Yur drifted through Zulmasharr's crimson skies with a measured calm, pausing occasionally to harvest yet another Mother Tree sapling. His new Storage Pendant—vastly larger than the simple Pouch of Holding—allowed him to stockpile a staggering number of saplings, each one adding to his Demon Points.
Despite the monotonous routine, his expression remained detached, more akin to a collector assembling specimens than a thrill-seeker.
During his flight, he finally spotted something different from the usual sprawl of the Land of the Mother. Rising from the dense population of strange, grotesque trees stood a fortress-like structure—a high-walled compound of dark stone. A faint aura of tension clung to it, as if the place were not meant to be casually approached.
"What is that, Zul?" he asked softly, his voice low and unhurried.
[Scanning… Several auras detected. Host must get closer for detailed readings!]
The Land of the Mother was, by his observation, a breeding ground for Zulmasharr's countless demon varieties. He had yet to encounter other high-ranking demons here; the place seemed more an expansive nursery for Mother Trees. Even so, the fortress intrigued him. If it housed something unusual, it might prove more interesting than collecting yet more saplings.
Gliding to a spot a few hundred meters from the walls, he chose to adopt his complete demon form. Over the past days, he'd realized that this shape alone intimidated most lesser demons into submission.
As his body elongated, his wings broadened dramatically—now spanning nearly a dozen meters. Ghostly human faces, eyes tightly shut, curled across their black-and-red membranes. A crown of flame-like darkness consumed his hair, and thick talons emerged on his hands and feet. His once-human features became an eerie fusion of humanoid lines and fiendish traits.
He strode forward with slow, deliberate steps, the dusty ground cracking beneath his weight.
"Zul, keep scanning. Let me know if anything more powerful than Vashra appears."
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Zulmasharr Choice Quest
Zulmasharr Quest: Destroy Demon Fortress!
Reward: 500 Demon Points!
OR
Zulmasharr Quest: Take Over Demon Fortress!
Reward: 1000 Demon Points!
Demon Points: 43
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Yur eyed the newly appeared window, scratching his head in mild curiosity.
"I've been wondering about something since that change," he mused, pulling open his profile to examine two entries. "I have two titles. One is obvious, but what's Shepherd of Demons? And what's this Demons section?"
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Shepherd of Demons
A title granted to the heir of Zulmasharr. Bestows authority over any demon weaker than the Host. Enables the Host to guide, command, and rear demons.
[Demons] displays the total number of ranked demons under the Host's command.
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"Ah," he said, voice soft with understanding, "so if I accept the second quest option, I can gain some of those demons as followers." He leaned in, glancing at the quest prompts before continuing. "And if any demon inside the fortress is weaker than me—say all of them are Vashra—I can technically force them into my service?"
[Correct!]
"Interesting," Yur murmured. As he strolled towards the fortress, demons ran quickly.
His presence alone forced smaller demons to scuttle out of sight. Some cowered behind half-formed tree trunks; others perched on branches, babbling in low hisses as if exchanging warnings. The way they moved—almost communally—suggested a higher intelligence among them or a commanding figure inside the fortress.
Suddenly, a system prompt flashed:
[Demons Detected!]
[15 Vashra Demons!]
The number gave him pause. Though he sensed new strength in himself after the Ritual of the Successor, facing multiple Vashra at once might become tricky if his inexperience showed. "Still," he muttered, "I don't feel afraid." His heart felt eerily neutral, as it often did now.
Noticing a massive, iron-bound wooden gate blocking entry, Yur considered breaking it down. Instead, he gently beat his colossal wings and ascended, scaling the wall with minimal effort to avoid any unnecessary damage. He slipped over the battlements into a wide courtyard. At once, deep growls reached his ears.
Two hulking figures dominated the open space. Their twisted bodies resembled gigantic, mutated bears—a messy composite of mismatched flesh with five arms, two sprouting grotesquely from their stomachs. Their tongues dangled, shriveled and useless, while their mouths brimmed with razor-sharp fangs. The aura of Vashra demons clung to them, thick and pungent in the still air.
"So this is what an ordinary Vashra demon might look like," Yur observed. Though towering over him, they seemed no more intimidating to him now than Imps had once been. He stepped forward, calm radiating from his demonic posture.
Both beasts dropped onto their myriad limbs, snarling. They readied themselves to pounce. Yur tilted his head, unconcerned. "Zul, I thought all demons weaker than me would obey. Why do they threaten me?"
[Host need only command them. They will submit.]
A faint recollection sparked in Yur's mind: Shepherd of Demons—the title he'd discovered, which gave him an innate dominion over lesser fiends. He inhaled, focusing that subtle authority, and spoke in a voice that seemed to emanate from the darkest corners of Zulmasharr.
