Rearing Demons
Chapter 61: Morruk; Seeker of Embers

Chapter 61: Morruk; Seeker of Embers

Yur lay motionless on the barren ground, his mind focused only on the flickering notifications before his eyes.

Time for the next step.

Above him, Jisvruul and Velmira stood watch, their gazes fixed on the shifting Blood Sigil containing Ris. It trembled, pulsing with eerie light before being drawn into Yur’s orb—absorbed into his Cyralim.

Jisvruul, make sure the both of you protect me.

The Barren Canyon was his domain, but Yur wasn’t taking any chances. A single mistake, a single breach, and even the Nulith demons lurking in the depths could overwhelm him. He wouldn’t allow anything to disrupt his breakthrough.

Yes, Master. You focus on your breakthrough. I will protect you with my life.

Yur’s consciousness descended into his Cyralim, his body falling away as his mind entered the void.

Inside, the ten Blood Sigils hovered above the ground like crimson stars in a blackened sky.

Their glow was unsettling—watchful, patient.

Yur raised his gaze to them, his expression unreadable.

"So... I now have all of you here."

His tone held no warmth—only quiet finality.

"YUR!" A snarl tore through the silence. Behind one of the cages, Ris thrashed, her mouth freshly healed. "Let me go, or it won’t end well for you!"

She was furious—desperate. She had always been in control, always dictated the terms. But now? Now, she was trapped like a beast in a slaughterhouse.

Yur ignored her.

His hands lifted, and at once, the Blood Sigils began their slow, deliberate motion.

"YUR! LET ME GO!" Her voice was shrill, a mix of rage and fear. She rattled the bars of her prison, but Yur’s focus never wavered.

He had no interest in her pleas.

This was the Rite of the Blood Dominion.

The process was already set in motion.

Zul, show me the instructions.

[Processing...]

[Instructions Loaded.]

Noting the instructions, Yur began.

Moon of Freed Slaves.

Above him, the lone celestial object trembled. A moon once chained—once shackled by unseen forces—began to quake. Its surface cracked like splintering glass.

Suddenly, massive white chains erupted from it, plummeting downward like divine spears.

Each one pierced through the Blood Sigils, coiling around the imprisoned beings.

"YUR! LET ME GO!"

The chains tightened around Ris, constricting her body.Her breathing quickened, her struggles becoming frantic.Fear bled into her voice.

"I’ll reward you! I’ll do anything! I’ll be your slave!"

She tried everything—honeyed words, desperation, manipulation. But Yur never even looked at her.

Ashen Veil.

At his command, the pool of Origin Essence—black and infinite—began to stir.

The surface rippled. Then, it boiled. Tendrils of liquid darkness surged upward, freed from its stillness.

Yur directed the churning mass with a mere flick of his fingers.

The chains, wrapped around the prisoners, became coated in the writhing black substance.

"AHH!"

"RAARRR!"

"HELP!"

The screams of his victims filled the void.

The human wailed.

The demons howled.

Their essence—once bound to them—was being siphoned away.

Yur remained unmoved.

His fingers curled, and with a single thought—

Break.

The Blood Sigils shattered. Exploding into crimson shards.

"ESCAPE!"

For a moment, Ris felt hope. She thought this was a mistake.

But she was wrong. Completely.

The sigils didn’t vanish. Instead, the shards became jagged needles, impaling their bodies.

Each one punctured deep, embedding into their flesh.

Spill.

At his silent command, blood began to flow. The essence of his prisoners, drawn out against their will.

Their bodies convulsed, growing weaker, their vitality trickling downward.

Yur stood at the center of it all. The blood gathered at his feet, an ever-growing crimson pool. The chains, still wrapped around his fingers, began to move.

Each one pulling toward him; toward his waiting palms. And then...

This is it. The Chalice of Severance.

The instrument of dominion. The chalice that would grant him authority over stronger beings. This was not just a ritual...

It was the beginning of his true path to power.

Power is not given.

It is taken.

It is ripped from the throats of enemies.

It is torn from the very fabric of this world.

Yur stared at the black chalice forming in his hands. It was dark—translucent, shaped from the despair of his sacrifices. His cold gaze fell upon the beings who once resisted him.

Now, they were nothing. Empty husks.

Their bones remained, but their flesh had collapsed inward—drained, hollowed out.

Beneath him, the final offering remained. A mass of blood, thick and rich with stolen power.

Yur, without hesitation, knelt. With the Chalice of Severance in hand, he dipped into it.

Now... let me drink to freedom.

