The courtyard was still, cloaked in silence. The moon hung low, silver light draping across the broken tiles and scorched walls from weeks of his relentless training. Every night, the scars grew deeper. Every morning, servants muttered nervously about "phantoms" and "stray magic." And every time, Selene kept them quiet.
Tonight, though, even Selene wasn't here.
It was just him.
Asura stood in the center, his small body tense, the wooden katana resting lazily across his shoulders. To anyone watching, he might have looked like a boy playing warrior. But his eyes—those golden eyes—burned with something far older.
For days now, he had pushed past every limit. Sword drills until his hands bled. Mana channeling until his vision blurred. He had unlocked the Arc Swordsman class, created new elemental skills, and even mimicked techniques his world had never known.
And yet—one thing remained out of reach.
True Demon Lord Awakening – Incomplete. Progress: 3%.
That single word, carved into his system, mocked him every time he closed his eyes.
Incomplete.
It wasn't enough. It would never be enough.
"…Time to see how far I can push it."
He lowered the katana, gripping it tight with both hands. Mana flared around him, sparking in colors not meant to coexist—black flames, silver light, crimson arcs of lightning. His small frame trembled, not from fear, but from the pressure of what he was dragging out of himself.
The system chimed:
[Warning: True Demon Lord Awakening prematurely accessed.]
[Risk: Physical collapse, mana instability.]
Asura gritted his teeth, sweat dripping down his temple. "Shut up. I don't care."
He closed his eyes. Inside him, the fire stirred—wild, hungry, eager to devour. It coiled through his veins, pressing against his skin, begging to be released. His horns tingled, his vision flickered, and for a moment his breath came out as smoke.
More.
A black glow licked across his arms, markings flickering just beneath the surface of his skin. His wooden katana burned with energy it was never meant to hold, the grain splintering as power surged through it.
"Arc… Demon… Awakening!"
The words ripped from his throat like a roar.
The courtyard erupted. Fire that wasn't fire exploded outward, a storm of dark crimson flames mixed with silver light. The ground cracked, stone melting into glowing magma lines beneath his feet. His aura burst into the sky, a pillar of energy so fierce that even the Demon King, from deep within his throne room, stirred and opened his eyes.
The system chimed again.
[True Demon Lord Awakening Progress: 7%.]
[New Passive Unlocked: Demonic Flame – Lv. 1.]
Asura gasped, falling to one knee. His body screamed with pain, his muscles twitching violently, his lungs dragging in ragged breaths. The flames around him wavered, then clung stubbornly to his skin, refusing to vanish.
And yet—his grin split wide.
"…It worked."
For the first time, he had forced the Awakening to rise. For the first time, he had felt the true fire of his bloodline—the fire of demons who had shaken kingdoms and carved their names into legend.
He looked at his trembling hands, the black markings still faintly glowing, and whispered:
"This… this is the fire I'll use to burn the path forward."
The night wind carried the scent of ash and smoke. The courtyard was ruined again, cracked tiles glowing faintly like embers.
But Asura didn't care.
All he saw was the word in his system.
Progress: 7%.
"…Not enough," he muttered, forcing himself back to his feet, katana trembling in his grip. "I won't stop until it's complete."
And somewhere, far in the depths of the castle, the Demon King sat on his throne, crimson eyes glowing faintly. He had felt it—the fire of his grandson, rekindled in a boy too young to bear it.
For the first time in centuries, the King whispered into the dark:
"…You remind me of her, Asura."
And the flames in the courtyard burned higher.
✦ The Attempt
The night air hung thick and heavy, the stars veiled behind drifting clouds. The courtyard, scarred from countless nights of training, seemed to hold its breath.
At its center stood Asura.
His bare feet pressed against cracked stone, his small frame taut with tension, the wooden katana planted into the ground before him. His golden eyes glowed faintly, reflecting the torchlight. His breaths were shallow, each one trembling with anticipation.
I touched it before, he thought, eyes narrowing. That fire inside me—the true power of an True Demon Lord. If I could summon it once, I can summon it again. I have to.
