The courtyard had become a battlefield of echoes.
Each swing of Asura's wooden katana cut the silence apart.
Whssshhh! Whssshhh!
Again and again, arcs of silver light tore through the air. The cracked stones beneath his feet split further with every step, dust rising in faint clouds. The once-empty training ground was littered with scars—gouges in the walls from stray mana, tiles shattered from his stomps, scorch marks where fire spells had gone out of control.
Asura's small frame trembled, his arms screaming with fatigue, yet his golden eyes remained locked forward, blazing with the fire of obsession.
Ding!
[Swordsmanship Lv. 8 → Lv. 9.]
Ding!
[Elemental Sword Art Lv. 3 → Lv. 4.]
The system's pings came one after another, but they only made his teeth grind harder.
Not enough. It's still not enough.
His grip tightened, knuckles white against the wooden hilt. Sweat drenched his robe, soaking the fabric until it clung to his small frame. His hair plastered to his face, silver strands catching the moonlight as he swung again.
Whsshh! Crack!
The katana cut through the air so sharply that it left a visible ripple of mana, splitting a nearby stone dummy in half. Dust exploded outward, settling over the ruined yard.
And yet, his chest heaved, his breaths came ragged, and still the memory gnawed at him.
That roar.
The world splitting beneath his feet.
The molten eyes of the Abyssal Behemoth staring into his soul.
His strongest attacks—spells that could annihilate forests, sword skills that could cut space itself—hadn't even made it flinch. He had run. He had retreated.
He spat, the sound harsh in the quiet courtyard.
"If I stay like this, I'll never win."
His body shook, muscles spasming from exhaustion. He raised the katana anyway, even as his vision blurred at the edges.
"I need more…"
His swing came down—harder, sharper, faster. Mana flared with each strike until his wooden blade glowed like molten steel. He lost track of time, of the number of swings, of how many times his system chimed. Notifications blurred into meaningless noise.
Ding! Ding! Ding!
The air thickened, charged with his overflowing mana. Sparks leapt off his blade, scorching the ground at his feet. His robe clung tighter, his chest convulsed with the effort of breathing, but still he refused to stop.
He remembered his old life—sitting by a window, watching the rain, wishing for another world. Helpless. Ordinary. Forgotten.
Not this time.
His lips peeled back in a snarl, fangs flashing.
"I won't be ordinary again!"
The katana slammed into the cracked tile, splitting another line through the courtyard floor. His knees buckled, and this time, his body gave out. He collapsed forward, catching himself on trembling arms. His chest heaved, sweat dripping into the dirt.
The system chimed once more.
[Warning: Physical fatigue at 93%.]
[Risk of collapse imminent.]
Asura laughed breathlessly, the sound hoarse, almost broken.
"…Good."
He rolled onto his back, staring up at the pale moon through the haze of sweat stinging his eyes. His limbs screamed, his body was wrung dry, but his spirit only burned hotter.
This wasn't weakness.
This was the breaking point before growth.
He clenched his fist against his chest.
"I'll fight it again. And next time… it won't be me running away."
The moon gave no answer. But the silence that filled the courtyard felt like a vow sealed under its light.
✦ Pushing Too Far
The night cracked under the weight of his voice.
Mana exploded outward, flooding the courtyard like a tidal wave. The tiles beneath his feet buckled, the very air vibrating with pressure. The torches along the outer walls blew out at once, leaving only moonlight and the blinding glow of his own power.
"Final Flare Cannon!"
The golden beam erupted from his hands, wide as the courtyard itself. The training wall disintegrated in an instant, stone bursting into molten fragments that rained down in a storm of glowing debris. A shockwave rippled outward, slamming against the fortress walls and rattling windows for miles.
Asura's body screamed, but his mind surged forward.
"Black Flame Hellfire!"
Black fire howled from his eyes, crawling across stone like living tar. Wherever it touched, matter dissolved—stone liquefied, metal warped, the very mana in the air hissed as if in pain. The courtyard was swallowed in choking black smoke, flames that refused to die.
His hands shook violently as he raised the wooden katana. Sparks of crimson lightning crawled across his arms, his veins glowing faintly under his skin. The wood thrummed under the strain, no longer a child's toy but a vessel for something it was never meant to hold.
"…More," he gasped, his teeth clenched, fangs bared. "I need more!"
