Rearing Demons
Chapter 55: Healing

Chapter 55: Healing

[Blood Sigils {Rank 5} Complete: 9/10]

[Reward: 3200 Demon Points]

[Demon Points: 8912]

Yur sat within his Cyralim, staring at the nine Blood Sigils suspended in the air like blood-drenched stars against his black-and-white world.

Sealing four rank five beings had been an intense process.

Luckily, his Severed Crucible was potent, its supply of demonic essence seemingly limitless. Combined with the fact that these rank five demons were already injured or weakened, the process was far easier than sealing demon Brune, whose strength had been terrifying even in comparison.

Before Velmira transformed him, Brune had been an extremely powerful Luminous Heart cultivator. Even after becoming a demon, he still exceeded even Ris in raw power.

"Now then, with one Sigil left to fill, I should be able to make progress toward the next step."

The Blood Sigils were a requirement for the Rite of Blood Dominion, but there were still other preparations left before he could advance.

Thankfully, once the Sigils were complete, there would be no need to collect anything further—he would finally be ready.

His gaze shifted toward his Demon Points. He was close.

Just a bit more, and he could finally purchase the Ritual Basics book, unlocking the knowledge of rituals for himself.

While residing within Jisvruul, Yur had spent countless hours sorting through Mal’s memories, unraveling hidden truths about the world and himself.

Even his own strength had leaped forward.

If not for the disparity in raw power between rank five beings, whose speed and physical prowess far exceeded his, he was certain his skills alone would be enough to rival them—even surpass them.

Zul, what does freedom mean to you?

The question came suddenly, piercing the stillness of his mind.

Since the beginning of this journey, Zul had been with him. He understood Yur better than anyone.

[My understanding is the same as the Host’s.]

Makes sense.

Yur remained seated, his gaze locked onto the silver glow of the moon, fascinated by its beauty.

You know, Zul, there is no freedom in running.

He spoke aloud, replaying fragments of Mal’s memories. A being so powerful, yet to Krinli and Yawan, he had been nothing more than an ant.

A being who, despite his immense strength, had constantly bent his head, submitting to forces beyond his control.

Yur had seen it all.

From Mal’s beginning to his bitter end—though many fragments were still missing, he had seen enough.

A man who flees is just a slave to his fear.

A man who bows his head is a slave to power.

And a man who succumbs to desire is a slave to himself.

He repeated the words softly, watching the moon above, once ensnared by corroding chains.

True freedom is not escape.

True freedom is not defiance.

True freedom is simply the ability to walk through the world with your head unbent.

Not because no one can break you—

But because there is no force strong enough to make you kneel.

He reached out, fingers stretching toward the distant silver glow, as if trying to grasp the moon itself.

[Host truly desires freedom...]

It had been clear ever since the Ritual of the Successor.

But now—understanding the world through both his own past and Mal’s fragmented life—his reasoning had solidified.

His definition of freedom had become absolute.

Zul, I will not run. I will not bow. I will be free—no matter the cost.

[Processing Host’s desires...]

————————————————————————

"Where did that idiot go?"

Running through the fleshy land, Velmira was back in her human form.

One of her arms was still missing, while her upper thighs were mangled, flesh decayed and burnt.

Her clothes were in tatters, barely clinging to her body, exposing the devastating injuries scattered across her skin.

"If I hadn’t transformed that Husked Lord into one of my own, I would have died back there." Though a lucky shot, she had managed to trick one of the Husked Lords, turning it into one of her own, catching it completely off guard.

That had bought her enough time to have the newborn demon fight in her place, giving her the perfect opportunity to escape.

"I hate that form so much!" Gritting her teeth, she scowled at the memory of their reactions.

The humans who had woken up were mostly dead now. Luckily, she had managed to snatch a few and consume them, using their essence to regain some strength for her escape.

Still, the fact that they had vomited at the mere sight of her form left her deeply unsettled.

"I need to get rid of this damned form." Lifting her head, she sniffed the air, tracking Jisvruul’s scent.

Since Jisvruul had been created from her own demons, she was able to recognize his presence, as long as he wasn’t too far away.

