The smoke parted.
Two blazing eyes glared at Asura from the crater's edge, burning hotter than molten iron. Steam hissed in long, searing breaths as the Abyssal Behemoth stepped forward, its colossal claws gouging trenches into the ruined ground. Cracks glowed under its feet, magma bubbling up where its weight crushed the earth.
Asura's golden eyes narrowed. He tightened his grip on the wooden katana until the grain dug into his palm. His legs trembled—not from fear, but from exhaustion. His body ached, his mana reserves were already unstable, yet his stubborn fire refused to dim.
"…So this is the gap between me and a World Boss."
The monster threw back its head and roared. The sound was no mere cry—it was the wrath of a mountain ripping itself apart. The very air convulsed. Shockwaves tore outward, flattening the forest for miles. Birds dropped from the sky, the earth shook violently, and Asura's ears rang so hard it felt like knives in his skull.
The system erupted in a storm of scarlet text.
[Danger: Combat not recommended.]
[Warning: Hidden Ability unstable.]
[Estimated survival rate: 0.3%.]
[Probability of collapse: 97%.]
[Escape advised immediately.]
"Zero point three percent?" Asura hissed, panting. His knuckles whitened around the hilt. "Hah… guess that means there's still a chance."
But even as he forced the grin, his body betrayed him. His chest heaved, sweat stung his eyes, his knees buckled under the Behemoth's sheer aura. His wooden blade, glowing faintly with mana, vibrated in his grip as if warning him too.
The Behemoth lowered its massive head. Molten breath spilled from its nostrils, washing over Asura like a furnace. The ground sizzled under the heat, stones cracking open, trees igniting where the smoke touched.
It pawed once. The crater shook.
Twice. The air itself warped under its presence.
Then it surged forward—an avalanche of muscle and magma.
Asura's system wailed. His instincts screamed. And for the first time since his reincarnation, his grin faltered.
"…Not yet. I'm not ready for this."
His golden eyes flickered. His body blurred with mana.
"Teleport."
✦ The Escape
The world twisted.
Asura reappeared at the far edge of the ruined crater, stumbling forward as his knees buckled. He could feel the mana tearing through his veins, too much, too fast, but he forced it anyway. He didn't dare stop.
The Abyssal Behemoth turned with terrifying speed for its size, molten eyes locking onto him. Its claws slammed down where he had been a heartbeat before, tearing a canyon into the earth.
"Too close!" Asura gasped, his childish voice ragged.
He blurred again.
Pop!
This time he landed on a jagged ridge of black stone, winded but still upright. For an instant, he dared to breathe—
The Behemoth's tail smashed into the cliffside.
The entire ridge exploded beneath his feet, fragments of stone larger than houses hurled into the sky. Asura yelped, mana flooding his body as he teleported again, the world spinning around him.
Pop!
He reappeared midair. His stomach lurched, his lungs seized as he plummeted.
[Warning: Teleport miscalculated. Spatial anchor unstable.]
"Not now!" he shouted, forcing another blink of light—
Pop!
This time he hit the ground rolling, his wooden katana flying from his hand. He scrambled to his feet just in time to see a torrent of molten breath sweeping toward him, igniting the forest in a sea of fire.
The trees howled as they burned, their veins of mana erupting into fountains of sparks. The night sky glowed crimson, the shadows of the flames dancing across the demon woods.
The heat hit Asura like a wall. His skin stung, his eyes watered. Still, he grit his teeth and teleported again.
Each jump pulled at him, like pieces of his body were being left behind. His limbs grew heavy, his small chest convulsed with ragged gasps, and his vision doubled, then tripled.
The system screamed across his sight.
[Warning: Mana circuits overheating.]
[Warning: Probability of collapse—99%.]
[Immediate retreat mandatory.]
"Shut… up!" Asura snarled, spitting blood. His golden eyes burned with stubborn fire. "I decide when I stop!"
But even as he shouted, he knew the truth. His tiny body wasn't built to channel this much power. Every teleport carved away at him. Every blink dragged him closer to collapse.
Behind him, the Abyssal Behemoth pursued, relentless. Its colossal frame crushed through mountains, scattering stone like gravel. Its roars shook rivers until they boiled, the water hissing into steam that clouded the forest for miles. With each swing of its claws, entire swathes of woodland disappeared, flattened into dust and flame.
And yet—it was gaining.
The ground quaked as it closed in. Its molten eyes locked onto him, its fury undeniable.
Another roar split the heavens, and Asura felt his blood run cold.
He stumbled forward, his legs trembling, his body screaming for rest. But survival was instinct—an instinct stronger than exhaustion, stronger than fear.
He raised one hand, forcing the last fragments of his mana into a single, desperate spell.
"Teleport!"
Pop!
He reappeared on the bank of a wide, black river. His knees gave out instantly, his body tumbling forward into the shallow current. The cold water soaked his clothes, carrying away the sweat, the blood, the heat of the chase. His wooden katana drifted beside him, bumping softly against his arm.
The Behemoth's roar echoed faintly in the distance. It had stopped—either losing interest, or preparing to return. The tremors of its steps grew quieter, until even the forest itself fell silent again.
