The Damned Demon

The battlefield was deathly silent, charged with a suffocating tension that stilled every heart and silenced every breath. Smoke drifted lazily across the shattered landscape, thickening the air as Derek Sterling descended calmly, framed by the radiant tear above him.

Rowena, Isola and all the bloodburners and demons finally saw with their own eyes the human who was planning to destroy their world.

He was tall, poised, and his presence exuded an unsettling quiet—cold, calculative, ruthless. A single, piercing blue eye studied Asher intently, the other concealed elegantly behind an intricate patch of deep, regal blue.

Asher’s body trembled slightly—not from fear, but from a fury so cold, so deadly, that even the ground beneath his feet crackled, dark green flames sparking quietly in response. His gaze was fixed relentlessly upon Derek, eyes blazing with barely restrained hatred and pain.

“You…” Asher finally spoke, his voice colder than death, cutting through the silence like the edge of a blade, “You didn’t bring enough men with you to gather and bury your ashes”

Derek remained unmoved, eye narrowing subtly as he studied Asher carefully, a flicker of calculated curiosity passing briefly through his expression. “So it’s really you…,” he responded calmly, voice smooth, devoid of anger or arrogance, but chillingly precise. “I had to confirm something. You have been an unexpected thorn, Hellbringer—or should I call you Cedric? Or perhaps…you might prefer your demon name, Asher,” Derek’s fingers briefly clenched as he asked with a hint of disbelief in his eye, “But how…how are you still alive? I killed you with my own hands.”

At the sound of his old name, memories flashed painfully through Asher’s mind—trust betrayed, family torn apart, his entire past life destroyed by this very man. His fists tightened fiercely, knuckles bone-white beneath dark flames, eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Call me whatever you wish, Derek,” Asher said softly, his voice dripping quiet venom, icy yet blazing beneath the surface, “But you have more important things to worry about other than how I am alive. I’ve waited far too long for this moment. Waiting for you to feel exactly how it feels to lose everything you hold dear. Or maybe you might already have got a taste of it. Not even your own family wants you.”

Derek’s eye briefly shook as images of his wife and daughter getting close to Asher flashed across his mind. He spent more than half of his life with his wife and yet…

However, before his thoughts could spiral out of control, he got rid of any unnecessary thoughts.

Behind Asher, Rowena stood tensely, her crimson eyes burning fiercely. She clenched her fists so tightly that droplets of blood dripped freely, unnoticed in her furious fixation on Derek, the man who had shattered her husband’s past. Beside her, Isola, Rebecca, Lori, Drogor, and countless Bloodburn warriors stood ready—united in a fierce, protective rage.

All they needed was just a single word from their king and they would finish them all.

Yet Asher didn’t pass any order yet. He knew Derek too well—this encounter would not be as simple as brute strength. Derek was calculating; he never acted without meticulous preparation.

The moment he killed Rhino King, he knew Derek learned about how strong he currently was and there was no way he would risk his life by coming here. He still had to think about the prisoners Derek had taken…prisoners that were dear to him.

Still, Asher couldn’t suppress a small, cold smile of grim satisfaction. “You’re lucky, Derek,” he said quietly, dangerously. “Lucky that I’m holding myself back, because believe me… I could have killed you many times over but we have unfinished business and it won’t end with you dying too easy.”

Max scoffed loudly from behind Derek, his voice dripping with disdainful sarcasm. “Pfft, how amusing. Even if you think—”

But Derek raised his hand slightly, silencing Max instantly. He stepped forward slowly, his single visible eye locked unflinchingly on Asher. When Derek spoke, his voice was calm, analytical—utterly devoid of fear.

“I’m truly impressed,” Derek admitted quietly. “To break limits neither human nor demon has before—extraordinary indeed. But,” his voice lowered dangerously, “we both know you won’t harm me. Not if you want your son to live, let alone the rest of your dear friends.”

With a deliberate motion, Derek tapped a sleek device strapped to his wrist. Immediately, a bright, shimmering projection flashed upward, revealing Arthur’s unconscious figure confined within a heavily fortified, mana-secured facility. Asher’s face fell instantly, his worst fears brutally realized.

