The Damned Demon - Chapter 903

Chapter 903: Everything I Waited For

Anna’s face was streaked with tears as she carried Arthur’s limp body in her arms, supported by two Hunters flanking her sides.

Every step she took felt heavier despite the fact that her body was as healthy as it ever could be and she had no idea how this miracle came to be. Yet she couldn’t express enough how grateful she was to have a second chance.

Arthur’s head lolled against her shoulder, his face gaunt, drained by the impossible strain of trying to bend time itself to his will. Even in unconsciousness, his brow was furrowed as if he was still fighting some unseen battle. Anna pressed her cheek to his hair, voice raw and low.

"You can now rest, Arthur...I am here with you now,," she whispered.

The other Hunters cast her looks of mingled pity and respect. They had all seen her transform from a terrifying Reaper to this—someone broken but resolute, a demon whose love had undone every chain placed on her.

When they reached the battered gathering point near the entrance to the battered building, Rachel turned with relief. "Anna... I never thought I would say this but...I am glad you are alive."

Anna nodded with a grateful look and said with a soft smile, "Thank you...That means a lot to me but..." She turned her gaze towards Arthur,

"He... needs to recover. His vitals feel so weak and it’s unusual for someone who can heal so fast. I am afraid if he did something bad to save my life. You know how he can be," Anna’s voice cracked, but she nodded to the two Hunters who helped her carefully set Arthur down on a stretch of cloth laid over the steel floor.

Rachel placed her hand on Anna’s shoulder and said, "It’s okay. That’s just the backlash of reversing time to save your life. He will be fine. Trust me."

"Reversing time?" Anna mumbled in disbelief and shock, wondering if she heard her right.

Before anyone could reply, a group of Hunters sprinted toward them from the north end of the tower’s perimeter. Their faces were grim, and when they stopped before Hiroto, their leader lowered his head.



"Judge. We... we’ve failed." His voice was tight with despair. "The safeguards protecting the Nexus Tower’s master controls—there’s no way to override them from here."

Hiroto’s weathered face remained inscrutable. "And if we attempt to destroy them by force?"

The Hunter swallowed, staring at the cracked floor. "There’s a dead man’s switch built into the central core. If we breach the controls or sever the power conduits, it will... it will automatically trigger the Nexus Tower’s final sequence."

Rachel went stark white. "The final sequence—?"

"The Nexus Tower will fully activate. The energy stored inside it will be unleashed across the linked channels between Earth and the demon world," the Hunter rasped. "Both realms will burn. There will be nothing left except this...lifeless planet we are standing on."

A suffocating silence fell over the hall. Grace pressed her palm to her forehead, whispering, "No... no, no... we can’t watch billions of lives vanish."

Cecilia’s eyes shone with despair. She slowly turned to Aira, her voice breaking. "Please—tell me this isn’t the only way. That we’re not just going to stand here and watch the end of everything. You’ve seen so much... you must know something."

Everyone looked to Aira. Even the air felt like it held its breath.

Aira’s tired eyes softened, but there was no false hope in them. "I remember thousands of timelines. A myriad of futures. But each is shaped by the smallest choices." She closed her eyes and exhaled. "I am blind to the true future of this timeline. My powers were sacrificed so you would have this chance—to change the destined ending."

Amelia clutched her staff to her chest, tears threatening. "So... there’s nothing we can do. No plan... no backup. Just wait?"

Aira lifted her chin, her voice faint but steady. "The fate of those lives now rests in his hands."

The words felt heavier than stone. Rachel swallowed, her throat raw. Everyone knew exactly who she meant.

"Asher..." Amelia whispered, voice trembling. "He’s the only one who can end this."

Layla stepped forward, her gown flowing behind her, eyes blazing coldly. "Then we must cross to the other side—immediately. If he knows his son is safe, he will have no reason left to spare that vermin. He will end him...once and for all."

Her tone brooked no argument, and for the first time since they’d arrived on Mars, a flicker of hope returned to the faces around her.

—

Thousands of miles away, on Zalthor, the skies above the Rhogart Continent were dark and cold as iron. The plains below were covered in different shades of fur and gleaming fangs of countless werewolves. They stood clustered around the colossal First Tower, their breaths rising in ghostly clouds.

A hush fell as a column of blue light shimmered, and Derek Sterling stepped calmly out of the teleportation field, Albert and the elite Hunters flanking him.

Every eye turned toward him, and in unison, the werewolves rose to their feet, their pupils narrowing to vertical slits. They were startled and growled in deep, thunderous waves, the sound rolling across the stone like a promise of violence.

