Ethan’s grip, coated in black blood, tightened around Rhazek’s horn. He raised the demon’s head until it was level with his face.
Ethan’s crimson eyes burned with a cold light, stripping away the last remnants of his prey’s arrogance.
Instead of begging for mercy, Rhazek actually chuckled. A hoarse laugh rumbled from his severed throat, spewing out clumps of foul-smelling blood.
"Khak... khak... you are indeed strong, Human. But before her, you’re nothing but a bug," Rhazek hissed. A gruesome smirk still clung to his lips. "The western forest... look for the old temple ruins there. Lady Lilith... she will be absolutely thrilled to peel that youthful skin of yours..."
Ethan’s expression didn’t change in the slightest.
Without wasting breath to reply, Ethan’s right hand moved. Velcrasia—the dark red whip pulsating like a living vein—lashed out. Its tip smashed into Rhazek’s head with full force.
SPLAT!
The demon’s head shattered into pieces like a rotten fruit smashed by a sledgehammer. Thick blood and bone fragments sprayed, staining the snow beneath Ethan’s boots.
As Rhazek’s head was destroyed, the absolute silence choking the village shattered with it. The world seemingly began to spin again. The crackle of fire devouring the remaining wooden roofs rang out loudly, followed by stifled sobs and the crunch of footsteps on the snow.
From half-open door cracks and building rubble, the residents of Valen Village began to peek out.
However, there were no cheers. There were no tears of relief welcoming a hero. They stared at the black-shirted young man in the middle of the square with eyes wide in terror.
In their eyes, the human who had just ripped a giant demon’s neck apart was far more terrifying than the demon itself.
Several pairs of wild eyes slowly shifted to the ground. Toward Miya, who was still slumped on the dirty snow.
The Elf girl’s white medical coat was a mess and torn at the sleeves. Her blonde hair fell, covering a face swollen from tears. Her pointed ears drooped down. Her knees were still trembling violently, drained of all energy after that shameful wave of lust was forced out of her in front of dozens of eyes.
The villagers’ gazes upon her were a mixed bag—a blend of disgust, pity, and a dirty sense of curiosity.
Ethan turned around. He let Velcrasia melt back into the shadow beneath his feet. His eyes, slowly fading back to their dark brown color, swept over the crowd with a threatening glare.
One by one, the villagers who accidentally met his gaze immediately looked down in sheer terror.
Without another word, Ethan strode toward Miya.
"M-Master..." Miya muttered hoarsely. She tried to scoot back, but to no avail. Her strength was completely depleted.
Ethan didn’t yell, nor did he act roughly. He bent down, slipping one arm beneath Miya’s knees and the other around the Elf’s back. With a smooth motion, he scooped her petite frame into his arms.
Miya let out a soft gasp.
Ethan immediately turned and parted the crowd. The villagers instantly retreated in an orderly fashion, opening a wide path like a flock of sheep making way for a starving wolf. Not a single person dared to make a sound as Ethan carried the healer away from the sea of blood.
The path to the main estate felt much longer. Light snow began to fall again, resting on Ethan’s dark brown hair.
In his embrace, Miya tried to speak. "Master... I-I can try to walk on my own. You... your shoulder is injured," she whispered, horrified. Her light purple eyes glanced at the blood continuously seeping from the torn shirt on Ethan’s left shoulder.
"Be quiet," Ethan cut her off with absolute finality.
Miya instantly ducked her head, hiding her face against Ethan’s broad chest. The Elf girl’s heart was pounding like crazy.
The remnants of the rose-shaped Lust Brand on her left thigh still throbbed with heat. Every time her body rubbed against Ethan’s chest in rhythm with his steps, a torturous, tingling sensation electrified her Mana Circuits.
Unconsciously, a tiny moan slipped from Miya’s lips.
Miya’s eyes immediately widened to perfect circles. She hurriedly bit her lower lip as hard as she could, burying her face deeper into Ethan’s shirt. Her pointed ears flushed crimson.