"Phantom Flux Slash—Overdrive!"
The blade screamed as it cut.
A crescent of raw mana, thick enough to cleave through mountains, ripped across the courtyard. Stone shattered, walls split, the air itself cracked as though torn by a cosmic blade. For a heartbeat, the sky itself fractured, leaving a scar of pure darkness that stretched into the stars before collapsing in on itself.
The explosion threw Asura backward like a rag doll. He skidded across the broken tiles, smoke curling from his skin, his tiny frame twitching as mana burned through his veins like liquid fire.
The system's voice screamed in his head.
Ding!
[Hidden Ability Unlocked — True Demon Lord Awakening (Incomplete.)]
[WARNING: Mana output exceeds vessel capacity.]
[WARNING: True Demon Lord lineage awakening prematurely.]
[WARNING: Survival rate below 20%.]
[Emergency protocols initiated.]
Asura gasped for air, his chest convulsing. His golden eyes glowed unnaturally bright, like molten silver poured into his skull. Black markings spread across his skin in jagged patterns, wrapping around his arms, chest, and neck, pulsing with unstable light.
His horns crackled, chunks dissolving into black motes of energy that hissed and vanished into the night. Every pulse of mana made the ground quake, each breath rattling like he was inhaling fire.
"…Ah—" He clutched his chest, a broken laugh spilling from his lips. "This feeling…"
It was intoxicating.
Terrifying.
Like standing on the edge of existence itself.
For a moment, he felt infinite. A god looking down at ants. He could end kingdoms, shatter worlds, rewrite everything with a single breath.
But in the next, the weight crushed him, suffocating, reminding him he was still a child in a body not built for gods.
The markings pulsed violently, brighter, sharper—then began to unravel. His horns flickered, his glow shattered, his mana collapsed inward like a star imploding.
With a final gasp, he collapsed against the shattered tiles.
The system chimed once more, almost reluctant.
[Stabilization Protocol: Awakening locked at 3%.]
The courtyard was silent but for the sound of his shallow, ragged breathing. His robe was scorched, his skin slick with sweat, smoke rising faintly from his hair. His small fingers twitched against the stone, still clutching at power that was slipping away.
"…Heh…" He let out a hoarse laugh, golden eyes flickering weakly. "…This power… I have to control it."
The night around him was ruined. The walls were gone, the ground split, the sky scarred.
And in the center of it all lay a trembling child, grinning through the smoke.
✦ The Discovery
The courtyard looked like the aftermath of war.
The night air was heavy with ash, the sky painted with faint streaks of smoke that drifted where walls had collapsed. Black flames still smoldered in cracks, their unnatural glow licking hungrily at broken stone. The scent of scorched mana stung the nose—thick, choking, enough to make even a seasoned knight hesitate before stepping forward.
But Selene did not hesitate.
Her slippers slipped on shattered tiles as she ran, skirts whipping around her ankles, violet eyes wide with horror. She had heard the explosion. She had felt the tremor. And now, as she stepped into the ruined yard, the sight stole her breath.
"Asura…"
He was lying in the center of the devastation, as if the world itself had broken around him.
His tiny body lay twisted against the cracked stone, smoke curling from his skin. His silver hair was matted with sweat and soot, his robe burned at the edges. His wooden katana lay cracked beside him, glowing faintly with residual mana before flickering out. Black markings pulsed faintly along his arms and chest, like veins of molten ink, before fading in and out with unstable rhythm. His horns sparked, arcs of dark energy snapping at the air.
For one heart-stopping moment, Selene thought he was gone.
Her knees buckled, and she dropped the tray she had been carrying. Food scattered across the ground with a clatter, but she didn't even glance at it. She stumbled forward, fell to her knees beside him, and scooped him into her arms.
"YOUNG MASTER!"
His body was searing hot, so hot she hissed when her hands touched him—but she did not let go. She pressed him against her chest, cradling him tightly.
His head lolled weakly to the side. His lips parted, voice hoarse.
"…Se…lene…"
Her heart clenched painfully. His voice was too soft, too frail. He was not supposed to sound like this. Not him.
She shook her head, tears stinging her eyes as she whispered furiously, "What have you done? Do you want to die before your life even begins?"
His eyelids fluttered. A faint grin—mad, defiant, and heartbreakingly childlike—spread across his face.
