[You’ve purified a demonic human.]

[You’ve earned experience points.]

I was getting more experience points, but I couldn’t level up. I had a cap to get over.

I stepped through the colosseum’s main gates with my heart pounding and my lungs protesting every breath. A faint red haze blurred the edges of my vision, and I had no time to rest as I cursed under my breath.

The entire courtyard around the colosseum looked like a warzone—broken pillars, shattered stone arches, flames bursting from cracks in the ground. The sky roared, thundering as Amelia clashed with Ashvarak. The entire area trembled.

“This doesn’t look good,” I crouched behind a boulder to observe the situation first. There were many small and large groups scattered in the large football-sized arena. I couldn’t find the Principal anywhere, so he was likely somewhere else in the academy, helping the needy students. Couldn’t he have taken these students with him?

Looking around a bit more, I found Prince Orion. He stood with a small group of guards near a collapsed statue on the left side, and I recognized one of his guards as an Imperial Knight. The Elven Prince was beside him, and the Imperial Knight stood in a way to protect both princes. Given the level flashing above the Knight’s head, the princes would be safe.

[Taryn Durnhelm, Level 121]

From the Durnhelm House, no less. All around them, elves stood in a protective circle. They looked embarrassed as they did so, for this problem was caused by their own people, but they stood nonetheless. Despite being protected, Orion seemed to be trying to organize some kind of defense, but the waves of attacks from overhead forced him and his men to keep falling back.

It looked like they had been able to fend off possessed elves, illusions, and demons made of fireless smoke, but cracks in the floor and bursts of ashen flame pinned them in place.

I stood up and began to walk toward them. But as I got closer, a familiar voice called my name. “Iskandaar!” I snapped my head to the side to find my older sister, Riasmin, perched on a chunk of fallen stone, keeping a group of frightened students behind her.

Before she could talk more, she had to wave her hand toward a group of flame-shaped silhouettes, and sand ripped out of the ground, piercing the flames and turning into glass as the figures burst out.

My sister was surprisingly strong.

[Riasmin Romani, Level 97]

The demons didn’t stop, though. These smokeless fire ones were similar to automated bots; they didn’t have a mind, so they attacked without fear. I watched as she lashed out with her hand at one of Ashvarak’s smokeless flames that streaked too close, sending a roar of sand and gritting her teeth as it fizzled into sparks.

Then she turned to me. “What are you doing here?!” she called, and suddenly her eyes went wild with panic. “Shit, step away! The path behind you—it's on fire!”

I turned back and realized she was right. The gate I’d entered through exploded and collapsed under raging flames. I quickly jumped back, avoiding any injury.

But now it meant there was no retreat. I swallowed hard. “I had no choice,” I answered through ragged breaths. “Couldn’t go around.” It was a lie. I had to be here. My stupid Ascension Quest didn’t allow me to sit this one out.

She shook her head in frustration. “Then hurry, get to Victor’s shield!” She flung a hand toward one part of the colosseum.

I followed her gaze and saw Victor Seraph of all people, protecting other students. He was standing inside a massive, turtle-shaped half-translucent barrier that shimmered green in the gloom. The Seraphic Tortoise. His family’s unique ability. I counted at least a dozen students trembling behind him, standing too close to him. I reckoned that he could make that shell bigger, enough to cover the entire colosseum, but then it’d also be weaker. So he was keeping it to a moderate size. Stray blasts of demonic energy slammed into the shield’s dome, but it didn’t even tremble. Some of the brave students within the barrier used their long-ranged Skills to attack the demons that got too close to the barrier.

Riasmin fought off a dark elf that sprang at her, then turned back to me. “He’s keeping them alive. He’ll help you too, despite that little incident before. Trust me, and move!” she yelled, voice cracking from the strain. “I’ll handle things here.”

Despite every ounce of distrust I had for Victor, I couldn’t deny that offer. Plus, being in a safe space without worrying about the smaller demons meant I could observe the fight in the sky better and therefore intervene at a perfect time.

“Alright,” I muttered, nodding at her, and took off on a run, ducking under a stray slash from an infected human who lunged in my path. My Demonic Sphere warned me of illusions flickering near the edges of the stands, but I managed to dodge them.

Victor caught sight of me as I neared the huge, turtle-like barrier. “...Romani,” he called, his tone strangely calm under the circumstances. “Get under the left side!” He motioned toward the giant “arm” of the turtle shell. I wondered why, but up close, I realized how cramped it would be at another spot. The left side was mostly free.

Another demon’s screech echoed from above, and I dived into the shell’s left limb just as a whiplash of black flames crashed against the outside.