“Arthur…” Asher whispered, voice breaking briefly, agony flickering through his eyes before they hardened once more, gaze shifting back to Derek, icy rage reignited.

Derek noted Asher’s lack of surprise, a brief moment of genuine curiosity breaking through his careful control. “So, you already knew,” Derek murmured softly, thoughtfully. “Remarkable. I was certain I had hidden his identity flawlessly—but clearly, I underestimated your resourcefulness. Still, the point stands. Now you understand the situation clearly. You can’t touch me, not until I have what I want.”

Asher stood rigid, fists clenched violently, flames licking wildly from his body, yet unable to act. Rage warred openly with anguish in his expression. He was cornered, helpless, exactly as Derek intended. Derek had prepared meticulously, wielding Arthur’s life like a blade against him.

“You spineless coward!” Rebecca shouted suddenly, stepping forward furiously alongside Lori, their anger barely controlled. Rebecca’s crimson eyes blazed with murderous intent, hands gripping her dark staff so tightly it trembled. “My king, let us deal with this human bastard! We’ll force him to return your son—”

Lori hissed loudly, scales bristling angrily. “Jussst give usss the word, brat! We’ll tear him limb from limb until he agreessss to bring your son!”

But before anyone else moved, Rowena, trembling with barely suppressed fury, stepped forward decisively, intent clear in her eyes. Yet she froze suddenly as Naida gently reached out, grasping her wrist lightly but firmly.

“Naida?” Rowena whispered, voice strained with anger and desperation. “What are you doing? Let me handle—”

“No,” Naida said softly yet firmly, shaking her head slowly. Her crimson eyes, filled with an ancient, sorrowful wisdom, held Rowena’s gaze. “Not yet.”

Rowena paused, her own fierce gaze softening with reluctant understanding. Beside her, Isola’s sapphire blue eyes widened briefly, comprehension dawning slowly in her expression. They both knew, deep down, that Naida saw something beyond their immediate anger, something painfully necessary—something Asher must face.

Reluctantly, Rowena stepped back slightly, fists trembling at her sides, breath harsh with the pain of her forced inaction.

Asher remained still, his breathing harsh, struggling fiercely to control the volcanic wrath burning within him. He stared relentlessly at Derek, eyes colder than death, voice barely audible but heavy with the promise of retribution.

“Your move is clever, Derek, I’ll grant you that,” Asher said quietly, menace lacing every syllable. “But believe me… this changes nothing. If Arthur suffers even a scratch, I promise you—no tower, no power in any world will save you from me.”

Derek simply stared back calmly, his single blue eye unblinking, analytical, gauging Asher carefully. His response was quiet, composed, and ruthlessly confident.

“You misunderstand. Arthur’s fate rests solely in your hands. Do as I ask, and no harm comes to him. You know the drill.”

The battlefield fell silent once more, the tension crushingly heavy. The warriors on both sides stood motionless, waiting breathlessly as two mortal enemies stared at one another, fates inexorably entwined by hatred, betrayal, and bitter, long-awaited vengeance.

Asher stood motionless, fists clenched so tightly that his bones ached beneath his dark robes. The flames around him flickered chaotically, mirroring the turbulent emotions raging within his heart—anger, frustration, helplessness. Derek’s cold, calculating stare mocked him silently, Arthur’s unconscious figure burned hauntingly in his mind, and vengeance cried out fiercely in his soul.

Just as the pressure of indecision threatened to crush him, Isola’s voice whispered urgently in his mind, gentle yet compelling:

“Asher, listen carefully. Naida wants you to hold back for now. Trust her. She knows what she’s doing. Don’t let him provoke you. Not yet.”

Asher gritted his teeth. Trusting Naida had been difficult, almost impossible once, but recent revelations had changed everything. His chest rose and fell heavily as he glanced back briefly towards Naida, whose calm, crimson eyes met his with quiet determination. He drew a slow, tense breath.

He would trust Naida—this time.