He closed his eyes, shutting out the world. Darkness embraced him. And there, deep in the void of his mind, he remembered—
The searing fire. The markings etched into his skin. The weight of a power so immense it had nearly crushed him. The roar that had threatened to consume his soul.
That memory ignited something deep in his core.
His lips moved, the words whispered as though reciting an oath:
"True Demon Lord Awakening… —Activate."
The response was immediate.
BOOM.
Energy ripped outward, tearing through the courtyard like a storm. The torches flared violently, their flames bending away as if recoiling from him.
Crimson-black fire burst from his body, coiling around him like living serpents. It licked across his arms and chest, branding his skin with burning trails of light. The stone beneath his feet cracked, glowing faintly as magma veins pulsed outward from where he stood.
His golden eyes snapped open, blazing like molten steel. His horns vibrated, arcs of unstable mana sparking across them. His small frame shook, but he remained upright, forcing the power to obey him.
And then came the markings.
Black script, ancient and unreadable, carved itself across his arms, winding up his torso and over his collarbone. They pulsed like living runes, glowing faintly with every beat of his heart. For a moment, it felt as though something vast and terrible was clawing at the inside of his body, begging to be set free.
The system screamed in his mind:
[Warning: Vessel not stable.]
[Caution: Mana capacity exceeded.]
[Risk: Collapse imminent.]
His knees buckled. His arms shook. His chest burned like fire had replaced his lungs. His wooden katana splintered beneath the strain of the energy pouring through him, the blade glowing faintly as if it, too, was alive.
But still, he gritted his teeth and roared against the warnings.
"I… I can handle it!"
His shout was swallowed by the storm of power bursting from his body. The flames around him surged, forming jagged wings of crimson and black that tore into the sky. His aura pressed outward in crushing waves, rattling the iron gates, making the courtyard walls groan and split.
Birds fled the distant forest, crying in terror. The earth itself seemed to recoil.
The system chimed again:
[True Demon Lord Awakening Progress: 9%.]
His heart pounded with exhilaration. His vision blurred, his skin steamed, his muscles screamed for him to stop—but the number filled him with a rush of triumph.
It's working. I'm forcing it higher… I can push further!
His body trembled violently, sweat pouring down his brow. Blood pricked at the corner of his lips, his lungs dragging in smoke-filled breaths. He could feel his bones creak under the weight of mana, his small body fighting to survive what no child should contain.
And still—he smiled.
His golden eyes glowed brighter, sharper, reflecting the unyielding will of someone who had lived and died once already.
"I won't stop…!" His voice cracked with the strain, but his words rang clear. "I won't run again! I'll master this power… even if it kills me!"
The flames roared higher, wrapping around him like a crown of fire. His aura bled into the sky, and for a heartbeat, the entire castle seemed to tremble with the rise of something terrible—and divine.
✦ Losing Control
The courtyard no longer resembled a training ground.
It was a battlefield.
Stone walls collapsed in heaps of rubble, shattered by the shockwaves of his strikes. The ground was scorched black, trenches carved deep into the earth as if claws of some great beast had raked across it. Dust and smoke swirled in violent gusts of wind, drawn into the storm of mana that radiated from his small frame.
Asura stood in the center of it all, a trembling figure surrounded by chaos.
His wooden katana burned white-hot, glowing like molten iron fresh from a forge. Cracks spiderwebbed along its length, glowing red at the edges as though the weapon itself was screaming under the pressure of containing his power. Each swing tore another line into it, each strike another step toward breaking it forever.
His breaths came ragged, steaming in the cold night air. His chest rose and fell violently, lungs searing, every inhale burning like he had swallowed fire. The mana raged inside him—wild, unrestrained, no longer a flame but a storm, clawing at his veins like it wanted to rip free of him.
He swung.
The courtyard shuddered. An entire section of wall exploded into fragments, stone scattering like shrapnel.
He thrust.
A jet of black-crimson fire erupted, tearing open the floor and splitting it wide. The earth itself smoked and cracked, glowing with molten light as though magma had been forced to the surface.
