For the first time in weeks, the citadel was quiet. No missions. No monster hunts. No collapsing in the courtyard half-dead while Selene scolded him with that motherly glare of hers.
Asura lounged in his chamber, sprawled across his bed like a cat in the sun. A tray of food sat forgotten on the table—half-eaten bread, untouched fruit, and a mountain of desserts he had demanded from the kitchen.
"Ahhh," he sighed dramatically, folding his arms behind his head. "Finally. A couple of days to live like a protagonist between arcs. You know—relax, recharge, pretend I'm not training for the apocalypse."
His golden eyes gleamed mischievously. He flicked his fingers and summoned his system window just for the thrill of watching his absurd stats hover in glowing text. It was childish, yes, but Asura enjoyed it the way other kids might enjoy spinning a toy.
He chuckled. "Yep. Still broken. Still terrifying. Still me."
Across the room, Selene was dusting the shelves with careful precision. "Young master," she said without looking at him, "you call it rest, but somehow I suspect this will end with something exploding."
"Hey," Asura sat up, putting a hand to his chest in mock offense, "that was only most of the last few times."
She finally turned, violet eyes narrowing. "You nearly leveled the training yard."
"Details, details." He waved her off, grinning. "Besides, what's a Demon Prince without a little property damage?"
Selene sighed softly, muttering under her breath. "The King spoils you far too much."
Asura ignored her tone, his grin softening as he stared at the ceiling. "Still… it's kind of nice, y'know? Just being… here. No giant wolf packs trying to eat me, no cursed swords whispering in the dark, no glowing crystals trying to fry my brain…"
He trailed off, glancing at the small, faintly pulsing fragment resting on his nightstand. His grin twitched, but he didn't comment further.
Leisure or not, fate never let him rest for long.
✦ Mischief in the Halls
The next morning, the citadel bustled with its usual grim order. Heavy boots struck the obsidian floors in rhythm as soldiers marched in neat lines, armor gleaming under the torchlight. Servants darted about, balancing trays of food and scrolls of reports, while nobles gathered in little cliques, whispering secrets and gossip like crows perched on a carcass.
And right in the middle of the grand hall… sat Asura.
Literally sat. Cross-legged on the cold black stone, arms folded, golden eyes fixed on the passing soldiers as if he were some monk in meditation. Except his grin gave him away—it wasn't enlightenment. It was mischief.
When one soldier, distracted by the sight, nearly tripped over him, Asura tilted his head innocently.
"Relax," he said, voice carrying far too casually in the solemn hall. "I'm just practicing my Main Character Entrance Pose."
The soldier froze, blinking in confusion. "…Your what?"
"Y'know, the thing heroes do in stories? Sitting in the middle of a hall, waiting for destiny to come knocking? Any second now someone should burst through those doors shouting about a prophecy."
The soldier stared at him blankly. Behind him, his comrade stifled a laugh before quickly pretending to cough.
Desperate, the first soldier turned toward Selene, who was walking behind Asura with her usual poise. She didn't even pause. Her violet eyes narrowed, sharp as blades. That was enough—the soldier practically sprinted down the hall, armor clattering, muttering apologies.
Selene finally stopped in front of Asura, her shadow falling over him. She pinched the bridge of her nose, her patience already fraying.
"Young master," she said evenly, "you are going to give someone a heart attack."
"Good," Asura replied without missing a beat, propping his chin on his hand. "Fear keeps the audience invested."
Selene blinked. "…Audience?"
Asura's golden eyes widened for a split second. He coughed loudly, waving his hands. "Nothing. Forget I said that."
He hopped to his feet with sudden energy, dusting off his robe dramatically. "Anyway, let's continue. Time for Act Two!"
"Act—" Selene began, but he was already striding ahead, cloak fluttering behind him like he was marching toward a climactic battle instead of breakfast.
As he passed a cluster of nobles, he whispered just loudly enough:
"Watch carefully. This is foreshadowing."
The nobles exchanged baffled glances, whispering in alarm. One muttered, "Foreshadowing of what?" while another nervously replied, "I-I don't know, but I think we should bow again."
Selene followed with a sigh that could have extinguished torches.
"Someday, young master," she muttered under her breath, "your nonsense will get you into real trouble."
Asura, hearing but pretending not to, smirked to himself.
"Or," he whispered, "it'll make me unforgettable."