The moment the blood touched his lips—

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From the outside, Jisvruul and Velmira watched in shock.

The air itself had changed.

The sky, once still and lifeless, now churned with chaos.

Dark clouds boiled overhead. Lightning ripped through the heavens, jagged veins of light cracking against the abyss.

With every strike, eerie shrieks and guttural howls echoed through the canyon. Velmira’s eyes darted toward the center—toward Yur’s motionless body.

Something was happening. Something terrifying.

"Haha!" Jisvruul’s laughter broke through the storm. His eyes shone with manic devotion, silver irises flickering wildly. "It’s Master! This is Master!"

His voice trembled, not with fear, but with ecstasy.

Yur’s body—once a broken husk—began to shake, to tremble.

The wounds that had sealed over his stumps split open, fresh cracks appearing along his pale skin. His empty sockets flared to life.

A glow—deep, unholy—erupted from within them, flooding his ruined form with a power that made the very ground groan beneath him.

Jisvruul was nearly vibrating in place, his massive claws twitching in excitement. "The Master! Haha!"

His head snapped toward Velmira, his monstrous grin stretched wide. "He’s healing. He’s growing stronger."

Velmira, though powerful in her own right, could not feel what he felt. She had no connection to Yur’s bloodline, no instinctual understanding of what was unfolding. To her, this was unnatural. It was monstrous. And it was beautiful.

"What... what is happening?" Her voice was a whisper.

Jisvruul ignored her, his gaze never leaving Yur’s trembling form. And then—

He changed. His flesh rippled.

A large black sigil—webbed, intricate—spread across his body like living ink. Power poured from it, a raw, suffocating presence.

Velmira inhaled sharply. Jisvruul dropped to his knees. Not by choice.

Velmira’s eyes widened.

A deep, thunderous crack split the canyon floor beneath him.

The force was so strong, it nearly sent her stumbling.

"Vru?" Her voice shook as she stared at him. But Jisvruul wasn’t paying attention. His head remained bowed. His entire body trembled—his wings twitching, his claws digging into the dirt.

He had not knelt. He had been forced to.

Above them, Yur’s transformation continued.

Two massive horns—long, jagged, regal—burst from his skull. A black crown, carved of essence itself, wove into existence above his brow. And his wings—beautifully horrifying—unfurled from his back.

Vast. Endless. Unmatched.

Dark wings stretched outward, dozens of meters in length. With each movement, the air itself seemed to pulse in submission.

The world stilled.

The wind died.

Even the sky, once alive with shrieks and thunder, fell silent. As if holding its breath.

Velmira took a step back. A weight pressed down on her chest, unseen hands squeezing her lungs.

What... is this?

She stared at Yur’s unmoving form, her mind racing.

Then... he moved. His fingers flexed. His wings twitched. And then... his eyes opened.

Velmira felt her stomach drop.

"So... I’m finally back?" His voice was calm. Cold. Controlled.

The sound of it echoed through the canyon, touching every surface, every shadow.

He rose to his full height. Though not as massive as his full demon form, his body stood at three meters, a being sculpted from something far beyond mere flesh. His presence was absolute.

Velmira couldn’t breathe. Jisvruul remained frozen, still kneeling, still trembling.

Yur’s blackened tattoos pulsed faintly, like veins of power woven beneath his skin. His Orb—once visible—was nowhere to be seen. Hidden. Sealed deep within. His gaze flicked toward the empty air before him, scanning something unseen.

"Zul, what is this form?"

His voice lacked curiosity—only quiet certainty. This felt natural. Familiar. It was as if he had always been meant to take this form. A moment passed before the reply came.

[Host, through evolving, has unlocked his Ashkavaal form.]

[The form true to Host’s bloodline.]

Yur exhaled slowly. A slow, calm nod. "I see."

His fingers curled into fists. He tested his grip—his power. He then turned his gaze toward the notifications:

[Quest Complete!]

[Quest Complete!]

[...]

[Quest Complete!]

[Reward: 4500 Demon Points]

[Reward: 4500 Human Points]

|—————————————|

Name: Yur Ashkavaal

Age: 10

Title: Lord of Zulmasharr, Shepherd of Demons

Demon Cultivation: Morruk

Human Cultivation: Seeker of Embers

Bloodline: Severed Ashkavaal

Orb: Cinerath; Severed Ashe

Demons: 1

Demon Points: 14312 (+100/Day)

Human Points: 5131 (+100/Day)

Sanity: 2/100 (>50 = Insanity!)

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