Eldritch Assassin: Reincarnated With An SSS-Rank Devouring System
Chapter 50: The Sealed Door

Chapter 50: The Sealed Door

Kael’s mouth opened, but no words came through. His mind screamed—this was the master from the journal, Xuanyan Qiu. A fragment of his soul, sealed in the journal’s first page? Or something more?

The monk’s frail frame seemed to sag, his shoulders bowing under an unseen burden. "We burned the heavens and drowned the earth to delay your awakening," he said, his voice trembling with grief. "Yet here you stand, unchained once more. Not as a beast... but as a man."

Kael’s heart pounded, his silver eyes wide, dumbstruck. ’Beast? Me?’ The monk’s words were a hammer, each one cracking his disbelief. The realm pulsed, the mist swirling, and Kael’s bloodline thrummed as if recognizing its own truth.

The monk’s gaze softened, searching Kael’s face, his ancient eyes glinting with faint hope. "Tell me, Devourer," he said, his voice steady now, "will you end what we died protecting? Or will you finish the feast we feared to begin?"

Kael stood frozen, his mind reeling. The journal’s warning, the runes, the bloodstone—it was all real. This wasn’t a prank. The monk’s presence felt alive, and his sorrow felt raw, cutting through Kael’s defiance.

He wanted to shout, to deny it, but his throat was dry, his thoughts tangled. ’Xuanyan Qiu... he sealed himself to stop me?’ The idea was insane, yet the monk’s gaze held no lies, only a tired resignation.

The monk pressed his hands together, prayer-like, his fingers thin as reeds. "If your hunger must be unleashed," he whispered, his voice quivering like a dying flame, "devour the corrupted, the fallen, those who chose ruin of their own will."

His eyes locked onto Kael’s, pleading, searching for something human beneath the abyss. "But... if you still carry a sliver of choice, a breath of mercy..." He paused, his breath hitching. "Spare those whose hands remain clean. Let not the innocent bleed for sins they never sowed."

The realm shuddered, the stars flickering, the air crackling with raw power. Kael’s bloodline surged, his Devour Essence clawing at his control, hungry for the monk’s fading energy. He clenched his fists, fighting it, his silver eyes blazing.

The monk bowed his head low, a final gesture—not to Kael’s power, but to a faint hope buried deep. "Even the hungriest flame," he murmured, his voice barely audible, "can choose which forest it devours."

Golden motes sparked around the monk, his form unraveling, dissolving into the mist. The stars dimmed, and the realm trembled as his body broke apart, carried away by an unseen wind.

Kael’s vision snapped back, the chamber’s cold stone slamming into focus. He staggered, his breath ragged, the journal’s weight heavy against his chest. The runes on the walls pulsed faintly, their red glow dimming, as if mourning the monk’s departure.

Kael’s hand trembled, clutching the Abyssal Fang. "What the hell was that?" he whispered, his voice hoarse.

His bloodline hummed, stronger now, as if the monk’s words had unlocked something. ’The Last Devouring Heir’. The title felt like a chain, binding him to a fate he didn’t ask for.

He wanted to laugh it off and call it nonsense, but the monk’s eyes—those sad, ancient eyes—burned in his mind, undeniable.

He straightened, his jaw tightening. "Doesn’t matter," he growled, shoving the journal deeper into his mantle. "I’m no one’s puppet." But doubt lingered, gnawing at his resolve. The Crimson Veil Sect, the tomb, the bloodstone—were all tied to his bloodline, to ’him’.

He glanced at the path he came from and then the chamber’s exit. The tunnel sloped deeper, and the primal energy there was much thicker, calling him forward. A dilemma settled over him on whether he should turn around or bite the bait and continue onwards.

Kael’s smirk returned, thin but defiant. "Devourer or not, I’m taking this tomb," he muttered, his silver eyes glinting.

He moved forward, dagger ready, the monk’s words a weight he couldn’t shake off. ’Spare the innocent’. "Humph!" He snorted, but the monk’s plea lingered.

The tunnel darkened as he exited the chamber, the runes fading, the air growing colder. Kael’s bloodline pulsed, ready for the fight ahead, but his mind churned in thoughts about Wolfswood, Torren, Valcroft, Arveth—and now this.

The tomb’s secrets were close, but so was the truth of what he was. He gripped the dagger tighter, his steps silent like a predator in the dark.

His boots echoed in the tunnel, the air thick with primal energy that buzzed against his skin like static. His Abyssal Fang Dagger gleamed in his grip, its edge catching the faint glow of fading runes.

The monk’s words clawed at his mind, but he shoved them down, his silver eyes narrowing. "Keep moving," he muttered, his voice low.

The cold in the tunnel bit harder, the darkness swallowing the light. Kael slowed down, his steps silent. The tunnel widened at the end, and there it was—the door that was spoken about by the bandit. It loomed, towering twice his height.

Crafted of metal and bone, its surface pulsed like a living thing. A crest glowed at its center—a lotus covered in crimson flames, its runes flickering with primal power. The air around it thrummed, heavy, making his chest tighten.

Kael’s jaw dropped, his breath catching. "No way," he whispered, stepping closer. The door’s energy pressed against him, and his Devour Essence stirred, hungry for whatever lay beyond.

He paced in front of it, his silver eyes scanning every inch. There were no handles, no keyholes, just the lotus crest, its flames seeming to dance.

"Alright, let’s try this," he muttered, pressing his palm against the metal door. It was warm to the touch but didn’t budge.

He pushed harder, primal energy surging through his arms. Nothing happened. He slammed his shoulder into it, the impact jarring his bones. But still nothing.

"Come on!" he growled, kicking the base of the door, his frustration spiking. He drew the Abyssal Fang, striking the crest, but the only blade sparked harmlessly, leaving no mark behind.

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