On the other hand, Ethan simply let her be. He continued walking with a constant rhythm, making sure Miya’s coat covered the rose tattoo on her thigh from the cold night wind. His left shoulder did sting and tense up from the carrying position, but Ethan forced his body into submission. The pain could be dealt with later.
The rusted iron gates of the Valen estate finally came into view.
Illuminated by torchlight, Yuna stood frozen there. The maid’s eyes widened in relief seeing her master return. However, the moment her gaze fell upon Miya in Ethan’s possessive embrace—with her flushed face pressed against the young man’s chest—Yuna’s breath hitched. Her hand squeezed the torch’s handle.
"Young Master!" Yuna cried out in panic. She hurriedly opened the gates, her eyes darting to the bloodstain on Ethan’s shirt. "You’re hurt! Heavens, what happened in the village?!"
Berta and Asrof followed her out. The old former adjutant looked deathly pale. "How is the village, Master? Did the demons—"
"Safe for tonight," Ethan cut him off coldly, continuously striding into the house. "Berta, bring a thick blanket. Yuna, prepare warm water in Miya’s room. Now."
"Y-yes, Master!" Yuna bowed deeply, hiding the turmoil in her eyes, then dashed toward the kitchen.
Ethan walked down the hallway, entered the guest room, and laid Miya down on the bed. The Elf healer hastily pulled the blanket up to her neck, unable to look her master in the eye.
"Clean yourself up. Recover your strength," Ethan commanded, then turned to leave.
However, instead of heading to the study to tend to his wounds, Ethan’s steps veered toward the other end of the corridor. Toward Elara’s room.
The door creaked open softly.
Inside, under the dim candlelight, Elara was fast asleep. The commotion and terror from the village hadn’t penetrated her dreams at all. The blind girl’s breathing was steady and peaceful.
Ethan stood silently at the edge of the bed. The coldness in his dark brown eyes melted instantly. His clean right hand reached out, caressing strands of his sister’s pale hair with utmost care.
Not a word was spoken. But amidst that silence, Ethan’s resolve hardened into steel. He had brought his sister this far. He wouldn’t let any lowly demon disturb this home.
The root of the problem had to be ripped out tonight.
Ethan withdrew his hand, gazed at Elara for a moment, then stepped out and closed the door tightly.
In the hallway, Yuna, who had just delivered the supplies, was already waiting with a basin of warm water and bandages. But Ethan simply walked right past her.
"Guard this house. Lock all the doors from the inside," Ethan ordered without looking back.
He stepped out of the house alone. In the courtyard, Asrof hurriedly intercepted him.
"Y-Young Master! Where are you going now? It’s pitch black outside, and your shoulder is severely injured! Let me—"
Ethan ignored him. His pace didn’t slow down in the slightest, passing through the gates and turning away from the village. Heading toward the pitch-black darkness of the western forest.
White mist began to crawl up, concealing the tree roots and the dirt path. The further he walked, the quieter it became. In his right hand, Sin Mana resonated, summoning Velcrasia, which manifested, emitting a faint red glow.
The freezing air bit into the torn wound on his left shoulder. The stinging pain pierced to the bone.
"I hope you don’t intend to die a foolish death tonight, My Lord," Asmodeus whispered in his head. The entity’s tone was laden with dark amusement. "Rank S indeed makes you strong, but arrogance can kill a king faster than the slash of a sword."
Ethan snorted softly. His eyes continued to sharpen, piercing through the fog. Before long, the silhouette of a towering, old stone structure came into view. Its walls were crumbling, eaten away by moss. The gates of an ancient ruined temple.
As soon as Ethan passed the shattered stone pillars, the atmosphere inside proved to be far from dead.
Dozens of giant candles burned with blood-red flames, illuminating the main hall. The sight inside was enough to shatter a normal human’s sanity.
