The citadel of Zerathos was silent — unnervingly so.
No soldiers marched through the halls, no servants whispered between pillars. Even the mana lanterns seemed dimmer, their crimson glow subdued as if the air itself had been warned to behave.
Asura stood in the center of the great obsidian corridor, his reflection stretching beneath him like a shadow trying to escape. Two royal guards flanked the towering doors ahead — each armored in black steel etched with gold sigils.
One of them shifted slightly, glancing down at the boy who barely reached his chest.
"His Majesty awaits inside."
Asura rubbed the back of his neck, trying not to look guilty. "Yeah. Figured."
The doors opened with a groan like ancient mountains moving. Beyond them, the throne hall unfolded — vast and alive with magic. Pillars carved from volcanic glass spiraled upward, veins of red mana pulsing faintly through them like blood through arteries. The air smelled faintly of ozone and embers.
And at the end of the hall, upon a throne of black flame and jagged stone, sat the Demon King.
Crimson light flickered behind his horns. His cloak — part armor, part living shadow — draped down the steps like a storm held in place.
He didn't need to speak for the room to go still.
Asura swallowed hard, forcing a grin. "Uh… morning, Grandfather."
The King's eyes opened — twin suns of molten red and black. His voice came low, calm, and unhurried, but heavy enough to make the walls tremble.
"Morning, he says."
Asura chuckled nervously. "You look… uh, fiery as ever."
The King's gaze sharpened. "You've been busy."
"Define busy," Asura said carefully.
"Wandering unsupervised," the King said, voice still calm. "Speaking with academy students. Asking about forbidden archives. And," he paused, "introducing yourself by title and name."
Asura winced. "Okay, yeah. That last one might've slipped out."
"Slipped?" The King tilted his head, a faint smirk forming. "You are aware that every noble in Zerathos now knows the Demon King's grandson was chatting with first-year students about banned magic?"
Asura scratched his cheek. "...Technically, they laughed at me. So I think we're fine."
The smirk widened just slightly. "They laughed?"
"Yeah. Didn't believe me at all. Said I didn't 'look the part.'"
That earned an amused rumble from the throne. "Didn't look the part…" The King's crimson eyes softened with faint humor. "You're lucky they didn't."
"Why's that?"
"Because if they had, half of them would've fainted."
Asura shrugged. "See? I did them a favor."
The King's aura flared just slightly — a gentle pulse of power that sent a ripple through the chamber.
"You speak lightly," he said, his tone shifting from humor to gravity. "But words carry weight, Asura. You bear a name tied to empires, to wars, and to expectations you've yet to understand."
Asura straightened, meeting his gaze. "Then teach me."
The words hung in the air. For a long moment, the King said nothing. Then, a slow, satisfied hum escaped him — quiet approval beneath the thunder.
"So," he said. "The restless prince seeks understanding."
"Not restless," Asura said. "Curious."
The King leaned forward slightly, chin resting on one clawed hand. "Curiosity is dangerous among demons."
"Yeah," Asura said, smirking faintly. "But you said danger builds strength."
A pause. Then a deep, resonant laugh echoed through the throne hall. It wasn't the laughter of mockery — it was genuine, rare, and proud.
"So I did," the King admitted. "And perhaps you've taken that to heart."
He rose from the throne — towering, his presence swallowing the air. Shadows rippled along the floor as if bowing in his wake.
"Tell me, Asura," he said, his voice calm again but edged with purpose. "What is it you seek to learn from your curiosity? Forbidden magic? Lost histories? Power?"
Asura hesitated, then looked up at him with steady, golden eyes.
"I want to understand everything."
The King's expression darkened — not with anger, but with a faint, knowing sorrow. "A dangerous wish."
"Maybe," Asura said. "But it feels like mine."
The King regarded him for a moment longer, then finally nodded once — slow, deliberate, final.
"Then you shall learn. But not alone."
Asura blinked. "Wait, what do you mean not alone?"
