The Damned Demon

The tempestuous winds and heavy rain battered the remnants of the island, but the trio stood unwavering. Merina, Isola, and Ceti stood close, their faces illuminated by the eerie glow of the storm, gazes fixed on the ominous depths below where Asher disappeared.

"He truly knows no fear at all!" Ceti's worried and frustrated voice pierced through the echoes of the rain. She knew he took it because of his desperation to get the Deviar when only 3 more days were left for the quest to end.

She couldn't understand why he desperately wanted to get strong so quickly when with his potential, he would definitely reach the peak faster than any other genius.

But even now, after he managed to complete the mini-quest, they were still far from having the required number of shards.

Merina's hands were clasped tight, eyes shimmering with unshed tears, fear and hope vying for dominance in her gaze.

Isola placed a comforting hand on Merina's shoulder, "Do not worry," Isola declared, her voice carrying a determined edge yet with an undercurrent of worry, "Asher now possesses the cloak. It holds the power to render him invisible and grant him flight. He won't die from the fall."

Merina's anxiety was temporarily quelled as the weight of Isola's words sank in. Taking a deep breath, she nodded with a shaky smile, "Thank the devils..."

However, Ceti's voice, laden with concern, interrupted, "It's not that simple. The cloak, powerful as it is, feeds on its wearer's mana. With the chaotic energy of this storm and potential threats lurking below, his reserves could be depleted quickly. What if some powerful group comes upon him? Every group in this place is as strong as they could get."

Isola nodded, acknowledging the gravity of the situation, "You are right. We need to get to him, and fast."

Her eyes sparkled with determination as she continued, "I know a way to descend safely, though it will cost us some valuable resources."

Ceti shifted her stance, her red hair billowing in the stormy gusts as she said, her voice firm and commanding, "What are we waiting for then? Let's do it."

As the three prepared to descend into the storm's fury, the bonds of loyalty and determination shone clear, even amidst the dark chaos enveloping them.

[ Item Name: Cloak of the Voidweaver

Shrouded in legends older than the very skies of Elysium, the Cloak of the Voidweaver is said to be a symbol of the universe's first shadows. Crafted by a forgotten celestial being, its fabric intertwines the essence of starless nights and interstellar voids. Donning this mantle, the wearer becomes one with obscurity, their very aura concealed and form rendered invisible to the world. Whispered tales speak of its untapped power to meld one into the cosmic fabric, making them unseen, untouched, and unfelt. But beware…such boundless power comes with its own mysteries, and the cosmos keeps its secrets well. ]

[ Level : 34 ]

[ Grade: Legendary ]

[ Durability - Lasts as long as you transfer your mana. Once you stop, it will be a ordinary cloak ]

[ Effect - The Cloak will be active while siphoning 0.25% of your MP every second ]

The sensation of free fall in between stormy clouds would have terrified even a brave warrior. But for Asher, this fall was different, carrying with it the weight of his recent acquisition, the Cloak of the Voidweaver.

Even amidst the storm's onslaught and the disorienting fall, a glint of wonder sparkled in Asher's deep glowing yellow eyes as he clutched the cloak. It wasn't every day that one came into the possession of an artifact of such immense and mysterious power.

Anybody would kill to have an artifact that could render them truly invisible, including making their aura vanish and letting them fly. And another best thing about it was that it potentially had infinite durability. This surely was no ordinary cloak.

The wind howled past him, its roar deafening. Raindrops pelted his form, each droplet stinging like a myriad of tiny arrows. Through the curtain of rain and fog, a looming shadow materialized beneath him: another floating island. The realization struck him just as forcefully as the ground would if he didn't act immediately.

Without hesitation, Asher swiftly draped the Cloak of the Voidweaver around himself.

The very moment its fabric settled on his form, an overwhelming energy surged through him, stalling his rapid descent.

He hovered for a split second, disoriented, before realizing he was no longer at the mercy of gravity. A slow, relieved chuckle escaped his lips. The sensation of flight, once a distant memory, now enveloped him once more.

However, Asher wasn't one to let his guard down. With the storm's chaos around him and the unpredictable dangers that these floating islands often held, it was imperative to remain unseen.