Turning his gaze back to Derek, his voice came low and menacingly calm, coldness dripping from each word:

“You managed to buy yourself more time, Derek. But tell me one good reason why I should believe you instead of cutting you down right here and now?”

Derek remained still, his one visible eye unflinching, voice calm and composed as he responded without hesitation:

“I cannot give you any absolute guarantees, except this: as long as I breathe, your son stays alive. I’m well aware you’ll destroy me the instant something happens to him. With that understanding, we can surely reach common ground.”

Asher’s eyes narrowed dangerously, considering Derek’s words bitterly, his heart straining beneath the weight of restraint. But before he could respond, Max stepped forward brazenly, an arrogant smirk twisting his lips cruelly.

“Don’t do anything foolish, Cedric,” Max sneered mockingly, voice dripping with disdain. “I know you remember exactly what happened the last time you didn’t listen to us. We gave you so many hints and warnings, yet your stuck-up ass never listened, did you?” He chuckled darkly, eyes glinting maliciously. “Look what happened to your precious friends—especially that Russian chick. Such a pity she went down before I had the chance to teach her a lesson or two.”

Albert who was silent all this time, had his eyes widened sharply in alarm, quickly stepping forward, his voice urgent and anxious. “Max, that’s enou—”

But his voice cut off abruptly as Asher moved impossibly fast, his figure blurring like shadow itself. In a split second, Asher’s hand plunged deep into Max’s chest, effortlessly piercing flesh and bone. Max’s eyes widened in shocked horror, mouth agape, choking on blood as Asher cruelly, mercilessly tore out his spine, blood erupting violently across Derek and Albert’s stunned faces.

Max’s lifeless body crumpled heavily to the ground, blood pooling swiftly beneath him. Asher casually tossed the bloody spine aside, its wet impact echoing grimly through the silent battlefield.

Hunters behind Derek trembled visibly, fear flashing across their faces as they stared in stunned disbelief at the brutality displayed before them. Blood splattered across Asher’s dark robes, his eyes blazing coldly with ruthless intensity, piercing through Derek and Albert.

“Anybody else wants me to remember anything?” Asher asked chillingly, his voice deceptively soft yet heavy with lethal menace.

Albert swallowed painfully, visibly shaken, not by the gore but by the sheer power Cedr-no, Asher, just demonstrated. He couldn’t even perceive or sense a single moment from him! Before he could blink his eye, Max’s spine was already in Asher’s hand.

Was this the true power of a peak Soul Tyrant? Someone who naturally achieved it? Was that why Rhino King couldn’t even put up a fight against him?

With these thoughts, he hurriedly wiped the blood from his face with trembling fingers, his usually composed demeanor deeply unsettled.

Yet Derek remained strangely calm, unflinching despite the brutal display. His voice was icy and controlled, betraying no emotion, no panic, just cold precision.

“There’s nothing left to discuss here, Hellbringer. I’ll return your son the moment I acquire what I came here for. Nothing more, nothing less.”

Asher’s blazing eyes bored into Derek’s unwavering gaze, a tense silence stretching dangerously between them. He could guess what Derek came here for. Naida had already warned him about it. Maybe this was for the better. He could wait and see how it was going to unfold between the werewolves and Derek.

Finally, Asher slowly stepped back, voice dripping with quiet, deadly promise:

“You have no more than five hours, Derek. After that…” He paused, the flames around him surging ominously. “You better pray you’re already dead.”

Without another word, Asher turned sharply, his robes billowing around him as he strode away, each step echoing with grim finality. Behind him, Rowena, Rebecca, Lori, and Isola watched him go silently, tense and furious, but understanding now was not yet the time to strike.

Derek watched Asher’s retreating form thoughtfully, a brief flicker of uncertainty hidden deep within his calculating gaze.

Albert asked, “We have to be really quick about this, Derek. Cedric’s combing back to life as the strongest demon is not a variable we ever planned.”

Derek shook his head and said, “We both know this variable won’t matter as long as I get my hands on that sword. That voice I told you about…it tells me how close I am and how I will succeed. I can feel how true it is in my veins. I have already sent the message to activate the Nexus Tower. Now all we have to do is wait.”