Ethan's scream swallowed the basement whole.
It clawed against the stone walls, rebounded, multiplied, until it no longer sounded like a voice, but a rupture in the world itself. His body arched violently, lifting from the floor as if seized by something unseen. Veins flared beneath his skin, glowing a burning crimson, branching like living fire from his chest, up his neck, and across his face.
Reinhard staggered back a step.
In all his years, through wars, executions, forbidden rituals, and screams torn from the throats of dying men, he had never heard pain like this. Torture screams had rhythm. Desperation had limits.
This had none.
"This…" Reinhard whispered, his voice hollow. "…this isn't resistance."
Rivington couldn't speak.
His legs gave way, and he dropped to his knees with a dull thud. Hands trembling, he clasped them together and bowed his head, lips moving soundlessly in prayer. Not to any god in particular, just to something, anything that might still be listening.
There was nothing he could do... Nothing.
Why? his mind screamed. Why does a child have to endure this?
What sin could Ethan have committed? What crime against the heavens justifies this kind of suffering?
Ethan's screams began to break, fractured, hoarse, desperate.
He fought.... With everything he had left, he fought to hold them back, to stay conscious, to survive. But the pain was absolute. It crushed thought, erased reason, devoured will.
Blood spilled from his lips, then from his eyes. Thin red streams traced down his cheeks like tears the world itself had forced from him. His fingers split open, blood dripping onto the stone floor, pooling beneath his trembling body.
The screaming stopped, Ethan's body went still.
The glow in his veins faded. His limbs collapsed lifelessly against the ground, cold and slack, surrounded by spreading crimson.
Rivington looked up slowly, hope dying in his eyes.
"…Ethan?"
Silence answered. Only the sound of blood dripping echoed through the basement.
Rivington and Reinhard stood frozen.
For several heartbeats, neither of them spoke. The air itself felt heavy, as though it were waiting to pronounce a verdict. Death… or something worse.
A faint voice came in, slowly.
"Bitter…"
A weak, raspy voice crawled out of the silence.
"So… bitter…"
Both men stiffened.
"I hate that medicine."
Rivington's breath caught.
"…You're—" His voice cracked. "You're alive…?"
Suddenly, he was moving. He dropped to his knees beside Ethan, hands trembling as he hovered over the boy's blood-stained body.
"YOU'RE ALIVE!" Rivington shouted, laughter and tears colliding in his chest.
"By the gods... Ethan! How do you feel? Tell me, any pain? Anywhere hurting? Speak to me, boy, you'll be fine, i promise, you hear me? You'll be fine!"
Tears streamed freely down his face, soaking into his beard. He didn't bother wiping them away. At that moment, dignity meant nothing.
Ethan was breathing.That was enough.
Reinhard, however, remained still.
"…Alive?" he muttered.
His eyes narrowed, scanning Ethan as if seeing him for the first time. Demon crystal medicine always demanded payment. Always. Sometimes madness. Sometimes corruption. Sometimes death.
But the boy lay there, bloodied, broken… and still human.
No horns, no warped mana, no loss of self.
Reinhard exhaled slowly.
"…Interesting."
After a long silence, he shook his head and sighed, brushing the thoughts aside like forbidden memories.
"Well," he said quietly, "I suppose that makes two miracles in your short life, Ethan Cole. First, you were brought back from the edge of death. Second, you consumed a demon crystal and lived."
A faint smile tugged at his lips.
"You never cease to amaze me, boy."
Ethan's brow furrowed.
That voice…He knew it.
He had heard it before, through pain, through darkness, through the haze between life and death.
"…Doctor Reinhard?" Ethan asked softly, turning his head toward the sound, though his eyes remained sightless. "Is that you?"
Reinhard stiffened.
"Yes," he answered after a beat. "It's me, my boy."
His voice softened, losing its sharp edge. He bowed his head.
"I heard of Almsworth. Of Zane. Of Freya."
"I am deeply sorry for your loss."
Ethan was silent.
The memories surged, fire, blood, screams, the weight of a world collapsing in a single night. His chest tightened, but he forced it down.
"Don't worry about it," he said calmly too calmly for a child who had lost everything. "That's already in the past."
Reinhard looked at him sharply.
Then Ethan continued, his voice steady, resolute:
"Besides…"
He lifted his face slightly, blind eyes staring into nothingness.
"I want to see again."
The room went quiet.
"If you can make that possible," Ethan said, "I'd like you to do it."
Reinhard understood without needing Ethan to say it.
The boy wasn't strong because he had forgotten the horrors of his past,
he was strong because he was forcing himself to move forward anyway.
Reinhard stepped closer, his shadow falling over Ethan's fragile frame.
"I'll help you," he said quietly. "I'll give you back your sight, just as you wish."
From within his cloak, he withdrew a transparent vial filled with fine white powder. The substance shimmered faintly, as though reacting to Ethan's presence. Reinhard sprinkled it carefully around the bed, forming a precise ring.
Rivington instinctively stepped back.
