Strong winds blew on Lucifer's face as he mulled his victory, and the title.

Title: Guardian evolved into the Title: Guardian of One

“None of the rest of the goblins had any backbone. What a shame that was. A loss of life, it was there fault, he shouldn't waste his thoughts on them any more.

“They were scum and that was in there past, and in the future they would become dirt, beneath his feet. Weeds needing a little more trimming.” Lucifer muttered, his eyes dulled. Removed of his fury, his brain had stopped rattling.

Standing atop the corpse of the last goblin that betrayed Lucifer calm was his heart. While the world still did not acknowledge his power, he got rid of those that were unworthy of living.

Now, Lucifer could focus on his hand. It would get infected if he did nothing about it.

Mulling his options he disabled rage. Moments later Lucifer wandered over to the hut of the elder. He would likely be able to locate something that could mend this…

Minor annoyance.

He looked around only to see not a remedy in sight. He could wait, there were however no guarantees. Life was not given with a single certainty.

Thinking of what he should do Lucifer remembered that he had leveled.

Quickly he opened the screen Lucifer realized that it was more than once. He could focus on regeneration. When he did he found seventeen levels more to his name. Plus another title, and the language skill for speaking the accursed language of the goblins.

The gains were not insufficient, it was how and who he got them from. He wiped them out and there entire life was compounded into experience.

There wretched selves could serve in Hell happy, Had they crossed me sane, and a truth teller they would of been able to do so much more for me. They had to go straight to Hell...

A shame indeed.

Staring at his current stats Lucifer finally decided how to spend his 85 stat points. He had to stay alive to get stronger. Strength is everything, most of the time.

He needed to live, he did not doubt that he could survive even with the gaping hole in his hand. He was willing to cauterize it. Cut it if the worst case scenario was to come to pass.

Magic existed… a new hand wouldn't be the end of the world. Healing magic would be best though. While he didn't care, he had his own views on who owned his body. He wouldn't let just anyone give him a new hand.

He would decide how he got it back, and if they were worthy of such an feat.

Lucifer wanted absolute control of his own limbs. Let alone their fate.

He needed to do something else. He would make them believe in something greater than themselves. He knew that all goblins weren't traitorous bastards. They believed wholeheartedly in gods. Because of their intensity.

All he had to do was look like one. He could then become one. Once he held that intensity!

His mistake was believing that from the get go they would not take action against him. He needed to appear as sharp as methods were cut if they lied to him.

They don't berate gods, now do they? I do, yet I am the exception.

It was time to improve his appeal to the masses. Spending all of the eighty five stat points in charisma he felt little was different.

Wandering over to the well holding the stone wall in the center of the village littered with the corpses of the dead Lucifer saw as his eyes carried a new intensity. He saw a sliver of solid intensity, he could nearly feel it.

His already clear complexion cleared further, his hair carried a greater black luster. His eyes carried that intensity. He even seemed to glow a very there and barely perceive black aura, he was not at the level of a god.

He was merely a saint.

A saint of Hell that is.

He would teach them who they would pray to. His current visage was still lacking, so perhaps he would destroy the next village to change that.

And then, he would feel a bit more able. Worthy of his own aspirations.

He was excited to grow alongside this system.

If he destroyed more goblins they would spread his name, and the system could award him for it.

Then disappointment flashed across his face, he was too weak still. His weapon was a clear sign that he was weak...

Lucifer looked at his weak ass spear in disgust.

He had yet to realize real power. He hated being showed up, he would show them all up.

Creeping into the world like a shadow before dragging all who deny him of truth a first class ticket into the bowels of Hell.

Strutting back into the forest Lucifer stormed forth.

His name was Lucifer, and no way in Hell would they forget it!

As he went he submitted ideas, he wouldn't tire till he discovered a dungeon.

He was tireless in nature, spirit, and intent.

Son of a bastard, brother of many assholes. It must be spread through blood.

And he was seeped in the blood of liars.

If he wasn't careful he would end up the same as the abominations that sunk in the dirt, emitting a horrid scent.

He was not merely an idealist, he was one that was rational. He would never rid the world of lies.

Lies were part of the world.

So he would force them on their own to change there ways. He would fight them, and bring them all to there knees. Through a show of power.

He wasn't going to be there best friend… He was going to be there god.

Creepy totems, and churches they would erect whatever he wanted. Sacrificing their lives, hopes and future to satiate his ambitions.

His eyes were dead set on reaching the apex.

Their lives were the pawns.

And he was the king.

The Crimson King of Hell.