The system's warnings screamed in his ears, a chorus of urgent alarms.
[Critical Warning: Vessel not stable.]
[Mana density exceeding tolerance.]
[Physical collapse imminent.]
His vision flickered. The courtyard blurred, twisting at the edges, doubling and tripling like a broken reflection. The stars above were blotted out, replaced by streaks of dark fire that raged around him.
His knees gave way, crashing into the cracked stone. The katana sagged in his hands, splinters breaking free, glowing with heat before fading into ash.
His horns vibrated violently, arcs of unstable lightning sparking from their tips. The markings etched across his arms and chest crawled higher, reaching his throat, his jawline, then sliding close to his cheeks. They pulsed like runes alive, each beat in rhythm with his hammering heart.
Ba-dum.
Ba-dum.
Ba-dum.
His heart pounded against his ribs like it wanted to burst. The sound thundered in his ears, drowning out everything else. Each pulse sent waves of pain down his limbs, his body twitching with every beat. His veins glowed faintly beneath his skin, mana coursing through them like molten rivers.
"D-Damn it…" His voice was raw, barely louder than a whisper. "It's too much…"
His golden eyes, usually so sharp and steady, flickered wildly—sometimes blazing bright like molten steel, other times dimming into dull, unstable light.
He tried to stand, but his legs shook violently, refusing to obey. He clenched his jaw, forcing his trembling arms to grip the katana tighter, though his fingers felt numb, as if his body no longer belonged to him.
The system continued, cold and unrelenting:
[Overload detected.]
[Risk: Organ failure.]
[Risk: Mana collapse.]
[Survival rate: 7%... 5%... 3%.]
If I keep this up…
The thought echoed weakly in his mind, fragments barely holding together.
I'll destroy myself.
A drop of blood slid from the corner of his mouth, spattering against the glowing stone beneath him.
For the first time since his rebirth, a sliver of fear coiled in his chest—not of monsters, not of his grandfather's wrath, not of enemies yet unseen, but of himself. Of the abyss that threatened to consume him if he pushed one step further.
And still, through the haze of pain, his lips twisted into a shaky grin.
"Not… yet…"
His eyes burned, golden light blazing faintly, fighting against the darkness threatening to smother it.
"I won't… stop here…"
The flames howled around him, the night sky bending, as the boy stood on the razor's edge between awakening—and destruction.
✦ The Demon King Intervenes
The courtyard quaked as Asura's unstable power clawed at the night sky, but then—everything shifted.
The air itself seemed to kneel. A crushing presence descended, heavier than mountains, colder than the abyss. The flames swirling around Asura shivered violently before collapsing inward, bowing as though they had recognized their master.
A single voice cut through the chaos.
"Enough."
The sound rolled like thunder, carrying the weight of command that no living thing could ignore.
From the shadows at the edge of the courtyard, he appeared.
The Demon King.
His massive frame strode forward, every step cracking the already ruined tiles. Crimson eyes glowed like burning suns beneath the night, reflecting in the smoke-filled air. Horns arched like crowns above his head, his aura pouring outward in invisible waves that smothered every unstable surge of mana.
With a simple wave of his clawed hand, the flames choking the courtyard bent, then extinguished, as if ordered to submit. The black markings that had raced across Asura's skin flickered and faded, retreating like embers into ash. His horns stopped crackling, their sparks silenced under the gravity of the king's presence.
Asura collapsed onto one knee, gasping for air. His chest heaved, sweat soaking through his robe. Each breath rattled in his throat, but the golden light in his eyes still burned stubbornly.
"Grandfather…" he panted, voice hoarse.
The Demon King stood above him, silent. His shadow engulfed the boy, vast and heavy, yet it carried not malice but something sharper—scrutiny.
The silence stretched, unbearable, until the corner of the king's mouth curved. Slowly, his expression split into a grin, fangs glinting in the torchlight.
"You truly are my blood."
His voice rumbled like the earth itself, pride and power entwined in every syllable.
