Rearing Demons
Chapter 138: Fiend Slayers; Center of Volcano

Chapter 138: Fiend Slayers; Center of Volcano

Ripping the heart out, Yur tossed it aside without a second thought. He fixed his gaze on the man before him, whose eyes widened in disbelief and terror.

With a mere wave of his hand, the flames of Incineration surged forth, devouring the man’s body in a brilliant conflagration, while Vael’Sythuun consumed the green star that burned on his chest. Yur watched impassively as the man’s form dissolved into nothingness, leaving only scattered remnants of his being.

He then turned his attention to the fallen beasts that littered the ground and frowned. Venturing deeper into the cave was increasingly risky. Although the Rank Five True Seeker he had just dispatched had proved a formidable opponent, he had struggled more than he expected.

Overconfidence—and a lack of proper planning—had cost him dearly in previous encounters. Perhaps it was time to try another cave. Concluding that pressing deeper would yield little benefit, he abruptly turned around and rushed out of the cave.

Fortunately, Yur had taken careful note of where most of the True Seekers were entering. This knowledge made his next decision far easier. Out of the many available entrances, he selected the cave that led to the second weakest of the group. "Time to begin my own purge," he thought grimly.

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In a distant realm marked by multiple moons and an absence of clouds, a group of men clad in black cloaks knelt with their hands resting on their knees, their heavy breaths the only sound in the eerie silence.

"Bastard, just die!" one of them roared.

Among them stood a young fighter covered in blood and flesh, his expression pale and exhausted, yet his chest rising steadily with each labored breath. "New kid, you’re not bad," one of the cloaked leaders remarked, approaching the battered youth.

"Thank you, Leader," replied the young man, whose name was Fyr, a newcomer to the Fiend Slayers. "Though that fight was far more difficult than I expected."

"Of course it would be," the leader smirked. "You just clashed with a Rank Seven fiend; far stronger than your average Rank Eight in raw strength." Fyr simply nodded in acknowledgment.

It had been more than three years since Fyr had been sent into the terrifying Realm of Fiends. Scouted to join the Fiend Slayers for his exceptional strength and potential, he was forced to start at the bottom, even though his power had already reached the Sixth Realm. His existence had become a monotonous cycle of combat—fight, fight, and more fight—with little rest except for sporadic naps. The Fiend Slayers, renowned for their martial prowess, were a fearsome group compared to ordinary cultivators in the same rank.

"Alright, let’s clean up and move on to the next location," the leader declared, patting Fyr’s shoulder before addressing the group. "Our goal is to wipe out the Fiend Camp in the west. It is said to house fiends more powerful than most of you can handle." A smirk played on his face as he continued, "But that is exactly why we will conquer it, fight and prove that you are true Fiend Slayers."

"Huyaa!" the group roared in unison before grabbing their waters and taking long, resolute gulps. Their faces were smeared with grime and dirt; blood stained their clothes, with Fyr’s still fresh and wet.

"Did you hear?" whispered voices began circulating among them as they advanced deeper into the realm. "That bastard Celis killed Snow."

"Snow?" The murmurs grew in shock.

"Yeah," one conspirator sneered, his expression a mixture of anger and fascination. "I heard Snow didn’t even stand a chance; an instant obliteration."

Fyr, who had been trailing behind, heard the discussion and sighed quietly. He harbored no personal ill will toward Celis; it was true that Celis had abandoned a friend and allowed him to decay and die. Excuses were made, but the fact remained undeniable.

"New kid, tell us about this Celis character. I hear he’s the Azure Lord’s disciple. What’s he like?" one of the Fiend Slayers demanded, their curiosity piqued by the outsider’s actions.

In the Fiend Slayers, one’s own life was precious, and when one of their own was killed by an outsider, it became a matter of collective concern.

"Celis? He’s a maniac," Fyr stated flatly, though he could not entirely mask the conflicted tone in his voice. Despite the Fiend Slayers’ reputation as a powerful group, so powerful that even many within their own ranks could scarcely best each other; Celis was different. Fyr was convinced that Celis would stand firm even against their strongest fighters. There was something uniquely charismatic and formidable about him.

"Maniac?" one of the others frowned. "What does that even mean?"

"That means we aren’t his match," Fyr shrugged.

"Sure. I’d mop the floor with him," another retorted, visibly offended.

"I doubt that," Fyr replied bluntly. "Trust me, there is a reason the Azure Lord chose him. He learns fast, he’s strong, and he does things his own way."

