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"Because I know I am no longer of any use, and you must continue to push forward."
"Dragging this body, I’ve stabilized the situation in the Demon World over these years, leaving you a gift that you can choose whether to open."
Lanci’s breath was no longer steady.
He hurriedly flipped through the letter, turning to the last page.
"It’s just that when you co to the Demon World, I might have already beco the Gentle Town fallen in the trial of the Great Demon Clan."
"I’ve given the last of my Life Soul Origin to True Night Lord Esmod so her child can be safely born; if you et the child of Mist Sir and True Night Lord one day, perhaps you can sense each other, because both of you carry my magic power."
"If you feel lost, then co to the Demon World."
"I believe that, if it’s you, you can definitely find the answer."
"This brand-new journey will start on the land you protect, and I hope you continue to like the Demon World."
"Goodbye."
"—Calila of the Fallen."
She ended the letter in a sowhat upbeat manner.
Lanci held the letter for a long ti, unable to let go.
As one from another era, he knew that Calila’s ultimate fate was to beco the Gentle Town fallen in the trial of the Great Demon Clan.
But he had never thought to experience these farewells in person in this era.
"Lanci, after all, this is the Shadow World, Calila’s death is ultimately destined, do not be sad."
Talia reflected, comforting Lanci.
She knew that Lanci and Calila had a friendship and had fought side by side.
Learning of Calila’s death, he must be feeling terrible inside.
"Ultimately destined... Calila..."
Lanci murmured Talia’s words to himself,
"Dead...?"
His voice had a hint of hesitation.
If Calila were no more.
Wouldn’t the current Demon World be completely different from what he had imagined?
A strange and ominous feeling spread throughout Lanci’s heart.
As if an unstoppable force of Destiny was making him feel sothing was wrong with this tiline.
He breathed in the cold air of winter in the capital of Honing, Hershalraym.
Even if it was only for a mont.
Just at that instant.
In that fleeting mont of weakened will, the vision of the Blood Sea rushing towards him, ready to engulf the entire Throne Hall where Lanci stood.
Visions and blood-red bubbles invaded the entire space of the Throne Hall that he could see.
Upon opening his eyes again.
The fierce blizzard roared through the city’s streets, burying broken walls, limbs, and pools of blood under the vast snowy veil.
The deep sound of the wind, the snowflakes pattering against his skin.
Is this the Demon King Palace on Naka Island?
The palace exterior was dim, or rather, a blinding white expanse, dotted with the glaring red of blood mandalas, obscured from sight.
The central square of Necaris that was once bustling, now desolate, the rciless snow burying all evidence of sin, the agonizing screams of these lost souls fading with the wind, unmourned.
"Six years ago?"
Even with his consciousness nearly frozen, Lanci roughly guessed this was from a point in ti of a battle.
The war between the Huo Ning Empire and the allied forces should’ve reached a fever pitch at this ti.
Even in total defeat, the Demon World would be the last place to be breached by the Blood Clan.
According to the records of the Holy Polante Theocracy, the northern human nations could fall at any mont, and several beastn city-states had already been slaughtered by the Blood Clan, the Land of Perpetual Night beca perilously dangerous, and communication with the human realms in the Demon World had been completely severed.
Lanci could not see his hand in front of his face.
The sound of alarms and lantations, and the slicing and tearing of Demon Race mbers, on this blizzard-ravaged night, the Demon King Castle Necaris was shrouded in a panic-stricken gloom.
In the darkness, Lanci thought he sensed movent ahead.
He could only take it one step at a ti.
Until once more, the dim moonlight illuminated the long stone corridors of Necaris royal palace.
He felt a chill over his skin as he stared in stunned silence at everything.
Calila, her gaze void of life, lay bloodied on the ground.
And a figure resembling a young man stood opposite him, grinning maniacally with cheeks and lips sared with fresh blood.
[Black Sun Lord, you dare to face as a defeated subordinate?]
Duke Rashar’s voice echoed from all sides around him, with a night creature’s mocking laughter.
The sound swelled, buzzing and chaotic, nearly tearing his eardrums, as consciousness around him accelerated rapidly, pulling him into another warped void tunnel beyond the speed of sound and light—
"..."
Suddenly, a white light burst before Lanci’s eyes, and all went quiet.
When his vision refocused, only the pristine white of the Throne Hall remained, and Talia’s angelic face, filled with concern.
"Lanci, are you alright?"
In the Throne Hall, Talia, sensing sothing was wrong, appeared and shook Lanci’s shoulders.
Suddenly, Lanci had beco still.
No response to her calls.
So she summoned herself directly.
"Talia..."
Lanci ca to his senses, his breathing smoothing out, steady.
"No... nothing’s wrong."
Lanci answered as though waking from a dream.
He now perhaps understood a portion of the purpose of the mission objective, "To understand the feelings of Lankros."
Whether on the original historical line or the Shadow World line he derived, Rashar, the Third Ancestor, had left Lankros with an inescapable negative state in battle.
And in the process, he would intermittently witness the unresolved pain of Lankros.
"Are you sure there’s nothing wrong?"
Talia flicked her hair back, drew close, and gently removed Lanci’s mask, pressing her forehead against his.
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