The Damned Demon

Darkness surrounded Asher.

But it wasn't the kind of darkness that suffocated.

No—this was different.

This darkness was alive.

It pulsed, breathed, and whispered as it wrapped around him like a vast, ancient ocean.

He sat cross-legged, still as stone, his body cloaked in tendrils of dark green mana that swirled like serpents in an eternal spiral. They slithered through the air, rippling with ancient power, not corrupted or vile—but pure, refined beyond the comprehension of mortal creation.

This mana didn't burn bright like radiant energy nor dark like demonic mana. It simply was. Unshackled, formless, timeless.

And as Asher drank it in, he understood why Skully called it divine. He could still hear everything that was happening around him despite being deep in mediation.

His skin—what little remained of it—shimmered in the ambient light, revealing the glowing silhouette of his skeleton. Bone by bone, cell by cell, muscle by muscle—his entire form was rebuilding itself from the ground up.

The mana didn't simply heal.

It reformed.

It tore down what was weak, what was mortal, what was imperfect… and replaced it with something more. His body twisted inwards, not in pain, but in a strange, euphoric ache—like a chrysalis cracking apart from within.

His veins throbbed as his mana circuit stretched and reshaped itself. What was once linear and flawed now curled and branched like the roots of an ancient world tree—every path a conduit for something far greater than ordinary mana.

He felt it—his core opening, stretching wider than ever before. The air around him quaked as the mana responded, vibrating with a low, deep hum that echoed through the ruins like a lost heartbeat from an ancient god.

This was what he had been missing all along.

Not strength… but the path to it.

And then, he heard it.

That voice.

That empty, hollow echo he had come to recognize.

Skully.

"Your body remembers. Your soul clings to instinct. But instinct must be sharpened into will."

The words rang through the air without emotion, without inflection. Like a sermon from death itself.

Asher's thoughts stirred. His brows furrowed within the cocoon of power.

"What am I missing?" he asked silently, not with his lips—but with his will. For some reason, Skully seemed to be able to hear his thoughts.

Skully's voice echoed in his head, "You understand now what your body truly needs. But understanding is not mastery."

The tendrils of mana around Asher grew wild, more turbulent. His bones cracked and reformed again, muscles thickened and stretched as the circuits within his body glowed with dark green lines, marking the elevation of his being.

"Then tell me what I must master," Asher demanded inwardly.

There was silence at first. Then—

"The world feeds on life. Everything that lives consumes something else. Even the gods. Even the damned."

Asher's eyes glowed within the black, his breathing slow, steady.

"So what do I consume?" he asked.

"The breath of the living fades with death… but the soul, even when broken, leaves behind echoes."

A vision shimmered in Asher's mind.

He saw himself in the middle of a battlefield. Corpses all around. Dozens—no, hundreds—of bodies strewn across the blood-drenched earth.

But then he saw it—wisps of pale light rising from each fallen enemy. Faint tendrils of mana left behind in death's wake. The dying soul's final release… untethered, unnoticed, wasted.

Until now.

In the vision, the wisps curled toward Asher. Like moths to a flame, they sought him, clung to him… and vanished into his core.

Each one sent a burst of energy rippling through his limbs. Power. Life. Strength. The very breath of the damned—becoming his.

"This is your nature," Skully's voice echoed once more. "You are not of the cycle. You were forged outside it. And so the world must give to you… even in death."

"What is this power?" Asher asked, his voice a whisper in his mind. However, he was curious to know how Skully knows about his nature even though he knew his question wouldn't be answered.

"The dying breath of a man carries the darkness of his soul. A darkness that only you can consume. The Breath of the Damned."

A silence fell. But in that silence, Asher's core ignited.

A second pulse thundered through the ruins.

Dark green light exploded outward from his chest. The tendrils of mana lashed and scattered like a storm unleashed. The ground rumbled. The air warped.

"What the hell?" Even from afar, Rebecca, who had healed and woken up by now, jolted in alarm as she saw the cyclone of energy surging around him.

Valeria, standing guard like a shadow, narrowed her eyes.

Skully only tilted his head ever so slightly, the flames in his magma-covered sockets flickering.

Inside the maelstrom, Asher's eyes were burning with radiant, hellish green. The air around him warped. The darkness shuddered.

