Demon Legacy

The thread shimmered faintly, vibrating with energy, but to the Demon Girl, it felt alive, pulsing against her skin as if infused with a will of its own. She reached out, hesitant but curious, and as her fingers brushed it, she gasped. The thread wasn't just energy—it was time itself, tangible and unrelenting. The King's voice cut through the moment, sharp and commanding.

"Let go!" he barked. "That thread will kill you if you hold it too long!"

But she couldn't. The thread had a pull she couldn't resist, and her fingers tightened around it involuntarily. She was glued to it, unable—or unwilling—to release her grip. Her body began to glow faintly, a soft light emanating from within her veins.

The King's eyes widened, his usually composed demeanor cracking. "Demon Girl, listen to me! Time will kill you! Let go!" he shouted.

Her glow intensified, spreading across her entire body until she seemed to burn from the inside out. It wasn't just light—it was anti-time and time itself, coalescing and growing. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, it began to expand within her, its presence like a parasite, eating away at her from within. Pain ripped through her, a fire that seared every nerve in her body.

A scream tore from her throat, primal and raw. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed onto the ground, her hands still fused to the thread. The King stepped closer, his face etched with concern. "You need to breathe! Stay calm, or it will consume you entirely!"

She could barely hear him over the deafening roar in her ears. Her heartbeat thundered, fast and erratic, as though time itself was trying to shatter her from the inside. With great effort, she forced herself to sit upright. Her breath came in ragged gasps, but she willed herself to slow it, to find some semblance of control.

The pain didn't ease, but her focus sharpened. She closed her eyes, shutting out the King's worried gaze, the glow of her body, and the searing pain that radiated through her. She imagined the thread as part of her—a piece of her essence—and slowly, her breathing evened out.

Inside her, her demon nature stirred. Unlike mortals, her body wasn't fragile. It began to adapt, her cells reacting to the intrusion of time and anti-time. It was as though her very being decided to manufacture something new, something that could coexist with the volatile force invading her.

The King watched in disbelief as the glow shifted. It was no longer erratic or chaotic; it pulsed in rhythm with her heartbeat, steady and controlled. The thread, once an alien force, began to merge with her, her body assimilating it. She wasn't just enduring time—she was becoming a part of it.

"You…" the King muttered, his voice barely a whisper. "You're becoming time."

Demon Girl opened her eyes, her gaze fierce despite the exhaustion lining her face. "I won't be destroyed by it," she said softly, her voice firm with determination. "I'll make it mine."