One massive werewolf stepped forward, his claws flexing. "You wretched human!" he roared, voice echoing among the hills. "You dare invade our territory?"

Derek did not even blink. His lone blue eye was as cold and empty as the sky overhead. "Where is your Moon Guardian?" he asked, his voice even, his gaze dismissive. "Summon him. You have ten seconds."

The werewolf’s ears flattened, but he didn’t attack. The calm certainty in Derek’s tone made the hundreds behind him tense with unease.

"You arrogant—"

Derek raised his wrist, finger resting lightly on the smooth metal of his device. His face remained tranquil as he spoke over the werewolf’s protest. "Nine... eight..."

The werewolves stirred nervously. Some took half-steps back, exchanging wary glances.

"Enough," came a calm, resonant voice from behind them. The entire front rank immediately dropped to their knees, bowing their shaggy heads.

Out of the gathered ranks emerged an old man with a towering, oak-like frame. His bare arms were corded with muscle, his white beard reaching his broad chest. He wore only a simple white chiton, utterly unbothered by the frigid winds.

Lupus, the Moon Guardian.

Albert felt the hair on his neck rise. Even with all his years, he could feel the raw force radiating from this man—calm as moonlight, but more ancient and inexorable than the sea.

Lupus’s voice was grave, quiet, yet it carried over the plain like a bell. "Derek Sterling. So you have come."

Ceti was trailing behind her grandfather, but she stopped just a step behind him, her face contorted into a cold, dark one as she stared at Derek and his people. However, inwardly, her heart was pounding, worried about what was going to happen and if Asher would be able to endure it.

Derek inclined his head slightly. "Lupus. Finally, we meet face to face."

Lupus studied him, his blood-red eyes thoughtful. "It may be our first meeting in person, but I have watched your steps for decades. I know you better than any man alive."

A ripple of unease moved through Derek’s entourage. Even Albert shifted his stance minutely.

Derek’s lips curved faintly. "Then you already know why I am here."

Lupus nodded slowly. "I do. But answer me this: why do you believe you deserve that which you seek? You have never understood the burden. The Void Reaver is not a weapon or a tool for your ambitions. Have you considered the consequences?"

Derek’s gaze sharpened, a glint of cold annoyance surfacing. "I think you misunderstand which of us should be reconsidering. I need only tap this screen," he lifted his wrist device fractionally, "and I can focus the Nexus Tower’s power to reduce this entire planet to ash. Including your precious territory and people."

He tilted his head, as if politely offering Lupus a final opportunity. "Of course," he added mildly, "my exit will be instantaneous."

A cold, thin wind swept over the Rhogart Continent, stirring the fur of the silent werewolves who watched, tense and coiled, ready to die for their Guardian’s command. But Lupus stood perfectly still, the air about him impossibly calm as if even the wind respected his presence.

He slowly lifted one hand, palm facing Derek. His voice, when it came, was quiet—so quiet that some of the werewolves leaned forward, disbelieving what they were hearing.

"There is no need for such extreme measures," Lupus said, his tone weary but unshaken. "I never said I wouldn’t give it to you."



A hushed murmur rippled through the gathered werewolves, incredulous and indignant. Even Albert turned his head sharply, brows furrowing.

"You are really going to hand it over," Albert said carefully, his voice tinged with suspicion. "Just like that? Or is this some last attempt at deception?"

Lupus let out a slow, tired sigh, closing his eyes briefly as though the weight of countless years pressed on his shoulders. When he looked back at them, there was no cunning in his gaze.

"I am too old to be cunning and devious," he said softly. "I cannot see the future anymore. That gift has left me. But I have seen enough across centuries to know that nothing good will come if I refuse you here."

Derek’s expression remained impassive, but a glint of something sharp and eager flickered in his lone blue eye.

Lupus slowly reached behind him with his other hand. For a moment, the thousands watching seemed to hold their collective breath. Then he drew forth a long, crimson hilt—its surface so smooth it appeared almost mundane, yet something about it radiated an ominous pressure, like the hush before a great storm.

The Void Reaver.

Every werewolf felt the hair rise along their spines. Even Albert straightened, unable to hide the awe that flickered across his face.

Lupus gazed at the hilt for a heartbeat longer, as if he was reluctantly parting with it. Then, with a small nod, he lifted his arm and tossed it toward Derek.

The hilt sailed through the cold air in a slow arc. Derek’s hand shot out, snatching it from the air with a snap of his gloved fingers.

For the first time, his icy composure cracked. A frenzied, fever-bright gleam ignited in his eye, and his voice came out low and almost reverent:

"Finally... everything I waited for...in the palm of my hand."