The Damned Demon

As the chaos of battle swirled around them, Drakar's presence was a tempest of malice.

He reached down and seized the collar of the unconscious Asher, lifting him with disdainful ease. Nearby, Rowena lay half-conscious, her spirit ablaze with a silent, desperate fury. Her eyes, shimmering with unshed tears, quivered as they witnessed the scene. Her body, however, betrayed her, refusing to heed her heart's desperate cries to protect Asher.

Around her, the draconian forces encircled her like a pack of dark specters, their intentions as clear as the cold steel they bore.

"Asher..." The name escaped Rowena's lips, a whispered plea to the winds, her fingers clawing impotently at the unforgiving earth.

Drakar's voice sliced through the tense air, his words dripping with contempt. "Look at you. Vulnerable and weak like a child in my hands." His smile was a cruel slash across his face, but it faltered, confusion and disbelief clouding his eyes as he witnessed the transformation unfolding before him.

Asher's skin, muscles, and flesh seemed to dissolve in a dance of dark green light, unveiling a chilling sight: a gleaming skeletal structure.

The bones, dark as the abyss and lustrous as the night, looking as if they were forged from the darkest of diamonds, bore the sheen of a starless night sky, fractured by veins of charred remains as if bathed in an inferno.

"What in the name of the devils..." Drakar's voice trailed off, a rare note of uncertainty creeping into his tone. He had never seen such an eerie-looking skeleton, and from what he knew, Asher's skeleton form didn't look like this before. How could any demon have a skeleton with a texture that didn't feel like bones at all.

The air grew heavy, charged with a palpable dread as suddenly the hollow sockets of Asher's skull ignited with a sinister glow.

In an instant that felt like an eternity, Asher's skeletal hand found Drakar's throat, its grip heavy and scorching. "Such bold words for someone within the grasp of what they deemed weak. Does your arrogance keep you warm in the shadow of death?" Asher spoke in a voice that was deep and resonant, with a gravelly undertone that rumbled like distant thunder, echoing with an eerie, commanding presence

Drakar's breath hitched, the chill of fear lacing his spine as he stared into the abyss within those hollow sockets.

He felt the unfamiliar sting of fear snake through his veins, igniting a fury within him that burned hotter than the fires of the abyss. With a snarl that could curdle blood, he recoiled from his momentary lapse, his hand arcing through the air, a deadly fist aimed at Asher's skull.

The impact was a booming echo of violence, a collision that should have shattered bone and spirit alike. But the sound that erupted was not of destruction, but of defiance—a dull, thunderous echo that resonated through the bones of all who witnessed it.

"ARGH!"

Drakar staggered back, a groan of agony escaping his lips, his hand a trembling, bloody sign of the impossible.

His gaze, wide with a mixture of shock and fury, fell upon his own fist. Skin and sinew, honed through battles untold and supposed to be as formidable as steel, now betrayed him, bruised and lacerated as if he had struck an indestructible, jagged monolith.

The battlefield was momentarily frozen in an atmosphere of shock and disbelief. Around him, the draconian soldiers watched in stunned silence; their belief in their king's invincibility shattered like glass against the eerie resilience of that skeleton, which was supposed to be the bloodburn king.

Rowena, her heart a battlefield of its own, felt a surge of hope, a flickering relief in the suffocating despair.

The sight of Asher looking stronger than ever was a balm to her spirit. She could see that his skeleton looked quite different and very powerful as if his bones were unbreakable.

Did his Hellbringer form evolve in some way after conquering the Tower of Torment?

"You...You became a Soul Devourer?" The words fell from Drakar's lips, a mix of question and accusation, his eyes locked on Asher with a gaze that was trembling with shock.

The realm of Soul Devourers was a legend to almost everyone in this world, a whisper of power that few dared to dream of, let alone witness.

And yet, before him stood Asher, a young alien transformed, not just in body but in essence. Drakar's mind raced, trying to piece together the impossible puzzle. He knew Asher recently became a peak Soul Purger after returning from the Quest of the Worthy, but no soul in this realm had ever entered Soul Devourer this quickly, especially when just a few minutes ago he was still a peak Soul Purger. Did the weakened form of Drakaris grant him power as well?

Even after pushing that aside, Asher was now still a low-level Soul Devourer, and yet his skull was strong enough to hurt his fist? How was this possible?!

He did know Asher was capable of defeating a mid-level Soul Devourer as a peak Soul Purger, though he didn't fully believe it since it sounded absurd and felt that it couldn't have been possible without certain compromises.

Hearing Drakar's mumble, the air around Asher crackled with an otherworldly energy, dark green flames coiling around his skeletal frame like serpents made of emerald fire as he casually lifted his blazing bony hand, "I could explain, but I doubt someone as weak as you could understand, "His voice, resonant and deep, broke the stunned silence.

In the blink of an eye, Asher's form became a blur, a phantom streak of darkness and light. He reappeared behind Drakar, who, driven by instinct and rage, spun around to retaliate. But Asher, embodying a terrifying new prowess, deflected Drakar's strike with an effortless flick of his elbow, sending a jolt of pain through Drakar's arm.

