entrance stood open, clearly guarded but the guards were the mindless enhanced warriors rather than thinking beings. They attacked the mont Satou’s team ca into range, but without coordination or strategy, they were easily dispatched.

Satou’s blade flashed three tis, and three serpent warriors fell with severed throats. Grimnir’s axe took another two in a single wide swing. Kelvin’s daggers found the eyes of a sixth warrior, dropping it instantly.

They entered the temple, and the wrongness intensified a hundredfold.

The main chamber had been completely converted into a ritual space that made Satou’s skin crawl just from proximity. The floor was carved with massive magical arrays that glowed with that sa sickly green light, the patterns so complex and intricate that looking at them too long made his eyes hurt. The arrays weren’t just carved—they’d been etched with what looked like lted bone and blood, creating channels for the dark magic to flow.

Altars stood at the four cardinal points, each one stacked with bones—hundreds of bones, maybe thousands, the remains of everyone who’d died in this conflict. Lizard-folk and serpent-folk skulls were arranged in specific patterns, their empty eye sockets seeming to stare accusingly at the intruders.

The walls were covered in runes that Satou didn’t recognize, written in what might have been blood or sothing worse. They pulsed with that sa green light, and he could hear whispers emanating from them—voices speaking in languages that hurt to hear.

And at the chamber’s center, suspended in mid-air within a sphere of concentrated dark magic that was almost solid in its intensity, was sothing that made even Satou’s stomach turn.

A body. Or what would beco a body. A skeletal frawork was slowly forming, bone by bone, as corruption-magic pulled matter from so other dinsion and shaped it into physical form. It was perhaps sixty percent complete—a ribcage had ford, a spine, a partial skull, one complete arm ending in fingers that twitched with horrible life despite having no muscles or tendons.

The First Demon Lord, slowly being resurrected through accumulated death and dark ritual.

Three robed figures stood around the central sphere, positioned at equal intervals. Their hands were raised in continuous spell-casting, feeding power into the working. Even from the entrance, Satou could feel the magical energy flowing from them into the ritual, sustaining it, pushing it toward completion.

Cult mbers. Their faces were hidden beneath deep hoods, but their dedication was absolute. They hadn’t even reacted to Satou’s team entering—their entire focus was on maintaining the ritual.

The mont Satou and his team crossed the threshold into the chamber proper, all three cult mbers turned as one, their movents perfectly synchronized like puppets controlled by the sa strings.

"Intruders!" one of them shrieked, their voice distorted by magical enhancent until it was barely human. "You’re too late! The ritual is nearly complete! The First One will be reborn, and your world will burn in his glorious flas! All will be ash and ruin!"

"We’ll see about that," Satou said coldly, his blade already in hand.

He didn’t give them ti to react or cast any defensive spells. [Shadow Step] took him directly to the first cult mber, crossing thirty ters in an instant. His blade already in motion as he materialized.

The cultist tried to raise a barrier, magical energy sparking around their hands, but they weren’t fast enough—Satou’s [Void Fang]-enhanced strike passed through the forming shield like it didn’t exist and separated the cultist’s head from their shoulders in one clean cut.

The head tumbled through the air, the hood falling away to reveal a gaunt face with eyes that glowed with fanatical fervor even in death. Then the body crumpled.

[Devour] activated, and Satou absorbed the cultist’s essence—dark magic knowledge, ritual theory, years of forbidden study. All of it flowed into him, the information integrating with his existing skills.

Kelvin and Grimnir moved on the second cultist simultaneously, their coordinated attack one born from fighting together for years. Grimnir’s axe ca down in a devastating overhead chop that forced the cultist to dodge left—directly into Kelvin’s waiting daggers.

The cultist scread as blades found gaps in their robes, striking vital points with surgical precision born from decades of combat experience. Dark blood sprayed, and the cultist fell.

Grimnir finished them with a brutal kick that snapped their neck. No hesitation, no rcy. These were enemies who’d orchestrated the deaths of thousands. They deserved none.

The third cultist, realizing they were about to die and that the ritual was in jeopardy, did sothing desperate. Their hands moved in a pattern Satou recognized with horror—a self-sacrifice technique.

They pulled a ceremonial dagger from within their robes, the blade carved with more of those painful runes, and plunged it into their own chest without hesitation. Their blood sprayed onto the central ritual circle in a specific pattern.

"Final offering!" they scread with their dying breath, voice filled with fanatical triumph even as life faded from their body. "My death fuels the resurrection! The First One cos! THE FIRST ONE COS!"

They collapsed, blood pooling beneath them in patterns that seed deliberate, flowing along carved channels toward the central sphere.

The sphere of dark magic at the chamber’s center pulsed, and the skeletal form inside convulsed violently. Energy surged through the ritual arrays like lightning, the green light intensifying to blinding levels. The incomplete body began forming faster—flesh appearing on bones, muscles growing, organs taking shape.

For a horrible mont Satou thought they were too late, that the cultist’s sacrifice had provided the final push needed to complete the resurrection.

Then Freda stepped forward, her hands already weaving the most complex spell pattern Satou had ever seen her attempt. Despite her exhaustion, despite having already cast a master-level purification spell less than an hour ago, she poured everything she had left into this final working.