As long as he was within the Eyes of Dripping Blood, he could be found.

"He’s that way." Catching his scent, she immediately moved, forcing her battered body forward.

Though she was running, her legs were too weak, making her movements closer to a staggered sprint than an actual run. The only positive was that Jisvruul was also injured, meaning he wouldn’t have been able to get too far.

Even with her limited speed, it still took her several hours to reach the location.

"There’s still an Antic Tower standing here?" She stared at the structure, one of her old creations.

Although she hadn’t been the one to personally create every single Antic Tower, she had designed the first ones, modelling them after the demonic towers found in Aglazeth’s territory.

Entering the tower, she could feel Jisvruul’s presence growing stronger.

He was definitely inside.

Climbing the worn steps, she glanced at the blood stains on the ground but found no sign of Antics or Weeping Lords. He probably killed them to heal.

She didn’t care. At this point, even her past creations would try to kill her. Only whatever she created from now on would be loyal.

That was fine. Having creations made life easier. Why waste time handling everything personally when others could do it for you?

There you are. Reaching the peak of the tower, she spotted Jisvruul in his full form.

He was still badly injured, but there were signs of healing.

Jisvruul’s countless eyes, embedded in his throat, opened slowly, locking onto her figure.

Gra gra! (You escaped!)

Of course I did.

What, you thought I would die?

Gra. (Yes.)

Oh, really?

Gra gra! (I expected you to die, which is why I didn’t wait!)

Her eyebrow twitched. This...

She decided to ignore him and searched for her own space to heal.

Just as she was about to sit down, Jisvruul’s tail tapped her.

What is it? She glared at him, already annoyed from his previous remark.

Gra gra! (Master says to come here. He will help us heal!)

Help us heal? How?

Healing required essence—massive amounts of it.

Normally, by devouring humans or demons, their essence and blood would be converted into power, accelerating their regeneration.

Humans were the best source since their Cyralim’s stored immense essence, making them easier to extract energy from.

Demons, on the other hand, had their essence fused into their blood and flesh, making it harder to absorb.

Gra! (Just come here!)

Jisvruul opened his massive arms, beckoning her forward.

Rolling her eyes, she limped over, the decay creeping through her body, slowly spreading. Each step was heavier than the last.

When she finally settled down beside him, Jisvruul opened his enormous mouth, and vomited a slimy, half-drenched Yur onto her.

Why would you vomit on me?! She flared with rage, saliva dripping down her arms as she glared at Jisvruul.

Jisvruul said nothing, simply resting his massive head on the floor beside Yur.

Velmira’s gaze fell upon the strange being before her. His condition was still shocking.

But before she could speak, something changed.

A thick, red fog began to seep from Yur’s body, curling through the air. It was so dense, she could barely see him through it.

I-is this demonic essence?! She stared in disbelief. The concentration was suffocating.

Every demon needed demonic essence. Just as humans relied on human essence, demons thrived on demonic essence—it wasn’t just a source of power, but the key to their survival.

Most used it to heal wounds, to nourish their strength, but the methods varied.

Unlike demons, humans couldn’t heal physical wounds through essence alone, only their Cyralim.

Yet here, Yur’s essence was unlike anything she had ever seen.

Jisvruul’s tail moved, gently touching Yur’s body.

Gra gra! (Touch him, and he will help you.)

Nodding, she reached out, placing her only hand against the stump of his severed leg.

The moment her skin made contact—

A wave of dense demonic essence surged into her body. The energy was so strong that she could physically feel her wounds closing.

It’s so powerful!

Her missing arm twitched, flesh knitting itself back together. Her burned skin peeled away, replaced by fresh, glistening flesh. Even the deep wound on her neck—the mark of an exile—began to fade.

She froze. W-what?!

The scar on her neck wasn’t an ordinary wound.

It was a mark of exile, a permanent brand burned into her flesh. Yet, even that was healing. Her eyes trembled as she closed them, allowing the overwhelming demonic essence to wash over her.

Her body repaired itself rapidly, her strength returning in full. She was becoming whole again.

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