Demon Sovereign: The Last Seal

Chapter 8: Ancient Relic

The fall should have killed him. Stone blurred into rain, and rain blurred into nothing. When Asher’s body struck the lower rooftops of Erevale, he didn’t feel the pain, not at first. 

Only a thunderous silence, and the ghost of laughter echoing from above, then came the agony. Sharp, burning, real.

He lay among broken tiles and shattered lantern glass, breathing smoke and blood. The mark on his chest glowed faintly through torn robes, pulsing in time with his heart. 

The Sovereign’s voice drifted through his mind, distant but alive. “Still breathing. You fall well, Asher Kane.”

Asher spat blood. “Shut up.”

“You should thank me. I slowed your descent. I even caught the wind for you.”

He rolled onto his side, grimacing. The rooftops below the sect terrace connected to the older quarters, abandoned shrines, forgotten spires overtaken by moss and shadow. 

From here, the noise of the crowd above was nothing but a dull hum. He staggered to his feet. The world spun. But he was alive. Somehow.

“Lila,” he whispered, clutching the side of a wall to steady himself. The name alone grounded him. 

Whatever power stirred inside him, demon or otherwise, he would use it for her. He began to move.

Hours later, night swallowed Erevale whole. The city’s upper lights glowed faintly above the mist, but here in the underlayers, shadows ruled. 

Asher followed the twisting alleys until the stone gave way to iron steps and hollow towers. 

It was here, deep beneath the sect’s territory, that the relics of forgotten eras slumbered. He felt it before he saw it.

A pulse, soft, rhythmic, ancient, echoing beneath the ground like a heartbeat buried in stone. His mark responded instantly, burning beneath his ribs. “What, is that?” he whispered.

“Something older than me,” the Sovereign murmured, voice suddenly reverent. “Be careful, child. Relics of this age are unpredictable.”

He ignored the warning and followed the pulse into a crumbling temple at the edge of the undercity. 

Moonlight cut through the collapsed roof, silvering the cracked murals that still clung to the walls.

At the center stood a pedestal, half-buried, surrounded by vines and dust. And upon it, something pulsed with faint violet light.

A shard. No larger than a hand, but carved with runes that shimmered and moved like living ink. Asher’s breath caught. “Is this a relic of the ancients?”

The Sovereign’s silence stretched, then, softly: “Touch it, and you’ll know.”

He reached out. The instant his fingers brushed the surface, the air ignited. A rush of power burst through him, wild, uncontrollable. 

It flooded his veins like liquid fire, setting every nerve aflame. He gasped, staggering backward, clutching his chest.

Visions crashed through his mind, a battlefield drowned in ash, a throne of bones, and eyes, countless eyes staring from the darkness.

The relic fell from his grasp and clattered to the floor, still glowing. “You fool! The Sovereign hissed. That artifact isn’t meant for mortals!”

“I didn’t, ” he choked, trembling. The light dimmed, then surged again, pulsing faster. With each beat, the mark on his chest flared in resonance.

As if the relic itself recognized him, or the thing inside him, and then, footsteps. He turned sharply. From the shadows, a familiar voice drawled, “Well, well. What have we here?”

It was Maren Sol, another disciple, older, sharper, and infinitely more cruel. His grin was pure venom as he stepped into the moonlight.

“I heard rumors of you skulking around down here,” Maren said, eyes flicking toward the glowing shard. “But I didn’t expect you to find something real.”

Asher’s jaw tightened. “Leave it. It’s dangerous.”

“Dangerous?” Maren laughed. “That’s exactly why I want it.”

He moved forward, hand outstretched. Asher stepped between him and the relic. “Don’t.”

“Still pretending to be noble?” Maren’s smirk widened. “You were expelled, Kane. You have no right to the sect’s relics, or their respect. Do you think anyone will believe you found this first?”

The words hit deep. Asher’s fists clenched. “I don’t care who believes me.”

“Then you won’t mind if I take it.”

Maren lunged. Asher met him halfway. They collided in a blur of movement, shadows and light scattering across the ruined floor. 

Maren’s cultivation was stronger, years of refinement without corruption, but Asher’s energy was wild, unbound. Each strike shook the air, his demonic mark flaring black and violet.

When Maren’s palm struck his chest, the relic pulsed again. The reaction was immediate and catastrophic.

A surge of raw energy exploded between them, throwing both men backward. Asher hit the wall with a groan, smoke rising from his hands. Maren crashed into a pillar, stunned but still smirking.

“Well,” he gasped, pushing to his feet. “Seems your little toy has quite the temper.”

The relic floated above the ground now, humming violently, runes spinning like a storm of light. “Stop,” Asher tried to reach for it again, but Maren was faster. 

He snatched the relic midair, and screamed. The shard’s glow turned blinding, and the runes crawled up Maren’s arm like burning veins. 

He dropped to his knees, eyes wide, as the energy coursed through him uncontrollably. “Asher!” he gasped. “Help me.”

But before Asher could move, the relic flared once more and hurled Maren backward with a thunderclap. 

The rival disciple crashed through the temple wall, tumbling into the open alley beyond. Asher rushed forward, heart pounding. Maren lay sprawled in the dirt, coughing blood, but alive.

The gathered disciples outside had seen everything. They stared at the fallen senior and the broken temple behind Asher, their faces twisted in disbelief and awe.

“What happened here?” one muttered.

“Did Kane attack him?” another whispered.

Maren pushed himself up weakly, voice hoarse but venomous. “He used, demonic power. The relic reacted to him, like it knew him!”

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Asher froze. Every whisper felt like a blade. “He’s tainted.”

“Didn’t the sect ban him already?”

“Maybe he summoned the relic himself, using forbidden rites.”

Asher took a step back, then another. His mind spun, chest burning. “No, that’s not.”

Maren laughed, a raw, bitter sound. “See? Even the relic rejects you. You can’t control anything, not your power, not your fate.”

“Face-slap.” The words echoed like a curse. Asher stood there, trembling. The humiliation was sharper than any wound. 

But behind the shame, something darker stirred, a pulse from the relic itself, now lying cracked and smoldering amid the rubble.

The Sovereign’s whisper slid like smoke through his mind. “They laugh because they fear you. Let them mock. Let them watch what happens next.”

Asher’s vision wavered. The relic’s light flared again, stronger, angrier. Maren’s smirk faltered. “What is it doing?”

Before anyone could answer, the shard erupted in a violent burst of energy. Black and violet tendrils shot outward, wrapping around Asher’s hands. 

He screamed, the force lifting him off the ground as the power poured through him in waves. Disciples scattered, shouting. The air crackled with pure chaos.

Asher’s eyes turned the color of burning ash. The mark on his chest merged with the relic’s light, the pulse syncing into one, then, silence, 

And a single deep thrum, like the heart of the world itself beating through him. The relic’s final pulse rippled outward, shaking the ruins, and Asher fell to his knees.

Panting, as the glow dimmed to nothing. The shard lay shattered beside him, its light extinguished, its power now part of him.

From the alley’s edge, the terrified disciples watched as the darkness under Asher’s skin pulsed faintly, alive.

He lifted his head slowly, eyes hollow, voice a whisper meant only for himself. “I didn’t want this.”

The Sovereign’s response was a purr of satisfaction. “And yet, you were chosen.”

The night wind swept through the ruins, carrying the faint echo of laughter and the hum of power that refused to die.

The relic’s fragments pulsed one last time, faint, trembling, and a sigil formed beneath Asher’s feet, glowing with unstable energy that would not fade.