He watched in silence as Reinhard worked, focused, unshaken, utterly committed.
"…Thank you, Doctor Reinhard," Rivington finally said. "It seems I judged you wrongly."
Reinhard didn't turn around.
"I understand," he replied calmly. "I did the same to you. I tortured you without knowing the truth."
A pause.
"For that, I apologize."
"It's fine," Rivington said, then hesitated. A question had been clawing at him for a while now. "But… why are you feared across Eriya? People speak of you like a nightmare. Yet you're not evil. You're saving lives."
Reinhard stopped moving.
The air in the room changed.
Slowly, he turned, his eyes cold, ancient, unreadable.
"I am feared," he said, "because I am half demon… and half human."
The silence that followed was suffocating.
"I was born with forbidden magic," Reinhard continued. "And cursed with immortality."
Rivington felt the words slam into his chest.
"…Immortal?" he whispered. "Then that means one of your parents was... "
"Enough," Reinhard cut in sharply. "We won't speak of this again."
Even Ethan, lying weak and blind, felt his pulse quicken.
Half demon… half human… immortal?
No wonder that aura felt so wrong, so overwhelming and ancient.
Yet something still didn't add up.
Reinhard turned back to his work.
He placed two fresh herb leaves gently over Ethan's closed eyes, then pressed another against his abdomen.
Rivington watched closely, brows knitted. Suggesting confusion would be generous.
"…May I ask what you're doing?" he said at last.
Reinhard nodded. "Simple explanation."
He gestured to the glowing markings beneath Ethan.
"These transmutation circles will prevent his mana from surging outward. The leaves on his eyes will allow my energy to flow directly into his optic nerves."
Then he tapped the leaf on Ethan's stomach.
"And this one ensures the demon crystal inside him doesn't repel the ritual."
Rivington blinked.
"…Right," he said after a moment. "As long as you understand it."
Reinhard allowed himself a faint smirk.
He raised two fingers, pressing them together.
Then he began to chant.
The words were low, ancient and heavy.
Rivington couldn't understand a single syllable.
But Ethan did. His heart skipped.
This is…
His memories stirred, his father's hidden books, the forbidden texts, the language written in blood and fire.
This is demonic language.
The same one he had once spoken.
The same one that had answered him and gave him his black blade.
Ethan heard every word clearly.
Each syllable Reinhard spoke carved itself into his mind, ancient and heavy, yet familiar. The System had already granted him comprehension, allowing the language to bloom naturally within his thoughts.
"Divine power of Erisis' light, heal this soul, and let not the demonic power within him be of any hindrance to thee."
Reinhard repeated the enchantment once, twice, again and again, until the fifth chant rang through the chamber like a tolling bell.
The transmutation circle ignited.
Light burst forth, blindingly bright. The symbols etched into the floor glowed white-gold, while the leaves resting on Ethan's eyes burned a vivid emerald green.
Ethan gasped.
A surge of energy flowed into him, not violent, not suffocating like before. This mana was cool… gentle… almost comforting. It slipped into his eyes, threading through shattered pathways, repairing what had been torn apart.
For the first time since Almsworth fell, the pain faded.
Reinhard stepped forward and carefully removed the leaves.
"You may open your eyes now," he said softly. "Ethan Cole."
Ethan hesitated.
Then, slowly he opened them. At first, the world was nothing but a blur of light and shadow. His heart sank.
But then... The ceiling sharpened. Cracks became lines. Stone became stone.
Clarity returned.
"I…" Ethan whispered.
He sat up abruptly, staring at his trembling hands. Tears spilled freely, blurring his vision again—this time by choice.
"I—I can see…"
Rivington, standing frozen at the back of the room, felt his breath leave him.
A miracle.
No, something beyond that. The man he had feared as a dark legend now stood before him like a divine existence, someone who bent the impossible into reality.
"Thank you," Ethan said, his voice breaking as he bowed his head. "Thank you so much, Doctor Reinhard."
Reinhard felt warmth stir in his chest—an unfamiliar, fragile thing. He watched the boy smile through tears and knew every risk had been worth it.
"It wasn't easy for you," Reinhard said quietly. "After everything you've lost… you endured."
Rivington rushed forward and seized Reinhard's hands, shaking them with unrestrained gratitude.
"Thank you! Truly, thank you!" he said fervently. "Name your price. Anything. I'll pay it."
Reinhard gently pulled his hands away.
"I don't need your money," he replied. "I owe his father more than gold could ever repay."
He turned slightly toward Ethan.
"Now, let's... "
BANG.
The door slammed open.
Five figures stormed in, their armor gleaming, spears snapping forward in perfect unison. The air instantly turned sharp, hostile.
Royal guards.
"You are under arrest," one of them barked coldly, spear leveled at their chests. "Mr. Rivington. Mr. Ethan Cole."
Ethan's smile vanished.
Rivington's heart dropped.
"The King demands your presence," the guard finished.
The miracle had barely settled....
And already, fate was tightening its grip once more.