The Demon King's eyes gleamed. "If you wish to chase knowledge beyond the walls of Zerathos… then you will do so as a student of the Obsidian Fang Academy."
Asura's heart skipped. His mouth fell open. "Wait— you mean the Academy?"
"Indeed," the King said, his tone even. "You'll attend not as a prince, but as a student. Learn the world you wish to change — and let the world see what kind of heir my blood has birthed."
Asura stood frozen.
Then a grin slowly crept across his face. "You're serious?"
The King leaned back against the throne, smirking faintly. "You wanted freedom. I'm granting it… just not the kind you expected."
Asura's grin widened. "This is— wait. This is awesome!"
The King sighed, amused despite himself. "Enjoy your enthusiasm while it lasts, boy. The Academy devours the unprepared."
"Then I'll just have to devour it first."
The King's eyes glinted — the faintest flash of pride.
"Spoken like the Demon Prince."
✦ The Youngest to Ever Walk Those Halls
By the time Asura left the throne hall, the massive doors shut behind him with a deep, echoing thud that rattled his bones.
For a few seconds, he just stood there — staring blankly down the long obsidian corridor, brain still trying to catch up to reality.
He'd done it.
He was going to the Obsidian Fang Academy.
His grin spread wide enough to hurt his cheeks. "No way… this is insane. Actual magic classes, real combat training, nobles from every kingdom—"
"—and a thousand different ways to die before lunch."
The familiar voice made him freeze.
Selene was waiting by the archway, arms crossed, expression halfway between fond and furious. Her violet eyes shimmered in the mana light like tempered amethyst.
Asura winced. "...How much did you hear?"
"Enough to know my young master agreed to a life-threatening curriculum before I could blink," she said flatly.
He scratched the back of his head, still grinning sheepishly. "Technically, Grandfather said it first."
"And you said 'yes' before he even finished breathing."
"...Fair."
She sighed — long, deep, and full of the kind of exhaustion that only caretakers knew. "You really have a gift for finding new ways to give me heart attacks."
"I prefer to think of it as keeping life interesting."
Selene pinched the bridge of her nose. "Asura…"
He looked up at her, the grin fading just a little. "What? You think it's a bad idea?"
Her expression softened. The sternness didn't fade, but her tone did. "No. I think it's the most you thing I've ever heard. But do you realize what this means?"
He tilted his head. "That I'll finally get to leave the citadel?"
"That," she said dryly, "and the fact that you'll be the first in demon history to ever attend the Academy at eight years old."
Asura blinked. "Wait—seriously?"
"Seriously." Selene crossed her arms again. "Most students are between fourteen and twenty. Even noble heirs have to undergo mana resonance testing and political screening before they're allowed entry. You, on the other hand—" she gestured to him, "—are a walking divine anomaly with a bedtime."
He frowned. "Bedtime's flexible."
She raised an eyebrow. "You snore, Asura."
He groaned, face turning red. "I do not!"
Selene's lips twitched. "The maids disagree."
He muttered something under his breath, kicking at the polished floor. "Okay, fine, maybe once."
Her expression softened again. "You're powerful, Asura. But power doesn't mean prepared. The Academy isn't a playground. You'll be surrounded by nobles trained since birth, dragons with centuries of combat instinct, and magi who could shatter fortresses."
"I know." His voice was calm now — not defensive, but thoughtful. "That's why I want to go."
Selene blinked, surprised by his tone.
"I've spent my whole life here, Selene," he continued. "Every day surrounded by the same walls, the same faces. I don't even know how the rest of our realm looks. How can I protect it someday if I don't understand it?"
Her breath caught. For a moment, she just stared — then smiled faintly, proud and a little sad.
"You really are the Demon King's grandson."
He smirked. "The cooler version, though."
She flicked his forehead. "Don't push it."
"Ow! Hey!"
"You'll need humility where you're going," she said, though her voice was gentler now. "And control. Especially after what happened in the clearing."
