“You low-born creatures—what filthy thing are you trying to lay your fingers on?” Edlyn’s pupils darkened like ink seeping through water as she stared at the kneeling Kondley.
The pressure around him ebbed like a receding tide, and he glanced up at her with a clouded look. “My lord?”
Her flare had lasted only a heartbeat, anger glowing like a coal while that winter-cold swagger melted like frost under sun.
“Nothing. Just answer me—this king—what are you seeking?” Edlyn straightened herself like a willow firming in wind.
Eli caught her frayed state, amused and wary, like a smile shadowed by stormlight.
He had felt that aura too, a chill like iron; the soul riding her felt like a high-tier demon, an echo from the Demon Race.
Looks like he’d need time to untangle the knot inside her, like picking burrs from wool.
“Seeking… seeking a chance to advance,” Kondley hesitated, then spoke, the words falling like pebbles into a still pond.
As for the man beside them, he didn’t bother, brushing him off like dust on a sleeve.
“Advance? Don’t your Bloodkin raise bloodlines by cultivation?” Edlyn’s doubt flickered like a moth around a lamp.
“This…” Kondley weighed it, stubborn as stone; he refused to speak of Angels to the Demon Race, biting down hard. “Yes. Just greed on my part.”
“I’m leaving on this journey. Will you still try to block the road?” Edlyn toyed with her fingers like a cat with string.
“My lord, you—?”
“This journey—may it raise up our Demon Race.” Her gaze flashed like a blade, then gentled like rain.
Kondley froze, an autumn leaf caught mid-fall. He glanced at Angela like a sparrow stealing a look, then snapped his eyes away.
“Then it won’t be an easy road, my lord,” he said, voice low as dusk.
Edlyn shrugged, a loose cloak in wind. “I know.”
“I can only wish you swift success.” His words rang like a bell on a quiet street.
“Thanks.” Her tone stayed cool as a shaded pond.
Eli watched their odd exchange, laughter caged like a bird behind his teeth.
Why had he suddenly taken to Edlyn? Didn’t he realize a little girl’s pressure was smoke to a veteran iron?
Since the Demon Race collapsed and the Demon King fell, the Bloodkin had felt heavy ripples, like a sea after a storm.
Eli might not recognize that scent of soul, but Kondley did, as if hearing the Demon King’s echo like thunder over distant hills.
...
“Gotta say, your act looked solid; otherwise the Bloodkin wouldn’t have let us off so easily.” Eli hauled his luggage like a stubborn mule, while Edlyn held Angela’s hand, keeping her from darting off like a swallow.
“Huh? Act what?” Edlyn blinked, eyes clear as dew.
“Like… a high Demon,” Eli said, voice light as wind.
“Ah. Ah! Right—I’m amazing, aren’t I?” Edlyn puffed up, pride shining like lacquer.
Eli smiled at the sky, blue like washed silk, and kept quiet.
With this strange Bloodkin raid, he could only sigh at fate, a reed bending under sudden gusts; if it were this easy, why had he gone to challenge a Bloodkin alone?
Edlyn’s knowledge ran deep, a well under moon; earlier she had even shown the Bloodkin a stern punishment, needing only to meet their eyes like frost burning through glass.
She knew of races missing from human tomes, shadows in forests no map marked.
“Is that also the demon soul’s gift?” Eli watched Edlyn chasing and laughing with Angela, then shook his head like a tree shedding rain.
Soul-descending arts were frightening, a snake coiled in incense smoke; would her heart be swayed by the Demon Race’s pull?
“Hey, Hero, stop spacing out!” Edlyn waved him over, disdain bright as a spark.
He looked at the flower-crowned girl with a stormy face, then shook his head gently, hands empty as a monk’s bowl; for now, he could do nothing.
Let it flow like water, he thought, a river choosing its own bed.
They were traveling again, road unrolling like a scroll; the rest of his memories waited like sealed letters.
He felt their journey would bring curious things, moths to his lantern, and it stirred his hunger for knowledge like a spoon in honey.
Great Hero, Birand—he didn’t know why he chased old fragments, the Demon Race already fading like smoke; yet a voice pressed him on, wind through pines at night.
Maybe trouble was brewing again, thunderheads gathering, and a Hero-level strength would be needed to guard the world like a lighthouse in rain, Eli thought, a little fogged and a little foolish.
He slapped his cheeks, the sound a drumbeat. “Seriously. Those New Era Sect guys rubbed off on me—I’m getting all dramatic.”
“By the way, Edlyn, I never asked—how old is your sister?”
Edlyn’s eyes narrowed, wary as a fox. “Why?”
Eli scratched his head, sheepish as a farmboy. “No reason—just curious.”
Edlyn gave him a look, crooked as a crescent moon. “I heard humans have a pervert type called ‘lolicon.’ You’re not one of those, are you?”
“I—” Eli stalled, words glued like rice.
Seeing his glum face, Edlyn lit up, joy ringing like silver bells; she laughed a good while ahead, then scooped Angela into her arms like cradling dawn.
She hesitated, then her expression steadied like a sword in its stand. “Hero, I want to grow stronger. I want to learn magic and Battle Aura from you.”
Eli blinked. A big one and a small one, both bright as spring peaches, stared up at him with wide eyes.
He studied the sisters—their mirrored features, and the tear-moles under their eyes like ink dots perfecting a painting—everything said, We need strength to protect ourselves.
Eli smiled, warmth like sunlight through leaves. “All right.”
