The Damned Demon

Drakar stood paralyzed, eyes wide with primal terror, as the monstrous silhouette of Drogor loomed above him like an ancient god risen from slumber.

His massive body, armored in gleaming, blood-red scales, stretched over three hundred meters, wings so vast they darkened the sky entirely, blotting out the sun and plunging the battlefield into eerie darkness.

The air itself trembled violently with each breath the colossal dragon took, emanating fury and ancient power.

Drakar felt his heart pound violently, fear and dread twisting mercilessly inside him. He stumbled back as a primal growl erupted from Drogor’s throat—an earth-shaking rumble, reverberating through the bones of every living being nearby.

Drakar shuddered uncontrollably, eyes wide, wings drooping helplessly. He had faced countless foes, conquered kingdoms—but never had he faced a terror as profound as this enraged dragon.

His throat was dry, lips trembling as he struggled desperately to find words. He forced a shout, desperation bleeding through every syllable, “Quick! Use the Drakebane Glaives! Kill it, kill it now!”

Zulgi and the trembling Draconian soldiers hurriedly obeyed, pushing forth the gigantic, rune-etched glaives. Each weapon was immense, pulsating with dark-red malevolence.

The soldiers fired frantically, glaive after glaive surging forward, cutting through the sky with devastating might. Drakar’s breath stilled as the massive blades struck Drogor in explosive collisions, sending rippling shockwaves across the battlefield.

Yet Drogor did not flinch. The dust cleared, revealing him utterly unscathed, his scales gleaming mockingly in the red-tinged light.

Drogor’s eyes narrowed dangerously as he let out a deep, growling chuckle—a sound more terrifying than any roar, dripping with contemptuous mockery.

“Pathetic insects,” Drogor thundered, his voice dripping venomous scorn. “You slaughtered my kind… my flesh and blood. You crushed innocents underfoot like insects. Now, witness your foolishness as you face true power!”

Before Drakar could even react, Drogor unleashed an inferno of crimson fire—an all-consuming torrent that spilled from his maw like the wrath of the gods.

It surged forward, overwhelming and unstoppable, instantly engulfing hundreds of thousands of Draconians. Their screams were instantly snuffed out, bodies reduced to blackened ash, armor melting into molten slag, flesh turning to dust within mere moments.

The battlefield became a scorched wasteland, flames roaring high, the earth itself splitting open in fiery fissures, lava bursting forth violently.

Drogor roared into the bloody skies, the sound a chilling mixture of triumphant vengeance and lingering grief, shaking the skies themselves, “This is merely the beginning of your punishment!”

Drakar stumbled, his knees buckling, collapsing to the scorched earth. Zulgi, who had never shown fear before, turned pale as snow, voice shaking with horror, “Y-Your Majesty…what do we do now? How do we…?”

Drakar could not speak, his mouth agape, eyes staring hollowly at the devastation. His armies—his pride, his dreams—were obliterated instantly.

Everything he’d built now lay in ruin, reduced to ash.

From Drogor’s massive back, Asher slowly descended, landing gracefully yet ominously upon the devastated battlefield. His long, moon-white hair fluttered hauntingly, black robes rippling gently around him.

But what terrified Drakar most were Asher’s eyes—dark yellow, cold, burning with a quiet fury more dreadful than Drogor’s own.

Drakar felt suffocated, the air thickening unbearably as Asher’s chilling aura seeped into every fiber of his being, pressing down on him mercilessly.

He coughed, gagging as panic clawed at his chest, stumbling backward. His voice cracked in desperate terror, pleading, “Wait… Asher… stop! It wasn’t personal!”

Asher said nothing, his gaze fixed upon Drakar in dreadful silence, stepping forward deliberately, his every footstep echoing loudly across the charred, ruined earth.

Drakar felt like a trapped beast, desperately crawling backwards, wings folding protectively around him, his proud face contorted into a pitiful mask of fear and anguish.

“Fuck! ” Drakar gnashed his teeth upon seeing the dreadful look on Asher’s face and tried to step back shakily, wanting to put as much distance as possible.

But Asher continued his relentless advance, saying nothing. The dark silence of his approach was deafening, suffocating. Each step resonated like a tolling bell of impending doom, shaking Drakar to his core, amplifying his despair.

“W-Wait!” Drakar cried hysterically, dropping to his knees, wings quivering pathetically around him, eyes wide and begging. “Don’t kill me! You stole my most treasured wife and even annhilated my armies. It’s all fair now, isn’t it??”

Still, Asher’s expression remained cold and unyielding, his eyes narrowing further as he came closer.

Drakar, now openly weeping, fell onto his hands, forehead pressed against the dirt, dignity shattered completely, voice hoarse with frantic pleading, “I beg you, Asher! Don’t do this! I can be of use to you! I can help you deal with those wretched werewolves! I can do anything!”

Why did this have to happen now? He was this close to retrieving that key and gaining eternal power. Was his fate this cursed from the beginning?

However, much to his relief, Asher halted mere inches from Drakar, towering above the trembling, broken king.

