For the first time since the fight began, he looked—imperfect. Cracks ran across his face, smoke bleeding from wounds that refused to seal. His eyes trembled, unable to process the shift in Azire's energy.
"You're… not supposed to wield that," Draumir whispered. "The Astral Core… is not meant for demons."
Azire stood, his blade still glowing, wings extended like celestial shards of night sky. His aura was no longer infernal or cursed—it was vast. Unknowable. A perfect fusion of demonic might and astral transcendence.
"I'm not just a demon anymore," Azire said. "I'm the Demon King. And I don't follow your rules."
The ground beneath him pulsed like a heartbeat. All around, the void began to shrink, as if the realm Draumir had created couldn't withstand Azire's presence any longer.
Suna stirred behind him, groaning as Cocobeal helped stabilize her. Hollie opened one eye, blinking at the overwhelming glow radiating from Azire.
"He… changed," she whispered. "That's not just magic anymore. That's royalty."
Draumir tried to rise—only to be held in place by invisible force. Azire raised a hand, summoning chains of obsidian light, forged from the fusion of infernal sigils and celestial code.
"Draumir. You said this was your world. But I'm claiming it now—in the name of the true Demon Throne."
The chains wrapped around Draumir, sealing his essence like a cursed relic. He hissed, but never screamed. Even defeated, he held onto his cold pride.
"This changes nothing," he rasped. "You delay the inevitable. You think rising above your blood will save them…"
"No," Azire said softly. "But it will save me."
With a final motion, Azire slammed Umbrual into the void. The world shattered like obsidian glass.
And they were back—in the broken-down building, collapsed on the floor. The white box was gone. The Hollow Star's presence? Vanished.
Belial groaned and rolled over. "Did we win or…?"
Suna nodded slowly. "Azire did."
Azire stood in the doorway, sword resting on his back. His eyes no longer glowed—but something in him had shifted forever.
The Demon King had awakened.
The group had made camp near the cliffs overlooking the sea. Hollie's sword lay beside her as she slept, Maya tended the fire, and Belial sat cross-legged, back to a boulder, eyes half-closed. The air was still heavy from the earlier battle, like the island hadn't quite exhaled yet.
Azire sat apart from the others, staring down at what remained of Draumir.
No longer flesh, no longer soul—Draumir's essence had collapsed into a shifting artifact.
It hovered just above Azire's palm.
A floating gray mask, split down the middle, embedded with runes. Faint whispers echoed from it, and whenever the light hit it right, a glimpse of Draumir's cold eye could be seen behind it.
"So… that's all that's left of him," Suna said quietly as she approached.
Azire nodded. "He's not dead. Just reduced. Cocobeal sealed his soul into this form—he's an artifact now. An echo of what he was."
Cocobeal fluttered near them, arms crossed, watching the mask with a mix of caution and intrigue.
"We couldn't destroy him. That kind of power doesn't vanish—it evolves. Draumir's essence fused with the box realm itself… and now that realm is sealed within the mask."
"We're calling it the Voidshard Visage."
Azire tilted his head. "Can I use it?"
Cocobeal paused. "You can try. But it's not a weapon—it's a will. The Visage holds fragments of Draumir's reality-bending magic. But more importantly… it hates you."
The mask pulsed in Azire's hand, like it heard.
"It'll fight you every time you call on it. But if you master it… you'll gain access to some of the Hollow Star's most forbidden techniques."
Azire closed his fist around it. "Then I'll learn to make it obey."
Cocobeal gave a low chuckle. "That brings us to the bigger problem."
He floated in front of Azire, eyes glowing faintly.
"You may have awakened the Astral Core… but you don't control it."
"Right now, you're a flare. Bright, explosive—and unstable. But the true Core isn't just about raw magic. It's about balance between chaos and harmony. To wield it fully… you'll need to enter the Astral Crucible."
Azire raised a brow. "And what's that?"
"A plane between realms. A forge for souls. It only reveals itself to those chosen by the Core. You'll be tested there—not in battle, but in spirit."
"It will try to break you, Azire. Recreate your worst memories. Force you to question everything you are—even your throne."
Suna's expression darkened. "That sounds like a trap."
Cocobeal shrugged. "It is. But if he survives it… he'll be able to channel the Core not just through his blade, but his body, his soul, and his will. He'll become something undeniable."
Azire nodded slowly, firelight reflecting in his eyes.
"Then I'll go. When I'm ready."
