The Damned Demon

As Asher unfolded from the confines of the coffin, stepping into the realm of the living once more, albeit in a form not his own, Esther found herself having her lips part on their own.

Her eyes inadvertently wandered, towards the seemingly harmless meaty sword hanging between his legs, not knowing whether to feel surprised or not to see that its size and girth also got successfully transferred to his avatar.

But the moment she felt a hint of warmth creeping up her cheeks, she reeled in her thoughts, feeling annoyed at herself for letting herself get so distracted easily despite it resembling that of a human.

Her gaze snapped back to his face, as the success of the procedure settled in her mind finally, "You...You really managed to do it..." The words tumbled from her lips, edged with disbelief. Here stood a man, an alien, not of her bloodline, who had traversed the perilous path of transferring consciousness and mana circuit into a human shell without faltering.

"This feels...a bit weird yet familiar..." Asher mumbled as he surveyed his new hands, his features, a look of curiosity painting his expression as he encountered his reflection on the coffin glass.

His human visage, mirroring the demonic one he knew so well, stared back at him—same yet entirely different, with startling white hair cascading down to his waist. He was astonished to see that his appearance resembled almost the same as his demon body, except he looked human. It felt kind of strange yet familiar...as if he was human again.

But he felt he would have to shorten his hair since only hipsters would grow hair this long back on Earth. Yet he was satisfied to see that his height, muscles, and especially his little dragon had the same shape and size.

However, what caught his attention was the color of his eyes. They were a radiant gold unlike the dark yellow of his original body, almost the same as when his eyes glowed with the power of his mana as a Hunter.

For a moment, he felt as if he was staring into his past self.

His gaze then drifted to his original form, lying still within the other coffin, connected to him by the dark blue tendrils of mana that seemed to form a sort of connection between the two.

"How long are you going to stand without any clothes like that? You can now return to your original body now that the transfer has been a success," Esther coldly asked, not wanting to get distracted again.

Asher, still marveling at his new existence, voiced his awe and curiosity, "This is mind-blowing. I am literally standing in a different body…a human one. Why can't you people use this Art in our world? Imagine using it and having a second life," he pondered aloud, the strategic possibilities unfolding in his mind.

Esther's response was a low, tired sigh, "The only reason you are able to use your avatar here is because I am maintaining a connection between it and your body. The moment you even get a few meters away from your original body, the connection will be lost, and you will return to your original body. This secret art is only meant to be used during Reaping since the Devils are doing the hard part of transferring your soul into your avatar."

Esther then went on to explain other details regarding his avatar to make sure he won't end up getting caught or dying in his avatar and result in her House getting exposed.

Asher's understanding deepened, the complexities of his new form revealing themselves in layers, each explanation from Esther shedding light on the intricate details of his avatar.

—

After a while, Asher was back in his original demon body and was staring at the coffin with his lifeless avatar.

He had a satisfied smile on his face, especially after seeing that his little dragon's prowess was similar even in his avatar, and he had to thank Esther for helping him realize it with her mouth.

Thanks to her inexperience, especially with any sort of emotions, he felt it was quite fun and amusing to slowly break her and use her to have a hold on her House.

However, shifting his focus back to the coffin, he snapped his fingers as he stored it away in his Damned Dimension while feeling that he should think of a way to send this coffin to Earth.

Should he store it in a hidden place through a quest and tell Amelia or those Japanese girls to fetch it for him?

But his solitude was abruptly shattered by the sound of sharp, deliberate footsteps echoing against the stone floor.

He turned, his gaze drawn towards the entrance, anticipation flickering in his eyes.

Through the door swept a figure, the very embodiment of allure and power.

Clad in an elegant black gown that hugged her voluptuous form, Rebecca made her entrance, the dress's design accentuating her deep cleavage. The fabric moved like liquid shadow with each step she took, a dance of darkness and grace.

"What a pleasant surprise, or maybe not a surprise. I knew you would come back to me," Asher remarked, a playful yet challenging undertone in his voice as he took in the sight of Rebecca striding towards him. His words, however, fell on deaf ears, or so it seemed.

Rebecca's approach was silent, her expression darkening, her eyes alight with a deadly coldness that belied the calm of her steps. The air around her seemed to thicken, charged with an unspoken fury.

"What happened? Are you so shocked that you forgot to speak after seeing certain things?" Asher's scoff carried a cold edge, an attempt to provoke a response, to pierce the armor of her silence.

His taunt, however, was met not with words but with a palpable shift in the atmosphere, making him frown.

The hall, already a cavern of shadows, seemed to constrict around them as a chilling, sharp, killing intent emanated from Rebecca.

With a fluid motion, her hands wove through the air, summoning forth dozens of icy projectiles of blood, each one a harbinger of vengeance.

"Bleed for me!" The words, torn from Rebecca's lips in a vengeful cry, filled the space between them with an echo of wrath. The projectiles, sharp as the coldest winter and as deadly as the darkest thoughts, hurtled towards Asher from all sides, their aim true and their intent meant to paint the floor with his blood.