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eternadreeblissa · 3 months ago

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Chapter 27 [Draft]

Sung Jinwoo/Trial Player!Reader

Content Warnings: This chapter contains Implied Yandere and slight gore—this is a work of fiction and I do not condone or glorify violence in real life; experimental writings—a.k.a. me trying out a different style of being more descriptive and new p.o.v.s shifts.

See "End Notes" for Bonus Contents, since I feel unhinged after writing this chapter. Might delete later? Depends.

[Masterlist🦋✨️]

Beru landed beside Igris with a faint thud, his wings folding neatly behind him. His antennae twitched; his gaze fixed on the peculiar scene unfolding ahead of them.

“Even my brethren do not deign to partake,” Beru intoned, his clawed hand sweeping toward the shadow ants. “Most unusual, for they oft descend upon such spoils without delay.”

Igris followed the direction of Beru’s gesture and noted the truth of it. The shadow ants, notorious for their ravenous appetites, remained in tight clusters, seemingly hesitant to approach the carnage. Other shadows, like the bears, also hovered at the periphery. Except for Tank, who was otherwise preoccupied with a particular albino young lady. He was making himself comfortable under a canopy, as to not disturb Blanche’s dozing off on his back, drowning herself in the thickness of his coat.

How exceedingly ironic, Beru mused, his multifaceted gaze fixed upon a ravenette as she wrenched a limb asunder with ease, offering half to her pale-haired kin—who, it seemed, struggled to sever her own share from the particularly stubborn carcass. They both then proceed to take a bite simultaneously with an audible crunch.

Is this, perchance, the sentiment humans harbor when they behold us feasting upon their brethren?

Beru’s mandibles clicked.

A most curious sensation, indeed.

“Who would have foreseen that the composed one harbored such… ferocity?”

Igris couldn’t help but agree, though he refrained from speaking it aloud, as they continued to watch Red skinned off and, subsequently, mutilated another carcass.

"Mhm,"

"KIEEEK—!"

By My Liege's—!

{“By My Liege’s will!”

—is what the full oath would’ve been, had Igris spoken aloud.}

"She's scary." Trick hugged herself, visibly shuddering.

“…When did you get here?" Igris hoped what was perceived on the butterfly’s end of the communication line wasn’t as clipped as he had realized his own voice would’ve sounded. Though outwardly composed, it was quite a bit shameful for a knight such as he to admit the slight tightening of his reflexes—the instinctive reach for his sword.

He had almost drawn his weapon at Lady (Name)'s beloved summon.

Though, to be fair, Trick did just… appeared out of thin air.

At the very least, Beru had fared no better. The ant had all but leapt away, wings flared, claws at the ready.

That fact alone granted Igris a measure of solace.

The mentioned silver-haired humanoid tilted her head innocently, “I’ve been here the whole time, though?"

Ah, yes, an illusionist.

Igris recalled Lady (Name)'s words—masters of deception, skilled in the art of trickery. He had merely not expected their craft to be potent enough to slip past his senses. Nor Beru’s.

Granted, the shadows soldiers had never before been the victims of the butterflies’ targeted hallucinations.

…Fortunate that we stand as allies.

No matter how battle-hungry one could be, Igris could not deny the headache these beings would pose as adversaries. And their mistress—even without My Liege’s evident fondness—would have proven a challenge herself alone.

“Speaking of...” Trick’s voice drew his attention as she turned her head and called over her shoulder. “Bestie!”

A blonde figure perked up from her crouched position a short distance away. Sol held a stick in one hand, its tip drawing crude lines in the damp earth. Around her, a small gathering of shadows and butterflies watched intently.

Igris squinted, realizing what Sol had been sketching. Iron, in particular, seemed pleased as he admired the drawing of himself. It wasn’t particularly skillful given the medium, but the exaggerated proportions made him appear larger and stand out more than the other shadow knights drawn into the mud.

"Lady of woe,” A single rose materialized on Trick’s outstretched hand, she brought it closer to plant a kiss. “Bids her halls,” The flower was then thrown, where it burst into a rain of red petals above. “A rosy banquet.” She bowed in curtsy, the extended fabric from behind her blown in the air from the exaggerated movement, momentarily showing the pattern of fluttering silver.

As she rose from the position, she gave a wink, “How's that for your next painting?”

Sol rolled her eyes in jest, giving a mock salute, but her smile bright. Trick bring a hand to her chest and made an expression as if she was hurt, but the subtle lift of her lips, if one would look just a little bit closer, would’ve told another story.

"Anyway," Trick turned back to Igris and Beru—who now had petals stuck all over their armor and exoskeleton respectively—yellow irises alight with something almost dreamy. “Isn’t my sister just the prettiest?!”

It was a well-known fact that the butterflies were far more...vibrant than the shadows—literally and figuratively. Yet even with that knowledge, Igris still found himself unprepared for the sheer whiplash of Trick’s one-eighty.

The stars in her eyes, clasping her hands together, and the swooning sigh were a stark contrast to mere moments ago, when he could practically hear the chills that ran down her spine.

“Did you not just claim she was frightening?” Beru asked, incredulous, every little movement he made causing petals to fly off.

“That’s exactly what makes her more beautiful!” Trick retorted, as if he just offended her.

Igris sighed internally.

Then again, ‘internally’ was the only thing he could achieve in regards to his current level-locked speech—

{Do we really need to remind him?