Lay down.
The bear-demons froze mid-lunge, eyes rolling in shock. An invisible pressure weighed on their spines, forcing them to collapse onto the earth. Their entire frames trembled under the crushing compulsion. Yur closed the distance with languid steps, each foot fall resonating like a faint quake in the courtyard.
Up close, the demons' ragged breaths filled the silence. Despite their size and ferocity, they were utterly helpless before him now. Yur glanced at them with faint curiosity, recalling his own helplessness in the past. A fleeting memory of pain flickered through his mind, but it was little more than a shadow.
"I feel like I could have swatted them aside whether or not I commanded them," he mused aloud. Then a cold, unsettling thought formed—a desire to test the limits of his power. "Kill yourselves."
His tone was flat, uncaring. The effect was immediate—and horrifying. The bear-demons roared in protest, eyes tinged with fury and terror as they fought against the order. Veins bulged across their limbs as they attempted to claw at their own bodies. Their hides rippled, muscles convulsing, until in a grisly moment of snapping sinews and shattering bone, each demon tore its own head from its shoulders. Blood sprayed in arc-shaped gushes, spattering across the courtyard stones.
Yur observed this gruesome spectacle with the same detached calm. The demons lay in a twitching heap, the life spurting out of their massive torsos. So that's the power I hold over them, he thought, unmoved by the carnage.
He took a step back, letting the last drops of thick crimson fall. To him, the fortress courtyard was quieter now, devoid of the two hulking guardians. Above, lesser demons still watched from ramparts and windows, hesitant to reveal themselves.
Yur exhaled softly, black flames flickering around his crowned head. Shepherd of Demons… The title echoed through his mind, marking a shift in this domain. If they all serve me… then what's next?
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"Time's up!" Elder Fir declared. A chorus of ragged breaths and half-choked groans answered him. All around the stadium lay disciples, some trembling uncontrollably, others barely conscious. A few were unmoving—dead.
"For those of you who survived…" Elder Fir raised a hand, sending slender streaks of light into each surviving disciple's chest. Instantly, their wounds knitted together, leaving them momentarily dazed. Brune, along with the others, blinked in astonishment as he glimpsed the glow within his Cyralim—the inner world of every cultivator.
"What is that?" several of them murmured, staring at Elder Fir in awe.
"That," Elder Fir explained, "is the Bloodless Fiend Soul—an exceedingly potent nourishment for your Seed of the Orb. Take this as your reward. Now, you're all healed, so use your teleportation badges and move to your assigned location. Once there, you're free to operate alone or form teams as you see fit."
Without hesitation, most disciples activated their badges, vanishing in flashes of light. Only a handful—Brune, Ris, Karo, and seven others—remained, halted by a silent command from Elder Fir.
"You ten performed better than the rest," he said, beckoning them closer. "So you'll receive something extra." A hush fell over the group as he pulled out a weathered, bloodstained map. "This is a rough chart of known Zulmasharr territories."
Eagerly, they leaned in to examine it. Various regions were highlighted in different colors, marking difficulty zones. Ris's gaze settled on a tiny white blotch near the map's edge.
"What about this part?" she asked, voice calm but curious.
Elder Fir gave it a dismissive wave. "That's the Barren Canyon—an empty region with no sustenance, no notable resources. A few Imps at best. There isn't even a functioning tear leading into it—it doesn't have enough demonic essence to support one. At one time, we considered claiming it, but found nothing of value."
Ris nodded thoughtfully. "I see. If it's so empty, it might at least be safe."
The elder only shrugged. "If you want to go there, you'll be wasting your time. Believe me—I've been there."
With that settled, he turned to the reason they'd been singled out. From within his robes, he produced a small black pill, distributing one to each of the ten. Confusion flickered in their eyes.
"This," Elder Fir said, "is a Demonic Transformation Pill—both a reward and an additional assignment."
He directed their attention to scattered regions of the map where the territory was shaded in red, indicating Valgath-ranked demons and higher. "We have reason to believe some important mortals and cultivators are being held hostage in these areas. Rescuing them is no simple task, so we're relying on all of you." He paused, expression grim. "The pill can be used only once and lasts six months. It'll help you move through certain demonic territories undetected—or at least less obviously. The more hostages you free, the greater your reward."
Brune squared his shoulders, grinning. "We'll do our best, Elder."
Elder Fir's stern facade softened briefly. "I hope so. Now, be on your way." He waved his hand, and the ten disappeared in pulses of light, each heading toward a different corner of Zulmasharr—one step closer to their mission, and the many perils that awaited them.