Night had already fallen. The last traces of sunlight bled away behind the horizon as the bloodcrow swept low over the coastline. Its wings beat slow, heavy arcs, and a cold spray of sea mist brushed Cecilus's skin before the bird dropped him onto firm sand.
A ripple of crimson mist peeled off the crow's feathers as it dissolved back into his soul world.
"So, devil," Cecilus muttered, rolling his sore shoulder, "what's next? I have the summon. Do I just… go around killing people?"
The white devil materialized beside him, hovering as if the night air didn't touch him at all.
"You won't have much soul capacity left anyway," he replied. "Human souls expand your world and strengthen it. Their purpose is aligned with ours. Your bloodcrow, though—yes, that will assist you greatly. You've improved faster than expected. I didn't think the bird would submit so quickly."
"Hopefully the village has a doctor. Or at least a herbalist…" Cecilus hissed, clutching his ribs as he limped toward the boat.
Darrin stood at the edge of the shallows, lantern raised. The moment he saw Cecilus, his face went pale.
"What happened to you!?"
"Nothing much… fell and broke a few ribs climbing the mountain."
"Are you being serious?"
"Yes," Cecilus deadpanned. "Your village has a doctor, right?"
"No."
"What about a herbalist, then?"
"Yes, that we have." Darrin sighed. "I won't pry further, but your lies are… impressive in the worst way."
"Good to know. May I rest on the boat now?"
Darrin helped him aboard, and Cecilus collapsed onto the wooden planks, exhaustion dragging him under.
He slept instantly.
***
Far down the coastline, Taeral walked barefoot along the sand, carrying a bundle of lumpy, misshapen fruit gathered from nearby palms. The sea breeze caught strands of her long green hair as she ducked inside the small burrow cut into the base of a hill — her home.
The elf dropped the fruit into a pile and stepped back out. Her eyes wandered eastward toward the faint lights of the distant village.
Finnan should've returned by now. Should I go check on him?
She followed the curve of the coast, greeted by villagers as she entered the settlement.
"Taeral! How goes the hunting? I need monster parts for a potion — mind if I take a look later?"
A demon woman jogged up beside her.
"Later," Taeral murmured. "Right now I'm looking for Finnan."
"Oh, then you'll be disappointed. Darrin took a job on Mournspire Isle. Said they finally had a customer."
"A customer? That's rare."
"Hehe, crazier still — the customer was an elf! I saw him sometime this week. Young, white hair, purple eyes. Strong with a sword."
Taeral froze, breath catching.
White hair… purple eyes…
That— No. It couldn't be. Cecilus? Here?
Sure, I haven't been to the elven continent in years... But why would he be here? And alone?
As if summoned by her thoughts, a boat bumped against the distant shoreline.
Finnan hopped out and waved. "Taeral! Back from hunting?"
He hurried over and gave her a high-five.
"Yes… I heard you had an elf as a customer."
"Yeah! He's sleeping on the boat. Father's waking him up."
Cecilus stepped onto the shore.
Taeral stared at him — truly stared.
There was no mistaking him.
"Cecilus! It's me!"
He raised a brow.
White devil… who is this?
The devil's voice echoed in his mind.
An elf you knew. Taeral. Likely the herbalist Darrin mentioned.
Taeral's eyes widened as she took in the bruises, cuts, and dried blood covering him.
Cecilus forced a cough. "Umm… Greetings, Taeral."
"Where's your father?"
My father? I'll just say he's gone—
Cecilus hesitated, then muttered, "He's not with me currently."
Taeral frowned. "Stop joking. Your father's always with you."
"I'm serious. What do you think I am? A child?"
"That's exactly what you are. You're almost fifteen, aren't you?"
Fifteen?
What? Devil!? Why didn't you tell me—
"Fifteen is still old enough for someone to not be constantly monitored by their parents, is it not?"
Taeral studied him more closely. "Why did you say it like that?"
"Say what?"
"As if you were talking about someone else."
"Just a… bad habit."
Her expression hardened. "Then tell me something: why is an elf — especially you — here in the worst land for our kin?"
"We're both elves. If you can live here, surely I can manage."
"Watch your words, Cecilus." Her tone dropped to a warning. "My patience is not infinite. Speak that way to another elf, and they'd leave your cause immediately."
My cause?
"Come," she sighed. "First, we treat your wounds."
They left the village, heading toward her small burrow. Cecilus whispered under his breath:
"Devil… is she trustworthy?"
No one is trustworthy. But she can be relied on for now.
"What kind of answer is that…?"
Taeral's ears twitched at his mumbling, but she said nothing.
Inside, she applied an herb-laced ointment. Warmth spread through Cecilus's body; the pain dulled and his leg strengthened. His arm still throbbed, but it was manageable.
Then she spoke.
"Since you refuse to talk, I'll explain why I'm here. I'm tracking a demon named Oblivoros. Supposedly thousands of years old — unheard of for demons. Your father assigned the investigation. This village accepted me after I helped clear monsters years ago."
She met his gaze.
"Now you. Why are you here?"
"Strength," Cecilus replied.
"That's all?"
"That's all."
"It wasn't that hard to admit, was it?" she said sharply. Then, softer: "So tell me, Cecilus. What does your father look like?"
…
What?
Devil. DEVIL! HELP ME.
How would I know!?
Cecilus froze.
"It shouldn't take you this long," Taeral whispered. Her arm morphed into a massive claw, the tip resting near his throat. "Who are you really?"
"I'm Cecilus! Who else looks like me? My father looks like me!"
"There are hundreds of magic types. Maybe one can copy appearances," she snapped. "But you are right — Reymund does look like you. Especially now that you've grown."
Her voice chilled.
"But you never should've hesitated."
Kill her.
The devil's command lashed through his mind.
Her trust is broken. Kill her before it worsens. Since she has a magic type, her soul can be used for power as well.
Cecilus's fingers twitched.
Will I regret this?
Silence.
Wait! I can show my magic—!
Skinwalkers copy magic too. Her suspicion won't fade...
Still, he needed a way to break the distance. His solution was to summon the dust elemental, push her back, then begin his attack.
But then the air snapped.
Cold swept into the burrow.
Taeral turned, eyes widening.
"…Snow?"
In the tropical coast — the humid, scorching coast — white flakes drifted past the entrance. The air became frigid in a single breath.
Cecilus's skin prickled.
This wasn't weather. This was magic.
They rushed outside.
The village was gone.
A towering blizzard swallowed it whole — a whirling tower of ice and white, roaring like a hurricane.
"No!" Taeral gasped. "Did you do this, you fiend—!?"
"This wasn't me," Cecilus said sharply. "I don't know how—"
"We need to save the villagers!"
Cecilus looked at the center of the storm.
I just want to leave... I got what I needed. There's no reason to stay here.
Just then a thunderous laugh cracked across the sky, echoing from the storm's center.
"SOUL MAGE! I'VE COME TO FIGHT YOU! THIS BLIZZARD IS MY FIRST GIFT!"
Cecilus groaned internally.
There's no other soul mage nearby, is there…? And I just finished dealing with that damned bird…
Taeral stood frozen.
She knew the voice.
A demon who worked under Oblivoros.
An ice mage who had nearly mastered his element.
Nerevrax.