<<Yes>>}

Back to the situation at hand—

At that point, Igris had already begun tuning them out, letting their bickering fade as background white-noises as he plucked the petals off his armor, letting the reds fell down to the muddy purple-ish ground. His gaze had returned to the ballerina on stage.

The more he observed her, the more she reminded him of a particular kind of women he had only ever exchanged curt words with in his time as a human knight.

Sharp intellects, veiled beneath layers of practiced poise and intricately folded fans. Women who, in an era that condemned outbursts and demanded submission, wielded their wits often more so any man.

The way Red’s delicate fingers plucked a shard of flesh from the centaur-like corpse was not unlike the refined precision of slicing through a Mont Blanc at an olden tea party—silver knife and fork in hand, but otherwise the picture of grace.

And Igris could not help the thought that emerged then—those very same women could be as vicious as a knife to the back upon society’s stage. Ripping one another to shreds with honeyed words and carefully calculated maneuvers that would ruin rather than kill.

Whether one was complacent or bold, none were spared in the brutal games of favor, wealth, and power.

Igris knew that better than anyone.

“F-Father—"

Thump.

“…”

His gaze lingered, distant at times.

"She reminds me of the noblewomen of old..."

As he recalled how Red often followed Lady (Name) without fail—always at her beck and call.

With a contemplative hum, Igris continued his musing.

"Court ladies?"

Trick made a grand gesture with both hands of Igris for Beru to see—

Ding. Ding. Ding!

. . .

…Where did that sound even came from—

"See? He gets it!"

Ignoring one annoyed shadow ant, she turned toward Igris beaming, her voice brimming with pride. “You’re not far off the mark, Sir Knight! My sister was a duchess!”

… ‘was’?

“You should’ve seen her, Sir Knight!” Trick continued, practically vibrating with excitement. “She was such a riot! Even now—”

"Child. Fetch."

In an instant, Trick straightened, catching a tiny chunk of flesh casually thrown her way directly with her mouth. She bit into it immediately, her silver hair swaying lightly as her expression contorted into a disgruntled one a few chews in.

Igris could only stare, his judgment hidden behind his armored helm. Beside him, Beru clicked his mandibles in what Igris assumed was shared disbelief.

How... peculiar, this court of butterflies is.

——oOo——

Red approached the trio, uniform somehow remained as immaculate as ever. The white clean, the black and red mayhap hid any mess that might’ve been. Gracefully unhurried—as if she hadn't partaken in anything as taxing as a butchery in a rainy, muddy jungle.

"Well?" One brow was arched in pointed inquiry as her gaze settled on Trick.

"…Bitter." Trick swallowed with apparent difficulty before sticking her tongue out, as though the act would’ve contributed on getting rid of the horrid taste on her tastebud.

Red’s lips pressed into a thin line, and for a moment, Igris thought he heard her mutter under her breath, “At least she didn’t throw up.” Then, with a quiet sigh, she continued, “Didn’t you beg Mother to invest points into some < Devourer >’s skills for you?”

A picnic basket materialized in Red’s hand. She handed it to Trick.

"A < Devourer > can't afford to be picky." Red added, watching as Trick hesitantly took the basket.

When Trick lifted the lid, the scent of iron hit both Igris and Beru. The neatly packed cubes of raw meat inside were unmistakably from the magic beasts they had slain. Each piece was cut with surgical precision, their edges clean and uniform.

Trick wrinkled her nose, initially recoiling at the sight. But, as if she had a sudden light-bulb moment, her expression shifted. She turned around, scanning the area with renewed determination until her eyes landed on the sleeping duo under canopy.

“B—”

“Are you expecting her to cook for you right now?” Red interjected; her tone flat. “No.”

"Then–"

“Freeze it for later?” Red crossed her arms. “Sure, she could. Except the fact that it'll just be ordinary meat by then. The sooner you eat it, the more points you’ll gain. That’s the whole point of this exercise, isn’t it?”

"B-But—"

"Eat."

Trick’s shoulders slumped in defeat, and she complied, reluctantly picking up one of the cubes and placing it in her mouth. Her expression was dejected as she chewed, each bite taken with the exaggerated misery of someone enduring a punishment.

Chew.

“…”

Swallow.

“…hic.”

Red let out another sigh watching Trick’s display.

“…Have the garments been handed out?”

When Trick nodded pitifully in affirmative, Red plucked a cube of meat from the basket herself. The smell of burning wafted as the raw meat darkened and sizzled between her fingertips. Then, she brought it to the younger’s lips, and Trick took it gratefully.

"Better?"

Trick nodded vigorously as she chewed, her mood visibly improving. Red patted her head gently.

"Beru."

The shadow ant stiffened, mandibles clicking in surprise. He had not expected to be called. And yet, as her crimson gaze settled upon him, he swore—for reasons beyond his comprehension—that her eyes softened.

"Here."

Red snapped her fingers, and near Beru’s feet materialized several large stacks of... tupperware???

“We noticed the soldiers weren’t eating, so we took the liberty of saving some up for you all,” Red explained, gesturing toward the containers as she fed another carefully prepared morsel to Trick. “It’s only fair, considering most of the kills were yours.”

“We do not require—”

“I am well aware that shadows don’t require such sustenance,” Red cut in smoothly. “That eating is more habit than necessity. But we wanted to express our gratitude for the meal. It was also—technically—the first time some of us handled prep work. So please, it would make us very happy if you would accept our thanks.”