The inside was cooler, and suddenly the chaos outside was muffled. I heaved out a sigh. Unlike the center of the dome, where most students huddled, this “arm” section felt like a narrow pocket. I tried to keep my distance from Victor and the others, unsure what he’d do, but I was relieved not to be in the line of direct fire.

For a moment, I caught sight of Taryn Durnhelm, the Imperial Knight, releasing a powerful technique to kill a bunch of dark elves that got too close to Orion.

The elves are not going to like that one, I noted. He could have dealt with them without killing them. At the same time, they couldn’t blame the Empire.

Flames from the sky hammered different parts of the colosseum, making it impossible to see more. I looked up, and another “Gold Dragon’s Breath!” streaked across the sky. This fight was far easier for Amelia than her fight with the Vampiric Father. Especially since Lady Vaelion was helping with her powerful arrows.

I squinted, but the flames were too thick to see. I was starting to get worried. If Amelia defeated the man, how could I complete the Ascension?

A violent boom shook the arches above us as if to answer my thoughts, and a shape plummeted from the sky. As the shape landed, the ground exploded, and all the students nearby screamed.

Ashvarak, the demon general, battered but still brimming with lethal energy, slowly got up. He was right… in front of me, a step outside the turtle barrier, leaving the ground in a swirl of scorched debris. My stomach lurched.

This was the monster Amelia had been fighting overhead, and she was currently transforming back to her human form in the sky to come down and help. She couldn’t come in her dragon form, as she was too large and might accidentally step on students.

Unfortunately, that meant Ashvarak had a few seconds with us.

[Ashvarak Asura, Level 183]

Still on the floor, his glowing red eyes flicked across the barrier, then snapped onto me. “It’s you, right?” He asked, and a grin spread across his face. “You weren’t here before… And I don’t sense Kazreth’s energy signature anymore. So Kazreth failed… How interesting,” he said, voice dripping with grim amusement.

My breath came quickly, but I forced a grim smile. “I took him out,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. Perhaps taunting would work? “And I mean that in the realest sense possible. I destroyed his soul. You won’t meet him when you return to the Demonic Continent.”

He stared at me and then stood up. He chuckled, shaking off some dust. “You are really arrogant,” he said with a lazy shrug, “and foolish. One more pest for me to crush.”

Before I could reply, he swung his arm back, fist wreathed in crackling darkness. Then he slammed into the turtle shell. The entire barrier trembled, and the sound of explosion filled the air, but it held strong. Surprise flickered in Ashvarak’s eyes. He looked at Victor, who just frowned. “Damn annoying Seraphs,” he said.

Then he prepared another strike.

Confident in the shell’s integrity, I braced for the impact—figuring I’d remain unscathed inside. I also prepared an attack. Attacks could pass through from inside without hurting the barrier. I could use that to my advantage. Soul Sever and Astral Rend should be the safest option, given the current circumstances.

Amelia rushed from the sky, she was very close, but at the time, Ashvarark’s fist came for the barrier. I was about to release my attack, but right before the punch connected, I noticed something horrific. Victor smirked at me and flicked his fingers.

I sensed the shell’s surface shift—the barrier parted around me like an opened window, barely large enough for the fist to enter and small enough that nobody else would notice. Shit. My eyes widened, instincts screaming that something was wrong. The punch slammed into my chest with crushing force.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Time nearly stood still. My lungs froze, a burst of agony raced through my ribs, and I had only a split second to act. I triggered my last resort.

[True Demon God Art: The Temporal Overdraft].

===

Name: [True Demon God Art: The Temporal Overdraft]

Rank: ◾Unrankeable ◾

Description: An unranked technique that allows you, Iskandaar Romani, to tap into your potential futures, borrowing strength from a random version of yourself across possible timelines. The power drawn is always unpredictable, possibly ranging from immense to non-existent, depending on the state of the future self. From a Cripple to a King.

The cost of using this technique is a portion of your lifespan, proportional to the power borrowed. It might be one year, or a hundred, killing you immediately. Additional costs may apply.

Effect: Upon activation, the user draws power from a possible future. The duration of the effect depends on how the user's abilities are enhanced based on the future they’ve tapped into.

Side Effects: (1) 90% Experience Debuff for a period of time—depending on the lethality of the borrowed power. (2) Serious internal injuries, which can even be deadly enough to leave the user crippled for months, depending on the lethality of the borrowed power. (3) Losing a portion of your life span proportional to the years of power the user has borrowed. (4) Immobility.

Cooldown: Once every six months

===

A swirling haze of system text flashed in my mind.

[You’ve landed on a timeline 15 years into the future…!]

