The Genesis Of A Necromancer-Chapter 164: Pitying the Zhurak

The fight had ended just as quickly as Jack had predicted.

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From the knowledge he had gained from the system about the Draethir's unique abilities, he had been able to deduce exactly what had transpired. Their strength wasn't just in brute force—they possessed cunning, intelligence, and the ability to adapt mid-battle. Unlike the mindless demons that relied solely on raw power, the Draethir had both strength and strategy, a combination that made them truly formidable.

'I guess they don't just have muscles but a complete brain, unlike the other stupid demons,' Jack thought, crossing his arms over his chest nonchalantly. His expression remained unreadable, but inwardly, he acknowledged their capability.

Watching the battle was merely for spectacle—his true purpose for attending the tournament had yet to unfold. He lifted his gaze toward the skybox, his pupils narrowing slightly as he defied Erebus's earlier warning not to look. A heavy, unsettling aura seeped from the private viewing area above, pressing down on him like an invisible weight.

It belonged to Layla, the demon general.

'Even the other overlords don't radiate such a dangerous presence…' Jack mused. Most people wouldn't even notice it, but his heightened perception allowed him to see the subtle distortions in the air around her. It was like a flame—no, more than that. It devoured everything in its wake, darker than anything he had ever encountered before.

Layla's aura was an abyss, endless and consuming.

Jack's instincts screamed at him to stay on guard. Something about her felt… wrong. Unlike the Queen, whose presence commanded fear through sheer dominance, Layla's aura was veiled in something sinister—something he couldn't quite identify. It was raw, predatory, like a beast that had yet to reveal its true fangs.

He strained his ears, catching the faint murmurs of conversation between Layla and the Queen. He hadn't been interested at first—until Layla's gaze flickered downward, a wicked smile creeping onto her pale face.

His muscles tensed.

'Don't tell me…'

Jack shifted his focus, his gaze snapping toward Alisha and Missy, who sat among the Queen's entourage. The tension in the air thickened.

"What do you mean?" Naya asked, arching an elegant brow at the general beside her.

Layla's eyes gleamed. "We have a spy."

"A spy?" Naya's expression darkened. Ordinarily, the mention of an informant wouldn't have fazed her, but the seriousness in Layla's voice piqued her interest.

Layla smirked, tilting her head slightly as she glanced once more at the Queen's Shadow. "This might be fun… Let's wait and see."

Jack clenched his fists. His instincts had been right.

'Damn it… Has she been caught already? Why hasn't the Queen taken action yet?'

He wasn't sure if Layla had actually identified Jena as the spy or if she was merely suspicious. Either way, the situation was spiraling toward something unpredictable, and unpredictability meant danger. He couldn't afford to make a wrong move now.

Meanwhile, Naya studied Layla carefully.

"What are you hiding from me?" she inquired.

Layla's expression remained unreadable. "My Queen, I can't let you concern yourself with mere rats. I will handle this personally."

For a moment, Naya simply observed her. Layla was the only lower-ranked demon she had ever come to respect. Despite not being an overlord, Layla had risen through the ranks at an astonishing pace, making significant contributions to the demon army and their settlements.

"Very well," Naya conceded. "I'll let you handle it as you see fit… But I must admit, I am curious about what has caught your interest."

Layla didn't respond, merely folding her arms across her chest as a vicious glint flickered in her eyes.

'I'll give you all the time you need… Let's see what you're really after.'

She returned her attention to the battle below, her curiosity growing.

Jack felt the weight of unseen eyes pressing down on him. The tension had reached its peak, and yet, the tournament continued as though nothing were amiss.

"The next battle will now begin!" The announcer's voice rang out, amplified by magic, though there was a slight quiver to his tone.

Jack barely paid attention—until he heard his alias called.

"Jhauk Hagen."

He arched an eyebrow. 'That was fast.'

He stood from his seat, exhaling slowly as he made his way toward the stage. Every step he took seemed to draw more attention. The moment he set foot on the battlefield, whispers spread like wildfire among the spectators.

"Who is that?"

"He has no horns, yet his aura… it's unsettling."

Jack ignored the murmurs, but Erebus's voice echoed in his mind. "I told you, your aura is tainted with the remnants of countless souls. Muagrins are soul experts. Your presence is bound to confuse them."

Jack gave a subtle nod.

He could feel the most intense stares coming from the seating section reserved for the first-plane fighters. Some watched with furrowed brows, others muttered amongst themselves. More than a few were trying to make sense of his presence.