✦ Sparring with Soldiers
Later, in the courtyard, a cluster of knights were running their usual drills. Their swords clashed rhythmically, boots striking stone in unison, their disciplined chants rising with each motion. It was the kind of orderly practice session the Demon King demanded—structured, serious, efficient.
And then Asura strolled in.
Katana slung lazily across his shoulders, robe half-tucked, golden eyes gleaming with mischief. He looked less like a prince of demons and more like some mischievous kid who had wandered in from the kitchens.
"Hey," he called out cheerfully, interrupting their cadence. "Want to spar?"
The knights froze mid-motion. Helmets turned. A few lowered their swords, exchanging alarmed looks.
One of them cleared his throat nervously. "P-Prince… it would not be proper—"
Asura waved him off with a grin. "Relax! I'll handicap myself. Super fair."
The knights glanced at one another again, silently debating who'd be brave—or foolish—enough to actually step forward. Finally, one veteran knight sighed, tightened his grip on his blade, and bowed. "If you insist, young master… we will honor your request."
Asura's smirk widened. "Great. Don't hold back, okay? I'm fragile."
And then the madness began.
The first knight lunged, blade flashing toward his shoulder. Asura… closed his eyes. Not blinked. Not squinted. He actually closed them and tilted his head lazily to the side, letting the strike whoosh past his ear.
Another knight swung at his legs. Asura hopped lazily over the strike, landing on one foot, balancing his wooden katana on his shoulder like a broomstick.
"Hmm-hm-hmm~," he hummed tunelessly, as if he were walking through a meadow instead of dodging steel aimed to kill.
The knights gritted their teeth and pressed harder. Three came at once, blades slicing from different angles. Asura leaned back casually, spinning his katana once in a single hand, deflecting each strike without breaking his humming.
At one point, he actually leaned on the wooden katana like a cane, pretending to yawn mid-swing. "Ahhh… man, I should've napped before this."
The knights snarled, sweat dripping as they struck faster, harder, their movements desperate. But it was hopeless.
With a single lazy flick of his wrist, Asura hooked one knight's sword, twisted, and sent the blade flying across the courtyard. It clattered into the dirt several meters away. The disarmed knight stumbled back, gasping, too stunned to even retrieve it.
Asura's golden eyes flicked open, gleaming with playful light. He spread his arms. "See? Good training, right? You guys almost had me."
The knights collapsed where they stood, drenched in sweat, chests heaving as though they had been fighting for hours. Their pride was battered even more than their stamina.
And that was the moment Selene appeared at the gate.
Her violet eyes narrowed, her arms crossed, her posture radiating disapproval. "Asura," she said firmly, "stop tormenting the garrison."
Asura spun dramatically, clutching his chest with both hands like a mortally wounded hero. "Tormenting? Selene, you wound me." He turned, gesturing grandly to the knights crumpled on the ground. "This is character development—for them!"
The knights, sprawled across the courtyard, weren't sure whether to laugh or cry. One muttered hoarsely, "If this is development, I'd rather stay undeveloped."
Selene exhaled, pinching the bridge of her nose again.
Asura, unbothered, raised his wooden katana high as if addressing an invisible crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for attending today's training arc. Don't worry—the sequel will be even better."
Selene groaned audibly.
✦ Tea with Nobles
That afternoon, despite every protest he could muster, Asura was dragged into one of the citadel's grand sitting rooms—a place that reeked of politics more than tea. The walls were lined with portraits of grim-faced nobles, and the long obsidian table gleamed under chandeliers that reflected the faint red of demonfire crystals.
Three nobles waited for him there—two men and a woman—all robed in wealth. Gold-threaded capes, jeweled brooches, and manicured horns polished to mirror shine. Their smiles were soft, their eyes sharper than daggers.
Selene stood behind him, quiet but watchful, like a blade hidden in silk.
"Prince Asura," began the eldest noble, his voice dripping with warmth that felt rehearsed. "What an honor. His Majesty's grandson himself gracing us today. We were simply dying to make your acquaintance."
The second noble chuckled lightly. "Indeed. Word spreads fast through the court—about your brilliance, your… peculiar energy. They say even the servants whisper of your promise."
The woman smiled too sweetly. "And such potential must be guided properly. Young blood burns bright, but without direction, even a flame can consume itself."
