Rearing Demons
Chapter 56: Summoning a Demon

Chapter 56: Summoning a Demon

"That should be the last of them."

Wiping his face, Damon stepped out of the ruined city. Blood splattered his face, and he lifted a hand to wipe it away, though it only smeared the crimson further across his skin.

Hundreds of people watched him from a distance, their eyes filled with fear, rage, and disbelief.

"Don’t worry, all of the demonic cultivators are dead. Everything will be—"

Splat!

A tomato struck his cheek.Then another.

Before he could finish speaking, red fruits and garbage pelted him from all directions.

"Get out of here!"

"You killed our saviors!"

"Get lost!"

Despite their fear, the mortals hurled whatever they could find, their desperation outweighing their caution.

To them, the Demonic Holy City had been their only chance at peace, and Damon had just taken that away.

He had destroyed their only hope of survival.

"You ungrateful idiots!" He scowled, his fists clenching. "These demonic cultivators would have used you for their own gain!"

"And now we will all die!" someone shouted back.

"At least they gave us a chance! You righteous cultivators kill us more than they do!"

"Yeah!"

A roar of agreement surged through the crowd.

"Leave! We don’t want you here!"

Damon ground his teeth but didn’t argue. Despite the fruits and scraps pelting him, he turned and walked away, ignoring their shrieks of anger.

Damon!

A voice suddenly rang in his head.

Master? He asked in hesitation.

When he was younger, he had joined Olmi’s sect. Years later, he had encountered his true master—the Black Lord.

I have a task for you.

Unlike the Azure Lord, the Black Lord wasted no time.

Yes, Master.

I need you to enter Zulmasharr and investigate which demon the demonic cultivators are working with.

Damon’s brow furrowed. If the answer was so easy to find, someone would have solved this mystery long ago.

But even after years of searching, the truth remained hidden.

But Master, how...

Just listen.

The Demonic Holy City you destroyed was nothing more than a distraction. Something is happening within Zulmasharr after Demon King Yukinly’s death. Enter and find out what.

Damon’s eyes narrowed.

The mission wouldn’t be easy, but it aligned with his goal of entering Zulmasharr.

Understood, Master. I will begin my investigation immediately.

He gripped his weapon, then took off toward the portal—the one he had entered in the past.

This time, however—there were no demons guarding it. The place was silent. As if nothing had ever been here.

As he neared the portal, the Black Lord’s voice rang out again.

Also...

Pain suddenly surged through Damon’s right hand. A sharp jolt shot up his arm as a black lightning bolt burned into his skin.

Right now, every Lord is preparing their successors. I don’t care about the others, but I refuse to let you lose to the Azure Lord’s brat.

Damon stared at the mark, slightly taken aback.

Master, is this... an entry into the Blackened Light World?

Like the Azure World, the Blackened Light World was a realm created by the Black Lord—a place where his successors could train, cultivate, and seek refuge if needed.

I am giving you access, along with the resources you need to grow stronger.

The Black Lord’s tone sharpened.

This mission was given by the Guardian. Do not fail.

That title was no ordinary one. The Guardian of Afloria was the most powerful and mysterious being in the world.

Even among the most powerful, only the Afloria Lords had ever met him—and even then, only if he allowed it.

His role was to defend Afloria from external threats, while the Afloria Lords handled internal dangers.

Yes, and he probably gave the Azure brat a task as well. If he completes his, and you don’t, it will reflect poorly on me. So do well, and I will reward you accordingly.

Damon’s grip tightened. Understood, Master.

Excitement flickered in his gaze as he stared at the mark on his hand. He had already been powerful before becoming the Black Lord’s successor—but after inheriting that title, his strength had soared to unprecedented heights.

His talent had evolved beyond comparison, surpassing even those at higher cultivation realms.

Good. Do not disappoint me.

The connection severed, and Damon stepped through the portal.

————————————————————————

On the other side, he was met with...

Nothing. The land was empty.

This was the area where Demon King Yukinly’s army had once been stationed.

Just a month ago, the place had been teeming with demons. Now—it was utterly desolate.

"This should be Marrow Island..."

He recalled the maps he had studied years ago.

As a cultivator, his memory was near perfect, capable of recalling even the smallest details with clarity.

His boots pressed into white sand, the crunch beneath his feet echoing through the silence.

Pillars of massive bones jutted from the ground, holding back entire mountains, as if caging them in.

Beside them, enormous, withered trees loomed, their bark drained of life.

The island was a graveyard.

As he moved forward, a faint whisper drifted through the air.

"Get the ritual started."

Damon froze. His body lowered instinctively, his steps silent as he tiptoed toward the voices.

"You idiot! Did you prepare the sacrifices?!"

"Calm yourself! I have them here!"

There were multiple figures, and their conversation was growing tense.

Pressing himself against a bone pillar, Damon peered around it.

A group of twelve figures stood in a tight circle, dressed in flowing white robes.

At their feet...

A pile of... skin?

His eyes narrowed.

What the hell is that?

"Damn it, you all make me do the worst tasks!" One of the figures complained.

"Skinning those women alive was a nightmare! Their screams nearly made me go deaf!"

"So? Last ritual, I had to—"

Damon’s fists clenched as a streak of black lightning rippled across his skin.

The conversation was infuriating. He struggled to keep himself still.

Calm down! But it was difficult.

Demonic cultivators were the worst kind of humans.

A disgrace to their own kind.

"Enough wasting time!"

One of them spoke with authority, a black hat resting atop his head.

That must be the leader.

Damon narrowed his eyes but remained still, watching.

"Did you kill the sacrifices?"

"You know the messenger only eats peeled flesh."

"Yes, yes."

A dozen skinned humans were suddenly dragged into the circle.

Damon’s heart pounded. They were alive. Their bodies stripped of skin—

Blood pooling beneath them, their raw flesh exposed to the air.

Their screams echoed.

"Shut up!"

A large needle appeared, sewing their lips shut.

Damon gripped his sword, his breath shaky. If not for stabbing his own palm, he would have already rushed in.

He had to see what they were summoning. This was a major lead.

The chanting grew louder.

A purple flame ignited within the ritual circle.

Then— A massive, bloated hand emerged from the fire. The demon had arrived.