[You’ve landed The Crippled Heaven. You’ve gained no power.]

“...Fuck,” I managed to gasp out just as the blow sent me flying away.

Pain flooded my senses, my vision turning white at the edges. I was sent flinging out of the barrier, the momentum carrying me far across the colosseum’s ruined walls, and then I was airborne beyond its perimeter, spinning uncontrollably through the air.

Consciousness slipped from me, the world going black as my body sailed over the burning remains of what used to be the outer ring of the colosseum.

****

Solara hovered above the broken courtyard, her wings beating steadily against the heated air. A shimmering aura of pale fire flickered around her, embers drifting from each flap.

She gazed over the cluster of demonic-infected humans below—eyes glowing red, movements jerky with dark impulses—and let out a slow, calming breath. This had to work.

Beneath her, Prince Alaric and Jana stood at the center of a scorched clearing, weapons drawn, doing their best to bait the frenzied horde. Alaric’s face was etched with strain, and Jana’s gloves glistened where cuts had torn through the fabric. They had the look of people pushed to their limits.

“Are you ready?” Solara called down, her voice wavering with fatigue.

Alaric spared her a glance, his usually confident expression tight. “As ready as we’ll ever be. Just—whatever you’re going to do, make it quick.”

Jana parried the slash of an unhinged academy guard, forcing him back. She hissed between panting breaths, “We can’t hold them much longer, Solara.”

Nodding, Solara gripped the air with trembling fingers. Her phoenix fire could burn away demonic corruption, according to Iskandaar, but she knew it could also burn humans. So she’d have to use a different sort of fire; the healing flames. She’d barely used it on other people, and even then, it was to heal simple cuts and stuff. This was something above her pay grade, and she wasn’t sure if increasing the intensity would kill the people or not, so she had to be careful about its usage.

She closed her eyes and reached within, calling on the phoenix spark in her core. The heat in her chest swelled, and she thrust out her arms.

A gentle blaze, pale and radiant, fanned out like a ripple of sunlight over the infected humans. They shrieked and jerked as the flames passed through them, but there was no sign of scalding flesh or mortal injury—only the sizzling of demonic energies unraveling.

One by one, the red glow faded from their pupils. In just a few seconds, their bodies slackened, and they collapsed to the ground, unconscious or simply too exhausted to stand. Silence settled among the courtyard ruins.

Solara let out a ragged sigh, sagging in the air. The phoenix fire had worked. She hoped she hadn’t missed any pockets of corruption.

Jana’s voice reached her from below. “That… that was incredible. They’re alive, all of them.” She lowered her blade, cautiously checking a fallen student’s pulse. “Yes—still breathing.”

Alaric expelled a long breath, tension easing from his posture. “You saved them,” he remarked, genuine relief coloring his tone. “Without killing a single one. Thank you, Solara.”

She gave him a faint smile, descending a bit. “Iskandaar asked me to handle it. I’m only doing my part,” she murmured. While she had to be so careful while doing it, he could purify them without batting an eye. He truly was something else.

Her chest still burned from the energy output, but it was worth it. Above them, the sky rumbled with distant magic and demon fire clashes. It had stopped briefly, but Amelia and the demon seemed to be back at it.

Alaric looked around at the battered courtyard. “We should regroup. Maybe we can get the stable ones out of here. Jana, can you—” He abruptly stopped talking, eyes flicking upward at something behind Solara. Jana followed his stare, face twisting in alarm.

Solara turned, and her heart lurched. A dark shape streaked across the smoky sky, trailing sparks of demonic flame.

It looked like a meteor, only it was moving too wildly. For a split second, she recognized a glimpse of battered cloth and a familiar silhouette. It was… Iskandaar.

“Gods—” she breathed, her wings flaring. Without another word, Solara shot into the air. The heat stung her eyes, and ash clung to every feather, but she couldn’t care. Iskandaar was hurtling through the sky, limp and unconscious, likely from some devastating blow.

She flapped with frantic speed, ignoring the burn in her muscles. In seconds, she was beneath him. Grunting, she caught him in midair—almost losing her grip from the sheer momentum. They tumbled a bit as she stabilized, arms straining to hold his weight.

Iskandaar’s head lolled, his face streaked with dust and blood. His shirt was gone, his chest out in the open. And his chest… it was caved in. “No, no, no,” Solara’s eyes went wide as she muttered, hugging him close as they drifted downward, slow enough not to crash land. “Stay with me,” she pleaded, voice trembling.

The moment they touched the ground, she carefully laid him on a patch of relatively stable debris. Alaric and Jana tried to rush over from a distance, but a group of infected humans latched onto them. Solara ignored their grunts. She couldn't be bothered to look.