Channeling the cloak's powers, Asher vanished from plain sight, becoming a mere whisper in the wind. He gracefully glided down, the cloak billowing majestically behind him, merging with the shadows of the storm.

Before the storm had completely consumed his vision, he had marked a spot, a large rocky outcrop that offered shelter and concealment.

He made his way there, settling behind it, hidden from prying eyes. He deactivated the cloak since it was devouring his mana every second and he didn't see anyone nearby.

As the sound of the storm continued to rage around him, a thought crossed his mind: would Isola, Ceti, and Merina manage to navigate through this chaos and reach him?

He knew it would be quite tough, especially to survive till they got to him.

However, with this cloak, he knew he stood a good chance of survival.

Taking advantage of the Cloak of the Voidweaver, Asher had become the very essence of stealth. Every few moments, he'd use the cloak's capabilities to scan his surroundings, ensuring no creatures or foes were sneaking up on him. The storm's din was an ever-present backdrop, but the island's unknown dangers required his full attention.

But on one of these cautious checks, Asher's eyes narrowed.

Emerging from the dense fog was a squad of five intimidating Hunters, their collective auras crying out danger.

He was prepared to leave, but his eyes locked onto the leader of the group.

That unmistakable sharp jawline, the short brown hair matted with rain, those piercing brown eyes, and the scar – a tale of survival – cutting across his face. The memories flooded back. Despite the intense environment, Asher's posture relaxed, a slight smirk playing on his lips.

Yet, dozens of meters away, the leader of this Hunter group seemed to be on high alert, every sense attuned to the environment. The three men with him and the sole woman moved with synchronized precision, their eyes scanning, weapons ready.

Suddenly, a stone with some words carved on it slid towards the man leading them.

The sudden movement startled the group, causing them to instinctively draw their weapons. The leader's keen instincts signaled them to pause as he raised his hand into a fist. He bent down, retrieving the stone, his fingers grazing the inscribed message.

His eyes widened, a myriad of emotions flashing through them – surprise, recognition, and disbelief.

"Sir Mikhail, what is it?" whispered the woman, her voice sharp yet curious. The curiosity was palpable among the group, but Mikhail's demeanor kept them at bay.

Straightening up, he pocketed the stone, his gaze more intense than before, "Spread out. Form a perimeter. You are not to return unless I call you or if there's trouble," he ordered in a voice that brooked no argument.

The four exchanged glances but trusted their leader implicitly. Without further ado, they dispersed, leaving Mikhail alone in the mist, a silhouette of his former self, waiting for what was to come.

The moment he made sure they were out of sight, "You have succeeded in getting my attention," Mikhail declared, his voice echoing with restrained power, "Now come out before I find you because I won't let anyone sully the memory of my-"

Before he could finish, a gust of wind whipped through the clearing, and before his very eyes, a cloaked figure appeared.

As if birthed from the mists themselves, the entity stood in stark contrast to the stormy backdrop.

Mikhail's fingers tightened around the hilt of his blade, his body going rigid as the figure revealed a demonic visage beneath its hood. Yet, this demon seemed weaker than him, giving him a reason to not call the others and first investigate this situation.

But as the demon pulled back the hood further, revealing his face, Mikhail's eyes narrowed.

"Long time no see, brother," Asher greeted, his voice a mix of warmth and relief.

Mikhail's countenance darkened, every muscle in his body coiled like a spring, ready to strike, "Hellbringer...I shall pull out your tongue first for addressing me so. But before that, speak... Why did you write that on the stone?"

Asher briefly smiled as his eyes sparkled with melancholy as he uttered, "Svyazannye ne rozhdeniem, no krov'yu i bitvoy. Bound not by birth but by blood and battle. Do you remember that, Brother Mikhail?"

Those words pierced through Mikhail's defenses, shaking him to his very core. The sharp blade, once held with threatening intent, lowered slightly, its tip touching the wet ground.

His previously cold and sharp demeanor seemed to fade as his voice quivered with pain and disbelief, "That can't be... Only my fallen brother could have known that. You can't be him. Speak the truth...How do you know this?!" Milkhail's voice shook with intensity as the echoes of the rain and thunder reverberated around them.