Selene's gaze hardened. "The young master is hardly a flame to be tamed."
"Oh, of course," said the woman smoothly, though her smile didn't falter. "I simply meant… guided. Surely you wouldn't deny that His Majesty's bloodline deserves the best counsel."
Asura leaned back in his chair, golden eyes half-lidded. His teacup clinked softly as he lifted it, unhurried. "Counsel. Guidance. Control. Interesting how often those words mean the same thing here."
The first noble's smile twitched, just barely. "Control? No, no, my prince. Influence is a partnership. A young heir such as yourself should learn who truly keeps the Demon Realm in balance. Nobility, after all, exists to support the throne."
Selene's jaw clenched, her voice sharp. "Support—or steer?"
The man's eyes flicked to her, dismissive. "You speak freely for a maid."
"I speak as the prince's guardian," Selene replied coolly. "And as someone who knows when others overstep."
The tension in the room thickened. The nobles' polite facades remained, but their eyes darkened—predatory, calculating. To them, Asura wasn't a child. He was a future lever of power, one they hoped to pull early.
The woman leaned forward, voice syrupy. "Prince Asura, imagine it—a coalition of noble houses under your name. When you come of age, we could ensure your succession is unchallenged. Wealth. Loyalty. Command."
"Provided," added the second noble, swirling his tea, "you remember who helped you get there."
Asura stared at them, expression unreadable. Then—softly—he smiled.
"…So that's the game," he murmured.
The nobles blinked. "Pardon?"
He tilted his head, tone light, almost playful. "You're offering chains, but calling them favors. Promising crowns while keeping the leash short. Cute strategy, really. I'd almost be impressed if it wasn't so… obvious."
The eldest noble stiffened. "You misunderstand—"
"No," Asura cut in, voice low and even. "I don't."
Selene blinked, startled by his calm. Normally he'd mock or jest—this time he simply sat there, back straight, gaze unwavering. He didn't need to shout. His silence carried weight.
The woman forced a laugh. "You speak boldly, my prince, but such talk could be… misunderstood. The court can be unforgiving to the naive."
Asura smiled faintly. "Then I guess I'll just have to be smarter than the court."
That earned a twitch from the second noble's jaw. They exchanged nervous glances, unsure how to navigate a child who refused to play by their script.
Selene, however, relaxed slightly. His steady tone—the quiet certainty in his voice—was enough to make her unclench her fists.
When Asura finally set his cup down, the sound echoed like a closing gate.
"Thank you for the tea," he said politely, standing. "But I'm not interested in alliances, councils, or… management teams." His golden eyes flicked between them, each word quiet but deliberate. "Tell your friends in court they can stop circling. I'm not their prey."
The silence that followed was suffocating. The nobles didn't move, didn't breathe, until Asura turned and left the room.
Outside, the moment the doors closed, Selene exhaled. "You handled that… surprisingly well."
He shrugged, hands tucked behind his head as he walked. "They're just talkers. Talkers don't scare me."
"You shouldn't ignore them," she warned softly. "People like that plant seeds. Poisonous ones."
"I know." He gave her a sidelong glance, grin returning. "But poison only works if you drink it."
Selene sighed, a faint smile tugging at her lips despite herself. "You're far too calm for someone who just insulted half the noble class."
Asura chuckled quietly. "Let them think I'm weak. The ones who underestimate me…" His golden eyes gleamed. "…are easier to deal with later."
Selene stared at him for a beat, seeing the flicker of maturity beneath his childish grin. Then she muttered, "You really are His Majesty's grandson."
Asura smirked. "Guess it runs in the family."
✦ The Grand Duke
The grand banquet hall was alive with firelight and shadow, its vaulted ceiling echoing with the low murmur of nobles and the clink of goblets. Rows of braziers lined the obsidian walls, their crimson flames painting the air with heat and menace. At the far end, beneath a canopy of banners, sat the Demon King—colossal and unmoving, his golden-crimson eyes watching all.
The great doors opened, and the herald's voice boomed:
"Announcing His Grace, the Grand Duke of the Western Province, his wife, Lady Elenora, and their children—Adrian and Alice."
The hall fell silent as the family entered.
The Grand Duke was a mountain of a man, armored in black and crimson plate engraved with ancient runes. His aura was sharp but contained, like a blade sheathed but honed to perfection. Beside him walked his wife, Elenora, draped in violet silks. Her presence was calm, steady, her beauty regal but edged with quiet cunning.
