Rearing Demons
Chapter 63: Freed from the Past

Chapter 63: Freed from the Past

Yur walked back to the cocoon, watching as thin cracks webbed across its surface, spreading like veins pulsing with dark energy.

The transformation was nearing completion.

He waited.

The air grew thick, charged with something indescribable. The cocoon trembled, light seeping through the fractures. Then—

With a sharp crack, the shell shattered. From within, she emerged.

Velmira stepped forward, her form unveiled in its entirety. Her skin was flawless, glowing with an unnatural radiance, smooth as untouched porcelain yet soft like moonlit silk.

Every movement was effortless, mesmerizing, entrancing. Her figure was sculpted with delicate precision; dangerous, intoxicating, yet undeniably divine.

Her face...

Beautiful was an understatement. She was beyond beauty, beyond the realm of mere mortals or demons. Her lips curved into a natural, seductive shape, her sharp eyes gleamed with hypnotic depth, and her every breath carried the grace of something reborn.

Velmira stared at her own hands, trembling. "Am I... finally?" Her voice came out as a whisper, barely audible, as if speaking the words would break the illusion.

She lifted her hands higher, flexing her fingers, marvelling at the perfection.

"F-finally?" The disbelief in her voice wavered between laughter and sorrow.

Slowly, she ran her hands along her arms, down her sides, across the curves of her waist—as if confirming that this was real.

She scanned her naked form, absorbing every detail, every inch of herself, and found nothing out of place.

No blemishes. No deformities. There was no pus. No grotesque mutations. No stench. Just perfection.

Her breath hitched as her gaze shifted to Yur, the one who had made this possible.

A single tear welled in her eye, suspended for a moment before slipping down her cheek. She fell to her knees before him. "Thank you."

Her voice was raw, heavy with everything she had endured. The memories crashed over her like a relentless tide—the revulsion, the disgust, the hatred.

A life spent being cast aside, unwanted. A creature deemed unworthy of even being feared.

In a world of predators, she had been neither predator nor prey. To be eaten was a form of validation. To be desired, even as food, meant you were worthy of something.

But no one wanted to consume her.

They didn’t even want to touch her.

Even the most vile demons recoiled. Even the most grotesque creatures whispered her name with contempt.

She was filth.

And so, she built her own world. A place where she could exist without being looked at, where the horror of her own reflection wouldn’t be mirrored in the eyes of others.

Yet even then, the humans she once admired, the ones she once envied for their beauty, had given her the cruelest name.

Mother of Pus.

It had clung to her like a curse.

Now...

Now she was free. Truly free.

Her breath shuddered as she looked up at Yur, the man who had granted her this new existence.

The only one who had never looked at her with disgust. He had not seen a monster. Nor a woman.

Just a being to be shaped.

Molded into something else.

"Get up." His voice was neither cruel nor kind—just absolute.

She obeyed, slowly rising to her feet. Yur’s eyes were unmoved by her beauty. Indifferent. Detached.

She had transcended all expectations of allure, yet it did nothing to him. His next words struck like a hammer.

"You are mine." The weight of those words was absolute. "Just like Jisvruul, you shall bend your will to me."

Velmira nodded instantly. "I will. I will." There was no hesitation, no moment of doubt. She had no reason to resist.

The past was dead. Her old self was gone.

And for the first time, she felt... whole.

She turned her hands over once more, examining them, searching for any remnant of what she once was. Nothing. Her grotesque demon form no longer existed.

No more twisted flesh. No more deformities. No more reasons for people to recoil in disgust.

She was beautiful.

She was flawless.

She was free.

From her past.

From her solitude.

From herself.

|—————————————|

True Name: ⨪⨈⩀⩂⨐⨢⨀

Demon Name: Velmira

Age: 341

Demon Cultivation: Kyrrath

Rank Up: 9999/10000

Bloodline: Blooming Carrion

Abilities

Eclipsed Elegy

Crimson Bloom

Withering Kiss

...

|—————————————|

With Velmira now part of the Ashkavaal bloodline, her transformation was more than just physical. Her true name had been inscribed through Kha’Zaruun, the sacred language of Ashkavaal rituals.

Yur sifted through the information, his gaze indifferent but calculating.

Now, she was his second demon. Not only was she powerful, but she was experienced. Someone useful.