Beru hesitated before peering inside one of the containers. His antennae twitched as the scent of fresh meat drifted upward. True to her words, each was filled to the brim with neatly portioned flesh—cut into cubes, spheres, hearts, stars… even bunny-shaped pieces.

Igris, though remained silent, could not help but marvel too. When had the butterflies managed to harvest, prepare, and store all this without anyone noticing? A feat that bordered on the miraculous—or the terrifying, depending on one’s perspective.

Beru glanced from the containers to Red, then to Trick—who, upon feeling his stare, conspicuously turned away, still chewing.

After a pause, he straightened. “…On behalf of the shadows, I thank you, Madame.”

Red tilted her head but did not seem displeased. A faint smile ghosted her lips.

“Please send our regards to the others.”

She nodded once in acknowledgment.

Beru then turned his gaze toward Trick. “And you as well. Thank you.”

“…Hmph.”

Red shoved feed another cooked piece into Trick’s mouth with the same gentle care—ensuring that Trick didn’t start sulking again.

And so, Igris continued to observe. The way Red treated Trick and Beru—like children under her care.

It is… oddly endearing.

——oOo——

As the last vestiges of flesh disappeared into eager mouths, loose fabrics flowed like waterfalls. When the dark warriors merged back with their master of shadows, white tunics danced like packs of swans with the reemergence of kaleidoscope flights from behind. Thus, your newborns, ready to be greeted in your gardens—their home, joined their origins in kind and disappeared from the skies in dust of gold. Left in their wake, stark and gleaming, alabaster-white under the relentless rain—terrain of eerie beauty stripped bare of chaos.

"So..." Jinwoo cleared his throat, brushing rain-slicked hair from his forehead as the bags of essence stones disappeared into his inventory. "Is this something I should expect after every raid?”

He meant to say it in jest, an attempt to break the ice fell short when the beat of silence stretched, before you turned to him, your expression soft but distant, as though part of you was somewhere else.

“Sorry,” A fleeting gold, like light rippling through water. “Could you repeat that?”

Jinwoo’s gaze flickered briefly to the battlefield before back to meeting yours.

"...That," He jabbed his thumb toward the clearing behind—or rather, to what had taken place there just moments ago—with a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Do I need to get used to that?”

“You don’t have to,” You replied softly, gaze drifting to the desolate expanse. But then, in a blink, as if only just now waking from a dream, your brows knitted, a look more concerned for him than the situation. Meeting gazes again, a thread of worry weaved your voice. “Does it bother you? I can—”

“Wait, slow down.” Jinwoo interjected quickly, raising a hand before you could go down the rabbit hole of drastic measures—only you could come up with—if you thought he was truly disturbed. Measures you would follow to a T, no matter the inconvenience. He knew you well enough by now to guess, and the last thing he wanted was for you to overthink this. “It’s just… new. Need a little time to adjust, sure—”

He'd long been desensitized to the horrors of this world. Keeping up with you had kept him on his toes more often of course, but who wouldn’t be at least a little shocked when those pretty little things displayed a primal side so openly that might’ve rivaled his shadows?

Systematic, elegant, and utterly ruthless.

Struggling to reconcile it with the image one had grown accustomed to—

You studied him for a moment, a quiet hum leaving your lips. “If it makes you uncomfortable, they don’t have to do it. They don’t need blood or flesh to function as usual, but… it’s more beneficial now.”

“How so?”

—and curiosity just won over in the end.

Your tone shifted to something more matter-of-fact. “For the younger ones, besides the extra exp to level them up, the bonus energy gained can make them more effective, stay active longer. As supports, you know the drill, but in terms of gathering information? They can further interact with people directly without being as quickly exhausted independent of me.”

Huh.

That’s useful.

Very useful.

As unsettling as the image of butterflies devouring raw flesh was, and the sight of human body made from the inside, the utility might be worth the goosebumps.

Other inappropriate uses aside—as far as his own shadows went, they were invaluable for protection and surveillance. But they weren’t equipped for subtle interactions. They couldn’t question people or coax out information—not in the way your butterflies apparently capable of at least.

As much as Beru’s value went, Jinwoo doubted anyone would open up willingly to a towering, insectoid figure interrogating them unless stated otherwise, or to any shadow soldiers for that matter, whether they could speak or not. Informed targets might not be ideal at times.

Fear was still a viable option, but he would rather not have his kids terrorize innocents.

Your butterflies, on the other hand, would definitely be more practical in extracting information if they could disguise themselves and blend seamlessly into society.

As for acting with autonomy—Jinwoo thought back to that time in the snow-land red gate and let a smirk tugged at his lips.

They’re persuasive alright.

They seemed freer also in the sense that they weren’t bound to other objects to move, with few exceptions but definitely still less than shadows were to his soldiers.

Imagine the possibilities.

Jinwoo was almost jealous.

All in all, his shadows were the perfect battle weapons, warriors, and guards. Yours? The perfect supports, spies, even informants.

How much more of a perfect complement could this be?

Speaking of...

Jinwoo’s gaze drift to you. His lips pressed into a thin line.

Should he ask you?

Should he attach a soldier to you?

Ah, so you don’t trust her after all.

The voice was insidious and sharp—like his daggers.

