Karin stood before the jagged mouth of the cavern, the air damp and stale as if the earth itself had been holding its breath for centuries. With one last glance behind her, she gathered her resolve and leapt down into the darkness. Her qi flared around her fingertips, forming a faint, torchlike glow that painted the stone walls in pale light.
The cave devoured her footsteps in silence. The ground was rough, wet with dampness, and the shadows reached out endlessly ahead. As she pushed further in, the dim light showed her something that caught her breath in her throat.
In the middle of the cave was an altar. On the altar, there was a skeleton cross-legged in meditation, as though its cultivation had not ceased. The body was nothing but dry bones with tatters of clothes, the robes having long ago broken down into dust. One thing was left behind — a tiny piece of metal implanted close to the chest, its pallid shine inviolate to time.
Karin's eyes widened as she noticed the mark inscribed upon it. The Heavenly Demon's sigil.
Her blood ran cold. This can't be… a Heavenly Demon corpse? Here?
Hesitant, she moved toward the altar, every step heavy with doubt. Reaching out a shaking hand, she brushed her fingers over the metal piece.
The world shifted.
The skeleton moved.
The sudden movement sent a jolt of terror through her . There was no opportunity for her to step backward before an overwhelming force exploded from the altar.
The cave froze as though it had been struck by a heavenly hammer. The pressure came down on Karin, pinning her to the stone ground. She could not stir, could not even breathe. Her qi surged reflexively in opposition, but it was like attempting to resist the entire weight of the heavens.
The suffocating presence spread far beyond the cave. Mountains trembled, rivers surged against their banks, and earthquakes split the ground across entire nations. For ten seconds, the world itself seemed to reel beneath that ancient aura.
—
Far distant, in a throne room hewn from obsidian and illuminated by rivers of molten flame, a shape shifted. lord of all demonkind, lounged indolently against his throne. His eyes danced with a perilous humor as the tremors penetrated even his dark stronghold.
A smirk spread across his lips.
"Thought it was too early for that."
—
Across the seas, in distant empires and rival sects, cultivators gasped as storms tore across skies and waves devoured coastlines. Leaders of forgotten clans stood from their meditation halls, brows furrowed at the violent shift of the heavens. Armies halted mid-march, sensing a calamity stir in the marrow of the world. Even the hidden hermits dwelling atop sacred peaks opened their eyes, whispering to themselves of an omen none dared to name.
The earthquake ended as abruptly as it began. The silence that followed was heavier than thunder.
—
Karin's arms shook as she forced herself upright, her chest burning with ragged breaths. Fear tightened around her heart — not just at the strength she had felt, but at what she had done. She had awakened something long shut.
The jaw of the skeleton creaked open. Its voice was no longer human but a voice from a forgotten era.
"Though there be a more worthy successor… I will pass it to my bloodline. Curse you, Asmodeus."
Its bony hand rose with unnatural elegance, and one finger touched Karin's forehead. A burst of black qi intruded into her mind, swift as lightning, before dispersing without a residue. The skeleton collapsed into dust, wiping itself from existence completely.
Within her inner space, Karin reeled. She saw it — a book, huge and ponderous, bound in darkness. Its existence vibrated with her spirit, as though it had been hers all along. The doctrines of the Heavenly Demon were contained within its pages.
Her amazement was quickly dispelled by grim reality. The altar led nowhere. The cave was a dead end, and the hole above loomed fifty meters overhead. No rope or string was going to make it without an anchor. There was no exit.
Desperation turned her thoughts to the book. She opened it in her inner mind and scanned through its cryptic teachings. One passage drew her attention — the Yielding Art of Beelzebub. A cultivation technique that could grant wings, enabling flight without having reached the Monarch Realm.
Hope flared in her chest. Focusing her qi, she sat cross-legged before the altar, closing her eyes. She directed her energy toward her back, envisioning wings tearing free from her soul into reality. Pain coursed through her veins, but she endured it, her only thought fixed on escape.
—
In the meantime, in the distant Southern Desert Kingdom, Rune walked with deliberate strides along the busy streets of the capital. His objective stood clear in his mind: to get to the Castle of the Death King. But as he walked, a recollection tormented him, drawing him in a different direction.
The laughter and cries of the marketplace grew faint as he moved away from the main streets. Cobblestone streets gave way to ruined alleyways, the scent of spice and smoke yielding to dry, stale air. The heart of the city grew still until the wind was the only voice whispering through what was left of the deserted homes.
In front of him was a little house, a twisted thing of decaying brick. Its walls slanted as if tired of standing upright, its roof covered with irregular stone and wood patches. Rune halted. His eyes remained fixed on it, motionless, the shadow of something deep in the past stirring within him. He could almost hear voices — whispers from another era, distant, transient, yet keen enough to wound his heart.
His fists were clenched, and he took a slow breath before moving forward.
—
Far to the north, rain poured down relentlessly on a bleak graveyard. The storm wailed, thunder crashing like war drums in the heavens. Amidst the rows of weathered tombstones, a marker stood freshly carved:
Here lies Isshin.
No one attended to mourn. No incense was burned, no flowers were offered. Only rain wet the ground, thick drops beating against cold stone.
The storm was at its peak. Lightning tore the air asunder — and the ground trembled. Out of the waterlogged earth in front of Isshin's tombstone, a hand clawed its way upwards. Fingers tore through mud and rock, stretching towards the tempest above.
"You got some explaining to do Raijin"