Catherine Bloodcrown.
The last remaining living inhabitant of the Dark Existence Realm—a hostile, decaying dimension that devoured the weak and twisted all who entered it. By the time Asher first set foot in that dying plane, she was already its lone survivor, the final sentinel of a world lost to corruption and time.
When Asher eventually subdued the realm and became its master, Catherine didn't resist.
By formal title, she became his servant—the First and only Inheritor of the Dark Spine Demi-Plane under his rule. But in truth, Asher never treated her like a subordinate. He treated her like a partner. A friend.
Most of the time, they acted more like equals.
This chapter is updated by Novel~Fire. (n)et
And now, after years apart, she had come to see him again.
Asher met her in the central courtyard, descending the marble steps as her silhouette emerged from the shadows. Their eyes locked.
They hadn't spoken since the day he vanished from Volarisa.
She looked nearly the same… and yet colder. More focused. Her presence had hardened.
"I wondered if you'd really returned," she said, arms crossed. "The Blood Crown flared the moment your aura touched this world again."
Asher gave a slight nod. "You felt it?"
Catherine stepped forward, boots clicking on stone. "Felt it? I drew power from it."
"you are forgetting I am part of the realm which is no your core world, and since you returned I sensed it easily"
"It is," he said simply. "And you've grown stronger."
"So have you." Her tone eased—just a little. "But I'm not here to flatter you. I came to see if the man who left everything behind… was worth waiting for."
Asher didn't flinch. "And?"
She stepped close—close enough to feel the hum of his aura.
Valeris and Veyra stood off to the side, watching with faint tension but choosing not to interrupt.
"You never saw me as a woman," Catherine said quietly, her eyes locked on Asher's. "So why do you care if I'm one now?"
At first, when he had become the master of the Dark Existence Realm, she had assumed she'd be treated as just another servant. Maybe a maid, or a loyal guard. But he had never made her kneel. He gave her space. Let her do as she pleased.
Asher gave a sheepish smile and ran a hand through his hair. "Hah... At that time, I was a kid, okay? What did you expect me to do—flirt with you all day like a degenerate? I was what, eight or ten when I took over that realm?"
Catherine laughed softly and rested her hand on his shoulder. "I'm glad you're back. And yeah… you've changed. You're more approachable now."
Asher smiled faintly. "Well, spending years out there with no one to trust kinda forced me to open up. I've grown, I guess."
Catherine's eyes shifted to Veyra, then back to him. "I can tell. You've already let someone into your bloodline, haven't you?"
Asher gave a small nod.
"Do you want it too?" he asked, meeting her gaze.
She didn't answer with words at first. Instead, she took a step forward and let the fabric of her outer robe fall to one side—subtle, but enough to show she wasn't joking.
"It would be my honor," she said softly. "To be yours."
Asher hesitated. "Are you sure? I mean… I could share my bloodline with you without making you my woman. You really want this?"
Catherine nodded. "Yes. I've had a lot of time to think. And no, this isn't because of Freya. I've felt this way since long before you disappeared."
Her voice grew more sincere. "Back when you left, I knew… as long as I was alive, then somewhere out there, you were alive too. That was enough to keep me going."
Asher's expression softened. "Freya…"
"She's still waiting for you," Catherine added. "The first girl you ever looked at in a romantic way. She never gave up on you."
There was silence, and then she stepped closer, gently taking his hand.
"But right now, it's me in front of you. So don't hold back."
She leaned in—and kissed him.
Asher's arms instinctively wrapped around her, pulling her close.
From across the courtyard, Veyra and Valeris glanced at each other and smiled knowingly.
They had already accepted Catherine.
And they knew this reunion had been long overdue.
After the kiss faded into silence, Catherine rested her forehead against his for a breath longer before stepping back. Her expression held a quiet satisfaction—she had said what needed saying, done what her heart had long waited for.
Valeris approached, gently touching Asher's arm. "We'll give you a moment," she said softly.
Veyra nodded, taking Catherine by the hand. "Come on," she said kindly. "Let's let him breathe."
Catherine hesitated, but then followed with a graceful turn. As they left, the doors to the courtyard closed slowly behind them with a quiet click.
The breeze that moved through the marble arches seemed to stir the memories clinging to him like dust. Everything had happened so fast—the reunion with his family, the weight of their judgment, the pain in his mother's eyes, the words he'd never gotten to say for years, the ghosts of all those years alone in foreign lands, fighting, surviving, pretending he didn't miss home.
He had come back strong. More powerful than ever.
But power didn't ease the ache in his chest.
He walked to the edge of the courtyard, placing both hands on the railing as he stared out over the Magnus estate—his estate. His mansion, his people, his past.
And then, finally, he let it go.
A soft, broken sound escaped his lips.
And just like that, Asher Magnus—the young man who had crushed void beasts, defeated sovereigns, and stood against entire empires—shook as the dam within him cracked.
His shoulders trembled. His fingers dug into the stone.
Tears didn't pour. They came slow, quietly, like old wounds bleeding once more.
He remembered the silence of cold nights in foreign temples.
The fear he buried deep beneath pride and strength.
The desperation to return—not for glory, but for someone to say, "We missed you."
It broke something inside.
He lowered his head and whispered, as if the wind might carry the words to a time long gone.
"I waited for you… every day."
And though no one heard it…
The courtyard, the walls, and even the sky above bore silent witness to the raw, untamed sorrow of a boy who had become a man without ever hearing the word welcome.
For now, he needed this moment.
To mourn what he never had.
To forgive what still hurt.