Asura lay on his back, gasping for air. His vision swam, stars blinking in and out as though he hovered on the edge of unconsciousness. His arms trembled too much to even lift his blade.
"…I'm alive," he whispered hoarsely, the words half a laugh, half a sob.
The system chimed once more, merciless and cold:
[Status: Critical.]
[Survival: Pending.]
[Recommendation: Forced rest required.]
Asura chuckled weakly, his small chest heaving. His golden eyes flickered faintly before sliding shut.
"…Grandfather's gonna kill me for this…"
The river carried him gently, cradling the unconscious boy as the night swallowed the clearing.
✦ The Rescue
The forest still burned in places, faint embers licking at the blackened trees. Smoke drifted like ghosts through the branches, and the air reeked of ash and scorched earth. But past the devastation, at the river's edge, all was quiet.
The current carried something small and pale downstream—a boy with silver hair plastered to his face, his body limp, his tiny hand still half-curled as if gripping an invisible blade.
"Asura!"
Selene's voice rang sharp through the silence. She burst into the clearing, her violet eyes wild with panic. Her maid's uniform, so often pristine, was torn and dirty from her desperate search. Her heart thudded painfully in her chest, each beat echoing like a war drum.
She scanned the riverbank—and froze.
There.
Her breath hitched, and the world narrowed to a single sight: her young master, lying half-submerged in the shallows, his small chest rising and falling with shallow, uneven breaths. His once-clean robes were singed and dirt-streaked, his horns faintly glowing from mana backlash. Beside him, his wooden katana floated lazily, as if mocking her with its childish simplicity.
Selene dropped to her knees in the water, heedless of the cold that soaked her skirts.
"No, no, no… Young master!" Her hands trembled as she pulled him into her arms. His skin was fever-hot, his body twitching with faint spasms—the telltale signs of mana overuse.
Tears pricked her eyes, but she blinked them away furiously. This was no time to cry. "What did you do, Asura…? What in the gods' names did you face out here?"
He stirred faintly in her grasp, lips parting. A soft, breathless laugh escaped him, weak but eerily satisfied. As if he had won some invisible battle, even as his body broke down around him.
Selene's chest tightened painfully. "You reckless fool… smiling even now."
She pressed her forehead gently to his damp hair, closing her eyes. For all her training, for all her duty as a servant of the Demon King, the instinct that overwhelmed her now was not obedience. It was something rawer. Fiercer. Almost maternal.
"…Don't leave me," she whispered. "Don't you dare leave me."
The faint glow of his system still clung to him—symbols and text she could not decipher, flickering like dying fireflies. She could not read them, but she didn't need to. She knew. He had brushed against something impossible tonight. Something far beyond his years.
And still, he had survived.
Her arms tightened around him, protective, as if her embrace alone could shield him from the weight of what he had done. "You're safe now. I'll make sure of it. Even if I must lie to His Majesty, even if the entire court demands answers… I will protect you."
She rose carefully, lifting his small frame against her chest. Despite his fever and weight, she carried him with steady steps. Each crunch of her boots on the ashen soil felt deafening in the silence.
The forest around her was eerily still, animals gone silent, trees scarred by fire and claw marks. The very land bore witness to a clash beyond its comprehension. She walked through it like a lone survivor carrying away the one soul who mattered.
The stars above flickered faintly, their cold light veiled by smoke. Each one seemed to watch as she crossed back into the shadows of the forest, Asura's faint breaths warming her collarbone.
She dared not think of what would happen when the Demon King found out.
She dared not think of the eyes of the court, or the whispers of the nobles.
All she allowed herself to think was a single, silent vow:
Whatever calamity you awaken, Asura… I will be there. Even if it destroys me.
And with that vow burning in her chest, Selene carried him back toward the citadel.
✦ Back in the Castle
Asura woke with a sharp gasp. His body jerked upright, only for pain to lance through his chest, forcing him to collapse back onto the bed. He winced, sweat slicking his brow, his small frame trembling not from exhaustion but from the rush of adrenaline still clawing at his veins.
The chamber around him was still. Velvet curtains draped heavily over tall windows, cutting most of the moonlight, leaving the torches as the only source of glow. Shadows stretched across polished obsidian floors, warping and twisting with each flicker of flame. The faint scent of smoke and oil clung to the air, but the devastation he had last seen was gone.
He was safe.
…For now.
The silken sheets tangled around him felt too soft, too warm—mocking his restless spirit. His body bore the marks of his recklessness: faint red burns crisscrossed his arms where mana had overloaded his circuits, his legs ached with deep bruises from his desperate landings, and his lungs still burned as if the Behemoth's molten breath lingered inside him.
Ding.
The familiar chime rang softly in his mind. The translucent system window shimmered into view.
[Note: Fled from Abyssal Behemoth encounter.]
[Hidden Title Acquired: Coward's Wisdom.]
[Effect: +10% survival instincts, +5% agility when retreating.]
For a long heartbeat, Asura only stared. Then his lips twitched, and laughter spilled from him—ragged, breathless, but genuine.
