The forest swallowed them whole.
Azeron stepped beneath the towering black pines of the Emberwood, their branches twisted like skeletal fingers reaching toward the moon. Ash drifted down from the night sky, caught in the beams of dim moonlight that pierced the canopy. Every few minutes, the distant crackle of burning rooftops echoed from the direction of Rivenwood.
A reminder.
A wound.
A grave.
Azeron didn't slow. The demons followed silently behind him, their heavy footfalls surprisingly soft on the forest floor. Six of them—those who had survived his initial awakening and the rift collapse. Lesser demons, normally ravenous and uncontrollable, now moved with eerie discipline.
They kept their heads bowed.
Never walked ahead of him.
Never met his eyes.
He didn't know if this obedience made him safer… or more terrified.
"How far do we go?" Azeron asked quietly, mostly to himself.
The system answered.
[Safe Distance From Human Detection: 3.1 kilometers.]
[Recommended Direction: Southwest—toward Abyssal residue.]
[Warning: Host energy reserves low.]
Azeron rubbed his temples. "I can't… feel anything draining."
[Because you are stabilized in human form.]
[Stronger forms require higher energy expenditure.]
He swallowed.
Right.
Human form meant safety from his own powers.
The other form—the demon form—burned through energy like wildfire, but was terrifyingly strong.
Azeron stopped walking and turned slightly.
The demons froze immediately.
They waited.
Silent.
Unblinking.
Submissive.
A chill ran through him.
"Why are you following me?" Azeron asked, voice low.
The nearest demon lifted its head slightly—just enough that its cracked lips could form words.
"You… command," it rasped, voice like dry leaves scraping stone. "Monarch… commands."
"I didn't order you."
"You exist," the demon whispered. "That is order."
Azeron's skin crawled.
He turned away and kept walking.
Eventually the forest thickened, roots twisting across the ground like serpents. The moon disappeared behind the canopy, leaving only the faint glow of demonic embers rising from the creatures behind him.
Branches snapped overhead.
Azeron paused.
Something was nearby.
Not demon.
Not human.
Something… watching.
The system chimed.
[Unknown presence detected.]
[Analyzing intent…]
[Neutral. Cautious. Observing.]
Azeron scanned the dark trees. His heartbeat quickened, but the emotional suppression dulled the edge of fear into something cold and manageable.
A low growl rumbled from one of the demons behind him.
Whatever watched them stepped back.
Azeron exhaled. "Let's just keep going."
He pushed through a thick curtain of leaves—
—and froze.
A clearing sat ahead. Charred. Dead. A crater carved into the earth as if something massive had landed and then burst apart. Blackened grass stretched in all directions.
Azeron stepped into the center of the crater.
Instinct tugged at him.
A pull.
A whisper.
A sense of familiarity.
He knelt and touched the soil.
Immediately, the ground trembled beneath his fingertips.
[Trace Abyssal Energy Detected.]
[Origin: Demon General class.]
[Residual power compatible with Host evolution pathways.]
Azeron's blood went cold. "The General from the rift?"
[Correct.]
He pulled his hand away quickly.
"What does it want?"
[To devour the Host.]
[To absorb the Primordial Seed.]
[To prevent your Ascension.]
A pulse of nausea hit him.
"So this thing is hunting me."
[It is searching for you now.]
The forest suddenly felt too small.
But the system wasn't done.
[Recommendation: Continue moving southwest.]
[Further rift residue detected.]
[Possible shelter location identified.]
Azeron stood and backed away from the crater.
The demons followed closely—too closely. One brushed against his arm, and he jerked away instinctively.
It instantly lowered itself, bowing in apology.
Azeron clenched his fists.
"I'm not your king," he whispered harshly.
None responded.
Because that wasn't a question.
It was a lie.
---
They walked deeper into the Emberwood.
The trees grew thicker, darker, twisting around each other like veins of petrified shadow. Strange fungi glowed faint blue at the bases of the trunks, casting an eerie light that made the forest look alive and breathing.
Somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled.
Except it wasn't a wolf.
Azeron heard the layers beneath the sound—the guttural demonic undertone, the warbling pitch of an Abyssal creature.
The demons behind him growled back, low and warning.
Azeron whispered, "Let's not provoke anything…"
He wasn't ready for another fight. His body ached. His mind was barely holding together. He still hadn't processed the fact that he had killed demons twice his size—and made them bow.
But the forest didn't care about his fatigue.
The path opened into a new clearing, this one filled with broken stone ruins half-swallowed by vines and moss. A shattered monument stood at the center—a tall, jagged slab with ancient demonic runes etched across the surface.
Faint, pulsing light glowed in the cracks.
Azeron approached cautiously.
"What is this?"
The system hummed.
[Ancient Marker: Demonline Territory.]
[Purpose: Denote paths carved by High Demons in the past.]
Azeron swallowed. "Should we go around it?"
[Entering the Marker's radius provides the Host with protection from lesser entities.]
Azeron looked back at his demon followers.
They stared at the ruin with unmistakable fear.
Even they stepped back.
Azeron turned to the stone again.
"What kind of protection?"
[Anything weaker than a High Demon is forbidden to cross this threshold.]
[Enforced by old magic—predates the war between realms.]
Azeron took a slow breath.
He stepped forward.
Crossed the threshold.
And—
The air shifted instantly.
Wind died.
Shadows stilled.
His heartbeat echoed in his ears.
Azeron felt… heavier. Rooted. As if the forest itself acknowledged him.
Behind him, the demons did not follow.
They collapsed the second his foot crossed the boundary, eyes wide with primal terror, bodies pressed flat into the dirt.
They could not enter.
They dared not enter.
Azeron stood alone on the ancient ground.
"Why… can't they follow?"
[Because this place recognizes only one type of being.]
A pause.
Then:
[A Monarch.]
Azeron exhaled slowly, chest tight.
The world around him suddenly felt much larger—and far more dangerous.
If places like this existed…
If High Demons carved paths through the world long before humans recorded history…
What did that mean for him?
What was he becoming?
Before he could think further, the system spoke again.
[Host should rest here.]
[Energy levels critical.]
[Threat level beyond boundary rising.]
Azeron looked up sharply.
"Threat level?"
[Something has been tracking your scent.]
[Arrival estimated in four minutes.]
Azeron's pulse spiked.
"What is it?"
[Unknown.]
[But it is hunting you.]
Azeron backed away from the edge of the boundary.
The forest rustled violently.
Snap.
Crunch.
Snarl.
Something massive circled the clearing, unseen.
Azeron's voice dropped to a whisper.
"What do I do?"
[You rest.]
[You recover.]
[And you let it come.]
Azeron swallowed hard as the forest shook.
Chapter 4 ends with him standing alone inside the ancient boundary—
while something in the darkness snarls and prepares to strike.