chapter -10 a dimonic presence

Authors note

Welcome back readers to another batch of chapters. I decided to upload the chapters in batches. Because I realise that if I become consistent, then I will surely caught up to my current writing

And maybe you will have much longer breaks and low quality chapters. But this batch is going to be longer than the previous. And the break for the next batch is going to be very less.

Enjoy the chapter

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Chapter 10 a demonic presence

The crimson mountain stood eerily quiet, the suffocating mist swirling lazily in the distance. For six days, Jasper and the others had pushed themselves to their absolute limits, their bodies aching from relentless training.

Mornings began with brutal training under Mr. John's watchful eyes. He made sure Jasper learned to harness his brute strength effectively, breaking down boulders with raw power and channeling his ivon energy into devastating strikes. Each failure was met with a punishing blow from Mr. John—sending Jasper rolling across the ground like a ragdoll.

Afternoons were no less grueling, as Jessica drilled him in precise ivon energy control. She taught him how to fire concentrated ivon blasts, pushing him past his limits. His entire body ached with an unbearable burning sensation every time he overdid it, but with every painful lesson, his control improved.

Evenings were spent refining his swordplay with Natasha. Though Jasper was improving at an unnatural speed, Natasha was still leagues ahead of him, her speed and precision making her seem untouchable. She rarely gave him praise, but when she did, it was enough to ignite his determination even further.

By the sixth day, Jasper had unlocked his fourth release point, and his progress was undeniable.

Later that night, as the group sat around the fire, catching their breath after another brutal day, Mr. John stood up and cracked his knuckles.

"Alright, listen up," he said, his deep voice cutting through the silence. "The crimson mist has been thinning. Based on what I've seen, tomorrow will be the final day. Once it clears, the mountain will be safe—at least for a while."

Jasper exhaled, finally sensing a break from their endless struggle. The others exchanged glances, some relieved, others more cautious.

Leon, however, was barely listening. His mind was elsewhere, his thoughts still trapped in the mist.

Earlier that evening, before the announcement, Leon had gone deeper into the mist to train alone. His golden flames flickered and burned fiercely as he unleashed a barrage of fire blasts, carving through the suffocating red fog.

But then—he felt it.

A deep, unsettling chill crept up his spine. The temperature around him felt like it had dropped, despite the heat of his own flames. He turned sharply—and his breath hitched.

In the distance, barely visible through the mist, stood a figure.

Its form was pitch black, like a shadow given physical shape. Its very presence radiated an unnatural fear, an overwhelming sense of dread that made Leon's instincts scream at him to run.

The figure didn't move, only watching. Its head tilted slightly, the motion slow and almost… deliberate.

Leon's flames surged in response. "Who the hell are you?" he called out, his voice firm.

No answer.

The shadow remained still for a moment longer—before suddenly vanishing.

But it didn't just disappear.

It *disintegrated into nothingness*.

As if it had never been there to begin with.

Leon's heart pounded. He stood frozen, his eyes scanning the mist, searching for any trace of the figure. But there was *nothing*. No footprints. No disturbances in the air. It was as if reality itself had swallowed it whole.

"…What the hell was that?" Leon muttered under his breath, his golden flames dimming slightly.

Back at the camp, as the others prepared for rest, Leon sat by the fire, his gaze locked onto the mist-covered mountain.

He couldn't ignore what he saw. That *thing*… whatever it was, it wasn't normal. And it had been watching him.

His grip tightened. He needed to know what it was.

Slowly, Leon stood up, his movements careful as he glanced at the others, making sure no one was paying attention. Then, without a word, he turned and walked toward the mist, disappearing into the crimson fog

The night was suffocating, the crimson mist shifting like a living entity, dense and heavy as it swallowed the landscape whole. Back at the camp, the exhausted group slowly retreated to their tents, unaware that Leon had already disappeared from their midst.

No one suspected his absence—he had planned it too well. A subtle thread of his **ivon energy** lingered near the camp, carefully dispersed to mimic his presence. If anyone reached out to sense him, they would only find the familiar traces of his energy moving toward the tents, as if he had simply gone to rest with the others.

