Demon Sovereign: The Last Seal

Chapter 4: First Surge

The dawn over Erevale was gray and bitter, like the city itself refused to wake. Fog draped over the rooftops, muting the world into silence. 

Below, on the temple’s cracked training grounds, Asher Kane stood alone, his breath misting in the chill air.

The faint mark that Xuan Rou’s encounter had left on his chest still burned, an echo of the rogue shadow’s curse. He pressed a trembling hand against it, feeling the slow, rhythmic pulse beneath his skin, steady, dangerous, alive.

“Soon,” the Sovereign’s voice whispered from within, rich and indulgent, “you will no longer fear your own strength.”

“I don’t want your strength,” Asher hissed under his breath, eyes fixed on the ruined practice dummies before him. “I just want control.”

The voice chuckled softly. “Control is born from surrender.”

A chill ran down his spine. He clenched his fists until his knuckles whitened. The whisper was becoming harder to silence, too persuasive, too knowing. 

It slipped into his thoughts like smoke into a sealed room, leaving him trembling on the edge between temptation and fear. He inhaled slowly. “Focus. For Lila.”

The square below the sect’s tower was already busy with disciples. They trained, sparred, and chatted, their laughter sharp and cruel whenever his name passed their lips. 

Ever since the “incident” in the undercity, rumors of his forbidden experiments had spread like wildfire, and now, every glance carried disdain. Every whisper was a blade.

“Look who’s here,” a voice sneered behind him. Yun Fei, pristine as ever, smirked as he approached, flanked by two of his followers. “The failed prodigy of the Kane family. How’s your little demon curse treating you?”

Asher’s jaw tightened. He said nothing. Yun Fei’s grin widened. “What’s the matter? Cat got your tongue? Or are you afraid you’ll curse us, too?”

The crowd of younger disciples snickered. Laughter rippled like poison in the air. Asher turned away, fighting to keep calm, but humiliation had teeth, and they sank deep. 

His blood thrummed. The mark on his chest pulsed once, dark, heavy, and the Sovereign’s whisper slithered through his mind again: “They mock what they fear. Show them why they should be afraid.”

He tried to push it down. To breathe. But the pressure built. The ground beneath his boots seemed to hum with quiet energy, rising, demanding release.

“Asher!” Yun Fei snapped, stepping closer. “You still think you belong here? After all the trouble you’ve caused? You should have been cast out with your cursed sister!”

That did it. Something inside Asher snapped. He felt it before he even moved, a surge, sharp and electric, roaring up from his chest and down his arms. His vision flickered red. 

Power surged outward, wild and untamed. A violent gust of black energy exploded from his palm, slamming into the practice ground with the sound of cracking thunder.

The world tilted. Stone shattered. A blast wave sent Yun Fei and several disciples sprawling. Dust and debris filled the air.

For one glorious heartbeat, Asher felt it. Power. Real, raw power, coursing through his veins, filling every cell with fire. 

His muscles trembled not from weakness, but from sheer overwhelming strength. He could feel the darkness answering him, bending to his fury, pulsing with something alive.

And then, pain. It came like knives under his skin, tearing through nerves, setting every vein ablaze. 

The surge that had felt divine moments ago twisted into agony. He screamed, falling to one knee, clutching his arm as black energy seared through him like molten glass.

The Sovereign laughed softly inside him, a cruel, satisfied purr. “Now you see. Power always asks for something in return.”

Asher gasped, sweat beading on his forehead. His vision blurred, the edges of reality bleeding into shadow. “Stop it, stop!” he shouted, his voice raw with pain.

The dark pulse receded slowly, reluctantly, leaving him shaking, chest heaving. The world came back into focus, and with it, the stares.

Dozens of sect members stood around him, their expressions twisted with a mix of awe, fear, and disgust. “Did you see that?” one disciple whispered. “He lost control again.”

“Demonic energy,” another hissed. “He’s tainted.”

Yun Fei staggered to his feet, fury burning in his eyes. Dust streaked his once-pristine robes. “You dare unleash that filth here?” he snarled. “In the sect’s grounds?”

“I, I didn’t mean to, ” Asher began, but Yun Fei’s words cut him off.

“Enough! You’re a danger to everyone here. You should have been expelled long ago!”

Murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd. The word demonspawn drifted among them like smoke.

Asher’s pride cracked. He looked around, their faces were a blur of scorn. Laughter returned, sharp and venomous. The shame was unbearable.

He stumbled back, clutching his burning hand. The black veins were faint but visible now, threading under his skin like roots of shadow. They pulsed faintly, alive and whispering.

Yun Fei’s sneer turned cruel. “Look at you. You’re not a cultivator anymore, you’re a monster pretending to be one.”

The words hit harder than any blow. Asher’s chest tightened. His hand trembled violently, the black veins throbbing with each heartbeat.

He wanted to fight back. To scream. To prove them wrong, but the truth burned too clearly: he had lost control. Again.

The Sovereign’s voice coiled through his mind, silken and dark. “You see how they treat you, even now. They will never understand you, Asher. But I do.”

“Silence,” he whispered under his breath, though the word shook. “Just, silence.”

But the voice only laughed. “You called me once, and now you cannot unmake that bond. The power within you is not something to fear, it is who you are becoming.”

Yun Fei took a step closer, smirking. “Can’t even argue with the voices in your head now? You really are falling apart.”

The crowd snickered again. Asher’s nails dug into his palms hard enough to draw blood. Pride screamed at him to retaliate, but fear whispered louder.

If he let it out again, if he lost control once more, someone might die. So he turned and fled. 

The laughter followed him like a curse, echoing off the temple’s stone walls, chasing him into the narrow corridors of the lower courtyard.

By the time he reached the isolation chamber at the edge of the sect grounds, the tremors in his hands had worsened. 

He dropped to his knees, gasping, the taste of iron thick on his tongue. “Why,” he choked out. “Why can’t I control it?”

No answer came, only the slow, rhythmic pulse beneath his skin, deep and patient. The black veins writhed faintly, creeping up his wrist, spreading like living tattoos toward his elbow.

Then, the Sovereign whispered again, but softer this time, almost gentle. “Every beginning is chaos, Asher Kane. Pain is the price of awakening. You can either suffer it, or master it.

His eyes lifted to the cracked mirror across the room. The reflection that stared back was not the boy he once knew. Pale skin. 

Dark rings beneath haunted eyes. And those veins, black, shimmering faintly with every beat of his heart.

A single tear slid down his cheek, cutting through the dirt and ash. “If this is power, then it’s a curse.”

“No,” the Sovereign murmured. “It is a choice. And every choice has a cost.”

Outside, the morning sun finally pierced the fog, a thin blade of gold cutting through gray. 

It caught the edges of Asher’s reflection, illuminating the black veins crawling up his hands, pulsing like the heartbeat of something ancient, and unstoppable.

He watched in silence as the veins glowed faintly once, then dimmed again, their rhythm syncing with his. 

The first surge had passed, but its mark was carved deep, on his flesh, his pride, and his soul, and in that hollow stillness, the whisper came again, softer now, yet undeniable: “This is only the beginning.”