The pang in his chest was immediate and heavy—guilt?

I do, the heart argued, vehement.

It’s for her—

For her or for you?

Mocking.

Does she really need you to keep her safe?

Taunting.

You barely know who she is.

Then I’ll keep learning, to get to know her, properly.

Is that not just another excuse to keep her close then?

Ah.

All this time, still just scratching the surface—

He went through this before.

I want to know her (everything).

Silence.

"That's... convenient."

Really?

Jinwoo winced internally.

Was that all he can say? Couldn’t he come up with a proper compliment? Even saying something along the lines of the lame-old “cool” would be better at this point!

Why was he such a mess in front of the one person he wanted to—

“Thank you.”

Oh.

Damnit.

Damn you, for how tender you looked at that moment, standing just within his reach.

Damn you, for those knowing and fond eyes, staring back at him.

Damn you, for how soft your lips looked in that smile, directed at him.

Fingers twitched on his sides.

Damn him, for craving you to look at him (always).

“Take the < Illusionists > for example.”

You lifted your hand to his view, fingers curled, holding something out of sight, “Not only do they gain more knowledge to reach perfect mimicry…”

A single cherry blossom unfurled in your palm.

“…the duration of their skills also lasts much longer.”

Before Jinwoo could process, you exhaled softly.

He was then bombarded with multiple blossoms, straight to his face.

“Pfft.” You stifled a laugh behind your hand at his widened eyes and slightly parted lips. What made the sight sillier in your eyes was the silver butterfly perched on his cheek, chiming—

“Good day, Sir. Goodbye, Sir. Have a pleasant day!”

—before going poof!

Jinwoo didn’t move.

On instinct, his mana flared—to sense, to analyze—but there was nothing. He couldn’t detect the signature presence illusions carried, the usual flicker of magic that would have clued him in under normal circumstances.

No.

For a second there, he absolutely couldn’t sense you, even though his gaze never left yours.

And that—that was definitely not < Stealth >.

“The < Devourers > and < Conversion-ists> are more straightforward.”

You continued, as if you hadn’t just—

“To sum it up, the < Devourers > gain more physical bonuses—strength, durability, and such. While the < Conversion-ists > receive more ‘recipes,’ essentially.”

Jinwoo swallowed. His hand twitched.

“Jinwoo?”

You reached out, fingers hovering near his cheek but hesitated at the very last second, merely a hair’s breadth away before your fingertips could graze his damp skin, when you saw how empty his gaze had become behind dripping raven bangs.

“I can’t…”

His grip caught your wrist before you could retreat.

You neither flinched nor pulled away.

“You just—!”

Vanished.

Like a g̴l̷i̶t̴c̸h̴.̵

Jinwoo’s jaw tightened.

His eyes—

They reminded you of the last few chapters of the manhwa. Building up his decision to bear the fate of the whole world on his shoulders, alone. The way Normal Selner had looked at him, realizing he had already succeeded. How the illustration depicted his irises as pitch black, swallowing all light with naught a trace.

Oh, please don’t make that face.

"Jinwoo…" You gently brought his hand—the one gripping yours so tightly you felt the joints shifting under—and his other hand to your cheeks.

"See?" You closed your eyes, pressing your face against his touch.

Yeah.

Jinwoo exhaled, slow, unsteady.

Then—he leaned in.

Your presence—you—against his palms.

Right here. You’re right here.

Until his forehead could touch yours.

And so, so warm.

——oOo——

{In illustrations, we could take creative liberties to depict our reality.}

{Whether it’s creating multiple aspects out of proportions openly or changing just a single, subtle enough detail, one reason is to clue us in on the meaning behind it.}

{So, I’m curious…}

{If I described the moment Jinwoo leaned in, the moment light returned to his eyes at your touch, your warmth—

The black in his eyes rippled.

Like ink washing away, the pitch dark gave way to stormy grey. Then lighter. Until—

Against the glowing hue of blue, at the very center of it all—

(you)

If you simply knew, if you simply saw how that light reflected, unmistakable in its shape.

A heart…}

{How would you react, ‘Trial Player’? ~}

——oOo——

“What were you thinking about earlier?”

“Hm?” You blinked at him.”

“When I first asked about the < Feast >,” Jinwoo clarified. “You seemed… distracted.”

“Oh, it’s nothing,” You paused, gaze dropping. “Just…”

“Just?” He pressed gently.

“I can feel it,” Your voice was barely a whisper as your hand rose to your chest, resting over your heart.

“How happy they are.”

“‘They’?” Jinwoo asked, though he already suspected the answer.

"My children,” Your gaze met his then, and something in your expression shifted. The edges of your eyes softened, your expression so tender, so genuine, it took his breath away again. “Eating makes them happy."

“I’m happy for them,” you added simply, smiling so radiantly—

—so disarmingly, it almost made him forget the reality of your words.

Jinwoo found himself staring, wondering how someone could look so utterly beautiful in such unsettling context. Spoken of something so—objectively—disturbing with the way of tone so warmth, so truthful, so serene, that made it feel natural, made it feel... right.

And yet, he couldn’t look away.

And yet, he didn’t feel repulsed.

And yet… he was the one who felt strangely electrified—

No.

—Jinwoo was thrilled.

The hum of the gate beckoned, a low, resonant vibration that pulled you both back to the present.

It was time to leave.