“He’s unconscious.” Her voice broke on the last syllable. She tried to shake him awake, gently tapping his cheeks. “Iskandaar, Iskandaar, come on,” she whispered, her heartbeat thundering in her ears. She swallowed. He wasn’t responding. She quickly pressed her head against his shattered chest. His heart… it wasn’t beating. No, no, it was. It was just really slow.

Another approach—Phoenix Flames. She swallowed, summoned a small, controlled blaze in her palms, and pressed it against his chest. Then, she made the flame burst in volume. Warmth seeped into him, scouring away any lingering traces of demonic force.

A ragged cough escaped his lips. His chest rose. He gasped. His eyes fluttered open, but what shone in them wasn’t the usual sharp awareness. Something older… and heavier resided there. Solara’s stomach dropped at the unfamiliar emotion in his gaze. Had he been infected?

“Solara...?” he rasped, voice gritty. “…How long has it been?”

She blinked in alarm. “Since you lost consciousness? I- I don’t know. Probably a few seconds, I think. You were sent flying.”

“Ah. No, no, that’s not what I mean,” he smiled at her face. “How many years has it been?”

“Huh? W-what are you talking about? Iskandaar?” She looked swiftly around her as if to ask someone else what was happening, but only flames were around her. Was he truly under the influence of demonic energy? But that didn’t make sense; he, too, had demonic energy.

Iskandaar’s eyes drifted around the ruined courtyard, taking it in like a man seeing a place from his childhood. He blinked. “Ah, I see. It’s the Winter Festival situation. Hah, so that crazy Skill picked me for this timeline…. What bad luck.” He sighed and looked down at his arms. He looked at them in wonder. “So this is the Prime.”

A weak laugh rattled through him, and he tilted his head up as if trying to read the sky.

Solara felt a chill race up her spine. “Iskandaar? That’s you, right?” she pressed, voice hushed. “It’s me, Solara. Snap out of it.” She tried shaking him again, but he simply stared with that distant look, like a stranger borrowing her friend’s body.

She swallowed, heart pounding with fresh worry. Phoenix flames had revived him, but something was horribly wrong. The terrifying question: who was speaking to her right now?

He slowly stood up, grunting in pain. Solara was confused, but she helped him stand. “I don’t have much time,” he said, “the Skill’s effect will run out soon, and the Prime will be on his own. Gotta do something about it. Otherwise, he’ll be stuck on Level 50 for a long time. Ugh… it seems I didn’t bring back any skills. It’s calling me a goddamn cripple too… Dammit, stupid skill.” He looked up at the flaming battle in the sky. “I guess he’s not that unlucky since I came here. Any other variant, and they’d not have retained consciousness under this skill. I think. Now if only I had [Event Horizon]...”

“Iskandaar, you’re scaring me…”

“Solara, please, everything is alright,” he smiled at her gently. “I am here now.” Hearing him say that somehow calmed her heart. His smile… it relieved her panic. It didn’t quite look like him, but somehow, it was warmer. “Can you step back?”

Although she didn’t know what to do, she followed his command. He staggered but didn’t fall, again observing his body as he muttered, “I can try to use Event Horizon manually without the skill, but it’s impossible in such a weak body. And I don’t even have the Heavenly Demon Body yet, pity. But I can use the other one…”

“What are you talking about?”

“I am talking about my skills,” he turned to her and said. “I am Iskandaar Romani from a possible future, the Heavenly Demon who lost everything, and I am talking out loud so that you can tell the Iskandaar you know about what I am about to do.” A soft smile formed on his lips as he looked at her. It carried emotions that she couldn’t quite comprehend. “I… missed you, Solara. But don’t worry. The Prime won’t have to.”

“What?”

“He wouldn’t have to miss you, ever. If he manages to pull off what I am about to show you, he’ll stop you from death this time around. He surely will. I trust that. And I also trust that he won’t become a cripple. But it all depends on you. So observe clearly.”

Solara was confused, but she had nothing to comment on. She could only watch as his body began to glow. A circle of bright, hot plasma formed behind his back. Like a halo, except it was vertical against his back. Some of his wounds healed, his muscles rippled, his hair glittered darkly, and he floated. He lifted off the ground, his smile fading as he grew serious.

“This is [Photon Ring],” he shrugged his shoulders as the ring on his back glimmered, “and I’m going to use it to defeat that,” he pointed at Ashvarak in the distant sky. “Well. Hopefully.”

He smiled at her one last time, and then he streaked toward the flame demon like a bolt of lightning. He became a golden blur in the sky, and at the next moment, the mortal realm exploded.