“Where are we going?” Angela tugged Edlyn’s sleeve like a sparrow pecking at hemp. Edlyn stroked her head like smoothing silk, then looked at Eli. “Uh, Uncle, where to?”

Eli shrugged helplessly, a leaf drifting on a restless breeze.

That nickname had slipped out the first time Angela saw him, like a pebble skimming a stream.

Edlyn caught the weathered cast of Eli’s face, found it funny, and echoed it like a teasing jay.

“For now, my destination’s the Miter Empire. One last time—are you sure you’re coming?” Eli shook his head, a pendulum testing the air.

Edlyn glanced at Angela; Angela glanced back, two fireflies trading light.

The Demonic Lord nodded, a reed bending to wind. “Then we’ll follow you.”

Borrowing the Hero’s knowledge, maybe she could climb back to the summit.

The Demonic Lord brimmed with confidence, a phoenix fluffing bright feathers.

Eli noted the teardrop mole under Edlyn’s left eye, then Angela’s matching mark, set on faces like porcelain in moonlight. He could already see storm clouds gathering over his days.

...

“So, how do you want it arranged?” Isco looked at the creature beside him, a shadow with breath. The black‑clad Bloodkin smiled, a knife catching light. “Arrange? Heh, no. You don’t need to know.”

He pointed at the village like a hooked talon. “You just draw the attention.”

Seeing Isco’s flicker of doubt, the man bared his fangs, icicles under a lip. “What? I’m asking this for your organization’s sake, and you balk, thin‑blood?”

Isco squinted and shook his head, dust brushed from a sleeve. “Since you put it that way, what choice do I have?”

“Heh.” Red eyes flashed; the Bloodkin stared at the mountain village, his smile folding away like a closing fan.

From that place, he felt soul‑deep pressure, a weight like black water. He’d checked: the source was a little girl who barely trained.

She clearly bore a high‑tier bloodline, a hidden vein of ore in bedrock. If he devoured it, he might rise to ducal rank, maybe grand duke. Even breeding with her would profit him, refining his blood like a crucible’s flame.

Such a sweet chance—would a man crazed for rank ever let it go? He’d left his fortress recently to hunt proper methods of bloodline absorption. Now success hung before him like ripe fruit on a low branch.

“I recall your name’s Isco, right?” Excitement stirred him; the Bloodkin toyed with his ring, scarlet eyes settling on the white‑robed man like twin coals.

A vast killing intent washed over Isco, a cold tide at midnight. He shivered despite himself. “What else?”

“To stop you from colluding with the one inside, I need to leave something on you.” A bat slipped from his cuff like a shadowed leaf and nipped Isco’s neck.

“Leaving one of yours on my side isn’t enough?” Isco frowned and rolled his shoulder, easing rope from a knot.

...

“That’s your reason for showing up again?” Eli stepped in front of the two little girls, a wall of wood and will, amused at the man he’d beaten into flight.

“I believe, as you are now, you can’t fight him and me while guarding those two.” Isco gave an awkward smile, a dog seeking hearth warmth.

Eli laughed, sparks in dry grass. “Relax. It’s just a Bloodkin. I’ve got plenty of ways to deal with Bloodkin.”

In the Hero’s memories, holy light spells flooded like a river after rain. Afraid of Bloodkin?

Truth be told, thorns still pricked under the skin.

“Bloodkin at the door.” Eli glanced back at the girls, a frown like gathering cloud. “At least now I know what this village fears.”

Birand had studied how Bloodkin were made in this world. They were envoys cast down by the Celestial God,

the Celestial God stripped part of their Divinity blood, turning them into blood‑drinking monsters.

Strangely, the old rule that kept vampires from entering homes held on them too, an unseen threshold in wood and stone.

He’d griped about that in his past life, a pebble tossed at fate’s window.

“Alright, looks like you’re out of options too, huh.” He folded his arms, eyeing Isco’s pale face like chalk dust.

He still respected him. With a subtle trick, Isco had misled a marquis‑tier Bloodkin’s marked bat. Eli couldn’t pull that off right now.

“Yes. Our New Era Sect doesn’t permit abandoning a companion.” Isco smiled, a frail crescent of winter moonlight.

“Heh, sounds nice.” Eli shook his head, a bell that wouldn’t ring.