End Note:

Unedited Draft of [28/02/2025]

Double update? Double update.

Thank you @eternadreeblissa for providing this chapter's surprise illustration! The version I put here I cropped a bit to bring out more focus on the eyes. I'll provide the full-version and the alternate versions in the reblog here!

How do we feel about breaking-the-4th-wall segments, Everyone? Yea or Nay?

Beru, I love you, but your pattern of speech is killing me.

Igris, you're a good boy. I'm sorry I'm making you that-one-tired-roommate-of-Beru's-before-Bellion-arrived. I'm also sorry if me bringing up your past—which I also took some creative liberties on in writing—dug up some past traumas for you.

Trick is dramatic, theatrical, and fangirl all in one. Low-key female & human-but-also-not-so version of Beru? Hmm, maybe. Hopefully, I can make her distinct enough from Beru so their kinda love-hate dynamic that I'm aiming for won't be boring.

Guess which < Children of 'Trial Player' > took after (Name)'s motherly nature the most? That's right, Red. I guess not much surprise there? She's that-one-older-sister-who-mothered but is still her mother's daughter.

On crack, JinwooxReader in this chapter is basically these:

{ —1—

Jinwoo: *Making up his mind about something-something deep related to (Name)*

(Name): *Making Jinwoo question absolutely everthing about his decision just a few seconds later*

(And this won't be the last time this happen.) }

{ —2—

(Name): *Starting to openly show her dark side, still just the tip of the iceberg*

Jinwoo: "I feel scared, but she's hot."

These two are going to get more and more fucked up the further we go down this AU. Jinwoo is still in the process of falling, while (Name) is already further ahead than him in that void, she just hid it very well. Funny thing about this is part of their dynamics in the future that I'm aiming for (for now, future subject to change) being like this:

Wife!(Name): "This Jinwoo is my eldritch yandere husband and I LOVE him. I won't change him for any version of him and I'm the only who can handle this him in the multiverse." (and she can, this is not a drill, the Rulers and World Tree bare witness, she's saying this matter-of-fact and with well-hidden yandere-ish.)

Husband!(Jinwoo): "(Name) is my wife, my only one in the multiverse, and I will tear everything apart if she's taken as much as a step away from me. Don't even try. Can she still scare me? Yes. But she's the only one who can while also makes me horny 'cause it's her, my goddess, and I'm her first and only."

TP AU!Suho: "I love them, won't exchange them for any multiverse version of 'my' parents. But mine are definitely too fucked up."

(Wait until it's your turn, boy. You might be the same or worse than them)

TP AU!Suho: "...Heh?"

(Somewhere in the abyss of my very very ancient drafts, forgotten until I feel like digging them up:

Guide!Reader: *Safe and sound until—* "Achoo!")

TP AU!Suho's younger sister (placeholder name for now): "Hmm? I love my family." }

That's all folks!

Feedbacks are very much appreciated. Thank you for reading. 🙏💕

#Trial Player AU #solo leveling imagine #solo leveling x reader #sung jin woo x reader #sung jinwoo x reader #jinwoo sung x reader #solo leveling fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #reader insert #fem reader #x reader #female reader #fanart #illustration #yandere sung jinwoo

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eternadreeblissa · 3 months ago

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The way they LITERALLY got their bodies twisted into a human in real time 😭😭😭😭 I am so ✨fascinated✨ What a feast indeed 👀👀👀👀 I LOVE IT!!! Tq for the mention too bbyyyy 🥹👉👈🌸💞

Chapter 26 [Draft]

Sung Jinwoo/Trial Player!Reader

Content Warnings: This chapter is Red, Igris, & < Devourer > butterflies-centric—sorry, little to no JinwooxReader in this one; this chapter also contains some elements of gore—this is a work of fiction and I do not condone or glorify violence in real life; my attempts at magical anatomy—'cause college is still kicking my ass when it's the holidays and I must apologize if this chapter might be boring; & experimental writings—a.k.a. me trying out a different style of being more descriptive and new p.o.v.s.

[Masterlist🦋✨️]

——oOo——

{ < Children of ‘Trial Player’ >

File 001# - Quick Status Window

< Red >

Lv. MAX

"The Ducchess"

Would you like to initiate < Title Change >?

<<Yes>> <No>

Initiating < Title Change > . . .

< Red >

Lv. MAX

“The Devourer”

< Title Change > successful!

Specialty Passive Skill: < Crimson Carnage > is activated!

*In the duration of < The Feast >, user will gain 3× the energy and experience points from consuming lifeforce. Both can still be distributed to fellow < Children of ‘Trial Player’ >.

Stats: < HP >, < Stamina >, and < Mania > are now boosted.

Special Note: “Sustain the flesh, blind the soul.”_ }

——oOo——

At the center of the morbid tableau, Igris saw her.

A study in grace—a slender silhouette clad in velvety white and traces of black, the intricate patterns of her wings shimmered like molten rubies on flowing sleeves and coat tails. Every little movement was deliberate yet seamlessly flowed amidst havoc, out of place yet undeniably captivating.

Amid the blood-soaked carnage, she seemed untouched by the grime and chaos. Unhurried steps so light, the heels of her boots left no imprint on the sodden earth. She weaved through devoured carcasses left and right with the same grace as she would have when flying in her butterfly form.

