Yur lay motionless beneath a barren sky, pain consuming every part of his being. His body was mangled almost beyond recognition—his one remaining arm ripped to tatters, the bones protruding through bloodied flesh, each breath a battle of its own. Wheezing through the agony, he stared up at the crimson-tinted emptiness overhead.
"Why, Zul?" he whispered in a ragged voice. "Why has my life been nothing but pain?"
He coughed wetly, forcing a bitter laugh that sent fresh agony lancing through his ravaged limbs. His mind drifted to memories of slavery—of whips and chains, of hopeless nights and empty days.
"Did you know," he said softly, voice thick with despair, "when I was born, my mother was whipped to death for taking too long to give birth to me?" Tears trickled down his cheeks as he fought to speak. "I was barely able to walk by the time I received my first beating. And when I finally understood what it was to want freedom, they chained me in a forest to die—another puppet for their entertainment."
A gurgle of mirthless laughter escaped him, twisted by suffering. Nearby, the Trep Demon lay in fragments, broken by the fall. Yur's eyes flicked to it, a savage sense of triumph mingling with the horror of his injuries.
"I just wanted to be free…to live without pain." Another tear slid down his cheek as he inhaled shakily. "Ever since I escaped, I've felt torments far beyond what I ever knew. And now—like this…" His voice faltered into a whimper. "Why? Why me?"
[Host has lost a great deal of blood!]
[Advised to seek the nearest Bahirath!]
"What's the point?" he rasped. "Survive…for what?"
[Host has lost a great deal of blood!]
[Advised to seek the nearest Bahirath!]
"I know, Zul!" he roared, fury giving him one last spark of strength. But his rage soon dissolved into a shivering sob. "I don't want to live anymore… It hurts too much." He clenched his teeth, tears and blood mingling on his face. "So much…pain…"
He gazed bleakly at the sky, silent tears rolling as anger and despair churned within him. "I want to kill them all—every last one. The humans who enslaved me. The demons who almost devoured me alive. The Trep that tore off my limbs." He let out a strangled snarl. "I want them all dead."
[Host's Desire Received!]
A new wave of anguish rippled through him, and he sighed shakily. "Zul…you're the only one I can talk to," he whispered, voice quavering. "No one else… I don't have anyone else…"
[Calculating…]
"Zul?" Yur called, noticing something unusual in the system's abrupt silence. A strange presence seemed to settle upon him, filling the air with an electric tension.
Suddenly, a different voice resonated in his mind, layered and ancient—yet intimately familiar.
Do you wish to be stronger?
"Hello?" he croaked, words hardly above a gasp. His eyes drifted shut as consciousness threatened to slip away.
You crave freedom and power. To be unbound.
"Yes…" he answered, unsure if it was the system or a fever dream. "Yes…that's all I've ever wanted."
Then you shall be granted it. I, Mal, bestow upon thee all desires…
Before he could react, the blood pooling around him lifted into the air, coalescing as tiny crimson droplets. Yur finally lost consciousness, surrendering to darkness.
An otherworldly hush settled over the canyon. Blood from Yur's wounds, from the Trep Demon, from the very earth itself, bubbled upward in silent streams. Then, without warning, black flames erupted in a scorching tempest, wreathing Yur's broken body. Despite the vicious heat, he felt no pain. The inferno raged higher and higher, forming pillars of midnight fire that reached for the sky.
With a deafening roar, the canyon walls began to crumble. Rocks the size of houses tumbled down in waves of destruction. The shock waves shattered Bahirath pools, turning them into swirling clouds of red mist. In the gloom, massive cracks snaked across the ground, swallowing entire swathes of forest.
Everything around Yur dissolved into chaos, consumed by the infernal blaze.
Far away, demons of all ranks and shapes froze mid-step, their eyes drawn irresistibly to the black flames devouring the horizon.
Deep within the dark heart of Zulmasharr, an immense serpentine demon lifted its gaze. Its vast, bat-like wings flared in alarm.
"What is this?" it hissed, pupils contracting. "The Flames of Severance!"
Other powerful demons—all surpassing Demon King Yukinly—shrieked in uncanny unison. "The Heir…Zulmasharr's Heir has awakened!"
Their roars reverberated through the demonic realm, igniting panic and awe alike. The ground itself trembled, the very fabric of Zulmasharr vibrating with primal energy.
Simultaneously, the skies over Afloria darkened as a colossal swath of black fire materialized, flashing across the heavens like an unholy aurora. In a quiet hut on a remote mountain, an elderly man and woman gazed skyward, expressions tight with apprehension.
"Husband," the old woman murmured, "this must be—"
He nodded grimly. "Zulmasharr's heir has emerged."
A ripple of dread passed through every living thing in Afloria, from the grandest sect to the simplest farming village. Whispers circulated: The demon realm's Heir is born… Neither humans nor demons felt any joy in that moment.
In the epicentre of the collapsing canyon, Yur's body levitated, a rag doll suspended by black fire. Pillars of flame soared past the clouds, obliterating everything in their path, yet leaving Yur untouched. A voice—impossible to place, yet echoing across two entire realms—resonated like thunder:
Oh, my Successor! You are worthy indeed. For that, I shall grant you all desires…but I shall claim what I must in exchange.
Its timbre was ancient, laced with malice and benevolence in equal measure.
I, Mal, declare you one with Zulmasharr. This is the Ritual of the Successor!
All at once, any being who dared come close was annihilated without a whisper, the life force snuffed out like embers in a gale. Demons and humans alike stumbled back in terror, powerless to intervene.
The Successor of Mal shall be born!
A final, earsplitting detonation rocked both realms. The black flames converged into a vast dome of nightmarish power—then, in a single, deafening sweep, the dome vanished. Silence fell.
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In the vast emptiness of that strange darkness, the flames that had consumed Yur's flesh suddenly died away. Gone was the searing agony. Gone were the oozing wounds and mangled limbs. Instead, his skin knit itself together in a silent rush, becoming whole once more, utterly unmarked.
Where crumbled stone had once rolled in waves of destruction, canyon walls now stretched tall and unbroken. Shattered Bahirath pools returned to calm, bubbling with renewed life.
The black inferno that had devoured everything only moments ago vanished as if it had never existed. The air settled into a hushed stillness—tranquil, yet tinged with a faint, menacing undertone.
At the centre of it all, Yur lay naked on the dust-softened ground, wings of black and red folded across his back. The sleek silver hair that once gleamed with an otherworldly flame now fell freely across his shoulders. On his chest, the ashen Orb shone with a pale, silvery light, pulsing in a steady cadence that spoke of power and calm all at once.
A small, black crown encircled his head—an object formed not of metal but of living shadow, blending seamlessly with his very being. It seemed less an adornment than an extension of himself, an unspoken claim to a realm caught between two worlds. For a moment, all was eerily quiet.
Then Yur stirred. His eyelids fluttered open to reveal crimson irises that burned with a subdued glow. There was a calmness in his gaze, yet something predatory lurked beneath. Slowly, he blinked, and the winged silhouette he cast across the canyon wall radiated a subtle, dangerous majesty.
For a few heartbeats, it was as if the land held its breath—watching, waiting for what this new being might do.
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Name: Yur Ashkavaal
Age: 10
Title: Lord of Zulmasharr, Shepherd of Demons
Demon Cultivation: Vashra
Human Cultivation: Nascent Orb
Bloodline: Severed Ashkavaal
Orb: Cinerath; Severed Ashe
Demons: 0
Demon Points: 290
Human Points: 57
Sanity: 3/100 (>50 = Insanity!)
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