"…Pushed… too far."
Selene's throat tightened. Anger warred with fear, fear warred with something even deeper. She pressed her forehead to his, ignoring the smoke clinging to his skin.
"Foolish child," she whispered. "So, so foolish."
Yet her arms only pulled him closer, as if afraid he would dissolve into the night if she loosened her grip.
Asura stirred faintly, his golden eyes glowing through half-lidded exhaustion. The markings on his skin pulsed once more, and his horns flickered with unstable mana. For a moment, he looked less like a boy and more like something ancient, something terrifying—and yet he smiled at her as though none of that mattered.
"…Heh… not yet," he whispered. His voice trembled, but his grin was stubborn, unyielding. "I'll… control it…"
The words struck her harder than any blow. His determination frightened her more than the power itself. This boy was going to destroy himself chasing strength. And yet—he was hers to protect.
Selene brushed damp hair from his forehead, her fingers trembling. Her composure, the perfect mask of a maid, cracked. For the first time in years, her eyes brimmed with tears.
"…If anyone else sees this," she whispered shakily, glancing at the destruction around them, "they'll fear you. They'll try to chain you. Even your own kin may see you as a threat."
Her hand tightened against his small back.
"But I won't let them."
She looked down at his faint smile, at the boy who trusted her enough to collapse in her arms without fear.
"You are not alone, young master," Selene vowed, her voice trembling but fierce. "Not while I draw breath. I'll carry your secret. I'll protect you—even from yourself if I must."
Asura didn't respond. His breathing slowed, slipping into unconsciousness, his small body limp in her arms. But that faint, stubborn smile remained.
Selene sat amid the ruin, cradling him as the night stretched on, the fires crackling around them. For the first time, she realized: this was no longer duty. It was something far deeper.
Her life, her loyalty, her heart—bound to the boy whose power could shake the world.
✦ The Secret Return
The ruined courtyard behind her still hissed with mana, the broken earth glowing faintly in the night. Selene didn't dare look back. Every second spent here was another second risked. If anyone came, there would be no excuse—no way to explain why the young prince lay unconscious at the heart of such destruction.
"Asura…" she whispered again, adjusting his small frame in her arms. His skin was fever-hot, his robe singed, his breaths shallow but steady. The faint golden glow in his eyes had dulled, but it hadn't disappeared completely. That terrified her more than the ruin.
She pulled his cloak tighter around him, hiding the light. His head rested against her shoulder, his soft hair damp with sweat, strands clinging to her cheek.
The path back to the castle stretched long, lit by crimson torches that flickered along obsidian walls. The air was thick with the iron tang of mana and smoke. Her ears strained for every sound—boots on stone, clinking armor, hushed voices in the distance.
She moved quickly, every step measured, her slippers whispering across the ground. Though she carried him as gently as possible, her arms trembled with strain. Not because of his weight—he was light, so small, so fragile in her embrace. But because of the truth pressing down on her heart: this boy was not ordinary. He was something the world was not ready for.
A patrol's voice cut through the night. "Unit Three, sweep the west wing!"
Selene's pulse spiked. She pressed her back against a column, clutching Asura close as footsteps echoed nearby. His small hand twitched against her chest, and she froze, praying he wouldn't stir, wouldn't glow, wouldn't draw their attention.
The knights passed, unaware.
Only then did she breathe again. She pushed off the column, forcing her legs forward. Her heart hammered with every step, but her eyes stayed sharp, scanning shadows, watching corners. A maid was trained to move unseen. Tonight, that training was her lifeline.
Asura murmured against her shoulder, his voice barely audible. "…Stronger… next time…"
Selene's breath caught. Even unconscious, even broken, he was dreaming of strength. She shook her head, biting her lip. "Foolish boy. You'll kill yourself if you keep this up."
But her arms only tightened around him.
The side door loomed ahead, iron-bound and heavy. She nudged it open with her shoulder, wincing as the hinges groaned faintly. No shout came, no alarm. She slipped inside, and the thick door closed behind them with a muffled thud.
The halls within were quieter, shadows long and deep. Tapestries swayed faintly in the draft, depicting battles and demon kings of ages past. None of them mattered. Only the boy in her arms did.
