The moon's crimson radiance engulfed the sky, painting everything in a bloody red hue.
Below, a lake shimmered as if brimming with blood, as though a massive sacrifice had taken place here.
At the center of the vast lake stood a huge mountain, its peak vanishing into the clouds. A thick, dark mist cloaked it, blurring it from afar.
Demonic roars echoed from the forest surrounding the lake—creatures locked in constant struggle, fighting and devouring one another to survive.
None dared to cross the lake.
A deep, primal fear etched into their instincts made them tremble at the very thought of approaching.
That mountain was the territory of the Asura Clan—scarce in number, yet feared by all.
They were the subject of countless epics and legends, depicted as brave, audacious, and mighty.
Yet the most infamous tale was of their clash with the Demonic Dragon Clan—a force mighty enough to topple nations.
Dozens of Asuras perished that day, but their valor made even the Demonic Dragons hesitate. The dragons, too, suffered heavy losses.
No one knew their origins. One day they appeared in this land.
At first, they were helpless before the Demonic Beasts. Once deemed as easy prey, they now ruled this land.
"And then there's me… who can't even match the juniors in my clan."
A boy stood atop the mountain spire—lean yet muscular, sharp-eyed yet filled with doubt—clutching a strange triangular skull.
"A stain on the name of the Asura Clan… I deserve it." His voice was low, his eyes warm and moist as he gazed at the blood-red moon.
He looked down from the tower, tears falling like the first drops of rain.
"If only I could end this misery at once." His gaze lingered on the stone far below, imagining the impact.
"No… It'd only disgrace the clan further." A bitter smile tugged at his lips.
"I've decided," he whispered, tightening his grip on the skull and raising it. "I will escape."
The hollow eyes of the skull glowed crimson as the moonlight touched it.
As if answering his cries, the wind howled around him, blowing away his tears and leaving a cold, determined face.
The clan's flag flapped behind Aarya, cheering him.
He stepped to the edge and took a deep breath. The surface below seemed so distant that even the tall guards looked like ants.
"Let's do it." Without hesitation, he jumped.
His hair whipped around his face, his eyes moist—but not from fear or sadness.
It was the wind.
Time seemed to slow as he fell. He steadied his breath and closed his eyes.
Focusing, he channeled Abyssal Energy through his body. A purple light flickered behind his eyelids.
His eyes snapped open. He joined his palms, releasing a faint purple shockwave. He chanted:
"Secret Technique: Light as a Feather."
Purple light shimmered around him. His descent eased until he drifted with the wind—like part of it.
He laughed as he soared. "I always wanted to try this." The thrill surged through him.
Escape through normal routes was impossible—the clan's surveillance was too tight. This was the only way.
He was the only person in the entire clan to have mastered this technique to such an extent—a result of long, perilous training in seclusion.
The wind carried him from the mountain… But as he crossed the boundary, a siren blared. Powerful auras erupted across the territory.
Torches flared to life, and giant orbs floated upward, lighting the whole mountain and creating the illusion of dawn.
Still gliding, Aarya cursed under his breath. "As expected. It wasn't going to be that easy."
He landed beyond the lake. The nearby beasts fled, sensing his presence.
"Looks like I'll need to use that method." He glanced at the skull in his hand.
Unsheathing his dagger, doubts clouded his mind.
Is this okay?
Should I do it?
He slapped his cheek and shook his head. "No going back now."
He brought the blade to his palm and slashed it, leaving a deep cut. Blood dripped onto the skull as he chanted under his breath.
The symbol on the skull's forehead shone deep crimson.
He knelt and placed the skull on the ground, then moved his wounded hand in a circle around it.
A strange crimson magic circle formed, glowing ominously. Aarya chanted in the ancient tongue:
"Akairis Disairus Veneska…"
"Zegairis Misairis Veneska…"
With each chant, his heartbeat quickened. Abyssal energy drained from his body. His jaws ached, his throat dried, but he continued.
From the skull, dark smoke rose, chilling the air. A deep cold seeped into him, but he resisted and stayed focused.
The smoke formed a cloud. Demonic energy from the surroundings gathered, swirling and growing larger.
It took shape—a five-meter-tall figure etched with glowing sigils.
It roared, making Aarya instinctively step back.
Its triangular head shook, three large horns atop it. Elongated ears straightened, then six crimson eyes burst open, revealing slit pupils.
The next moment, it focused on him. Aarya felt as if those eyes pierced his soul. Shivers raced down his spine.
He swallowed and steadied himself.
"I am the one who released you. If you listen to me, we can both escape."
The creature bared its jagged teeth in what might have been laughter. Then it turned, wings unfurling, preparing to leave.
"You'll get caught again," Aarya said. "You're nothing more than a toy used by our clan for training kids."
It twisted its neck; its eyes widened. A roar thundered out, like a storm breaking loose.
Its maw opened, demonic energy gathering within. Aarya resisted with a shield of Abyssal Energy.
"I have undone your seal with an ancient technique. If you harm me, you will be sealed again."
"Without me, you can't escape." He stepped forward, confident.
The creature paused, no longer attacking.
"It's your choice. Embarrass yourself again, and I'll be punished lightly. But you? Tortured for years."
The creature shuddered, memories of the clan's cruelty flooding back—the whips, the chains, the agony.
It remembered clearly their laughter, its torment… and helplessness.
Before it could react, Aarya leapt onto its back. "Fly north. They're coming."
The beast disliked taking orders, but it sensed danger—there was no time to argue. It vowed to settle the score later.
A black orb struck the ground where they had stood, leaving a crater.
But they were already gone, a blurred shadow vanishing into the sky.
A cluster of youths, no older than fifteen, arrived at the scene. Their eyes followed the fading blur.
"Bet on who gets him first?" one called.
"Fine—but no less than ten high-grade demonic stones, or I'm out," a girl said in her sweet voice.
"Deal. Keep my stones ready." He laughed, vanishing.
"Not so fast, loser." She stepped forward—then became a storm.
Others followed—
Wings flared, gusts roaring. Space folded into a tunnel.
The earth split, a serpent's head rising.
Lastly—a stallion surged out of a fire portal, cloaked in nether flames.
The chase began.