And behind them trailed their two children.
Adrian, the eldest, carried himself with visible pride, his short-cropped sky-blue hair and immaculate black-and-gold robes marking him as a true noble of the Demon Realm. His gaze swept the hall like he already owned it, and when his eyes landed on Asura, the faintest smirk tugged at his lips.
Alice, by contrast, moved with practiced grace. A year older than Asura, her mint teal hair was neatly behind her, her silver-hued dress cut elegantly. Unlike her brother, her gaze did not linger on the nobles or the King—it settled quietly, curiously, on Asura.
The Demon King raised his hand, and the silence deepened. "Grand Duke. Duchess. You honor my hall."
The Duke bowed, the movement heavy but respectful. His voice was deep, gravel layered with steel. "My Lord. It is ever our duty. And…" His sharp gaze shifted to the boy standing beside Selene. "…to finally stand before your heir."
He lowered his head slightly. "Prince Asura. It is an honor."
Elenora followed with a graceful curtsy. "The realm already whispers your name."
Alice stepped forward, dipping lower than her parents. "I am Alice," she said softly, her voice clear as a bell. "It is a privilege to meet you, Prince."
Adrian followed suit, though his bow was more perfunctory. "Adrian Von Drakar," he said briskly, his smirk still faint. "I look forward to seeing what you can do."
Asura tilted his head, golden eyes gleaming faintly in the firelight. He studied them all—Duke, Duchess, and children. No shallow flattery. No simpering smiles. Their strength radiated without arrogance, their words carried weight.
Interesting, he thought. They're not like the others. They're not trying to use me.
For once, he returned a small, genuine nod. "Likewise."
The introductions passed, and nobles relaxed again. Conversation flowed, but the Grand Duke did not linger with wine or banter. His attention, sharp as ever, returned to the throne.
"My Lord," he said, bowing toward the Demon King, "with your permission, I would like to make a request."
The King's crimson eyes glowed faintly. "Speak."
The Duke gestured toward his children, then toward Asura. "It would be good for our heirs to know one another—not as figures in court, but as youths of this realm. Let them step beyond these walls together. To the capital town. Let them see the people, the markets, the heart of demonkind. I will assign guards, of course, to ensure their safety. But with your blessing, I would have them go together."
The hall stilled, waiting for the King's response.
For a long moment, the Demon King said nothing. His burning gaze moved from the Duke to Asura. The boy stood tall, katana slung casually against his shoulder, grin faint on his lips. Not nervous. Not hesitant.
At last, the King chuckled, the sound low and thunderous. "You ask as though I would say no. Let the boy walk the world. Let him see it for himself."
His grin widened, sharp as the edge of a blade. "Yes. Go. The town will not break him. And if it tries…" His eyes flared brighter. "…it will learn why he is mine."
The nobles murmured uneasily. Selene's hands tightened at her side, but she bowed without protest.
The Grand Duke smiled faintly, bowing again. "As you will, my Lord." He turned to his son and daughter. "Adrian. Alice. You will accompany Prince Asura. You will show him the town. You will return safely, with knowledge, and without disgrace."
"Yes, Father," Adrian said smoothly, his smirk growing as his gaze slid back to Asura.
"Yes, Father," Alice said softly, her eyes never leaving the golden-eyed prince.
The Duke snapped his fingers. Instantly, a cadre of armored guards stepped forward. Their auras were strong, disciplined, but none of them looked twice at the boy in simple clothes standing near Selene. Their eyes swept him once, dismissing him as the pampered prince in need of escort.
Adrian smirked at that, clearly pleased.
Selene, however, did not miss their mistake. Her violet eyes narrowed dangerously, though she said nothing.
The Duke finished with a nod. "A carriage will be provided from His Majesty's stables. My guards will oversee the road. My children will see to the rest."
The Demon King leaned back, his voice final. "So be it."
The banquet resumed, but the path ahead had already shifted.
And as Asura met Adrian's gaze across the hall, the noble boy smirking with easy arrogance, his golden eyes gleamed with a spark of amusement.
They don't know a thing about me. This is going to be fun.