A rapier on one hand, her crimson eyes, languid yet sharp, fixed on the dungeon boss his Liege had felled—once a towering centaur-like beast, its body now laid on the ground with its neck slashed open. Red approached its head, its purple blood pooled under, yet there was not a single splash when she stepped on it, only calm ripples.

The thin silver blade emitted wisps akin to flames as she got close enough. At the same level of its eye, it was clear that the beast’s vacant optic that stared into the void was larger than her head.

Shing!

Igris caught the quick circular slash of metal, and at first, there seemed to be nothing amiss. At least until—

Gush!

Viscous liquid burst out like a jet stream, becoming a heavy downpour as it fell. In a split second, Red’s figure was swallowed by the waterfall, the blood pooling underneath widening in size.

It was not until a few seconds later that the curtain of purple lifted enough for everyone to finally get a glimpse, the outline of the figure in it. As the stream progressively lessened in its intensity and amount, Red didn’t move a single step from her position, and it was revealed later that she remained as pristine as ever, not even her pants were soiled by the icky violet. She stood there under an umbrella where her rapier had been, the white material unstained as the droplets of blood dripped down from the lace decorated with red gems.

When the outburst of blood around the beast’s eye finally ran out, the remaining little amount of liquid cascading down the orb, the unseeing eye shifted. Red took a step to the side as the beast’s eyeball rolled out of its socket onto the purple ground, following it were the blood vessels, nerve optic, and tendons with their detached ends cut short.

When the eyeball stopped rolling, there was a swarm of butterflies at the ready, and soon, the globe was surrounded and began to be gnawed on by the voracious insects.

Red remained unbothered. She went to close her umbrella, and then pulled at its handle, revealing that it was a scabbard as the thin blade came to view once again. The umbrella disappeared in red wisps as Red jumped onto the beast's massive head and began to chop away. First at his antlers, the bony branches fell to each side with its cut-edges blackened, and began to glitch away until the whole antlers vanished into air, presumably stored into your inventory.

Igris also caught her next slash: a horizontal one, and then a vertical that was instantly followed by a backflip—Red landing on the beast’s upper body behind the detached head.

Something similar to before happened, it took a few seconds after the initial swing of her blade for the blood to burst, first from the horizontal cut that detached the snout and the next was from the rest of the head splitting into two halves right in the middle. Igris recognized this delayed reaction, it was the body that didn’t realize it was cut the moment it was when the cut was done far too quickly for it to respond in time.

Igris knew this because he was also capable of doing such. However…

The rapier was not a blade meant to slash like other swords typically. It was meant for prioritizing speed and precision, capitalizing on its user’s dexterity and finesse. And Red had proven she had all of these qualities when she had done exactly thrusting attacks when they fought together moments prior.

A rapier was a sword meant to pierce.

So how in his Liege’s name did she was able to cut through flesh and bones so easily with that same slender and pointed blade?

The only possible explanation Igris could think of was the use of magic, the red wisps as the proof. It was not unlikely for swordsmen and swordswomen capable of magic to use them to enhance their attacks, be it the body or the weapon itself. Perhaps she used magic to give the blade sharper edges and fortified it to not break under heavier pressure? Then she also needed more strength to accomplish that clean cut.

But was that all there was to it when her stances were just as odd?

As though caught in an endless waltz, even in combat, Red’s steps were odd. It wasn’t practical; it was theatrical, the combination of sheer extravagance and fluidity of it all.

It wasn’t the typical disciplined efficiency of a warrior’s training. No, her movements carried the flair of high society, the sway of aristocrats at frivolous galas.

{”I am aware that you do not fancy such occasions,”}

It reminded Igris of the rare instances when he had been forced to attend those annoying noble gatherings in life—when he could’ve been fighting on the battlefield instead—standing stiff and indifferent at the edge of opulent ballrooms, enduring the swish of gowns and the hum of violins for the sake of duty.

{An upturned of plump lips glistened, as though painted by blood, something he was more familiar with—}

Or perhaps it was more akin to the high-end performances he had glimpsed while on patrol, the kind that packed theaters and sparked envy among the masses unable to afford. The kind where tickets were scarce and disputes over seating made so much ruckus and his duties more complicated—stagnating his training, the progress to his goal—in the past.

{”However…” An extended hand delicately hidden under satin glove.}

Those fleeting moments were far from meaningful to him, but they had left enough of an impression for him to recognize the same artistry now.

Her moves weren’t a metaphorical dance of the blade, the way swordsmen sometimes fought with an almost artistic rhythm.

No, Red was dancing—truly dancing.

{—she was more familiar to him than anything else in this godforsaken room.}

Every pivot was a pirouette, every sweep steeped in poise, every sway she put her heart into it. A face so serenely doing her calling, not caring who was watching or what the world might think of the unconventionality. She moved as though the battlefield was her stage and she its prima ballerina.

And, to Igris’s astonishment, it worked—brilliantly, might he add.

{”Can you humor this lady just once,”}

A match, a complimentary to his own.

He had never seen anything like it before.

{”Sir Knight?”}

“How fascinating.”

Even before Red had taken her current form, Igris had always been intrigued by the red butterfly that had inexplicably taken a liking to him—or so you had claimed.

To him, she had always carried an air of refinement that set her apart. Every flutter of her iridescent wings was not without purpose, Red had always been peculiarly polite and oddly dignified for a summon. When the shadows discovered they could communicate with the butterflies—a feat made possible, apparently, through a telepathic mechanism Igris only vaguely understood as a mix of their mimicry of shadows and some illusions—Red’s demeanor stood out for her articulate and courteous responses.

