Reincarnation Of A Swordsman: The Omni Mage

The demon's eyes burned brighter as realization struck him. The boy. He had interacted with a marked one, perhaps fought one. Perhaps allied with one. It did not matter. What mattered was that he was untouched. Unclaimed.

The demon's laughter erupted like a clap of thunder, echoing across the heavens. It was not a sound of joy but one of raw, evil triumph.

"Finally! My chance has come."

For so long he had hunted, he had been frustrated at the absence of a suitable host. But now, as though fate itself had delivered the opportunity to him, this boy wandered alone near him.

He wielded lightning, even though it was a pale imitation of the demon's own storm. But most importantly, he was free. A vessel waiting to be claimed.

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Without hesitation, the storm demon surged forward.

A flash of blinding silver tore across the sky, and in an instant, the clouds split apart, unleashing a single bolt of lightning. The strike was so sudden and so violent that the very earth trembled.

Milo barely had time to react. He spun around and readied himself to cast a spell if the need arises. He and Void had traveled for a long while already and all of his mana had been replenished already, so he was ready for whatever fight.

Almost immediately after the bolt, a presence descended upon the clearing. The lightning strike had not yet vanished; it still lingered and pulsed until it took form.

Standing before Milo, as though summoned by the heavens themselves, was a towering being unlike anything he had ever seen.

The storm demon.

Milo staggered back and his mind struggled to comprehend what stood before him. The figure looming in front of him was both there and not there. It was a storm given shape. It crackled and shifted and its body was a mass of swirling black and silver clouds, with white-hot lightning coursing through every fiber.

And its eyes. Those glowing white eyes fixed on Milo with a gaze so piercing it felt like they were staring into his very soul.

For a long moment, there was silence. Milo's breathing was ragged and his instincts screaming at him to run. But his feet refused to move.

The demon turned its head slightly, observing him like a predator sizing up its prey. Then, it spoke with a deep and resonant voice that vibrated through the air.

"You are not marked."

Sweat had already formed all over Milo but he composed himself to speak. "What?"

The demon's form shifted and crackled with energy as it loomed closer.

"You carry their scent. The stink of gods. But it is not yours."

"Who… who are you?" Milo decided to try his luck and ask. He was scared of the figure before him, but his pride couldn't let him cower.

The demon's eyes burned brighter and arcs of lightning lashed out around its body as it let out a slow, thunderous laugh.

"I am the storm that hunts the marked. And you, boy… you are exactly what I have been searching for."

"Searching... for... me?" Milo asked with a stammer, but regained confidence and rephrased his question, "What do you want from me?!"

The demon leaned forward with its form still crackling with lightning energy.

"What I want is simple. You will become my vessel. You will hunt the marked ones, the pawns of the gods, and extinguish their influence before it can take root in this world."

"Hunt them? You're asking me to kill people?" Milo asked with a raised eyebrow, inwardly questioning the sanity of the being before him.

The demon's laughter rolled like thunder and shaked the trees around them.

"Kill? No, boy. I am not asking. I am telling you."

Milo shook his head with defiance. "No. I'm not a pawn, not yours, not anyone's. I won't do it."

The demon's form swelled and its presence grew heavier, it knew it couldn't threaten the boy since it couldn't do anything, but decided to handle the matter tactfully.

"You misunderstand, child. I am going to offer you power beyond your comprehension. The strength to stand above all others. With me, you will ascend to heights you cannot even dream of. That, or you can remain as you are. Weak, insignificant and destined to be overshadowed."

It was as if the demon knew Milo's inner turmoil as its last line had struck a chord within him. "What kind of power?" he asked with a quiet voice this time.

The demon's glowing eyes brightened when it saw its bait was taken.

"The Storm Body. A gift granted to none but my chosen. You will be able to make your body become one with the storm. Your speed will rival lightning itself, your mana would be limitless, your strikes will tear through the mightiest defenses, and your resilience will defy death itself. None will stand against you. Not beasts. Not men. Not even the marked," the demon explained. "You will able to call forth this great power for 2 hours every day."

Milo's breath quickened. The idea of wielding such power was intoxicating. He couldn't believe such power existed. For so long, he had felt trapped, overshadowed by those stronger than him. This was his chance to change everything.

'I could finally surpass Kyle. I could leave him behind. He wouldn't even be able to compare.'

But doubt still lingered in the back of his mind. The demon's offer came with strings attached—strings he couldn't yet see. "And what do you get out of this?" Milo asked with a steady voice.

The demon's laughter rumbled once more. "I get what I desire: the fall of the gods' influence. Do not concern yourself with my motives, boy. What matters is that you will be unstoppable."

Milo's hands curled into fists and his indecision slowly giving way to determination. He could feel the weight of the decision pressing on him, but the thought of finally achieving his goals, of becoming truly strong, was too enticing to ignore.

"Fine," he finally said, firmly. "I'll do it. I'll take your power."