Chapter 33
The carnage did not slow.
Cursed ones known as the demons and the Blessed ones known as the shurals. They hunted and slaughtered without pause. The number of demons being hunted down was staggering, yet it changed nothing.
The destruction did not lessen. The screams did not thin. Across the five kingdoms, the world kept bleeding.
In the desolate ruins of Deodor City, a young woman ran.
What was once a city was now a graveyard of shattered stone and burning echoes. Half-collapsed buildings leaned like corpses frozen mid-fall. Streets were split open. Smoke hung low.
She sprinted through it all.
Fear carved itself into her face, raw and naked, but beneath it burned sothing harder. Conviction. Around her battered body, a faint golden glow pulsed softly, weak but stubborn.
I have to get it to the Bulwark. I have to.
She forced her legs to move faster.
Crimson drops marked her path, splashing against broken stone with every step. The wounds carved into her flesh by those grotesque creatures scread louder with each breath. Blood loss stacked on blood loss. She could feel it. Soon her legs would fail. Soon she would not be able to move.
And then they would catch her.
As if her thought had summoned it, the building to her left exploded.
Stone and debris rained down. She threw herself forward, rolling hard across the ground. The collapse missed her by inches. She ca out battered but alive, if the mangled wounds across her body did not count.
She pushed herself up through agony and turned.
The demon stood there.
Over three ters tall. Black scales glistened across its arms and face, slick like wet obsidian. Its massive maw opened slowly, rows of jagged teeth revealed, followed by a long, writhing tongue tasting the air.
The sight was disgusting.
It was terrifying.
The demon’s eyes locked onto her.
It licked its mouth.
"Little human," it said, voice thick and pleased. "Stop resisting."
As if she would willingly offer herself up.
She stared back at it, chest heaving. She knew the truth. She had no chance. Her azura was barely usable in battle. Against this thing, it might as well not exist.
But she would not stop.
Not yet.
The demon grinned, savoring her defiance. A blessed human. Broken. Bleeding. Still running. To it, the fight was already over. The conclusion decided.
It lunged.
She barely moved in ti.
The demon’s claw tore through the space where her throat had been a heartbeat earlier. She stumbled, slipped, rolled several ters across the rubble. Pain exploded through her ribs.
The demon did not pause.
It kicked off a wall, launching itself again.
She raised her dagger at the last second, angling it just enough to guide the strike away. The force still slamd into her like a siege hamr. She was lifted off her feet and thrown.
She hit a building hard.
The world went white.
Then black.
Her breath caught as fire tore through her body. For a mont, everything faded. Then her vision snapped back, blurry and shaking.
No. Not yet.
She cannot die. She cannot.
The gem. She has to deliver the gem.
That thought burned hotter than the pain.
With everything she had left, she forced her shattered body upright. She managed one step. Then the agony crushed her again, and she collapsed face-first into the rubble.
Her fingers twitched.
She could not move.
She could barely hold her dagger.
How was she supposed to complete her mission like this. How was she supposed to survive this demon.
The black-scaled demon watched her for a mont, then smiled.
It walked toward her slowly, one heavy step at a ti. Not rushing. Not hunting.
Appreciating.
Like soone admiring their al before the first bite.
She tried to push herself up. Her body refused. All she could do was lie there, watching death approach with an almost gentle patience.
Then sothing flashed.
A blur cut through the air, screaming straight for the demon’s head.
The demon reacted instantly, striking at it with its claw.
tal collided with scale.
The sound rang out sharp and loud.
The demon stumbled back three steps.
Its eyes narrowed as it looked down at what had forced it to retreat.
Embedded deep into the ground between them, buried to the hilt from the impact, was a knife.
The demon stared at it.
It looked like a mistake.
Half intricate dagger, half kitchen knife. The balance was wrong. The shape was wrong. And yet, for so reason, the knife felt anything but ordinary.
"Now that’s what I call a really disappointing situation," a calm voice said.
Footsteps crunched forward.
A young boy stepped into view, no older than fifteen or sixteen. Dark black clothes clung to his fra, an oversized coat hanging loose around his shoulders. In one hand, he held a piece of roasted at, half-eaten. His hair, a strange blend of white and black, drifted slightly in the still air. Under the pale moonlight, his blue eyes almost glowed.
"Since my sneak attack failed," Gazel said casually, raising his hand.
The knife buried deep in the ground trembled, then tore free with a quiet hiss and flew back into his palm.
"I guess I’ll have to deal with you all by myself."
The demon turned fully toward him.
Its gaze was cold, calculating. Its aura rolled outward, thick and suffocating, pressing down on the ruined street like invisible weight. The air itself seed to choke.
Gazel did not react.
If anything, he looked annoyed.
"Tch."
He glanced down at the at in his hand, as if about to say sothing familiar. Sothing dramatic.
"You’ve ruined my dinner. That’s a good reason to end your life."
He paused.
Do not throw the at away.
Wait. Why don’t I always throw the at away?
His thoughts drifted for half a second, then he nodded to himself.
Of course not. He would rather face multiple demons than waste food.
The demon tilted its head, staring at him like he had just heard a joke.
"Okay, yeah," Gazel muttered. "That line’s getting old."
He closed his eyes briefly, thinking hard. Then they snapped open.
A smile curved his lips.
He spun the knife in a tight spiral around his fingers, smooth and practiced. His gaze flicked to the battered young woman on the ground, then back to the demon.
"You’ve had your fun," he said. "Now it’s my turn to make you scream."
He nodded once.
Yeah. That one was good.
The demon grinned.
Then it charged.
Gazel barely had ti to register the movent before black claws tore through the air, ripping straight for his neck.
He did not freeze.
Fear flickered, but only faintly. He had fought demons for too long to lock up now.
At the last instant, he raised the knife and parried.
tal scread.
He twisted his wrist, guiding the strike sideways. The motion bled off most of the force, but the leftover impact slamd into him hard. Pain shot through his arm and chest. He staggered back, boots skidding across broken stone.
Gazel clicked his tongue and widened the distance.
The knife in his hand trembled.
He stared at the demon, eyes narrowing.
Damn it.
This wasn’t just any monster.
Mid-tier. No. Worse.
A mid monster on the verge of breaking into high-tier.
That kind of power was sothing Gazel had not faced in a very, very long ti.
The last ti he did...
He almost lost his life.
His throat tightened.
Flashback...
Seven years ago.
Rain had hamred the ground endlessly, drowning the world in sound. Beneath it, thunderous booms echoed, followed by violent clashes that shook the earth itself.
Then silence.
The rain stopped.
Between two massive boulders lay the aftermath.
A demon sprawled lifeless across the ground. Two large, fleshy wings lay twisted and torn. Its neck was shredded with deep gashes. So wounds were savage, ripped open by brutal claws. Others were clean, precise, unmistakably made by a dagger.
The once feral monster lay still. Dead.
Whoever killed it had to be a monster themselves.
A few ters away lay the killer.
A child.
Barely nine years old.
White and black hair plastered to his face by rain. His body was mangled with wounds no human should survive, much less a child. Only the faint, irregular rise of his chest proved he was still alive.
The boy turned his head slowly, staring at the demon’s corpse.
Confird.
Dead.
A smile tugged weakly at his lips.
"I did it," he thought.
"I killed my second demon."
To be continued...
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