He looked out across the ocean, the wind catching his cloak. The mask floated silently beside him—Draumir, now a prisoner of the king he underestimated
For the first time since the fight began, he looked—imperfect. Cracks ran across his face, smoke bleeding from wounds that refused to seal. His eyes trembled, unable to process the shift in Azire's energy.
"You're… not supposed to wield that," Draumir whispered. "The Astral Core… is not meant for demons."
Azire stood, his blade still glowing, wings extended like celestial shards of night sky. His aura was no longer infernal or cursed—it was vast. Unknowable. A perfect fusion of demonic might and astral transcendence.
"I'm not just a demon anymore," Azire said. "I'm the Demon King. And I don't follow your rules."
The ground beneath him pulsed like a heartbeat. All around, the void began to shrink, as if the realm Draumir had created couldn't withstand Azire's presence any longer.
Suna stirred behind him, groaning as Cocobeal helped stabilize her. Hollie opened one eye, blinking at the overwhelming glow radiating from Azire.
"He… changed," she whispered. "That's not just magic anymore. That's royalty."
Draumir tried to rise—only to be held in place by invisible force. Azire raised a hand, summoning chains of obsidian light, forged from the fusion of infernal sigils and celestial code.
"Draumir. You said this was your world. But I'm claiming it now—in the name of the true Demon Throne."
The chains wrapped around Draumir, sealing his essence like a cursed relic. He hissed, but never screamed. Even defeated, he held onto his cold pride.
"This changes nothing," he rasped. "You delay the inevitable. You think rising above your blood will save them…"
"No," Azire said softly. "But it will save me."
With a final motion, Azire slammed Umbrual into the void. The world shattered like obsidian glass.
And they were back—in the broken-down building, collapsed on the floor. The white box was gone. The Hollow Star's presence? Vanished.
Belial groaned and rolled over. "Did we win or…?"
Suna nodded slowly. "Azire did."
Azire stood in the doorway, sword resting on his back. His eyes no longer glowed—but something in him had shifted forever.
The Demon King had awakened.
The group had made camp near the cliffs overlooking the sea. Hollie's sword lay beside her as she slept, Maya tended the fire, and Belial sat cross-legged, back to a boulder, eyes half-closed. The air was still heavy from the earlier battle, like the island hadn't quite exhaled yet.
Azire sat apart from the others, staring down at what remained of Draumir.
No longer flesh, no longer soul—Draumir's essence had collapsed into a shifting artifact.
It hovered just above Azire's palm.
A floating gray mask, split down the middle, embedded with runes. Faint whispers echoed from it, and whenever the light hit it right, a glimpse of Draumir's cold eye could be seen behind it.
"So… that's all that's left of him," Suna said quietly as she approached.
Azire nodded. "He's not dead. Just reduced. Cocobeal sealed his soul into this form—he's an artifact now. An echo of what he was."
Cocobeal fluttered near them, arms crossed, watching the mask with a mix of caution and intrigue.
"We couldn't destroy him. That kind of power doesn't vanish—it evolves. Draumir's essence fused with the box realm itself… and now that realm is sealed within the mask."
"We're calling it the Voidshard Visage."
Azire tilted his head. "Can I use it?"
Cocobeal paused. "You can try. But it's not a weapon—it's a will. The Visage holds fragments of Draumir's reality-bending magic. But more importantly… it hates you."
The mask pulsed in Azire's hand, like it heard.
"It'll fight you every time you call on it. But if you master it… you'll gain access to some of the Hollow Star's most forbidden techniques."
Azire closed his fist around it. "Then I'll learn to make it obey."
Cocobeal gave a low chuckle. "That brings us to the bigger problem."
He floated in front of Azire, eyes glowing faintly.
"You may have awakened the Astral Core… but you don't control it."
"Right now, you're a flare. Bright, explosive—and unstable. But the true Core isn't just about raw magic. It's about balance between chaos and harmony. To wield it fully… you'll need to enter the Astral Crucible."
Azire raised a brow. "And what's that?"
"A plane between realms. A forge for souls. It only reveals itself to those chosen by the Core. You'll be tested there—not in battle, but in spirit."
"It will try to break you, Azire. Recreate your worst memories. Force you to question everything you are—even your throne."
Suna's expression darkened. "That sounds like a trap."
Cocobeal shrugged. "It is. But if he survives it… he'll be able to channel the Core not just through his blade, but his body, his soul, and his will. He'll become something undeniable."
Azire nodded slowly, firelight reflecting in his eyes.
"Then I'll go. When I'm ready."
He looked out across the ocean, the wind catching his cloak. The mask floated silently beside him—Draumir, now a prisoner of the king he underestimated