The sheer, overwhelming reality of being Nyxal was a constant, deafening roar in Adrian's mind.
Every instinct screamed for him to embrace the raw power, to dominate, to unleash hell. Yet, buried beneath the primordial urges, a sliver of Adrian clung to the human world he'd lost. He needed information, a way to understand this nightmare.
He couldn't stride into a human town as the Primordial Apex Devil; that would invite immediate destruction or, worse, an endless parade of terrified, screaming NPCs.
Then, a flicker of memory, a faint echo from his gaming days, pierced the overwhelming demonic consciousness. It was a skill, one he'd won with absurd luck from a rare in-game event, a lottery ticket he'd almost dismissed. Its name, emblazoned in his mind as clearly as if it were still on his vanished UI, was "Chameleon's Visage."
Chameleon's Visage wasn't just a cosmetic change; it was a potent, high-tier racial transformation skill. In the game, it allowed Nyxal to temporarily adopt the form of any known race in Aethelgard – human, elf, dwarf, even some of the lesser beastfolk. The crucial detail, the one that now resonated with terrifying hope, was that it retained all of Nyxal's original skills, spells, and underlying power. The immense stat block of the Apex Devil remained, merely cloaked beneath a different visage. It was a perfect infiltration tool, a way for a high-level player to walk among the low-level masses unnoticed.
Now, in this terrifying reality, Chameleon's Visage became his lifeline. A complex surge of magical energy, distinct from the raw, destructive power he usually wielded, coursed through him. It felt like his very essence was being reshaped, not diminished. The obsidian scales retracted, the massive wings folded into nothingness, the towering horns receded. A strange, almost painful warmth spread through his form as his immense size condensed, his grotesque beauty smoothing into something conventionally handsome, recognizably human.
He felt his face, no longer sharp and demonic, but smooth, well-defined, almost sculpted – truly an idol's face, yet undeniably his own. His once-glowing eyes now held a more subdued, though still intense, amber hue.
He conjured a simple illusion – a rough tunic and trousers, mimicking common traveler's attire – to cover his transformed body. The transformation was complete. Nyxal, the Primordial Apex Devil, was gone, replaced by a dark-haired, striking human, whose core still hummed with unearthly power.
His immediate goal was the nearest human settlement. He knew the geography of Aethelgard almost as well as his old Manila neighborhood. A small frontier town called Oakhaven lay a few days' journey to the west, a common starting zone for new players. It would be relatively small, less likely to attract the immediate attention of major factions, and, crucially, would have an Adventurer's Guild.
The Guild was the central hub for information in the game, a place where quests were posted, rumors exchanged, and the pulse of the world could be felt. If anyone knew what was truly happening in this terrifyingly real Aethelgard, it would be them. He needed to understand the political landscape, the stirring ancient evils, and the fragmented demonic factions he was technically supposed to lead, or at least, be the progenitor of. He needed to learn how to play this new, real game, and Oakhaven was his first quest marker.