Demon Sovereign: The Last Seal

Chapter 7: Rooftop Duel

The summons came at noon, carved in red wax and sealed with mock formality. “Asher Kane is to demonstrate his combat capacity before the assembled disciples at dusk.”

It was not a request. It was a public sentence dressed as a ceremony. When Asher unfolded the scroll, his hands did not tremble, but the ink seemed to bleed beneath his gaze. 

He knew what this meant: a spectacle. A trial engineered not for fairness but humiliation. After the failed hunt, the whispers had become knives. 

The sect elders needed a show, a scapegoat to reinforce their righteousness, and Asher Kane, the cursed disciple, would serve perfectly.

By the time the sun bled low over Erevale, the rooftops were alive with noise. The sect’s training terrace stretched high above the city, open to the wind. 

Lanterns flickered along the perimeter, their glow catching the silver spires of distant towers. Disciples gathered like crows around carrion, their laughter rising in cruel rhythm.

At the terrace center stood Yun Fei. Flawless as always. His jade-green robes whispered against the stone as he flexed his fingers around his weapon, a narrow sword etched with characters that caught the dying light.

When Asher stepped forward, the crowd fell to a hush. He wore no ornament, no armor, only his tattered practice robe, the sleeves scorched from past failures. 

The mark on his chest burned faintly beneath the fabric, the Sovereign’s pulse steady as a drumbeat in his bones.

Master Qiao’s voice echoed across the terrace. “Asher Kane. You stand accused of repeated misconduct, forbidden incantations, and reckless use of demonic energy. You will prove your worth in combat against Senior Yun Fei. Should you fail.”

He paused, letting silence dig its claws in. “You will no longer bear the sect’s crest.”

Murmurs rippled like waves through the onlookers. Asher bowed stiffly, jaw tight. “Understood.”

Yun Fei smiled, a thin, perfect line. “I’ll make this merciful, Kane. Try to last longer than last time.”

The words struck with casual cruelty. The crowd snickered. Asher felt the weight of their eyes, their disdain pressing on his spine. 

His pride screamed to answer, but his voice failed. Instead, he raised his fists, breathing deep through the ache in his ribs. “Begin.”

Yun Fei moved first, fast, almost blur-fast. His blade flashed, slicing through air where Asher had been. Sparks scattered as steel met stone. Asher ducked low, the tip grazing his shoulder.

Pain flared, but he had felt worse. He retaliated, forming a sigil mid-spin. It flickered, stuttered, and fizzled out. Laughter exploded from the onlookers.

Yun Fei tilted his head mockingly. “Still playing with your childish tricks? I almost pity you.”

He struck again, elegant and merciless. Asher blocked with a burst of unstable shadow energy. 

The impact sent both men skidding backward, robes snapping in the wind. For an instant, Asher saw flickers of black mist curling around his hand, alive, responsive.

“Good,” the Sovereign’s voice purred. “Stop fearing the darkness. Wield it.”

Asher gritted his teeth. “I said, stay out of this.”

The whisper smiled from inside him. “You're talking to yourself again. They’ll think you’re mad.”

Yun Fei lunged. Asher barely twisted aside, the blade grazing his chest. He countered, using both hands this time. 

Shadows coiled from his palms, thinner than before, but focused. They shot forward like ribbons of smoke, striking Yun Fei’s sword with a shriek of energy.

The crowd gasped. For a moment, Asher’s attack held, then his control faltered. The ribbons turned wild, snapping out in all directions. 

A few disciples stumbled back as the shadows lashed across the ground, gouging shallow lines into the stone.

Asher fell to one knee, clutching his hand, the veins along his wrist burning black. The laughter returned, sharper, merciless. “Pathetic!” someone shouted.

“He can’t even stand!” another jeered.

Yun Fei lowered his sword slightly, gaze gleaming with condescension. “You see, Kane? This is what happens when you try to wield power beyond your birthright. You’re a danger to yourself, and to everyone around you.”

He raised his sword high, the blade catching firelight. “Allow me to end this embarrassment.”

The Sovereign’s voice whispered, hungry and near: “He would kill you. Shall I intervene?”

Asher’s pulse roared in his ears. He could feel the energy coiling in his chest like a living storm, begging to be released. 

The Sovereign’s power was poison, but it was strength too. And he needed it. “Fine,” he whispered, voice breaking. “Just once.”

The world tilted. The air exploded. Shadows spiraled out of him, devouring the light around the terrace. 

His eyes flared dark red, pupils thinning to slits. The stone beneath him cracked under the surge of energy. 

Yun Fei staggered back, his calm broken for the first time. “What, what are you?”

Asher moved before the words finished. He blurred forward, the wind itself bending as he struck. 

His fist met Yun Fei’s chest, not with mortal strength, but with the weight of something ancient. 

The blow hurled the senior disciple backward across the terrace, slamming him into a column hard enough to fracture the marble. The crowd gasped in collective shock.

Asher stood trembling, chest heaving, the shadow still swirling around him like smoke. He looked down at his hands, black veins snaking up to his forearms, glowing faintly. 

The power hummed, intoxicating and terrible, then pain ripped through him. He dropped to his knees, gasping, as the energy rebelled, searing through nerves, tearing at flesh. 

The Sovereign’s laughter echoed, low and delighted. “Ah, so eager to burn for victory.”

“Asher!” someone shouted, but he barely heard. His world was pain and darkness, and the roar of blood in his ears.

Yun Fei, bruised but alive, rose unsteadily. Fury twisted his perfect features. “You dare use demonic power in front of the sect?!”

He raised his blade again, but Master Qiao’s voice cut through the chaos. “Enough!”

The old man’s tone was final. He stepped forward, robes heavy with authority. His gaze swept over Asher.

Over the trembling form on the floor, over the veins crawling up his neck, and there was no mercy there. Only cold judgment.

“This confirms it,” Qiao said. “The corruption has spread. Asher Kane, you are hereby removed from the advancement trials.”

The declaration hit harder than any blow. Asher’s head jerked up. “Master, please.”

“You are a danger,” Qiao continued, voice like stone. “You may remain under observation, but your cultivation path ends here.”

The crowd murmured in satisfaction. A few disciples even clapped. Yun Fei straightened, wiping blood from his lip, smiling in smug triumph.

Asher’s chest hollowed. Every word was a nail in his pride. He bowed low, not from respect, but because standing any longer would break him. “I understand,” he said hoarsely.

Then he turned and walked toward the terrace edge. The laughter behind him grew louder, feeding off his silence. 

He felt every eye on his back, every whisper cutting deeper than a blade. He wanted to scream, to shatter the world around him, but all he could do was breathe and keep walking.

When he reached the railing, the last of his strength faltered. His vision blurred, his body swaying from exhaustion. 

The pulse under his skin flared again, violent, uncontrollable, and then,  The shadows burst outward.

A surge of black energy cracked through the air, shattering lanterns, twisting the wind into chaos. 

Disciples cried out and stumbled back. Asher’s body convulsed, the mark on his chest blazing like molten fire. 

He felt the terrace tilt, the edge slipping beneath his boots. “Stop!” someone shouted, too far away.

The world tilted, sky above, stone below, and Asher fell. The last thing he saw before darkness took him was the city’s skyline inverted, the towers of Erevale gleaming like broken teeth beneath a storm.

And within that darkness, the Sovereign’s voice coiled around his fading consciousness, soft and triumphant: “You cannot fall, Asher Kane, not while I still rise.”