Malikai's sleep was deep, but the dream that followed was anything but peaceful.
His consciousness stirred within a body so vast, galaxies were reduced to mere motes of dust. This colossal form pulsed with boundless power—an eternal, unfathomable presence.
Through its eyes, he saw another entity, equally immense.
A man—if such a being could still be called one—stood before him, towering beyond dimensions. Four arms stretched across countless planes, grasping unseen forces. Fourteen crimson stars pulsed upon his massive forehead, the last still only half-formed. Behind him hovered five colossal figures, identical yet inferior, each bearing thirteen fully-formed crimson stars. They watched in cold, silent judgment.
Then came the voice—divine, commanding, absolute.
"Return what you stole, or I will rip it from you."
Malikai felt no fear.
No doubt.
Only an eternal apathy buried so deep in his bones that even if the universe collapsed, he would not flinch.
And so he answered, his voice laced with unshaken dominion:
"You can try."
He awoke abruptly, breath ragged, his skull splitting with pain.
The dream lingered like a truth too vast to comprehend.
Sleep would not return.
He sat upright in his chambers, silence pressing around him. Rather than force rest, he exhaled and slipped into meditation, letting the pain fade as his mind descended into his dantian.
It was there—the vast sea.
A boundless ocean of Qi, shimmering and pulsing with impossible intensity.
He knew what Qi Condensation was supposed to look like.
At the early stage, it begins as a small pool of refined energy. Even at its peak, it remains contained—manageable, even among the mightiest of Asura bloodlines.
But his Qi Sea?
It was endless.
It had been this way ever since he first stepped into Qi Condensation.
He had never told anyone—not even his parents.
No matter the strength of an Asura, their Qi Sea always had limits. Its edges could always be perceived by the cultivator.
But his?
He could barely see the end.
There were no records of this in the Doom Clan's libraries, no teachings to explain it.
Malikai stared into the abyss within him, his crimson eyes narrowing.
"…The reason doesn't matter," he muttered, voice calm yet resolute. "I'll find out eventually."
For now, he would move forward.
He withdrew from meditation, exhaled slowly, and finally allowed his body to rest.
This time, no dreams came to him.
The next morning, within the grand Hall of Throes, all the core elders sat in their majestic seats.
Astaroth sat beside his wife, their combined presence suppressing the air itself into silence.
Before them, the young generation of Asuras stood assembled. Malikai and Anzu led separate groups, standing at the front of their respective factions. Only Renna stood alone, distant and cold, having pledged herself to neither side.
Unsurprisingly, the youth had divided into two camps.
Astaroth rose, his crimson gaze sweeping across them.
"The road to true power is paved with battle and blood. In two hours, you will gather in the main square to depart for Bloodforge City—where weakness dies, and only real demons rise."
His voice was like iron branding itself into their souls.
"Fight. Kill. Survive… or be erased."
He let the silence hang for a moment before nodding.
"Prepare yourselves."
In the private chambers of Astaroth and Lilith, Malikai stood before his parents.
Behind them stood a demoness cloaked in elegant shadows, her violet eyes sharp with quiet calculation.
"She will protect you in Bloodforge," Lilith said. "She will not intervene unless a senior targets you."
Malikai nodded. He understood.
Then a table was unveiled—mystic-tier weapons displayed atop it, each radiating immense might.
His gaze fell upon a long axe, its edge gleaming with a bloody luster, promising carnage.
He lifted it—it felt right.
Lilith offered a faint smile.
"Fitting."
Across the Doom Clan, similar scenes unfolded in countless chambers—young demons preparing for blood, trial, and glory.