Now, that same poise radiated from her in full force.

As Red continued to cut away the dungeon boss’s body into smaller pieces so the other butterflies would have an easier time to eat, an acrid smell wafted. Igris caught the sight of blackened spots and edges on some chopped fleshes. Only when a bone fell with its cut-side directly visible to him did Igris have his answer.

Fire.

The surface of the cut on the bone was completely blackened—no, charred.

Not every chopped part was; the fleshes mostly remained fresh which Red might have enough strength to cut through. But when it came to a harder material like the bone, the cut was always completely burned. And the fleshes that did have that discoloration must’ve been the skeletal muscles, the closest one to the bones—that meant Red had control over when and how much heat was needed.

Red landed back on a puddle in the ground with grace—again, no splash, just ripples—her rapier disintegrating into the same red wisps as her magic, the motion was like a ballerina’s reverence. As the dungeon’s boss body fell in neat cubicle pieces behind her, the red butterflies closing in to eat like a curtain-call.

A step accompanied by a ripple.

Another followed.

Red walked towards a minion’s corpse, significantly smaller than the boss’, but was still noticeably larger than her own. While the body below the neck was already getting chewed on, the head was left untouched. With deliberate care, Red knelt beside it, her tailcoat pooling around her like spreading wings.

Right hand took off the left’s glove, the remaining other pulled by teeth until the delicate and pale fingers underneath was revealed. As both pieces of dark leather vanished into thin air, black nails trailed along the beast’s jawline in an almost gentle gesture, as though caressing a long-lost lover.

She began to hum, a calming melody that sent chills through Igris. It wasn’t a tune he recognized, but there was something uncomfortably intimate about it, as if she were singing a lullaby for a child.

A small ornate dagger materialized, fingers curling around its handle in firm. The ornate blade gleaming in the muted light as she raised it high—

Stab!

Igris flinched—a reaction he hadn’t experienced in years—as the silver tip plunged into the beast’s unseeing eye.

Similar to the new… feeding routine of the butterflies, he had no problem with the act of stabbing itself—it was the way the scene unfolded, like an oil painting came to life. The illustrated content long debated between the brutality it actually depicted behind strokes of beautiful paints, pure white among vivid reds and deep shadows.

Red pulled the dagger free with practiced ease, and with it came the beast’s eyeball.

The strings of optic nerve and blood vessels stretched from the force; the other end clung stubbornly to the socket. With a flick of her wrist, they broke in the middle, the orb held aloft like a precious gem while the bundle of fibers dangled from it, swaying like a clock’s pendulum.

The dagger, now acting as a makeshift fork, brought the eyeball to her lips. Her sharp canines peeked through as she bit into the orb. A brief sight—a single rivulet of viscous fluid trickling down the corner of her lips to her chin—was almost immediately hidden behind a palm, as if the act of showing the sight itself was most impolite. An accidental stroke in the otherwise masterful portrait.

Despite the slight hiccup, Red maintained her composure. The dagger in her right replaced by a materialized handkerchief that she dabbed over her lips daintily, catching any stray pieces as she quietly chewed. Her carmine gaze closed to savor, as though she were merely fine dining at a dinner gala, the orchestra of carnage its backdrop.

“Hm...” She swallowed delicately, her voice a dulcet whisper that carried through the stage. “A bit too earthy for my taste.”

The corner of her mouth lifted in a serene smile, and the usual sight of her upturned lips would’ve been captivating—it was still—but now, Igris didn’t think just one word would do the scene in front of him their due.

“Well?” Red turned her head slightly, vermillion orbs opening with a glint.

“What do you think, children?”

——oOo——

The red kaleidoscope seemed to simultaneously pause mid-feast, a brief change in their pattern, a different flutter. Distant bells in the wind, like twinkling stars given voice.

Chime. Chime. Chime. Gurgle. Chime—

‘Gurgle’?

A tremor ran through the swarm. Their luminous bodies wavered, light bending strangely around some, as if space itself recoiled. The chimes grew discordant, warping into something wet and bubbling, like air escaping through viscera.

Squish…

A single butterfly convulsed midair. Tiny form curling in on itself, shrinking—no, collapsing. Wings folded inward with a schlk, dissolving into a raw essence of erratically pulsing mass of light. And from that quivering cocoon, something grew.

SQUELCH!

A spine unraveled; a spider’s threads pulled taut from unseen tether. Bones spiraled into existence, each piece of vertebrae locking into place with a sharp click. From there, the thin golden tendrils further expanded the structure like a time-lapsed birth—simultaneous yet seamless.

Upward, forming the trachea, jawbone snapping into place with a muted crck. The smooth curve of a skull, hollow sockets yawning open, vacant.

Downward, the pelvis solidified, grinding against before anchoring the extending femurs and other bones that would shape the legs, feet, and toes. Similarly for the upper extremities, from the shoulder bones, lengthening arms, hands, and down to the phalanges that made up each finger.

Inward, ribs sprouted from the spine’s embrace with a slow, deliberate snap-snap-snap, spreading like curved thorns, forming a cage locked by the sternum. And nestled within that hollow prison, a small thing took shape, suspended in the air just like the rest, a crystalline jewel held between unseen fingers.