"Jisvruul will return soon. In the meantime, organize this region for me." He pulled up his map, scanning the new territorial update.

So, all of this is mine now?

The map showed the Eyes of Dripping Blood, along with the vast region between Barren Canyon and the Eyes of Dripping Blood, now officially under his control.

The sheer size was staggering.

Thousands of demons now fell within his domain—most weak, but that could be fixed.

"Velmira, come here," he beckoned her over.

"Yes," she responded swiftly, her movements fluid and enticing. Her ample chest bounced slightly as she stepped forward, but Yur remained indifferent.

Placing a hand against her forehead, he imparted the knowledge of his protected territory. Or rather, Zul did.

"This is my region. Nothing enters without my permission. Nothing leaves without my command."

Velmira’s eyes snapped shut as the knowledge flooded into her. The moment she processed what she was seeing, her expression shifted to one of shock.

Her old domain—the very land she once ruled—was now under his will. A slow smile crept onto her lips.

"You will use your abilities to reshape my land," Yur continued. "Transform it to match this."

A single thought pulsed from his mind, transferring a mental image to Velmira.

Her eyes widened as Yur’s Cyralim unfolded in her vision—a world of ashen skies, towering blackened trees, and an atmosphere of boundless, controlled chaos.

"This... will be my world."

Velmira remained silent for a moment. Her previous title—Mother of Pus— had been synonymous with revulsion.

But now...

Now, she had a different purpose. Her power, once used to create a haven for herself, would now be used to build a dominion.

"My ability, Harrowing Genesis, will require your blood... as well as the flesh of many demons."

Her voice carried the sharp edge of understanding, the instinct of someone accustomed to using her power. "Their bodies will transform the land. Your blood will shape it."

Yur gave a nod. Unlike Jisvruul, Velmira possessed great intelligence and experience. She knew herself. She knew her strengths. He wouldn’t need to guide her.

"Go. Gather as many demons as you need." His voice was calm, absolute. "Be done by the end of the day."

"Yes," she answered without hesitation.

With a simple step, she vanished into the distance.

For the first time since his transformation, Yur was alone.

He turned his gaze toward the most important object in the Barren Canyon.

His feet carried him forward, his form casting a long shadow over the growing tree.

The Asheseed Relic. The foundation of his power.

Ritual Fruits dangled from its twisted branches, though most were already damaged—bitten into, broken, useless.

With a silent wave of his hand, the remaining fruits fell to the ground. "Only two left?" He narrowed his eyes.

Zul, purchase the Mark of Miniature Space.

This was something he had wanted for a long time.

A storage mark—not an object—that would etch itself into his being. A space one hundred times larger than his current pendant.

It was time to abandon the old.

[Purchased: Mark of Miniature Space]

[Demon Points Remaining: 21,034]

After converting Velmira into his kin, his points had surged.

Conquering a second region.

Expanding his rule.

Strengthening his dominion.

The results spoke for themselves.

A black mark in the shape of a small diamond materialized on the back of his right hand. He lifted it, staring at it for a brief moment. Then, he reached forward.

As if dipping his hand into the fabric of existence itself, he felt the mark open into an unseen space.

A large screen materialized before him, its slots endless, uncountable.

With a simple thought, everything from his pendant transferred into the Mark of Miniature Space.

He then crushed the pendant.

It was already damaged—it had served its purpose.

The mark, however, was different. It was no longer bound to a mere object.

It was bound to him.

As long as he lived, it would remain.

Yur placed the two Ritual Fruits within for safekeeping.

Afloria... Zul, how do I get there?

[Host can access Afloria through the same portal he originally entered.]

At that moment, something inside him froze.

The portal.

The place he arrived in.

Memories flashed—dark and buried, yet never forgotten.

I will appear near the slave camp. My slave camp.

Yur’s thoughts sharpened like a blade.

Though he had discarded many emotions, though he had cast aside fragments of his past, the slave camp was embedded into his very being.

Something he could never erase.

His dull, red eyes flickered. And then—they burned.

For the first time in a long while, an emotion other than dulled indifference surged through him.

His body tensed, his muscles coiling as his breath deepened.

Anger.

Fury.

Something seething, bubbling, cracking through the numbness.

I will have my revenge.

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