Rumors of the younger generation circulated throughout the Doom Clan in the months that followed. Among the many descendants of the clan's distinguished ancestry, two names were more notable than the others: Malikai Doom and Anzu Doom.
A couple months later, both had already refined several meridians, whiles others were struggling to open two, Malikai had already progressed to the seventh stage of Body Refining and Anzu, determined to outdo him, had reached the eighth.
They expanded extraordinarily.
The terrible core of Malikai's Asura Devouring Technique was exposed early on. He meditated every night and consumed the last of the demonic qi in his surroundings.
The horns on top of his head sharpened, his wings grew heavier with shadowy feathers, and his tail began to glow with traces of bloodlight.
His mother Lilith watched his cultivation contentedly from a distance. She said to Astaroth in a whisper, "He's progressing faster than we hoped."
But Astaroth remained mute, staring gloomily at the horizon. "That technique isn't easy to control, hopefully, he stays in control."
On the other side of the mountain palace, Tabitha watched her son Anzu casually strike and break a stone dummy with a casual strike.
With her dark eyes gleaming, she purred to herself, "He's outpacing Malikai." "My son, this whole clan will submit to you in due time. Even that damned boy.
Iris was always there as Malikai trained. She was more than simply a maid; she was Malikai's quiet sword, always faithful and on guard. She made his food and washed his robes, but above all, she sat silently while he was being cultivated, watching over him with deadly intent if necessary.
Her cultivation had also started to rise, slowly, steadily.
She refused to let anyone hurt him.
On a particular bloodmoon night, a year after the Malikai and Anzu were gifted their transcendent techniques, the sky above the doom clan rippled slightly, not from the weather, but from the solemness of several deep auras gathered together for a special occasion. Atop the skullfire peak, the clans highest ceremonial ground, twelve thrones made of skulls and blood were arranged together.
On the throne sat twelve demon lords like statues of doom, all at the peak of the paragon realm with Astaroth at the highest throne.
Malikai, dressed in fitted black robes, stood calmly at the center of his peers, his horns glinting under the blood moon, his wings tucked and docile, and his tail uncurled out of instinct.
Across from him, stood Anzu, tall and straight, eyes glinting with malice and challenge at Malikai, it always irked him how composed and nonchalant Malikai always was.
The elder in charge of the ceremony stepped forward and raised his voice, "Today is the day your will will be tested, and your bloodlines awakened further."
He gestured, and behind rose an enormous stairs, burning in dark gold infernal flame, with 111 steps, raising his voice again, "This is the Ancestral flame stairs, it will test your will and stir your bloodlines, all of you are the pride of our sacred asura race, endure and climb as high as you can, and your bloodlines shall take another step forward."
The first hopeful hopefuls made their first step, embers of dark gold flames flickering beneath their feet. The flame sipping into their skins, sucking their quintessence, tampering their wills. Step by step, groans filled the air as bodies trembled and knees buckled.
Most of the young demons collapsed before the tenth step, bleeding crimson blood from their orifices as the flames devoured their essence. Their bodies and wills could not withstand the pressure they were going through, the elder in charge quickly moved to save them before the last of their lifeblood was devoured by the ancestral flame. Others pressed forward, their roars of pain devoured by the infernal fiery heat, and finally stepped on the tenth step and immediately sat cross-legged in meditation. The tenth step is the minimum step to reach to gain something out of the trial.
A few dozen moved forward, persevering while some gave up along the way and sat down to meditate. Eventually, only two dozen reached the thirtieth step before their bodies could no longer withstand the pressure. They sank to their knees, unable to climb any further and yet their souls still burned with the fire of improvement. They sat cross legged, meditating, allowing the ancestral flames to improve their bloodlines through baptism.