On the left and right sides, large cages fashioned from human bones were lined up neatly. Inside them, the village children huddled together, embracing one another and shivering silently. On another wall, a young man was chained with his arms spread wide; his eyes were glassy, nearly drained of blood.
At the far end of the hall, upon a half-destroyed stone altar, a throne made of dead tree roots stood firmly.
There she sat.
A woman with skin as pale as milk that seemed to glow under the candlelight. Her light pink hair cascaded down to her waist. Her thin silk dress exposed her curves provocatively. A pair of golden-red eyes stared at Ethan with absolute boredom. Her long, black nails tapped softly against the wooden armrest.
The intimidating, pure pressure of a Rank S aura radiated from her. At her sides, two gargoyles groveled like guard dogs.
"So..." The woman’s voice flowed melodiously, yet it was laced with venom. She stood up, stepping down with demonic grace. "Rhazek is dead. Even though I ordered him to bring more living toys tonight."
Ethan stood frozen in the middle of the hall. Velcrasia pulsed wildly in his hand. "I don’t care about your complaints, Demon. I only came here to make sure the trash from this forest never sets foot on Valen territory again."
The woman smiled faintly. Cold and dismissive. She raised her pale hand, pointing to the stone altar behind her. Perched there were the fragments of an ancient, six-horned statue. A shape that was all too familiar to Ethan.
"This land does not belong to you, Human," she whispered. "The lives in that village, the blood we harvest... they are all sacred offerings for the resurrection of our true Master. Offerings for Lord Asmodeus."
Ethan’s brow raised slightly. Inside his head, he asked cynically. Do you know this bitch?
"Tch," Asmodeus spat instantly, his voice laden with absolute disgust and contempt. "Not in the slightest. I’ve never accepted lowly trash like her as my subordinate. I suppose she’s from the ranks of garbage demons."
The woman stopped walking. Her black nails elongated instantly, morphing into claw blades as sharp as swords. "My name is Lilith," she hissed, her golden-red eyes flaring. "And you... will be my main offering tonight."
In that exact same second, a crimson screen exploded in Ethan’s retina.
[New Target Detected] [Name: Lilith] [Race: Succubus] [Rank: S] [Affinity: Illusion, Lust, Blood] [Weakness: Unknown]
There was no more idle chatter. Lilith lunged.
Her movements were ghost-like, gliding on the wind. In the blink of an eye, the succubus arrived in front of Ethan, swinging her black claws straight for his neck.
Ethan didn’t retreat a single inch. He ducked, pivoted his body, and retaliated with a lash from Velcrasia.
CRACK!
The red whip cleaved through the air. However, Lilith arched her back with extreme flexibility, dodging the venomous tip by mere millimeters. Using the remaining momentum from her spin, the demon launched a kick toward Ethan’s ribs.
Ethan crossed his right arm.
BAM!
The heavy impact created a shockwave that blew out several candles around them.
The two exchanged a flurry of blind attacks. The ruined hall was filled with the echoes of cracking whips and scraping claws. Both fought rapidly, equally analyzing their enemy’s weaknesses.
Suddenly, Lilith leaped backward. She licked her black claws, her golden-red eyes staring intently at the weapon in Ethan’s hand.
"Strange..." Lilith’s nostrils flared. Wild ecstasy overflowed in her eyes. "What kind of dark aroma is this, Human?!"
Ethan stayed silent. His [Eye of Desire] was locked onto his enemy’s movements.
According to his calculations, he could keep up. However, his human body was starting to rebel. The torn wound on his left shoulder tensed up severely after blocking that kick earlier. That throbbing ache caused his defense to slow down by a fraction of a second. In the face of a fellow Rank S, a gap that small was a red carpet to death.
Lilith grinned widely, baring her fangs. "Not willing to talk? Hah... then I’ll skin you alive and find it myself from beneath your flesh!"
The succubus shot forward again, her speed doubling. Across from her, Ethan twirled Velcrasia in the air, pumping dense Sin Mana all the way to the tip of his whip.
The real bloodbath had only just begun.
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