"To awaken your Demon state this early, even if incomplete…" He let out a booming laugh, shaking the courtyard walls. "Hah! The realm has never seen such genius!"
Asura blinked up at him, chest still rising and falling, his katana splintered at his side. His body screamed in pain, but his heart surged at the words.
The Demon King's crimson eyes narrowed, burning hotter as they locked with Asura's golden glow.
"Remember this, boy," he said, voice low and dangerous. "Power like this is a blade. Unrefined, it cuts the hand that wields it. But sharpened…" His grin widened, his aura flaring like a volcano on the verge of eruption. "…it can split the heavens."
✦ Training Begins
The courtyard still trembled from the echoes of Asura's unstable Awakening. The fractured stones radiated faint heat, smoke coiled from gashes in the walls, and the air hung heavy with the metallic tang of mana.
Asura knelt in the wreckage, his chest rising and falling with ragged breaths. His wooden katana lay splintered beside him, glowing faintly with lingering embers before dissolving into ash. His body screamed with exhaustion, but the fire in his golden eyes had not dimmed.
Then, the King moved.
The sound of armored boots striking broken stone reverberated through the silence. The Demon King, vast and immovable, descended upon his grandson like a mountain walking on two legs. His aura pressed down not as punishment, but as a reminder: here stood the sovereign of demons, an existence who could crush nations with a glance.
And yet—he lowered himself.
A clawed hand reached out and settled upon Asura's trembling shoulder. The touch was heavy, grounding, but not cruel. It steadied him, pulling him back from the precipice of collapse, anchoring him to the earth.
"But raw power," the King's voice rumbled, deep as the abyss itself, "is nothing without control." His crimson eyes glowed like suns, unblinking and merciless. "A beast wields strength without thought. But a demon… a true demon… tempers strength with will. If you cannot master this Awakening, it will consume you—body, soul, and all."
Asura's breath caught in his throat. His fists clenched at his sides, nails digging into his palms. His small voice wavered but held steady.
"…Then… what do I do?"
The King's lips curled into a grin, sharp and proud. The air thickened with power as if the world itself leaned closer to hear his words.
"From this day forward," he thundered, the decree echoing through the ruined courtyard, "I will train you myself."
The words struck harder than any aura could. Asura's eyes widened, shimmering as though reflecting the flames of destiny. "You… you'll train me?"
The King threw back his head and laughed. His laughter rolled like thunder, shaking loose rubble from the shattered walls, scattering dust like ash on the wind. It was a sound that could terrify armies, but here—it carried pride. Fierce, unrelenting pride.
"Of course!" he boomed, fangs flashing. "You are my heir. My grandson. Do you think I would let such a jewel dull with neglect? No. You carry the blood of kings, the fire of demons. If you are to stand above this world, you will not do so half-formed."
His hand tightened on Asura's shoulder, talons brushing against the fabric of his robe, firm but never breaking skin. His gaze bore into him, a gaze that had made generals falter and kingdoms bow.
"You will become a true demon."
With a single pull, he hauled Asura up to his feet. The boy stumbled, his knees still shaking from the aftershock of his Awakening, but he did not fall. He stood, straight-backed, golden eyes locked with crimson, two flames meeting in the darkness.
The King's voice dropped lower now, less like a decree to the world and more like a vow shared between blood.
"Prepare yourself, Asura," he said, each word deliberate, carved like stone into the boy's bones. His aura surged in a crimson blaze, whipping the broken courtyard into a storm of fire and shadow. "Your childhood…" He leaned forward, his grin both terrifying and proud. "…ends today."
The torches flared violently, their flames bending toward the two figures at the center of the ruin, as though even fire acknowledged the change. The fractured courtyard bore witness, the stone itself quivering under the weight of the King's promise.
And there they stood—one, the Demon King, sovereign and executioner of his people's survival. The other, a boy trembling in his small frame, yet shining with unyielding determination.
Grandfather and grandson.
King and heir.
Tyrant and successor.
The world did not yet know it, but on that night, the training of a future calamity began.
✦ The Path of Blood
That night was no longer Asura's childhood. It was the first night of his forging.