Motionless—silent.

{How far can an imitation of life go?}

Like roots seeking soil, nerves branched out, mapping, in search of something to anchor to. Alongside them, veins crawled along the ivory framework, seeking to create the intricate web to feed, growing from that very same confined still-mass at the center.

Like ink spreading through water, a deep crimson bloomed then—

Ba-dump.

A pulse rippled through the arteries as blood surged outward, painting the spectral shifting-mass with life as raw organs came into being. Lungs, pinkish and fragile, swelled as if on the verge of their first breath, filling the rest of the ribcage. A brain placed snug within the skull where the eyeballs popped in their sockets. The liver slid into place with a damp plorp, intestines coiled like serpents, slick in the dim settings.

The stomach, kidneys, and so forth, each instrument settled into their place perfectly between the smooth walls of bone while sinew knitted around them like a loom at work over shifting joints. Nerves and veins threaded through all as muscles stretched over them in a weave where limbs twitched to life. True skin followed suit from behind, covering the exposed curves of the body and face with the same abnormal growth, each feature smoothed into an eerie, flawless symmetry.

For a time, what were under were still just as see-through even with the steady appearance of the outermost layer. At least, until the translucent skin neared its completion of sealing over the body. What should be the healthy complexion creeping in as the flesh and dermis closed over the last exposed area—a last glimpse over the beating heart.

{If you lie long enough—}

As naked as a newborn, a maiden’s bare feet kissed the slick, viscous blood pooling beneath. The deep purple clung, stark against the rain-watered surface, too pristine, like a being sculpted rather than born. Her wings, now immense as they adjusted to the owner’s new form, stretched one final time before shuddering. As if exhaling their last breath, the glittering membrane melted into the smooth planes of her back, disappearing as if they had never been there.

As if the one left standing was undoubtedly just a mere human.

And more followed.

A notable number of butterflies went through the same collapse. Delicate bodies unraveling, twisting, blooming like life in fast motion. Their arrival was heralded by the symphony of growth—cartilage cracking, skin sealing with quiet, wet whispers, the sickeningly organic sounds of something becoming, of creating features to each of their own.

Save for the rain, the silence of a field of mannequin settled after.

Until one threw her head back, auburn locks following her every movement, a new set of green eyes catching light under the drizzle.

The undeniably rhythmic rise and fall of her chest, making motions with her rosy lips—the sound light and airy, almost melodic.

{—won’t it become the truth?}

Following the lead, a second one, black of hair, brown of skin, and hazel for eyes, also started tittering. Joined by a third, white-haired and red-eyed, clapping gleefully. A fourth followed, and then a fifth, sixth, and the rest—small delighted laughs that grew louder and louder—a crescendo.

The first to move wobbled slightly on her feet, crouching beside the nearest carcass, fingertips tracing its ruined hide with something akin to fascination. Then, with a motion of deceptive ease, the beast’s skin peeled away with a wet rip.

She stumbled back, losing her balance and landing onto her haunches with a childlike-“Oof!”, even as the spray of warm, sticky blood came into contact with her side. She clutched the torn chunk in her bloodied cradle—like a prize, fresh crescent marks forming under digging nails—uncaring of the fleshy part still dripping onto her lap.

She lifted it to her mouth, a peek of growing canines between parted lips before teeth sunk into meat and tore them away under. Icky purple painted her chin, ran down the pale column of her throat as she chewed, staining the pristine surface that magic had so carefully perfected.

The very first taste on her tongue, of iron thick and rich.

When she eagerly swallowed, the others followed.

The butterflies—those still in their original form—perched alongside their newly reborn kin. Together, the feast began anew, of chimes and tearing flesh, of lips smacking against dripping muscles, of mirthful hums between gulps. Until each was bathed in the mix of blood and rain, violet dripping from fluttering wings and tresses from head to toe.

And at the center of it all, Red’s smile lingered, sealing her sight once more—content.

End Note:

Unedited Draft of [25/02/2025]

I'm back y'all! 🥳

For a short while at least. 🥹

I might've gone overboard writing the descriptions for this one. 😅 I'm not so sure on how well I am at describing action sequences, I still want to add them, so I'm learning as I go! 🫡 And so sorry if the magical anatomical sequence felt like a lesson, it's definitely NOT a real-life lesson okay? Please note the ✨️magical✨️-word!

I'm already out of ideas on what more to edit to make this chapter better, so let me know your thoughts on this! 🥰

I also took my chance on writing Igris' backstory from what we know of him right now, mainly from the brief info I got from reading the Solo Leveling: Arise wiki. I DO NOT play the game—interested, but don't exactly have the time to try it out—so feel free to send corrections if I got any info wrong. 🙏

Also, in celebration of this chapter being Red-centric, a dear friend of mine and fellow beloved Reader of Trial Player AU, @eternadreeblissa, who somehow predicted this chapter being Red-centric (just kidding, but it's still very good timing since I don't remember ever spoiling her on this chapter until AFTER she sent her gift), sent me this absolutely fucking gorgeous panel of Red from Chapter 20 😍

I'm dying from happiness ASDFGHJKL

Boo, I love you so much. ❤️❤️❤️

Please check it out y'all! And better yet, check out her blog, her arts are so 🩷❤️🖤

Feedbacks are very much appreciated. Thank you for reading. 🙏💕