Asura's gaze lowered for a moment, remembering the blinding light, the rage, the power that felt like it wasn't his.
"Yeah," he said quietly. "I'll keep it in check this time."
Selene nodded, watching him for a moment before turning toward the corridor. "Then we should start your preparations. You'll need formal attire, travel permits, a containment charm, and—"
"Wait, wait," Asura interrupted. "Do I at least get a say in my uniform design?"
Selene glanced back over her shoulder, smirking faintly. "If you behave until departure day."
He grinned, golden eyes gleaming. "Deal."
As they walked together down the long crimson-lit corridor, the mana crystals along the walls shimmered brighter — almost in approval.
The youngest heir of Zerathos was leaving home.
And somewhere deep within the Demon King's shadowed throne room, a voice rumbled softly — proud and amused.
"Eight years old… and already chasing destiny again."
✦ The Blade's Whisper
The morning of departure arrived in silence.
Crimson light filtered through the high arched windows of Asura's chamber, scattering soft reflections across polished obsidian and silver runes. The air hummed faintly — the kind of stillness that existed only before something important.
His travel chest sat open near the door, neatly packed with folded uniforms, enchanted accessories, and the royal insignia that marked him as the heir of Zerathos. A new coat — dark violet trimmed in silver — hung from its hook, shimmering faintly in the mana light.
At the foot of his bed rested Yamikami no Tsurugi, the demon-forged katana that had grown with him since his earliest battles. Its blade reflected faint traces of red light, as though remembering every soul it had cut through.
Beside it lay a smaller case — the one containing his emergency gear and a few stolen snacks Selene pretended not to notice.
Asura stood before it all, half dressed in his new traveling attire, expression unreadable.
"Hard to believe I'm actually leaving," he murmured, adjusting the strap across his shoulder.
He moved to the small desk by the window — to a spot where a single crystal shard sat on a silk cloth. It glowed faintly, pulsing in rhythm with his mana.
The Crystal Blade Fragment.
Yōken no Kesshō.
Its light was gentle, almost alive — a heart encased in crystal.
Asura smiled faintly. "Been a while, huh?"
He reached out, lifting the fragment carefully between his fingers. It felt warm — too warm.
Before he could slip it into his [Unlimited Storage], a voice echoed softly in his mind.
"Leaving again, are you?"
Asura froze. His golden eyes widened slightly.
"…Wait. Did you just—"
"It's been ages since I've heard your voice, wielder."
The voice was calm, crystalline — neither male nor female, yet deeply resonant. It reverberated like an echo inside his soul, every word vibrating through his core.
"Tell me, Asura Satomi… when do you plan to claim me?"
He blinked, confused. "Claim you? I already own you."
A faint, melodic laugh followed.
"You hold my fragment, not my heart. You've touched my edge, not my essence. You're not my master yet."
He frowned, the memory stirring faintly — the chaos of battle, the surge of power during his fight with Erevos. His awakening… the moment his soul had fully ignited.
"Wait…" he whispered. "You're a Katana Core. God-tier. Evolving type."
"Exotic and waiting," the voice answered smoothly. "And your blood has finally ripened. When you reached one hundred percent, our bond completed. All that remains is recognition."
Recognition.
The word sank deep — sharp, electric.
Asura stared at the fragment in his palm, light rippling across his fingers. It was almost breathing.
"Recognition, huh…" he muttered. "Then I guess it's about time."
He straightened, golden eyes narrowing with focus as his aura began to rise. The air thickened — mana pulsing in waves through the room, stirring the curtains and causing Yamikami no Tsurugi's blade to hum softly in response.
The Yōken no Kesshō gleamed brighter, its light resonating with his.
Asura grinned faintly, excitement sparking behind his calm.
"Let's see what you really are."
He raised his hand, summoning a faint glyph that appeared before his eyes — radiant blue symbols swirling to life.
[Appraisal]