One demon, in particular, stood out—a young man with bright green eyes and an amused grin.

"Is he that hornless demon?" another fighter asked him.

The green-eyed demon chuckled. "That's right. I was the one who suggested he join the tournament."

"You brought him here?"

"Of course," he smirked. "I wanted to see the kind of performance he'd put on for Mom."

Jack ignored the conversation, instead focusing on his opponent, who stepped onto the stage.

The murmurs in the crowd instantly erupted into an uproar.

"A double-horned demon?"

"This match is already decided."

Jack remained impassive, but he could feel the anticipation in the air. To the audience, this was a clear-cut battle—no-horned demons were considered the weakest, while double-horned demons were among the strongest of their rank. The result seemed inevitable.

"We already have our winner," one demon sighed. "This match was over before it even began."

Jack, however, had no intention of losing.

'Stick to using your weapon alone,' Erebus advised. 'It won't raise too much suspicion since your opponent is a mage. Horns only indicate potential, not actual power.'

'I already planned to,' Jack responded, his face expressionless.

The idea was simple.

Since physical strength could be trained, they would assume he had pushed his body to the highest possible limit. That explanation alone wouldn't be enough to convince the entire crowd, but it would suffice for most.

The ring on Jack's finger shimmered faintly, and in an instant, a short dagger materialized in his grasp. It was a modest weapon, nothing extravagant like Gau's blade or the Shadowfang, but it served its purpose—light, agile, and perfect for swift, precise attacks.

The ring itself was a storage ring given to him by Zamazo before his departure. Inside, it held a collection of weapons and moonlight stones, which could prove useful later. However, Jack had already decided: if he was going to maintain his cover, he wouldn't be using the system inventory retrieval function.

His grip tightened around the dagger as he locked eyes with his opponent.

The demon standing before him was a stark contrast to the brute strength of the Draethir Jack had witnessed earlier. He was smaller, frail-looking, with sunken eyes that held an eerie glow, and two curved horns protruding from the sides of his head.

Draped in a cloak of deep black interwoven with delicate strands of gold, he carried an aura of nobility despite his gaunt appearance.

In his left hand, he held a long, black staff that pulsed with dark energy. Jack needed no confirmation—the aura alone was enough to tell him this demon was no ordinary opponent.

'Even his aura... it's wild.'

The golden glow surrounding the demon flickered like an unstable flame, intertwining with the azure hue in his eyes. It was erratic yet potent. This was no fledgling mage; this demon was a force to be reckoned with.

The murmurs among the spectators had grown into a low rumble. Jack could hear them whispering, already predicting his inevitable defeat. He could feel their gazes pressing down on him, heavy with a mixture of pity and amusement.

The announcer, a middle-aged demon with a magically amplified voice, cleared his throat, abruptly silencing the crowd. The noise ceased instantly. Even he couldn't mask the pity in his eyes as he glanced at Jack. It was clear he didn't expect this fight to last long.

Jack, however, remained unfazed.

Fate had a cruel way of testing the weak, and in this tournament, there was no room for mercy. Though weaker demons were given a chance to build their strength in the earlier rounds, victory only meant they would face more overwhelming odds as they progressed.

And Jack had been thrown straight into the pit.

The receptionist who had organized the match stood at the edge of the arena, watching with a wicked smile. She had rigged the matchups—of course she had. It was her way of ensuring bloodshed, ensuring entertainment.

Jack's opponent adjusted his grip on the staff, his sunken eyes scrutinizing him closely. He tilted his head slightly, as though trying to decipher an enigma. Then, he spoke.

"I can tell... You're strange... Your power... strange."

His voice was raspy, guttural, his words broken yet eerily confident.

"But Master wants me win. Me will win."

Jack followed the demon's gaze, tracing it to the skybox where the demon queen sat, regal and composed. But his eyes didn't linger on her. Instead, they locked onto Layla—the demon general at her side.

For the briefest of moments, their gazes met.

Jack felt it instantly.

A suffocating wave of danger crashed over him, sending a cold shiver down his spine. His instincts screamed at him to look away, to break the connection before it was too late.

'What is this...?'

Layla's lips curled into an amused smirk, as if she had found something intriguing. Jack forced himself to shift his focus back to the fight.

His opponent clutched his staff tighter.

The battle was about to begin.

As his opponent stepped forward, the air between them crackled with unseen tension. The battle had yet to begin, but the outcome wasn't as obvious as the crowd believed.

Jack would make sure of that.