The Primeval Era-Chapter 121: Demon! III

<The River of The World: Boundaries and What Lies Beyond>

There is a river that cuts across the Lands of Stone like a wound that will not heal.

The ancients called it the River of The World, for they believed that beyond its waters lay not merely another territory but another existence entirely. Its currents run deep and treacherous, filled with creatures that answer to no Beast Lord and hunger in ways that defy natural law. Those who attempt to cross rarely return, and those who do return rarely speak of what they witnessed on the distant shore.

The Three Pillars know of this river. The Noble Beasts know of this river. Every Shaman who has studied the old texts knows that the Lands of Stone end where those dark waters begin.

And on the other side dwell the Demons.

They are not Primal Beasts, for Primal Beasts draw power from the Sacred Mountains and exist within the natural order. They are not humans, for humans possess souls that hunger for meaning and connection.

Demons are something older. Something that existed before the first Ancestral Pillar took root. Something that watched from across that river as the Lands of Stone took shape and life flourished upon them.

Their society is intricate beyond human comprehension. They have hierarchies and castes and ruling powers that mirror the structures of the Neolithic Empires, yet twisted into forms that serve purposes no mortal mind can fully grasp. The Kishi with their two faces serve as diplomats and infiltrators, charming with one visage while devouring with the other.

The Adze who drink not merely blood but the essence of potential, leaving their victims alive but hollow. The Obambo who wear the skins of the dead and speak with stolen voices. Each has its role. Each has its hunger.

For Demons do not merely consume Mana and power as Warriors do.

They hunger for flesh. They hunger for souls. They hunger for the very substance of existence itself, that spark which separates the living from the dead and gives meaning to the struggle of survival. When a Demon feeds, nothing remains. Not bone. Not memory. Not even the echo of what once was.

It is said that in ages past, before the Three Pillars rose to power, the Demons crossed the River of The World in great numbers. They swept across the Lands of Stone like a plague of locusts, consuming everything in their path. Tribes were erased. Empires were forgotten. The very history of those times was devoured so thoroughly that we do not even know what was lost.

The Noble Beasts drove them back. The first great alliance between human and beast, forged not from friendship but from desperate necessity. Together, they pushed the Demons beyond the river and established the boundaries that have held for countless generations.

But boundaries are not walls.

And rivers can be crossed.

The old texts warn that Demons never truly leave. They plant seeds within willing hosts, corruption that waits for death to bloom. They whisper across the waters to those hungry for power, offering bargains that seem favorable until the price comes due. They are patient in ways that beings who fear death can never understand.

When you see a Demon in the Lands of Stone, do not ask how it arrived.

Ask instead who invited it.

—

Damian looked at the demon before them.

His eyes were grim as he studied the abomination that had risen from Imperator Vienna’s corpse. The Kishi towered over the vessel, its two faces turning to survey the destruction around it with expressions of delight and hunger. Crimson-obsidian light still radiated from its body, that vile energy continuing to poison the air.

Just how could something like this have arisen from an Imperator of the Dominion of Crimson Stone?

Vienna had been a Vessel Completion Warrior. A commander of armies. A woman who had served one of the Three Pillars for decades. She had possessed power and status and everything that came with being among the elite of the Lands of Stone.

And hidden within her chest had been the seed of a demon?

Had she known? Had she willingly accepted this corruption in exchange for power?

The questions burned in Damian’s mind, but he had no answers. 𝙛𝓻𝒆𝒆𝒘𝙚𝓫𝙣𝙤𝒗𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

Beside him, Serala looked at the creature with an ashen expression.

Her wing-shaped pupils had dimmed, the confident light that had filled them during the battle fading into something closer to dread even as her eyes still burned with power and dignity!

She recognized what stood before them. The sacred texts she had studied as the Holy Daughter contained knowledge that most would never encounter.

"In the archives of the Hallowed Voice..."

Her voice came out quiet and strained.

"There are texts that speak of beings beyond the River of The World. Demons. Entities that existed before the Lands of Stone took their current form, before the Sacred Mountains rose, before humans or beasts walked these territories."

She swallowed hard.

"They do not hunger for Mana as we do. They do not seek power through cultivation. They consume flesh and souls, the very essence of existence itself. When a demon feeds, nothing remains. Not bone. Not memory. Not even the echo of what was lost."

Her hands trembled at her sides.

"The texts describe the Kishi are among the most dangerous, for they wear faces of charm to lure their prey before revealing the beast beneath."

She looked at Damian.

"The old wars against them nearly destroyed everything. Humans and beasts allied for the first time in history to push them beyond the River of The World. That was ages ago. They...should not be here. They really shouldn’t!"

Damian’s expression became heavy at her words.

Masamuk appeared beside them, his obsidian body diminished from the damage he had taken when the demon erupted. Chunks of his form were missing, stellar blue points flickering weakly where the corruption had eaten away at his essence. But his crimson eyes burned with intensity.

"I don’t know too much about the specifics."

The slime’s voice was grim.

"But anything to do with the term Demon is a serious matter among the Noble Beasts. Our oldest ancestors passed down warnings through generations. They are catastrophe on the Lands of Stone. They are endings given form."

...!