The Breath of the Damned was now a part of him—an instinct born anew.

It flowed with every inhale, exhaled with every beat of his heart.

And deep within his soul, something clicked.

[ New Passive Ability Gained ]

Passive Ability :

[ Breath of the Damned - Every enemy that would fall by your hand, every soul that would cry in its final breath will now feed you. Their suffering. Their death. Their release—will be your salvation ]

Asher felt a sense of relief and satisfaction to see what he had just mastered.

Ever since he woke up as a demon he was plagued by the fact that he couldn't absorb mana.

But now he didn't care anymore that he couldn't absorb mana like others could.

Why would he when he can absorb from those that will burn in his damned flames?

Not too far away,

Rebecca's eyes glowed with frustration and envy as she watched Asher standing in the center of the training grounds, his skeletal form wrapped tightly in writhing, dark-green tendrils of mana.

She could feel the oppressive power radiating from him, intensifying day by day. It was as if the very air around him had grown heavy, saturated with hellish strength.

She shifted her gaze toward Skully, standing eerily still nearby.

He was observing Asher silently, utterly motionless and emotionless.

She was sure by now that Skully was somehow teaching or guiding Asher since he seemed to, at times, stand still and stare at Asher for hours and wouldn't budge no matter what she said or asked.

Rebecca felt a pang of bitterness in her chest, clenching her fists until her knuckles whitened. How much stronger would Asher become before he finally deemed her useless, a mere burden unworthy of standing beside him?

The thought ignited a fiery desperation within her. Without further hesitation, she strode toward Skully, her footsteps heavy with determination. Stopping abruptly before his damned figure, she crossed her arms, her icy aura chilling the air around her.

"You," she began sharply, lifting her chin defiantly, "I've had enough of standing idle. I demand you guide me as well. Show me the way to gain greater strength."

Skully turned slowly to face her, the pale flames in his eye sockets flickering curiously. "Guide you?" His voice echoed with amusement, deep and resonant. "You already possess formidable power relative to the scale of this world. You've reached the very peak of your potential."

Rebecca's eyes narrowed dangerously, her voice dripping with cold arrogance, "Peak? I can't believe you said that after your dear disciple smashed in my pretty face. This can't be my peak when Asher is soaring past every limitation, growing stronger under your guidance every day, let alone Valeria. If you teach me, perhaps," she paused, pride edging into her voice, "perhaps I might even allow myself to be your new disciple."

Skully remained indifferent as he said, "Your boldness is irrelevant. The path forward for you isn't about merely evolving your abilities. Your power over ice, blood, and even the whispers of death itself—cannot advance without strengthening your physical body as well. And evolving your innate strength at this stage is nearly impossible."

Rebecca's jaw tightened, her teeth grinding audibly as frustration bubbled up inside her. Her gaze flicked back toward Asher, whose bones shimmered with newfound might, the aura surrounding him pulsating with terrifying potency. The gap between them was widening, and the painful truth twisted like a dagger in her chest.

"I don't care about odds," she hissed through clenched teeth, turning back to face Skully. "Even if the chance is only one in a million like you made it sound, I will take it. I've survived far worse than impossible odds."

Skully tilted his head slightly, his voice growing even colder. "Are you truly certain? Failure will mean an excruciating death—and even if not, you will suffer an agony beyond your comprehension."

Rebecca hesitated momentarily, her icy bravado wavering. But as she remembered the world above her—the dark, shattered landscape of Zalthor, her home teetering on the brink of destruction at the hands of relentless humans—her resolve hardened into icy certainty. Her eyes, glowing dark red and fierce, met Skully's unflinchingly.

A cold smirk curled across her lips as she straightened, her voice carrying chilling conviction. "The very first lesson I learned in this wretched world was that without strength, I'm as good as dead. Pain? Pain was my teacher. It shaped me, forged me from a fragile creature into something capable of surviving everything this world threw at me."

Her voice dropped to a whisper, raw and sincere. "The humans will destroy everything I've ever known—everything I still care about—if I remain weak. If it means enduring unimaginable agony, then I will gladly accept it."

A tense silence lingered between them. Finally, Skully's voice echoed like a dark prophecy.

"Very well. Let us begin."