In truth, Leon was already far beyond the safety zone, venturing deeper into the dangerous embrace of the crimson mist. The environment outside the safe perimeter was chaotic; pulses of unstable **ivon energy** lashed out unpredictably, drawn to anything that moved. But Leon was no ordinary traveler. He had masked himself so thoroughly that even the mist's chaotic energy could not recognize his presence. He was a shadow among shadows.

Still, his mind was far from at ease.

That presence—whoever or whatever it was—had vanished too perfectly. The sheer weight of its aura had been suffocating, a darkness so pure and **sinister** that calling it "evil" felt like an understatement. It wasn't just malevolence—it was something far worse. Something unnatural.

Leon clenched his fists, replaying the moment in his mind. He had *felt* it watching him. That oppressive aura, that creeping dread—an instinctive, primal alarm had gone off in his very core. And then, in an instant, it was just... gone. Not faded, not withdrawn—*gone*, as if it had never existed.

His sharp eyes scanned the misty void around him, the silence pressing in.

*"No presence can just disappear into nothing."*

The thought sent a chill down his spine. Something about this was wrong—*very* wrong.

Then, without warning, his instincts screamed at him.

Leon didn't hesitate. He spun on his heel, his **ivon energy** surging, and thrust his hand forward. A massive sphere of searing heat and flame erupted from his palm, lighting up the mist like a second sun.

The blast rocketed toward the void behind him, its glow stretching into the abyss as Leon shouted:

**"You really thought you could hide from me? I knew you were following me from the start—I just played along to lead you right where I wanted you!"**

The orb detonated, sending a violent shockwave through the crimson fog, momentarily dispersing it. For a split second, the battlefield was exposed.

And there it was.

A deep, guttural laughter rumbled from the shadows—a laugh that slithered through the air, unnatural and bone-chilling. It was the kind of laughter that didn't just *sound* sinister—it *felt* sinister.

Then, from the depths of the mist, a figure emerged.

At first, it was just a swirling darkness, shifting unnaturally against the red mist. But as it stepped forward, its form solidified—a pitch-black silhouette, its shape flickering like living smoke. It had no distinct features, no face, no mouth—only two **glowing emerald eyes**, gleaming like predatory beacons in the night.

Leon's breath caught.

Even with all his experience, all his battles, the aura this thing emitted was unlike anything he had ever faced. It wasn't just fear—it was an all-consuming, **primal terror**, radiating from its very existence. The sheer pressure of its presence felt like invisible claws digging into his skin.

Then, it spoke.

**"You impress me, boy."**

Its voice was deep, distorted—echoing unnaturally, as if layered with multiple tones at once. It sounded ancient, yet sharp with amusement.

Leon narrowed his eyes, his mind racing.

The mist swirled around them, but the figure wasn't a part of it. Its power was different—pure darkness, shadow itself bending to its will. It did not emerge *from* the mist. It had simply been *within* it, waiting. Watching.

And now, it was moving.

Leon's entire body locked up. A paralyzing dread gripped him—his limbs felt heavy, his breath caught in his throat. His mind screamed at him to move, but something about that figure's approach made it impossible. The sheer pressure of its presence held him down like an invisible force.

*What... is this?! Why... why can't I move?!*

His heart pounded violently against his chest, his instincts screaming at him that this was no ordinary enemy. This was something **far beyond human comprehension**.

And yet—

With sheer willpower, Leon forced himself to move.

His muscles screamed, his veins burned with resistance, but he *moved*. His body broke free from whatever force was holding him in place, and he took a firm stance, his fists tightening as he glared at the shadowed figure.

A slow smirk crept onto his face.

**"Let's see just how much I can impress you."**

As those words left his lips, his body erupted with power.

A golden and orange **ivon energy** flared to life around him, swirling like a raging storm. The ground beneath his feet cracked from the sheer force radiating from his body. Sparks of lightning crackled through the air, wrapping around his arms and legs like living chains.

His energy surged higher, his power climbing with each passing second. His veins pulsed with raw strength, his very essence responding to the intensity of the battle ahead.

And then, with a sharp exhale, he **screamed**.

The entire landscape trembled as his **ivon energy** exploded outward, illuminating the crimson mist like a second sun. The shadowed figure stood unfazed, watching him with those eerie, glowing emerald eyes.

The battle had yet to begin.

But Leon was **ready.** ...

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To be continued