RAGNA POV...
At that mont, I truly didn’t know what I was supposed to do anymore, because the sight of Elina and John’s expressions—twisted with terror, despair, and a pain far deeper than words—crushed what little composure I had left, making my chest feel unbearably tight as my thoughts spiraled out of control.
’How the hell is this happening?
Wasn’t it supposed to be every ten years before their arrival?
Then what was that Banshee outcry supposed to an?’
Fear slowly seeped into every corner of my mind as I stared at the front door of our house, which now looked less like wood and more like a fragile glass shield at the very edge of shattering, violently shuddering again and again as if warning us that whatever stood beyond it had already decided our fate.
The stories my parents once told about the Holy Shrine and cursed children resurfaced one after another, grotesque and vivid, and I couldn’t tell anymore whether this was still so twisted Banshee premonition of a future yet to co, or if this was the absurd, rciless reality finally catching up to us.
This day—this exact day—had always been my greatest fear, and even though my instincts had been screaming at for weeks, I had dismissed it all as lingering after-effects of overusing ntal Fortitude, never imagining that danger had already been knocking on our door the entire ti.
I stood there in a daze, my thoughts scattering chaotically as I weighed my options, wondering if I should run away since I was confident—no, certain—that I could escape if I tried, but the mont I looked around and saw my family trembling behind , that idea shattered completely.
If I ran... what would happen to them?
The realization hit even harder when I understood that Oge wasn’t strong enough to fight, and my parents and Ada didn’t have the ability to escape quickly, and the more I thought about it, the more regret flooded my chest—why didn’t I use the curse ritual on them earlier? Even a slim chance would have been better than none at all.
But if I fought back now, would the Holy Shrine simply slaughter my family as punishnt?
And if I didn’t fight... would they spare us anyway?
The fear of losing my family swallowed all reason, stripping of my usual calm until my mind was nothing but panic and despair, especially when the mory of the first demon child—what my parents told had happened to him and his family—resurfaced like a cursed scar burned into my consciousness.
I didn’t want that ending.
No matter how much I tried to dismiss it as overthinking, the image refused to leave.
Watching my family die helplessly before my eyes was a thought so unbearable that it felt like my heart was being crushed, and I knew I would never survive the guilt, the grief, or the curse of blaming myself for the rest of my life.
And then—
The door, already at its breaking point, was suddenly kicked open with violent force.
Heavy footsteps thundered across the floor, each step carrying an overwhelming pressure, and soon after, a cold, commanding voice echoed throughout the house.
"Where is the child?"
Standing in the doorway was a towering human figure well over six feet tall, his muscular fra wrapped in black steel armor like a walking fortress, a leather whip hanging casually at his side, and his face concealed behind a steel helt—except for a pair of cold, aloof golden eyes that felt like they were piercing straight through my soul.
Even though the man seed utterly indifferent to our glares, I saw Elina and John stiffen in pure terror, because they recognized that voice instantly—the sa voice that had echoed through their lives on that night when they lost their first son forever, a voice that had beco an eternal midnight nightmare they could never forget.
This was him.
The knight of steel from the Holy Shrine.
The sa man who took their first child away.
To them, his reappearance was no different from a death god descending upon our ho.
I stared at him in shock, my body flustered and unresponsive, especially as an overwhelming suppression pressed down on , as if thousands of pounds were crushing my body into the floor, suffocating my will to fight and canceling out my killing intent before it could even form.
The black steel knight glanced at briefly before shifting his gaze to my parents.
"What are you glaring at?" he barked coldly. "Hurry up and hand over the demon child, and nobody will get hurt."
Before he could step any closer—
"Never!"
John shouted, tears streaming down his bloodshot eyes as he stepped forward, placing himself between and the knight, his shaking body radiating a resolve so fierce it made my throat tighten.
’I won’t let go, he thought.
I will never let go of my child ever again.’
His fists clenched so tightly that bone-cracking sounds echoed through the room, and for a brief mont, Elina felt proud—proud that she had married such a brave, selfless man.
Without hesitation, she rushed forward and pulled into her arms, holding in a tight, protective embrace, her face filled with determination even as her body trembled.
"Ragna!"
"Little brother!"
Ada and Oge ran toward us imdiately, tears streaming down their faces, fear and confusion written clearly in their expressions, and Oge—unable to stop crying—clutched my arm with trembling fingers, desperately praying that all of this was nothing more than a twisted vision of the future she had seen.
"Please... don’t take my little brother away!" Ada scread as she dropped to her knees. "You can take instead—please, just leave him alone!"
She was terrified, not because she was offering herself, but because she knew the knight might not even listen to her desperate pleas.
The black steel knight, unmoved and utterly indifferent, continued forward, his heavy boots striking the floor with a force that made the entire house tremble, each step carrying the unstoppable montum of a death god.
In the next instant, he lood over us, his massive fra dwarfing our bodies as he forcefully reached out, grabbing my left arm with an iron grip and trying to rip from my mother’s embrace.
When John saw that, sothing inside him snapped.
He lunged forward without hesitation, clutching the knight’s right arm with all the strength he had, muscles screaming as he fought desperately to stop the bastard from taking his son away—
—for the second ti.
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