Before Drakar could recover, Asher unleashed a devastating uppercut to his jaw.

The force of the blow rippled through Drakar's flesh, blood spraying from his mouth as the air itself seemed to warp and shudder.

With a sound like thunder, Drakar was sent hurtling skyward, a helpless puppet in the grasp of an unseen tempest.

Asher, relentless and unforgiving, transformed further. From his skeletal back sprouted wings of bone, draconic and fearsome, engulfed in the same dark green flames that adorned his form. He shot upwards, a comet of vengeance and power, overtaking Drakar's ascending figure.

Then, with a movement both graceful and terrible, Asher brought his hands together and struck down upon Drakar's solar plexus. The sound of shattering ribs echoed like a death knell, a haunting chorus to the sight of Drakar plummeting back to earth. He landed with a force that shook the ground, forming a crater around his broken form with balls of dark green flames falling around him.

All around, soldiers and warriors alike stood frozen, their eyes wide with shock and disbelief. They gazed upon the winged, skeletal figure ablaze with dark green fire, hovering like a harbinger of doom.

Rebecca and Lysandra, previously entangled in their own fierce battle without paying attention to whatever was going on around them, felt the ground tremble beneath them. The two women, bloodied and battered with their garments torn here and there, turned, their expressions a mix of disbelief and shock, as they beheld the sight of Drakar, once unassailable, now lying defeated and bloodied. Rebecca's eyes shook, unable to believe that alien bastard somehow again managed to turn things in his favor. She was hoping he would get killed by these draconians. How was he able to always save his own skin like this?

Lysandra, her eyes alight with a wild, frenzied glow, stared at the scene, her heart a tumult of emotions.

The sight of Drakar, vanquished and vulnerable, was a vision she had longed for yet never dared to believe possible.

But now....just a single attack from her would easily finish him.

And there, above him, was Asher, the alien, the outsider, the catalyst of her deepest desires made manifest.

She never expected that the king of their mortal enemies would be the one to make her dream a reality. Her thoughts were a blend of heavy emotions and wonder.

Rowena, with the last vestiges of her mana, summoned the strength to mend her wounds just enough to raise herself into a seated position. The world around her was a maelstrom of destruction and power, yet her eyes were fixed solely on the spectacle above. The sight of Asher, a spectral avenger in the sky, striking down Drakar, filled her with a tumult of emotions. Pride swelled within her, mingling with a sense of awe at the sheer magnitude of his strength despite having entered the realm of Soul Devourers.

Drakar, though already wearied and wounded, was no ordinary foe, and yet Asher had laid him low with a force that spoke of a power beyond reckoning.

Asher, amidst the chaos of his own unleashed fury, felt Rowena's gaze upon him. His skeletal head turned, his hollow sockets locking onto her form below. The sight of her, injured and beset, a lone figure of grace marred by the brutality of battle, ignited a new flame within him. His fists clenched, the dark green flames that wreathed him flaring with an intensity that mirrored the sudden surge of protectiveness that coursed through his being.

With a speed that blurred the lines between reality and nightmare, Asher descended upon the draconian forces that dared to encircle Rowena to desperately attack her while she was weakened.

Over 700 soldiers, once imposing and relentless, now trembled before the wrathful specter that bore down upon them. The draconian ships, behemoths of war in the sky, became little more than toys in the path of a tempest.

The dark green flames that heralded his arrival consumed the draconians nearest to Rowena, leaving naught but ashes swirling in a macabre dance. Rowena, her strength returning, stood slowly, her gaze never leaving the catastrophic ballet unfolding in the skies. Asher was a relentless force of vengeance, weaving through the draconian ranks like a specter of annihilation. His form flickered in and out of existence, a phantom delivering retribution, his presence alone sowing chaos and despair amongst the enemy.

As the draconian warships, once symbols of dominion, collided and crumbled in a cacophony of destruction, the remaining draconians gazed upwards, their hearts seized by a fear that ran deeper than the bones.

Not even the powerful shields of the ships were able to hold him off as the speed and power at which he rammed himself into their ships was enough to kill him too and yet not even a scratch was left behind on his gleaming bones.

The Bloodburn King, a title that once they looked down upon with contempt, now whispered of dread and destruction, his aura that absurdly grew only more terrifying without stop.

Even though he was just a skeleton, the sharpest and strongest of their weapons couldn't even scratch his bones, making all their attacks seem useless to him.

How were they supposed to defeat an indestructible hellish being that can't be killed, let alone slow him down? Whenever his bony maw opened, a sea of dark green eerie flames engulfed dozens of them at a time, corrupting their very essence, unable to let them heal and eating away at their flesh and life until nothing was left but the echoes of their horrifying pain.

He was no man, no mortal, but an immortal monster! Only now did they realize how foolish they were to take him lightly, though even if they hadn't taken him lightly, it wouldn't have changed their fate.

Rowena, amidst the ruins of what was once a battlefield, her face streaked with blood and her spirit unbroken, gazed upon the figure that carved through the skies after freeing Flaralis.

Her lips parted in a whisper, a truth that resonated with every fiber of her being, "Maybe you are the one who will save our realm finally," she murmured, her lips forming a brief, soft smile.