Reclining comfortably in his office chair, Shawn opened the system store through his mind's interface. The glowing numbers at the top proudly displayed his current balance—300,000 system points.
On paper, that sounded like a fortune.
But the reality?
"Useless," Shawn muttered, scrolling through the store's catalog. "All the good stuff is locked. Everything I want is either out of stock or classified as 'event-only.'"
He sighed.
Just then, the familiar robotic chime rang in his head.
Ding! The host still has one lottery draw remaining. Would you like to use it now?
Shawn smirked. "Why not? I've got nothing better to do."
Lottery draws from the system were notoriously unpredictable, but sometimes—just sometimes—they offered incredible rewards. His very first draw had given him a random teleportation ability, which had let him escape the underworld of Hell itself.
The system's voice echoed again.
Ding! Congratulations to the host for drawing a new skill: [Seal Immunity]!
Shawn blinked.
"Seal... Immunity?" he repeated aloud, sitting up with interest.
A glowing orb of light floated in the air before him. He reached out instinctively and grasped it. As soon as it touched his palm, information surged into his mind like a lightning bolt.
[Seal Immunity]: Upon learning this skill, the user becomes immune to all forms of sealing magic. This includes dimensional banishment, spiritual imprisonment, arcane bindings, and celestial suppression techniques.
"Holy sh—"
Shawn's eyes lit up with shock and delight.
As a demon, sealing spells were the only real threat to him. He didn't fear bullets, blades, or even nuclear bombs. But being sealed—that was a fate worse than death. His greatest fear had always been being locked away again, thrown back into Hell like a prisoner.
And in this fused world of DC, Marvel, and ancient myth, there were plenty of people capable of doing just that.
Papa from the J-Team universe.
Doctor Strange and the Ancient One from Marvel.
Doctor Fate from DC.
All capable of sealing high-level supernatural entities like him.
But now?
Now they could try—and fail.
With newfound determination, Shawn let the light orb merge into his chest. A soft glow pulsed through his body as an invisible magic array etched itself into his core—an intricate design of runes and protective circles.
He exhaled slowly.
"Now… I'm finally immortal. For real."
The system chimed again.
Ding! New task generated. Please proceed to the location of the Holy Master for sign-in. Reward: 1 lottery draw + 10,000 system points.
Shawn's triumphant mood faltered slightly.
"Him?" he muttered with a grimace. "Of all people…"
He recognized the name immediately—The Holy Master.
Though he'd been known as the Moon Demon, Curse Blue, back when he was trapped in Hell, Shawn had also inherited Julan's memories—the demon's original identity. And among those memories, one particular figure stood out as a backstabbing liar.
Thousands of years ago, after the Eight Demons were defeated and sealed by the Eight Immortals, the Holy Master had proposed a plan. He promised to escape the Underworld and find a way to free his demon siblings.
They had believed him.
Pooling their magic, they sent him to the human world.
And once free?
He ghosted them.
He didn't lift a finger to help. Instead, he seized the opportunity to rule the mortal realm alone. For a time, he succeeded—until Lo Pei, the original J-Team sorcerer, stripped him of his Twelve Talismans and sealed him into a dragon-shaped statue.
To this day, Shawn could still feel the occasional echo of the Holy Master's soul—wailing in pain from his sealed state.
And Shawn? He never cared.
Until now.
Now, the system had forced his hand.
He wasn't going to catch up with his "dear brother" out of nostalgia or sympathy. He just wanted more draws.
"Fine," Shawn said at last, rising from his chair. "Let's go pay the backstabber a visit."
As he reached for his coat, Selina Kyle poked her head into the office.
"Where you off to?" she asked, casually flipping a coin in one hand.
"To see my lying, treacherous, pain-in-the-ass brother," Shawn replied without missing a beat.
Selina blinked. "Wait, you have a brother?"
Shawn was already out the door.
Thankfully, locating the Holy Master wasn't a problem. The system had marked his location on the map—a quiet, nondescript city on the outskirts of civilization.
Technically, Shawn could fly there. As the Moon Demon, flight was as natural to him as walking. But flying would raise questions. After all, psychiatrists don't usually soar through the sky.
So he took the car instead.
Several hours later, he arrived.
—
Meanwhile… deep in a dark, musty basement…
"Useless! Worthless idiots! You can't even find one lousy talisman!"
The enraged voice echoed through the chamber, sending shivers down the spines of the five trembling men below.
The red glow of the dragon statue's eyes illuminated the shadows with an eerie light.
The Holy Master.
Once feared across dimensions, now reduced to a slab of stone—sealed, powerless, and fuming.
Kneeling before the statue were the last remnants of the Dark Hand mafia:
Valon – their hot-tempered leader.
Ratso – the dumb muscle.
Finn – the Irish explosives guy.
Chow – the fast-talking tech man.
Toru – the gentle giant with a warrior's heart.
Valon stepped forward. "Master, please! We're trying our best! Do you know how many of my men we've lost hunting for these talismans?"
"Don't give me excuses!" the Holy Master snarled. "You promised me results!"
Valon bit back a groan. He'd bankrupted his entire operation trying to recover the twelve mystical talismans—the source of the Holy Master's power. All based on a promise.
A promise that if he succeeded, the Holy Master would grant him the legendary Golden Rooster King, a treasure said to bring unlimited fortune.
Of course… no one really believed the Holy Master kept his promises.
Not his followers.
Not his enemies.
Not even his own siblings.
Suddenly, Valon's eyes fluttered.
His knees buckled.
And with a thud, he collapsed.
"Valon?" Finn yelped—but then he too slumped.
One by one, the Dark Hand dropped like puppets with their strings cut.
The Holy Master's eyes narrowed.
A presence had entered his lair.
He might be sealed, but his senses were still sharp. He could feel the approach of powerful magic.
"Who dares intrude upon me?" he growled. "Show yourself!"
A soft chuckle echoed from the shadows.
Then a figure stepped through the doorway.
Dark coat. Confident smile. Eyes glowing faintly blue.
The Holy Master went rigid.
That face…
That voice…
"Hello, Holy Master," Shawn said, hands tucked into his coat pockets.
Recognition struck instantly. The Holy Master's soul trembled.
"Curse Blue…" he whispered. "It's you…"
Of all the Eight Demons, Curse Blue had been the most powerful. The quiet one. The calculating one. The one even the Holy Master hadn't dared to provoke lightly.
And now he was here.
In human form.
Standing in front of him like a casual visitor.
"You…" the Holy Master snarled. "What do you want?"
Shawn smirked. "Just here to say hi. Maybe check out how well you're adjusting to being a paperweight."
The Holy Master growled. "Mock me again, and I'll—!"
"You'll what?" Shawn interrupted smoothly. "Glare at me harder from inside that statue?"
The Holy Master seethed in silence.
Shawn approached the altar, his steps unhurried. "Relax. I'm not here to fight. In fact, I'm here because of a system task. Gotta log the location, tick the box, and move on."
The Holy Master narrowed his eyes. "System?"
"Long story. You wouldn't understand." Shawn crouched slightly, inspecting the statue. "But you know what? I might just help you. Not today, though. Not because I like you. But because it benefits me."
The Holy Master glared. "You expect me to believe you're not holding a grudge?"
"Oh, I'm absolutely holding a grudge," Shawn said with a grin. "But lucky for you… I'm learning how to be civil."
He tapped the dragon statue's nose.
"Don't go anywhere. I'll be back."
And with that, he turned and walked out of the basement, leaving the sealed demon fuming in silence.
Behind him, faint echoes of demonic curses reverberated through the underground lair.
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