Chapter 35

That was incredible! I held in my hands a ring that I had created! It whispered something about a desire to serve its master. Just as the book said, it was semi-sentient. The moment I was ejected from the Astral Plane, I was summoned to see a psychologist. If the threats are real, then I don’t have much time left. But first, I’ll see what I’ve made.

### Ring of the Vampire Thrall

A deranged blood mage slaughtered dozens to forge this ring, imbuing it with consciousness and a thirst for blood. Blood malachite and mithril granted it terrible power—only its owner can control it; anyone else would be devoured.

Effects:

- Strength +25

- Endurance +25

- Vitality +25

Requirements: Scalable item.

Durability: Indestructible—damage is transferred to the ring’s owner.

I’m a deranged blood mage! A psychopath, a sadist, and a masochist, too. That’s what Eliza will think when she reviews what I’ve been doing these past six months. I need to hurry—if the petition is approved, I’ll lose access to blood magic and sacrificial rites. But damn, what a ring I’ve made!

The moment I put it on, it dug into my finger, piercing down to the bone. A pop-up message appeared: "Removal requires severing the finger." At full enhancement, it fused with my body. A symbiotic ring after all! And the bonuses it gives—just this one item! I’d sacrifice the entire Hell for gear like this! Too bad I don’t have crafting skills, or the bonuses could’ve been even greater.

In five days, I killed more than I had in the last six months. I ended up with eight identical rings… and a chain around my neck.

### Blood Mage’s Vampire Chain

Slaughtering hundreds in his greedy experiments, the blood mage forged this chain. His lust for power was so immense that it seeped into the metal itself.

Effects:

- Intelligence +35

- Wisdom +35

- Spirit +35

Requirements: Scalable item.

Durability: Indestructible—damage is transferred to the chain’s owner.

The moment I put it on, the chain coiled twice around my neck and bit in. I didn’t even want to think about the message that said "Removal requires decapitation."

Turns out, the method of creation, the way victims are killed during the ritual, and their development path all influence the bonuses and stats. I couldn’t enchant anything—I’m no Artificer. Would’ve been interesting to see damage resistance bonuses, though.

I’ve become a first-tier monster! I truly crave strength—power doesn’t interest me. I found a way to drastically boost my stats, and with them, my survival odds. Time to work on gloves.

For the sake of efficiency, I only used one type of mob. All victims had to be the same level. This time, I sought out fighters—burly men hauling logs and stones far from my ritual plateau. I used a different seal this time: the deaths had to be slow. Brutal, agonizing methods were out of the question—I’m not that far gone.

### Cannibal’s Leather Gloves

A mad mage discovered a horrifying truth: consuming parts of a still-living victim transfers their life force to you. The mage was later killed by his own servants, who poisoned one of his sacrifices.

Effects:

- Agility +45

- Wisdom +12

- Spirit +51

Requirements: Scalable item.

Durability: Indestructible—damage is transferred to the gloves’ owner.

After the ritual, the gloves changed—turning ash-white instead of black. The leather softened, molding elegantly to my hands, making them almost feminine. In demon form, they fused seamlessly with my body.

For a week, I obsessively hunted archers—finally finding them in a forest where elves hauled timber. Watching elves brawl was… something else. Hair-pulling, ear-twisting, groin-kicking—God, where have I ended up?

I remembered my father’s words—and that walking tree branch the blacksmith had sent me for. I’d trained as a carpenter for this very reason: I’ll make a bow. Father would be proud.

This was my greatest experiment yet. The largest, most complex seal—a Grandmaster-tier ritual requiring 550 skill points (I only had 200). Nearly 500 sacrifices and a seven-layered pentagram. I couldn’t fathom how I’d kill so many in the Astral Plane. But I wanted this. I’d risk everything for the experience.

Two weeks of preparation. Two days just to set up the ritual properly. Instead of a bowstring, I used a dragon’s whisker—taken from a succubus’ whip. The effect was striking: a sprouting branch with leaves and a glowing whisker tied in bows at each end.

Hauling four victims at a time grew mentally exhausting. How many times had I dragged people to their deaths? Was this even normal anymore?

The ritual itself was swift. The deaths were quick. The seal funneled all the souls’ energy into a single point, tearing a hole into the Astral Plane inside the item. And inside the Astral? Pure chaos.

A dozen pockets of stability merged before my eyes, forming a massive island—where the battle erupted. I’d doubted myself for nothing. At one point, a volley of elven arrows struck me—my health plummeted, but it regenerated in seconds. With such insane damage resistance, I became a true Reaper.

Three hours later, the elves were gone—but then things crawled out of the Astral. Humans, monsters, spirits—flying, slithering, floating. I had to go all out: full fusion, max speed, rupture stakes, accelerated strikes, vampiric lances. Six hours of carnage before they finally retreated.

The moment I was ejected, I grabbed the bow and stashed it. I had less than a minute to hide—an emergency disconnect request had been sent to my capsule.