"'Coward's Wisdom'!? Seriously!?" he wheezed, clutching his stomach though it hurt to laugh. His golden eyes sparkled even through the exhaustion, tears of mirth pricking the corners of his eyes. "The system actually gave me a reward for running away!?"
The glow of the message pulsed softly, uncaring of his mockery.
Slowly, his laughter subsided, leaving him slumped against the pillows, chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. His grin faded into something quieter, more thoughtful.
"…Maybe it's not cowardice," he whispered. His gaze drifted toward the ceiling, his mind replaying the clash—each roar, each molten step, each time the Behemoth had tanked his strongest attacks like they were nothing.
He had seen power before. His grandfather's throne radiated it. The generals bore it in their presence. But this? This was something different. Something vast. Something meant to remind the world of its place.
And yet, against all reason, he had stood there. He had fought.
And he had lived.
His fists clenched tightly against the sheets.
"One day, I'll fight it again," he said, his golden eyes gleaming in the torchlight. "Not to run. Not to survive. But to win."
The system shimmered faintly, as though acknowledging his vow.
"…And next time," his voice grew sharper, steadier, "I'll be strong enough to make even a World Boss kneel."
A quiet rustle came from the corner of the room. Selene stirred in her chair, where she had sat vigil for hours. Her violet eyes softened at the sight of him—this child, trembling and scarred, yet burning with impossible fire.
She said nothing, afraid to break the moment. But her hand curled into a fist in her lap, her chest tightening with something unspoken. Pride. Fear. A bond that had already grown deeper than servant and master.
Asura didn't notice her gaze. He sat upright now, staring at his small hands as though they already held the weight of swords and spells far beyond him. His body trembled, but his eyes never wavered.
The torches flickered lower, shadows bending across the room. Beyond the castle walls, the Demon Realm slept uneasily, the tremors of the Behemoth's awakening still lingering in its bones.
And in the heart of it, a golden-eyed child whispered to himself a vow only he could hear.
"I'll carve my name into this world. No matter what it takes."
Selene closed her eyes briefly, holding that image close—the reckless, brilliant, terrifying boy she had sworn to serve.
And may the gods help us all when he succeeds.
✦ The Oath
Asura sank deeper into the silken mattress, his small body dwarfed by the grand bed. Every muscle ached, every nerve still hummed with pain from mana strain, yet none of it compared to the storm in his mind.
He lay motionless, golden eyes fixed on the ceiling, but what he saw was not velvet drapery or flickering torchlight. It was fire. It was ruin.
It was eyes.
Twin spheres of molten gold, burning with primeval hatred, boring into him as if to brand his soul. The Abyssal Behemoth's gaze was etched into his memory, as vivid as the day's last sunlight, impossible to forget.
His chest tightened, a phantom roar rattling through his ribs. Even here, safe beneath his grandfather's roof, he could almost hear it. That sound—no, that force—had shaken the forest, split the ground, and drowned out his heartbeat until he had believed he would die.
He trembled. Sweat slid down his temple, cooling against his fevered skin.
He hated it.
Hated the way his body remembered fear. Hated the way his lungs still flinched at the memory of molten breath. Hated the weakness that had forced him to flee.
"…Next time," he whispered hoarsely, gripping the blanket until his knuckles whitened. "Next time, it won't be me running away."
The words were barely audible, but they carried weight far greater than the boy who spoke them.
He repeated them, again and again, each time louder in his heart. Not an excuse. Not bravado. A promise. A vow that sank into his bones like steel.
Next time, I will stand.
Next time, I will fight.
Next time, I will win.
The system remained silent. No titles, no notifications. Only its faint glow lingered in the corner of his vision, as if it too had acknowledged the oath without words.
His golden eyes finally closed, heavy with exhaustion, but the images did not fade. The roar echoed still, chasing him into sleep, reminding him of the mountain that towered over him, the abyss he had to conquer.
Across the room, Selene sat in her chair, hands folded neatly in her lap. She had not moved for hours. The torchlight painted her profile in soft gold, but her eyes gleamed with quiet turmoil.
She had found him broken and burning, his tiny frame trembling in her arms. She had carried him back through the forest, whispering desperate prayers with every step. And now, she watched him sleep, his brow furrowed even in dreams, his lips twitching faintly as if fighting invisible foes.
Her chest ached.
"…Reckless child," she murmured, so softly it melted into the crackle of the torches.
To the world, he was a prince. To the Demon King, he was an heir. To her… he was a boy. A boy too small to bear the weight of what he had just endured. And yet, she had seen the fire in his eyes, the way his fists clenched even as he trembled.
He would rise. She had no doubt. And when he did, the world would tremble.
Selene pulled the blanket higher over his shoulders and sat back, her gaze never leaving him.
Outside, the winds howled across the Demon Realm. The land itself seemed restless, as though it had felt the clash of power between a child and a monster meant to humble nations. The stars flickered faintly, veiled by thin clouds of smoke still drifting from the forest.
In the heart of it all, a boy whispered oaths in his dreams, carving his future in silence.
And beside him, a maid who had become something more bore witness to the birth of a destiny far greater than either of them could yet imagine.