Unperturbed, Jared watched the orb alone. With that final, exquisitely pure strand of origin soul absorbed, the sphere erupted in cascading sheets of crimson light. It hummed, again and again, until the sound became a heartbeat.
Inside, the Vermilion Demon Lord’s soul-flame swelled, condensing with manic speed. Life itself pulsed outward, each surge stronger than the last, as though a slumbering heart were remembering how to beat. Then came a brittle crack—hairline, almost shy—spreading across the orb’s smooth surface like dawn’s first fissure in the night.
Cracks spider-webbed across the orb’s surface, racing outward like lightning searching for ground. Jared’s pulse spiked. The last decisive heartbeat had arrived.
Without hesitation, he opened every reservoir of chaotic energy inside him and drove that molten power into the Bloodsoul Orb, a flood crashing through a narrow gate.
Boom!
A searing blossom of scarlet fire erupted, impossible to define, so bright it stained every pillar, every shattered flagstone of the great hall the color of fresh blood.
The shock wave hurled the surviving elders through the air; they struck the distant walls with bone-splintering force and slumped, fates uncertain. Only then did the radiance curl inward and begin to fade.
When the glare receded, the Bloodsoul Orb was gone. In its place hovered a single silhouette wrapped in rolling crimson energy, a cocoon that pulsed like a living heart.
The shell flaked away, petal after petal of blood-light peeling and dissolving, until the figure inside stepped free.
He was eight feet tall, with midnight hair cascading over his shoulders. Eyes still closed, lashes long, his frame all fluid muscle, each inch of skin seemed to trap thunder beneath it, radiating an ancient, dangerously magnetic allure.
Most telling of all, the aura around him was no longer spectral. It thrummed with fierce, undeniable life. And with that life came a cultivation pressure vast enough to bend the air.
Slowly, he opened his eyes. They were deep, an eternal night sky, but storming at their core churned red clouds of demonic fire, carrying the weight of countless tribulations and the exhilaration of rebirth.
He flexed his newly solid hands, knuckles whitening as forgotten strength surged back. The simple sensation of physical body and blood set his entire body trembling with joy.
Lifting his gaze past the ruined throne room, he found Jared standing with hands clasped behind him, a quiet, satisfied smile on the young man’s face.
The Vermilion Demon Lord took a step through empty air and arrived before Jared, excitement blazing across his features.
“Boy, you have given me life a second time… This debt is as vast as heaven and earth, and I will never forget it,” the Vermilion Demon Lord declared, voice ringing like iron on a cathedral bell.
The vow, raw, fervent, pulled straight from his soul, echoed through the fractured hall until even the drifting dust seemed to pause and listen.
Jared studied the newly reborn Vermilion Demon Lord, feeling the hurricane of vitality and power now caged within that towering frame.
“I’ll admit, the physical body suits you; you clean up rather well,” Jared said with an easy grin. “Besides, you’ve saved my neck once or twice yourself. I’d say we’re even now.”
“You crossed the Ninefold Heaven for me. You burned sect after sect to ash until the whole realm whispered your name like a curse. Everyone says you’ve become a devil incarnate; was that really worth it?” The Vermilion Demon Lord’s voice trembled with gratitude, the question spilling from him before he could hide the ache behind it.
He knew that if not for gathering the materials to rebuild his body, Jared would never have turned the mighty Myriad Arts Sect into his enemy, never have been branded a heretic.
Jared threw back his head and laughed, a rich, irreverent roar that echoed across the shattered plateau. “You honestly think I care what they call me?”
The raw joy in his throat rolled like thunder, each peal an answer louder than words.
The Vermilion Demon Lord grinned, eyes glinting dark gold. “You, my friend, are starting to carry yourself like a true demon lord.”
Jared’s smile softened into concern. “Enough talk about me. How does that new body feel?”
“Better than ever, beyond anything I have known.”
He clenched his rebuilt fists. Crimson light flashed beneath the skin, and a tide of unfiltered demonic aura surged outward, yet at its heart lay a calm, righteous undercurrent, born of the Bloodsoul Orb and the array of virtuous soul energy that had reforged him.
“This physical body holds staggering potential,” he said, voice humming with awe. “Because it fuses so many strands of origin power, I feel almost immune to soul-based attacks. Perhaps even latent talents will awaken in time.”