The following morning, the citadel stirred early. A black carriage, reinforced with crimson iron and drawn by two horned war-beasts, waited in the courtyard. Its surface was etched with protective runes, faintly glowing as guards finished their final checks.
Asura stepped out with Selene at his side, golden eyes squinting at the sunlight. He wore simple black traveling clothes, his katana slung casually across his back.
The Grand Duke's guards stood in neat rows. Their armor gleamed, their expressions disciplined—yet when their eyes swept over Asura, their posture relaxed slightly. Some even exchanged small smirks, as though already certain this "prince" would be baggage, not burden.
Selene noticed. Her lips pressed into a thin line, but she kept silent, though her hand lingered near her dagger.
"Prince Asura!" Adrian's voice rang out as he descended the steps with the confidence of a man twice his age. His dark robes swaying faintly as he approached, his polished smile in place. "Welcome to your first real outing beyond these walls."
"Mm," Asura replied lazily, stretching his arms overhead like he had just woken from a nap. "Hope it's not boring."
Adrian's smirk sharpened. "Don't worry. I'll make sure you keep up."
Before Selene could retort, Alice emerged from the hall, her mint teal hair catching the light. She wore a simpler dress this time, travel-ready, though still elegant. She bowed slightly to Asura. "Good morning, Prince. I hope this trip will be… enlightening."
Her tone was measured, polite, but her eyes flickered with quiet curiosity.
Asura grinned at her, flashing fangs. "Oh, don't worry. I plan to cause trouble until it's interesting."
Adrian scoffed softly. Alice raised a brow. Selene pinched the bridge of her nose.
"Inside, then," one guard barked. He gestured stiffly, as though shepherding children. "We've wasted enough time."
Selene's violet eyes flashed, but Asura only smiled faintly, letting them believe what they wanted.
The carriage rumbled down the blackstone road, leaving the citadel behind. Inside, Asura lounged with his arms behind his head, one boot propped on the bench. Across from him, Adrian sat rigid and proud, arms folded across his chest, while Alice rested her hands neatly in her lap.
"So, Prince," Adrian said smoothly, "have you ever even seen the capital town? Or are you so sheltered that you've only known the throne room and your nursemaid?"
Asura cracked one eye open, smirk tugging at his lips. "Seen it from the sky once. Looked tiny. Like a toy set."
Adrian's jaw tightened. "It is the beating heart of our realm. Show it some respect."
"Relax," Asura replied with a lazy wave of his hand. "I'll respect it when it earns it."
Alice stifled a small laugh behind her hand. Adrian shot her a glare, but she only looked out the window, pretending not to notice.
Outside, the guards rode in formation. A few chuckled under their breath, whispering just low enough:
"Soft little prince…"
"…Doesn't even hold himself like a warrior…"
"…The Duke's son will have to babysit him."
Selene heard every word. Her violet eyes narrowed dangerously, her hand twitching near her blade. But Asura simply yawned, golden eyes flicking open with amusement.
They don't know a thing, he thought, smirk tugging at his lips. And that's the best part.
✦ Arrival at the Capital
The black carriage rolled to a stop at the gates of the demon capital. Tall obsidian walls stretched high, carved with runes that shimmered faintly with protective mana. Beyond them, the city sprawled wide—bustling with merchants, soldiers, and civilians of every demon kind.
The moment the gates creaked open, sound and life poured through. Street hawkers shouted about charms and weapons. Blacksmiths hammered at forges that burned with green fire. Children darted between stalls, horns glinting as they laughed. The air itself vibrated with energy.
Adrian stepped out first, posture perfect, his voice loud enough for nearby merchants to hear. "Behold, the jewel of the Demon Realm—the capital, seat of trade and power! Every demon worth their name has shed blood to make this city what it is."
A few citizens glanced over at him, unimpressed, before returning to haggling over meat skewers.
Alice followed gracefully, her gaze sweeping over the city with calm appreciation. "It's more alive than I imagined," she said softly.
Then Asura jumped out of the carriage with all the grace of a kid hopping down stairs, landing with a thud. His golden eyes widened as he spun slowly in place. "Whoa… it's like one big festival!"
Selene pinched her nose. "Young master, please—"
But he was already darting toward the nearest food stall. "Oi! What's that? Smells amazing!"
The vendor blinked at him. "Uh… bloodfire skewers, my prince?"
Asura's grin widened. "Bloodfire skewers!? That's metal. I'll take ten."