Selene's legs shook as she carried him up the stairs, each step heavier than the last. By the time she reached his chamber door, sweat clung to her own brow. But she never faltered. She pushed inside, kicked the door shut behind her, and staggered to the bed.
At last, she laid him down onto silken sheets. His small frame sank into the mattress, the faint glow around him dimming at last.
Selene fell to her knees beside the bed, her chest heaving, arms trembling from the effort. She pressed a hand to his forehead—still feverish, but cooling slowly. Relief washed over her, so fierce it nearly brought her to tears.
She leaned down, brushing soot gently from his cheek. Her voice softened, breaking past the iron composure she always wore.
"No one will know," she whispered fiercely. "Not the knights. Not the court. Not even His Majesty. Your secret is safe with me, Asura."
Her fingers lingered on his silver hair, smoothing it back tenderly. For all her training as a servant, for all the cold discipline drilled into her as a demon noble's retainer, in this moment she was only a woman holding a boy too precious to lose.
"You are not just my master," she murmured, violet eyes glistening. "You are my… everything. And I will protect you, even from yourself."
Asura stirred faintly, a small smile tugging at his lips, though he did not wake.
Selene exhaled shakily, resting her forehead against the edge of the bed. Only now did she allow herself to weep—quiet, fleeting tears that no one else would ever see.
The castle was silent. Only the boy's soft breathing and her whispered vows filled the chamber.
And for the first time, Selene realized: carrying him back through the night had been more than duty. It had been her choice. Her promise.
From this night onward, she would never let him fall alone.
✦ Silent Care
The chamber was still. Only the faint crackle of a torch on the wall disturbed the silence.
Selene sat at the edge of the bed, gazing down at the boy she had laid upon silken sheets. Asura's breaths came shallow but steady, his chest rising and falling beneath his scorched robe. His silver hair was damp with sweat, plastered to his forehead.
Her hands trembled as she reached for him. She had seen wounds before—cuts, burns, even curses—but never on him. Never on the boy who seemed untouchable, unstoppable. Now, he looked so fragile, small against the vastness of the bed.
"…Forgive me," she whispered, slipping her hands beneath the torn fabric. Gently, carefully, she loosened the robe, sliding it from his shoulders. Her throat tightened at the sight. His skin was streaked with soot and faint burns, black markings still ghosting faintly across his arms like shadows of some greater power.
Selene swallowed hard. "What are you becoming, young master…?"
But she pushed the thought aside. Now was not the time for fear. Now, he needed her.
She fetched a basin of water and a cloth from the stand by the wall. The water was cool, catching the light of the torch as she dipped the cloth and wrung it out. Returning to his side, she pressed it gently to his skin, wiping soot and ash away. His small body twitched at the touch, but he did not wake.
"Shh… it's alright," she whispered, brushing his damp hair back from his forehead. "Rest. I'll take care of everything."
She cleaned every inch of him with careful strokes, as though afraid he might break beneath her fingers. Where the burns were worst, she applied a salve from her pouch, its herbal scent filling the room. Slowly, the angry red marks eased, the heat cooling under her touch.
At last, she pulled a clean tunic from his wardrobe and slipped it over his head, her hands working with practiced grace. She tucked the sheets around him snugly, smoothing the fabric as though sealing away the chaos of the night.
For a long moment, she just sat there, watching him. His face was peaceful now, softened by sleep. Without the glow of unstable power, without the markings or the fire, he looked like any other boy—a child who should be dreaming of games, not fighting monsters that shook the world.
Selene reached out, cupping his cheek with her palm. Her violet eyes softened, her voice breaking into a whisper.
"You scare me sometimes," she admitted. "The things you do, the power you wield… it's more than anyone should carry. And yet…" She brushed her thumb lightly across his skin, as if reassuring herself he was real. "…I can't help but want to protect you, no matter what you become."
A faint smile tugged at his lips in his sleep, as if he had heard her.
Selene's chest tightened, and for the first time in years, she allowed herself to bend. She leaned forward, resting her forehead gently against his, her eyes closing.
"I will protect this side of you," she whispered fiercely. "Not the prince. Not the heir. Not the monster they will one day see. Just… Asura."
The torchlight flickered, shadows dancing across the room. The world beyond these walls stirred with rumors and fear, but here—in this quiet chamber—Selene made her vow.
No matter how bright or how dark his path became, she would remain by his side.