Demon Sovereign: The Last Seal

Chapter 5: Night Hunt

Erevale breathed darkness after dusk. The city’s narrow arteries, the underbridges, the broken alleys, the lanternless lanes, were veins of shadow where only the desperate and the damned wandered. 

And tonight, Asher Kane was both. The fog clung to him like breath on glass, his steps soft over the cobblestones. 

Beneath his cloak, his right arm throbbed, the veins along it blackened, faintly luminescent in the dimness. 

He could feel it now, the pulsing hunger of the mark, a rhythm that matched the whispers in his mind.

“You seek redemption through blood, the Demon Sovereign murmured. Yet you still deny what you are becoming.”

“I’m not hunting for myself,” Asher said under his breath, voice tight. “This is for Lila. Always for her.”

And yet, the Sovereign purred, “it is my power you must use to save her. The irony burns beautifully, doesn’t it?”

He ignored the taunt and pressed forward. The alley opened into a shattered courtyard, abandoned, save for a faint trace of sulfur and the claw marks etched deep into the stone.

The reports had said a minor demon was nesting here, feeding off stray souls and the weak. Capturing it was supposed to be simple. A chance to redeem himself in the sect’s eyes.

Instead, it felt like walking into a trap laid by fate. A soft growl broke the silence.

Asher spun, drawing a sigil into the air with shaking fingers. The crimson symbol flared briefly, pulsing with unstable light, then, from the shadows, it emerged.

A mass of sinew and smoke, its form shifting like oil in water, red eyes burning in the dark. It hissed, voice layered and inhuman. “Half-born child of shadow, why do you hunt your kin?”

“I’m not your kin,” Asher snapped, setting his stance. “You’re just another curse I’m going to end.”

The creature’s grin widened, too wide, revealing rows of jagged, translucent teeth. “Then end me, if you can.”

It lunged. The air screamed as claws slashed where Asher stood a heartbeat before. He ducked, rolled, and slammed his palm to the ground. 

The sigil detonated, a burst of red light forcing the demon back, but the recoil hit him too. His chest burned, his cursed veins flaring painfully. “Come on, ” he gasped.

The creature’s laughter echoed off the walls. “You wield power you do not understand.”

Black mist surged from its claws. Asher countered with a desperate incantation, words torn from old, forbidden scrolls. 

His voice cracked mid-chant. The sigil wavered, collapsing under its own instability.

“Foolish,” the Sovereign whispered with amusement. “Still you cling to mortal techniques when divinity is within reach.”

“Shut up!” Asher roared.

For an instant, his anger unleashed it. Power. Raw, searing, intoxicating. The shadow in his veins surged forth, coiling into his palm, forming a blade of dark flame. 

He slashed, and the alley exploded in light and smoke. When it cleared, the demon staggered back, one arm severed, its form flickering. 

For the first time, Asher felt a pulse of triumph, then pain. The black blade splintered in his hand. 

Energy backfired, crawling up his arm like molten iron. He cried out, falling to one knee. His veins glowed darker now, the corruption spreading toward his shoulder.

The demon sneered. “You cannot even bear your own strength.”

It struck again. Asher barely blocked the blow, his body screaming in protest. He stumbled backward, vision swimming. 

Every nerve felt aflame, every breath a knife. “Come on,” he rasped. “Just a little more.”

But exhaustion dragged at him, his muscles trembling. The power within him demanded release, not restraint. 

And for one terrifying instant, he felt it take the reins. The world bled red.

The demon’s voice became a whisper drowned beneath the roar of shadows. Asher’s heartbeat thundered. 

He lunged without thought, his movements a blur of darkness. His hands found the demon’s throat, his strength unnatural, feral.  

The air grew thick with energy, power that was not entirely his own.  “Yes,” the Sovereign hissed in delight. “Now you understand.”

The demon’s eyes widened as Asher’s grip tightened. “You, are, no, human.”

That broke him out of it. Asher’s eyes snapped wide, and he stumbled back, releasing the creature. 

His chest heaved. His mind reeled from what almost happened, from how close he’d come to losing himself again.

The demon didn’t stay. With a sound like tearing fabric, it dissolved into smoke, vanishing into the alley walls. The night fell still once more.

Asher dropped to the ground, gasping, his body trembling violently. His hand still smoked faintly with shadowfire, and then, the laughter came.

A small group of sect disciples stood at the mouth of the alley, lanterns in hand. They must have followed him, drawn by the noise.

“Well, well,” one sneered. “Looks like the great Asher Kane can’t even kill a minor demon without losing control.”

Another chuckled. “He almost killed himself instead. Classic.”

Their laughter was sharp, echoing cruelly in the narrow space. Asher forced himself to stand, chest tight with humiliation. 

His robes were scorched, his hands blackened. He looked more like the monster they called him than a cultivator. “Leave,” he said quietly.

The lead disciple smirked. “Or what? You’ll curse us too?”

He stepped closer, his tone dripping with mockery. “Face it, Kane, you’re finished. You’re not saving your sister. You’re not redeeming your name. You’re just waiting to fall.”

The words landed like knives. Asher’s fist clenched so tightly his nails drew blood. He could feel the darkness stir again, eager, hungry. 

For a heartbeat, he almost let it, but he didn’t. He turned away instead, forcing his body to move. 

His silence was more cutting than any curse he could have cast. Behind him, their laughter followed like a funeral hymn. 

He walked until the city swallowed the noise, past the alleys, past the rooftops that watched him like silent witnesses, until he reached the narrow canal that cut through Erevale’s underbelly.

There, reflected in the black water, he saw it, his arm, his veins pulsing faintly with shadowlight. 

The mark had grown. It now reached his neck. “Lila,” he whispered. “I’m running out of time.”

A faint ripple disturbed the canal’s surface. Shadows gathered at its edge, forming words that shimmered briefly before fading into nothing. “Find me, if you dare.”

The challenge was carved in darkness itself. Asher stared at the words long after they vanished, the chill wind brushing against his face. 

Somewhere deep inside, the Sovereign’s laughter echoed, pleased, patient, certain. “Your hunt is far from over.”

He looked down at his reflection, eyes rimmed red, veins alive with shadow. The night seemed to lean closer, listening.

And then he whispered, his voice breaking through the silence,  “I’m coming for you.”