The courtyard, scarred by previous battles, was reborn as a crucible. Blackened stone tiles still glowed faintly with mana burns, and shattered dummies lay like corpses in the corners. The torches blazed unnaturally bright, as if even the fire wished to witness the trial.
The Demon King stood at the far end, his obsidian greatsword resting across one shoulder. The sheer weight of his aura crushed the air flat, yet his expression was almost amused.
"Stand, Asura," his voice rumbled, a decree echoing in the bones of the earth. "If you fall, you rise. If you bleed, you endure. If you break, you rebuild. This is the way of demons."
Asura staggered to his feet, gripping his reforged wooden katana with both hands. His chest heaved, his small frame trembling, but his golden eyes gleamed with fire.
Their blades met.
CLANG!
The sound ripped through the night, echoing like thunder in a storm. Sparks scattered. Asura's arms rattled violently under the sheer weight of the strike, the shock reverberating through his bones. His knees buckled, but he forced himself to push back, teeth clenched so hard they hurt.
Another strike. He deflected it barely, stumbling back.
A third. The katana splintered at the edge, the air shrieking under the blow.
Every strike was a thunderclap, a test not of skill, but of resolve. Asura knew—his grandfather was holding back. If he weren't, the first swing would have cut him in half. Yet even this restraint was enough to break him a dozen times over.
The system chimed in his ears with cold indifference:
[Swordsmanship Lv. 12 → Lv. 13.]
[Swordsmanship Lv. 13 → Lv. 14.]
But there was no time to savor the gain. The next strike came like lightning.
His feet blurred, Shadow Step activating instinctively, pulling him just beyond the blade's reach.
Another ping:
[Shadow Step Lv. 1 → Lv. 2.]
The Demon King's grin widened. "Good. Instinct before thought. That is survival."
Then came the mana drills.
The King inscribed a blazing circle of demonic runes into the stone with a single claw. Mana thickened the air, heavy as tar.
"Sit," the King ordered. "Breathe mana in. Command it. Do not let it command you."
Asura obeyed. He sat cross-legged in the circle, palms open, the air around him vibrating with potential. He inhaled deeply, drawing mana into his core. His veins burned, his skin prickled, his head throbbed like a drum.
He exhaled. The circle pulsed. Flames burst in one hand, lightning in the other. Both fizzled violently, collapsing before he could stabilize them.
"Again," the King commanded.
So he tried again. And again. Fire spheres exploded in his face, searing his eyebrows. Lightning arced down his arms, leaving burns. Shadow blades formed and dissolved in smoke before striking their targets.
His system whispered each time he succeeded, each time he failed:
[New Skill Acquired – Dark Flame Burst.]
[Shadow Step Lv. 2.]
[Demonic Endurance – Beginner Lv. 1.]
Sweat poured down his face. His body shook. His breaths came ragged and shallow. His small hands blistered and bled as he forced himself to try again.
The King's laughter rolled across the yard. It was booming, harsh, but never mocking.
"Yes! That's it, Asura! Push harder! Break yourself, and rebuild yourself stronger! That is the way of demons!"
Then came the trial of his Awakening.
"Summon it," his grandfather ordered, his crimson gaze unyielding.
Asura closed his eyes. He reached inward, to the storm that waited beneath his skin. His heart pounded, his veins screamed. Black markings flared across his arms, crawling to his chest. His horns burned with sparks, his golden eyes ignited with searing light.
The courtyard cracked open beneath him. Crimson-black flames erupted, twisting like serpents, painting the night in ruinous color.
"Hold it!" the King barked.
Asura grit his teeth, his small frame trembling violently. His lungs burned. His vision swam. The mana inside him roared like an untamed beast, demanding to consume him whole.
[True Demon Lord Awakening Progress: 9% → 13%.]
The markings spread up his neck, reaching for his face. His chest seized. His breath faltered.
"Cut it off!"
He gasped, forcing the storm inward, sealing it shut with every shred of will he had left. The markings faded. The flames died. His knees buckled.