"He’s only at the Event Rank. Send one of our best—"

"Best? Wasn’t Snow part of that group?" Fyr rolled his eyes. "Believe what you will. it’s not my business. If you see him next time, try it for yourself."

Without waiting for a response, Fyr strode past them to the front of the group. The others exchanged glances, their egos bruised. They had been deemed the strongest in the sect, selected by the higher-ups for their talent and ability, yet here was someone from their own ranks, an outsider even, who proved stronger. "If I see that bastard again, I’ll kill him," muttered a few as they silently plotted their own retribution.

As they traversed the sandy region, their leader raised his hand and motioned for them to halt. "Look," he commanded, pointing to a nearby camp. Before them stood a group of large, humanoid fiends, their bodies draped in white cloth and their faces obscured by black masks fashioned from bones, each mask unique, resembling a different animal.

"There are twenty fiends in this camp," the leader announced in a voice that was calm yet laced with murderous intent. "I will take the leader of this group, he appears to be Rank Nine." He then gestured to the others. "All of you, hunt down the rest. Let none escape, or they will alert the nearby camps and endanger us all."

"Yes," they chorused.

"Good," the leader nodded. "Alright, let’s sneak closer." The group lowered their bodies, using the texture of their white, grainy cloaks to blend into the environment. They advanced in slow, careful steps, almost prone. The fiends’ sense of sight was poor, but their sense of smell and hearing were exceptionally sharp. By keeping low and minimizing noise, they hoped to ambush the fiends unawares.

However, as they moved, the leader’s foot unexpectedly crushed into the ground, emitting a sharp crunch. "Fuck!" he growled, before the fiends began to stir and turn toward him. "Fuck it! Charge!" he bellowed.

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Later, Yur sat against a cave wall, breathing heavily. His bloodstained hands trembled as he stared at the smoldering remains of the recently slain fiend. "That should be number eight," he murmured to himself. The constant cycle of running, sneaking, and assassinating—even though exhausting—had proven rewarding. Not only had the number of flames within him grown, but his black star had also expanded in size and power, channeling a surge of strength that bolstered his deadly abilities.

"Let’s check out the volcano," he decided, opting to remain in the cave rather than risk a riskier assassination on a stronger foe. After a brief rest, he ventured deeper into the cave. The passage was a seething cauldron of heat, beasts roamed amidst sporadic eruptions of bubbling lava from the ceiling.

Fortunately, none of these creatures exceeded the Fourth Rank, making them relatively manageable adversaries. Slowly, Yur pressed onward, navigating the treacherous maze until he reached a large opening.

"Yur?" a voice called from afar. Karsi’s silhouette came into view on the opposite side. "What are you doing here?" Karsi’s tone held both doubt and confusion.

Yur, positioned on the side occupied by the non–Black Star Seekers, suddenly found himself the center of attention. Around him were numerous Rank Sevens and Eights, with only two Rank Nines present; one of them, notably, was Karsi.

"Quickly, come here," Karsi ordered, waving him over. Though puzzled, Yur valued the alliance; after all, two against many was preferable to standing alone. Yur obeyed, swiftly flying over and ignoring the hostile glares and frowns from others.

"What were you doing there?" Karsi inquired once they met, his eyes filled with both skepticism and curiosity.

"Taking out a few of the trash," Yur replied casually, his tone brimming with cold confidence.

Karsi smirked and laughed heartily. "Good job! Haha!"

Some of the others frowned at what they perceived as mocking levity, but Yur paid them no heed.

"Now then, are you ready for this final step?" Karsi asked after his laughter subsided, wiping tears from his eyes.

"I’m confused about what this place is," Yur admitted.

"You see that, up there?" Karsi said without surprise, pointing to the top of the vast area.

Looking up, Yur saw a singular Obelisk; similar to one he had encountered before. It wasn’t large, but it pulsed with a formidable aura.

"We need to reach it and touch it," Karsi declared. "Whoever can make contact with it first will be immediately transported to the test grounds. Pass the test, and you’ll gain more strength, new powers, and come ever closer to your true potential. Fail, and you’ll end up much weaker than these pigs."

Hearing this, Yur nodded firmly. "I understand."

"Good. Now pay attention," Karsi said as he turned to face the obelisk. Yur too faced it, waiting for a signal to dash.

The atmosphere fell silent as every seeker’s gaze locked on the hovering obelisk, its aura a barrier that kept them at bay. Time seemed to stretch as they all waited for the pressure to vanish.

And suddenly—the pressure released. Karsi and the other Rank Nines vanished in an instant.

"GO!" came the final command, and with that, chaos erupted as the seekers launched themselves toward the obelisk.

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