The lands had changed, but the weight of history never faded.
Draped in a dark traveler's robe, Elder Vaelmir strode through the ruins of an old battlefield, his sharp gaze sweeping across the scorched earth and broken stones that once bore witness to great conflicts. To the world, he was merely an aging wanderer, a relic from an era long past.
But within the Demonic Sect, his name still carried weight.
He was not just an Elder, but a Branch Leader—one of the few entrusted with maintaining external affairs and ensuring that the sect's presence remained undeniable across the martial world. Diplomacy, war, alliances—he walked the line between them all, ensuring that the sect's interests were never overlooked.
But that was not why he wandered now.
His journey was personal.
Vaelmir had once stood at the heart of the sect's political web, ensuring that its power remained uncontested. His duty had also placed him close to Vaelrik, one of the Heavenly Demon's five disciples—the most cunning, the most ambitious, and the one who betrayed his master.
Though not his direct master, Vaelmir had once supported Vaelrik's rise, ensuring that the sect's next generation would be strong enough to survive the cruel martial world.
And yet…
"I failed to see the rot growing within him."
Vaelrik had reached further than he was meant to, grasping at a power beyond his right. His hunger had led to treachery, and in the end, his ambition had resulted in the fall of the Heavenly Demon himself.
Vaelmir had not been present there that day.
He had been sent away to handle an external conflict, securing vital alliances to maintain the sect's influence. By the time he returned, it was already too late.
Azradris had fallen...
The Demonic Sect fractured, its core leadership scattered.
And Vaelmir was left with unanswered questions and unfulfilled vengeance. but deep inside he knew that his lord was alive but not in the mortal world but lingering onto the spirit world...
For years, he had searched for the truth behind that fateful night. He had scoured ancient records, interrogated former allies and enemies alike, and pursued every whisper that might lead him closer to understanding what truly transpired.
And for years, he had found nothing but silence.
Until now.
As he walked through the ruined remains of an old village, a sudden chill gripped his spine. It was subtle, a mere flicker—like a shadow passing over his soul.
An aura.
Familiar.
Impossible.
Vaelmir turned his gaze toward a nearby structure, where a lone human child sat amidst old, tattered scrolls. The moment his eyes locked onto the boy, his breath caught in his throat.
The aura was weak, nearly imperceptible beneath the boy's mortal shell.
But it was there.
"This… No, it cannot be."
Vaelmir's mind raced. He had spent decades searching for any remnant of the Heavenly Demon, for even the faintest echo of his presence.
And now, standing before him, was a mere child… radiating something eerily familiar.
But that was impossible.
The Heavenly Demon was dead.
And yet...
Vaelmir clenched his fists.
Had fate truly woven such a cruel trick? Or was this something greater?
He did not know yet.