He collapsed face-first into the scorched stone.
The Demon King's laughter cracked the night sky like thunder.
"Yes! Again! That is how demons grow—by standing where no other dares to stand, and bleeding where no other dares to bleed!"
Asura coughed, his arms trembling, his vision blurred. But slowly, painfully, he pushed himself to his feet again.
And again.
And again.
Each collapse left him weaker, but each rise left his golden eyes brighter. His fists clenched tighter. His grin grew sharper.
By dawn, the courtyard was destroyed. The walls lay in ruins, the ground cracked and blackened. Asura's body was battered, bruised, covered in ash and sweat. Yet he stood, katana trembling in his hands, chest rising and falling in unsteady rhythm.
The Demon King looked at him—not as a fragile child, but as something being forged.
"Good," he said, his voice deep with pride. "You bleed. You break. And yet you rise again. That is all I require. The rest… will come."
And for the first time since the Behemoth, Asura realized something.
He wasn't running anymore.
✦ The Oath of Fire
The courtyard was a ruin. Cracks spider-webbed across the stone floor, scorch marks licked up the walls, and faint plumes of smoke drifted from shattered pillars. The torches that lined the grounds had long since been extinguished by shockwaves, leaving only the dim crimson glow of demonic embers smoldering in the rubble.
At the center of it all lay Asura. His small chest rose and fell in rapid, uneven rhythm, every breath scraping his throat raw. His arms trembled so violently he couldn't even lift the splintered remains of his wooden katana. Sweat soaked his robe, plastering white strands of hair to his forehead, his golden eyes dulled from exhaustion but still faintly glowing in the dark.
Above him loomed the Demon King. His great sword rested casually on his shoulder, its massive blade steaming from the sheer mana it had absorbed during their spar. His crimson eyes burned like molten suns, their light cutting through the smoke.
"Do you see it now, boy?" his voice rumbled, heavy and commanding, each word reverberating in the cracked stone around them. "The difference between raw talent… and true strength?"
Asura coughed, the taste of blood sharp on his tongue, but his lips pulled into a grin all the same. His golden eyes flickered, faint but stubborn, as if refusing to dim.
"…Yeah," he rasped, his voice hoarse but steady. Slowly, shakily, he turned his head to meet his grandfather's gaze head-on. "I see it. Talent… isn't enough. But…" He forced himself to draw in another ragged breath, the corners of his lips twitching into something sharper. "…I'm going to surpass even you."
The words cut through the silence like a blade.
For a moment, the King did not move. His towering frame stood utterly still, his crimson gaze locked onto the boy sprawled before him. The air itself seemed to hold its breath.
Then, a grin spread across the King's face.
And then, it came—his laughter.
It started as a low rumble, deep in his chest, then erupted into a roar that shook the skies. The ground trembled, loose stones rattling as if bowing to the sound. Flames curled higher in the torches along the walls, bending toward him as though the fire itself wished to join in his mirth.
"HAH-HAH-HAH-HAH!" His voice boomed like thunder rolling through the heavens. "That's my grandson!"
The echo of it carried far beyond the walls of the courtyard, rattling windows and waking servants in the castle. Demons stopped in their tracks, their blood stirring at the sound, though they could not comprehend the cause.
Asura, flat on his back, could only grin wider, his chest burning with pride. His body screamed for rest, his muscles felt like they were tearing with every breath, but inside—his resolve had never been stronger.
He clenched a trembling fist, raising it weakly toward the crimson sky.
"I'll do it. I swear it. By blade, by fire, by this bloodline… I'll rise. Stronger than you. Stronger than anyone. Strong enough to never run again."
The Demon King's gaze softened, just for a flicker, pride burning beneath the endless fire. His voice lowered, still rough, but carrying the weight of truth.
"Then burn that oath into your soul, Asura. For demons' promises are written not in ink… but in blood and fire."
The torches roared higher, crimson flames crackling as if sealing the vow itself.
And beneath the shattered night sky, grandfather and grandson stood bound together—not just by blood, but by an oath that would one day set the world aflame.