Drakar managed to catch his breath, wondering if he was really going to spare him. Of course, he was still the king of Draconians and still had a lot of resources and women back in his kingdom. Surely-

*CRASHK!*

A sickening, gruesome crack echoed loudly, bone splintering grotesquely beneath his palm, flesh tearing open as blood erupted violently.

With impossible speed and brutal precision, Asher’s open palm had slammed viciously against Drakar’s lower jaw.

And now his lower jaw was utterly pulverized, shattering into a grisly spray of bone fragments and bloody pulp. Blood splattered across the scorched earth, Drakar’s anguished howl stifled into a horrific, garbled moan.

His body flew backwards violently, skidding brutally across the ruined ground, choking and gurgling, his lower face now a mutilated, bloody ruin—an unrecognizable pulp of broken bone, torn flesh, and shattered teeth.

Blood streamed in thick, grotesque rivulets down his throat and chest, his desperate eyes wide with agony and terror.

Asher stood motionless, hand dripping crimson, expression cold and merciless.

Asher slowly advanced toward Drakar, his footsteps reverberating heavily across the scorched earth, eyes narrowed into a cold, merciless glare while muttering, “The only thing you can offer me is your pain and suffering.”

His dark eyes blazed fiercely, swirling with wrath and grief, as he saw his people—those who once trusted and revered him—now reduced to mere hollow shells, their broken bodies and spirits lingering in agony, waiting helplessly for release.

Drakar trembled, sputtering helplessly, blood pouring profusely from the gaping cavity where his lower jaw had once been.

Desperation filled his bulging eyes, mixed with sheer terror, as he crawled pathetically away, each movement making him gag and choke violently on his own blood.

“Trying to escape?” Asher’s chilling voice was like ice, cutting through the suffocating silence with a dreadful calmness, “If you wanted to escape, you should have killed yourself before I got here. But now..”

Drakar’s eyes widened, panicked sobs choking from his ruined mouth, his wings flailing pitifully as he scrambled in futility, leaving a dark, gruesome trail of blood behind.

Asher’s boot pressed mercilessly against Drakar’s spine, pinning him violently to the dirt.

“Wuuurghhh…”

Bones creaked ominously beneath Asher’s pressure, making Drakar writhe in agony, his screams reduced to muffled, choking gasps.

“It’s too late…” Asher said icily, forcibly twisting Drakar’s head to make him gaze upon the tortured, lifeless eyes of the broken Bloodburn survivors chained nearby. “What you did to them…My people and I will do to you a hundred times worse.”

Drakar’s eyes trembled with guilt and terror, a muffled plea for mercy bubbling grotesquely from his torn throat. Asher’s expression only darkened further, a mask of cold, murderous rage.

“Are you trying to beg for something? Perhaps mercy?” Asher whispered venomously, “I shall grant it to you at the cost of your blood and soul.”

“URGHGHH!”

Asher unleashed his fury with brutal strikes, each blow infused with his cold rage. Bones shattered audibly under the impact of his fists, and Drakar’s wings snapped with sickening cracks, bent at unnatural angles.

Every punch echoed like a grim tolling bell, an unrelenting judgment upon Drakar’s sins. Blood splattered violently onto Asher’s robes and face, but he remained expressionless, eyes burning with righteous vengeance.

“You felt powerful,” Asher growled, his voice dangerously quiet yet shaking with rage. “Untouchable. Above consequence.”

He grabbed Drakar by his throat, lifting his broken, convulsing body effortlessly into the air, meeting Drakar’s horrified gaze directly. “Now feel what it’s like to be powerless… to beg, and receive only pain.”

Asher’s free hand grabbed Drakar’s long black hair, twisting it violently around his fist. With a brutal, merciless tug, he tore the hair from Drakar’s scalp with an audible, sickening rip.

Flesh and blood came away in messy strands, the scalp brutally peeled back, leaving raw, bloody tissue exposed.

Drakar’s body jerked violently, muffled screams gurgling grotesquely from his ruined mouth, tears of agony streaming down his contorted face.

Asher hurled him aside with contemptuous force, sending Drakar crashing heavily into the scorched ground. Drakar’s limbs spasmed uncontrollably, consciousness fading into blissful darkness as the unbearable pain overwhelmed him, leaving him sprawled unconscious, broken, and utterly defeated.

Asher stood silently amidst the carnage, breathing heavily, his wrath slowly subsiding, replaced by a hollow ache of loss and regret.

His gaze drifted toward his tortured people, their lifeless eyes staring blankly into nothingness, spirits irreparably shattered.

Drogor approached slowly, the massive dragon’s gaze filled with sorrow and resignation as he surveyed the heart-wrenching scene. His deep voice rumbled heavily, filled with melancholy, “Their souls… broken beyond salvation. Death is the only kindness we can grant them now, boy. It’s too late to save them. Do you want me to do it?”

Asher’s fists trembled, knuckles bloodied, his eyes welling with tears of fury and anguish.

Closing them, he exhaled a shuddering breath, his expression etched deeply with grief. Finally, with a voice barely audible, burdened by unbearable sorrow, he slowly opened his eyes.

“No. I deserve to carry that sin and let them find peace at last.”

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!