The cold winds of dawn whispered across the mist-veiled courtyard of the Academy, carrying with them the scent of rain and the distant echo of thunder. The ground was still wet from the storm of the previous night—one birthed not by nature, but by the clash of Asura and the Thunder General. The Academy still trembled from the aftershocks.
And yet… silence reigned.
A silence that was not peace, but the calm before a greater storm.
A New Day, A Deeper Scar
Asura stood atop the Divine Tower, wrapped in loose black robes, his long hair fluttering in the wind. The sky, painted in hues of violet and gold, reflected in his eyes—eyes that had once gleamed with curiosity but now held the weight of death, survival, and secrets untold.
His body ached. Muscles torn and bones reknitted by qi and willpower.
His battle with the Thunder General had pushed him beyond his current limits. He had not used Finality Beyond Gods: Zenith Extermination… but his power had surged dangerously close to awakening something even older.
Inside him, his demonic and divine energies roared in quiet defiance of one another. The balance he had painfully maintained had begun to shift.
Suddenly, a soft footstep.
"Still pretending you're fine?" said a familiar voice.
He turned, a grin playing at the corner of his lips. "And here I thought I could brood in peace."
Lira stood with arms crossed, dressed in a sleek training uniform from the Windspire region, her silver hair tied up, revealing a small scar on her neck—one she had earned protecting Asura weeks ago.
"I spoke with the Sword Clan Elders," she said, stepping beside him. "They said you refused healing from the inner sanctum."
"I need the pain," Asura replied softly, watching birds fly across the rising sun. "Pain teaches. Pain warns. Pain… keeps me from losing myself."
"To what?"
He didn't answer.
He didn't need to.
She looked at him, searching for words. "There's something coming, isn't there?"
Asura's aura pulsed, sharp and cold. "No. Something old is waking up. Inside me."
The Forbidden Path Opens
That afternoon, Headmaster Yun summoned Asura in secret.
The path led beneath the academy's central plaza—under temples built thousands of years ago during the era of the First Flame. The corridor twisted downward in a spiral, lined with ancient sigils that hummed faintly as Asura passed.
At the end, a massive gate stood, sealed by nine golden talismans.
"This place," the Headmaster said as he turned, "was created for those like you."
"Like me?"
Yun's voice turned solemn. "You're not the first who walked the path between divinity and damnation. But you may be the only one to survive it."
He removed a scroll and placed it onto the talismans. The gates shook. One by one, the seals peeled away, glowing with divine flame. Behind the doors lay a realm of timeless energy.
The Training Ground of Reincarnation.
A dimensional rift where time flowed differently, and one's soul could meet its past incarnations.
"Go," Yun whispered. "And don't trust everything you see inside. Sometimes the soul lies even to itself."
Asura stepped in.
The Fractured Echoes of a Soul
It was like stepping through space itself. One moment he was inside stone corridors; the next, he stood in a white void littered with shattered mirrors floating like stars.
Each reflected a version of himself—one with crimson armor and demonic wings, another with golden eyes and radiant flame cloaks, one kneeling in chains, and one drenched in the blood of a thousand gods.
He clenched his fists. "What is this?"
A voice answered.
"You are the reincarnation of many… But none ever lived long enough to break the fate."
From the void emerged a figure—barefoot, tall, with flowing white robes and eyes that reflected galaxies.
Asura froze. His heart trembled.
It was himself—but older. Far older. With wisdom that came from millennia of battle, betrayal, and bloodshed.
"You're me," Asura said slowly.
"No," the figure replied, stepping closer. "I am the first. The one who stole the Relic of the Ancient Gods. The one whose soul now burns inside yours."
Asura stepped back instinctively, but the older version raised a hand. "There's little time. The Demonfang Kingdom has moved. One of their own… already walks your halls."
"What?"
"They seek what lies inside you. But they will not wait for you to master it."
A ripple formed in the void, revealing a vision: a black-robed figure entering the academy grounds under the guise of a transfer disciple—but the aura around him was unmistakable.
He bore the mark of the Abyssal Blood Sect.
The vision faded.
The older Asura pressed a finger to his forehead, transferring something.
A memory.
A martial technique.
A movement of stars.
"Take this… the third form of Heaven's End: Path of Asura. Use it… when the blade of the abyss is at your throat."
Asura's body glowed with violent qi. His Supreme Martial Eyes activated on instinct, recording everything, devouring it.
Third Form Unlocked: Heaven's End - Realm Severing Spiral
The mirrors around him shattered, and the world collapsed.
Return to the Surface
Asura awoke inside the academy shrine, a day having passed.
His aura had changed.
Even Lira, who had come to check on him, paused at the door. "You're… different."
"I saw who I was," he whispered. "And who I'll have to become."
He stood, sword at his side.
"We have a demon among us."
Meanwhile… Deep Within the Academy Grounds
In a quiet chamber, lit by crimson candles and silence, the black-robed transfer student stood before a hidden altar. He removed his glove, revealing a demonic brand across his palm.
He stared into the mirror.
"Soon, Asura…" he whispered, eyes glowing red. "I will awaken your true enemy."