The man stammered, shoving the sticks into his hands, nearly dropping his coins in shock. Asura bit into one, eyes lighting up. "Oh, this is protagonist fuel right here."
Adrian marched up, scowling. "You can't just—"
"Relax," Asura said through a mouthful, handing a skewer to Alice without asking. "Here, you've got to try it."
Alice blinked, hesitated… then took a bite. Her eyes widened slightly at the flavor, though her composure returned quickly. "…It's good."
"Right!?" Asura said triumphantly.
The guards assigned by the Duke exchanged looks, whispering again:
"Eating in the streets… unbecoming…"
"Doesn't even walk like a prince…"
"…If he's heir material, then I'm the Demon King."
Selene heard them. This time, she almost reached for her dagger.
But Asura only smirked, licking sauce from his fingers. He looked back at Adrian, whose expression was stuck somewhere between outrage and disbelief.
"C'mon, Duke Jr.," Asura teased, tilting his head. "Don't look so stiff. You'll get wrinkles. This is the part in the story where the uptight rival learns to lighten up."
Alice muffled a laugh behind her hand. Adrian's jaw twitched.
Selene sighed. And this is only the first street…
✦ The Tailor's Shop
The capital's streets buzzed with noise, but Asura had only one goal in mind. Ignoring Adrian's smug commentary about "noble duties" and Alice's polite observations of the market stalls, he suddenly stopped in front of a modest but well-kept shop. A carved needle and spool hung above the door.
"A tailor's shop!" he declared. His golden eyes gleamed. "Finally. It's time."
Selene raised a brow. "…Time for what?"
Asura grinned like a child announcing a dramatic twist. "For my protagonist outfit, obviously."
The guards groaned in unison. Adrian scoffed. "A prince has no need to play dress-up. Your armor is sufficient."
"Armor is for NPCs," Asura shot back, already striding into the shop. "Main characters wear style."
Inside, bolts of fabric lined the walls—rich crimson silks, heavy black wool, shimmering threads of silver. The tailor, a middle-aged demon with spectacles perched on his nose, bowed deeply at the sight of them.
"My lord prince!" he exclaimed. "What may I craft for you today? Cloaks? Robes of ceremony? Battle leathers?"
"No," Asura said, lifting his chin dramatically. "Something different. Something… iconic."
He began describing the design—his voice quick, precise, every detail etched from memory.
A black asymmetrical top with twin white trims curving across the chest, leaving the torso exposed. A high collar with a golden clasp at the neck. Tight sleeves ending at the wrist with a circle emblem trimmed in white. A golden sash, ornate and ceremonial, layered with cords and knotted at the center. Flowing, pleated hakama-like pants with a black silk overlay trimmed in gold.
The tailor's quill scratched furiously, his eyes widening with each instruction. But when Asura gestured at the pants, the man froze mid-scribble.
"Hakama?" the tailor repeated, blinking behind his spectacles. "Forgive me, my lord… but what is a… hakama?"
Asura stared at him like he'd just grown a second head. "…You've got katanas, but no hakama!? That's illegal! That's—how is that even possible!?"
The tailor flinched under his outrage, fumbling with his parchment. Selene, standing quietly in the corner, let out the faintest sigh.
"The eastern nations," she said softly. "They craft strange things there. Their ways are different—rarely shared with outsiders. Hakama may be from that land."
Asura's golden eyes widened, and then narrowed with a glint of mischief. "…So that's it, huh? Fine. I'll teach him."
Selene gave him a long, warning look. "Asura…"
But the boy only leaned in closer to the tailor, his tone suddenly conspiratorial. "Listen carefully. I'll show you how to cut and fold the fabric. How to pleat it. How to tie it so it flows when you move. But—" his grin sharpened, fangs flashing—"you can't tell anyone. This design stays between us."
The tailor blinked nervously, then bowed so low his horns nearly scraped the floor. "Y-Yes, my lord! I shall guard it with my life!"
"Good man," Asura said, clapping him on the shoulder like a comrade-in-arms. "Now… let's make history."
✦ The Birth of the Outfit
For hours, Asura worked alongside the tailor. He guided his hands with surprising precision—folding, pleating, adjusting the cut until the hakama began to take shape. Selene sat silently, her violet eyes following him with quiet curiosity. She had seen him fight, command, and even inspire. But here… he looked almost like a craftsman, teaching techniques no one else in this world even knew.
When it was done, the outfit gleamed in the lamplight:
Black silk pants pleated perfectly, flowing like shadow.A high-collared top trimmed in white, exposing the chest with calculated confidence.A golden sash knotted at the waist, shining like a mark of nobility.
The tailor whispered in awe. "It… it feels both regal and terrifying. Like the attire of a prince of war."
Asura smirked, running his fingers along the fabric. "Exactly. It's the look of a Main Character."
Selene's lips twitched as though she wanted to scold him—but then her expression softened. For all his dramatics, the outfit suited him. Fierce, bold, and undeniably regal.
Adrian, waiting outside with his arms crossed, scoffed the moment Asura emerged. "Overdone. Impractical. Laughable."
But the citizens in the street stilled. Their gazes snapped toward the boy in black and gold, their whispers hushed with awe.
"The prince…"
"…He looks like a warrior-king…"
"…No—like something greater."
Asura grinned, basking in the moment. "Told you," he muttered under his breath. "Protagonist entrance, unlocked."
✦ The Outfit Test
The carriage wheels rattled to a stop at the edge of the bustling demon-town. Vendors shouted from stalls, children darted between cobbled streets, and the air was thick with the scent of grilled meat and spice. The Grand Duke's guards hopped down first, scanning the area, before stepping aside.
And then Asura descended.
The sunlight caught on his golden sash, the flowing hakama swaying with every step. The asymmetrical top left his chest bare, the black and white trim sharp against his skin, the ornate clasp gleaming at his throat. He moved with the calm swagger of someone who had been waiting for this moment.
Alice's breath caught. "…You look like…" she hesitated, searching for words. "…a general in a legend."
Asura grinned, tugging the collar with exaggerated flair. "No. I'm the main character. There's a difference."
Adrian groaned. "You look like a peacock who fell into a silk bin."
"Jealousy doesn't suit you," Asura shot back smoothly. "Don't worry—side characters always get their redemption arc eventually."
Adrian bristled. "Side character!? I'll—"
"Enough." Selene's voice cut sharp as a blade. Her violet eyes flicked between them, exasperated. "Remember why we're here. You are not in a play."
Asura smirked under his breath. "Depends who's watching."
They hadn't gone ten steps into the crowded street before trouble found them. A group of armored thugs shoved their way toward a merchant's stall, their claws wrapped around a terrified vendor's shirt.
"Protection fee," one growled. "Pay up, or your cart burns."
The guards tensed to intervene, but Asura raised one lazy hand. "Hold. This is my scene."
Before Selene could scold him, he strolled into the square, hakama swaying, chest gleaming under the sun. His golden eyes sparked mischievously.
"Hey," he called, voice light. "Stage fright yet? You're about to."
The thugs turned, sneering when they saw a boy. "This brat's got a mouth."
"Yeah," Asura said, yawning theatrically, "and you're about to find out what happens when the protagonist gets serious."
They lunged.
Asura closed his eyes. Literally closed them. He tilted his head as a fist whooshed past, sidestepped another swing, and tapped the thug's chest with two fingers. Mana flared, and the man flew backward into a fruit cart, splattering melons everywhere.
Gasps rippled through the crowd.
Another thug swung a club. Asura ducked under it without opening his eyes, one hand behind his back, and swept the man's legs with casual ease.
"Too predictable," he muttered.
The last thug roared and charged. Asura cracked one eye open, drew Yamikami no Tsurugi an inch from its sheath. Purple lightning sparked, the thug's weapon shattered into ash, and the man collapsed in terror, scrambling away.
Silence fell. Then whispers rose.
"He didn't even try…"
"…That's the prince?"
"Not a boy. A monster."
Asura turned, hakama fluttering, and raised one hand high like an actor on stage. "And that, my friends, is what we call a proper outfit test. Stylish and effective."
Selene pressed her fingers to her temple. "You could have ended that quietly."
"Quiet doesn't sell tickets," Asura quipped.
Alice covered her mouth to hide a laugh, while Adrian muttered about "childish theatrics." But the townsfolk bowed as Asura walked past, whispering his name with awe.
For the first time, dressed in his new regalia, Asura didn't just look like the Demon King's heir. He looked like what he always claimed to be—
The Prince of Demons.