The Broken Halo

The northern gate of Velmora was a little bit crowded when Simon arrived.

Merchants waited beside loaded carts, beast handlers argued with guards over inspection fees, and travellers gathered beneath the shadow of the city wall while their tokens were checked.

Two demons near the end of one line spoke in low voices.

"The convoy came back two days ago," the first whispered. "I saw it myself. Broken wagons, burned beasts, and more wounded soldiers than I could count."

The second demon glanced toward the guards before leaning closer.

"They said Black Banner attacked them before they even reached the rift site."

"So what does that say about Black Horn? They gathered soldiers, officers, Greater Demons, and more than a hundred recruits, yet the rebels still caused them that much damage."

The second demon clicked his tongue.

"And this is the force protecting Velmora. If Black Banner can do that outside the city, what stops them from walking through these gates whenever they please?"

Neither noticed the one-horned figure approaching until his shoulder brushed the first demon.

The contact was light, but the demon staggered half a step and turned with a glare.

"Watch where you’re going!"

Simon continued walking.

His white hair was dirty, dried blood covered one side of his coat, and several sections of his clothing had been burned through. Dark burns marked his neck and forearms, while his right leg dragged slightly with each step.

Every injury had been inflicted deliberately before he approached Velmora. He had reopened shallow wounds, scorched parts of his skin and clothes, then restrained Unholy Regeneration from repairing them completely.

The angry demon saw only an injured Archfiend ignoring him.

"Are you deaf?"

He stepped forward and swung a fist toward the back of Simon’s head.

Simon calmly shifted one foot to the side, and the punch passed beside his cheek.

His movement was small and effortless, completely different from the difficulty he showed while walking.

The demon blinked.

Before he could attack again, a guard’s roar came from the gate.

"Stop!"

Three guards moved toward them, but the first one slowed the moment he saw Simon’s face.

His eyes widened.

"Blackmoon?"

The other guards looked at Simon, then at one another.

One of them had personally seen the list of demons declared dead after the convoy returned. Blackmoon’s name had been near the middle.

"You’re alive?" he asked before he could stop himself.

The two gossiping demons forgot their anger.

"Who is he?" one whispered.

"I don’t know."

More heads began turning.

Simon’s name was well known among recruits, Black Horn officials, and many guards because of the recruitment tests and everything that followed. To most ordinary demons at the gate, however, he was merely an injured one-horned demon who had somehow made the guards stare at him with wide eyes.

Simon looked at the guard who recognised him.

"How can I help you?"

The guard recovered and glanced at the growing crowd.

"Come with us... privately."

Simon offered no resistance.

He was led through a side entrance in the gatehouse and into a small office used for private inspections. The room contained a stone desk, four chairs, a water basin, and a narrow window overlooking the road outside.

Two guards remained near the door, and neither stopped watching him.

Simon sat and waited.

A few minutes later, the door opened again.

The familiar Guard Commander Tarvak entered.

The guard commander stopped after taking one step into the room. Surprise crossed his face before discipline buried most of it.

Tarvak dismissed the guards with a gesture. Once the door closed behind them, he walked to the other side of the desk and studied Simon from his horn to his bloodstained boots.

"I have seen many things in my life and line of work," Tarvak said slowly, "but I have never seen the dead walk back through my gate."

Simon rested one arm against the chair.

"Then today has been educational. You learned and saw something new."

Tarvak stared at him for a moment.

"I heard you had a difficult personality. The reports were being polite."

His gaze moved over the burns and dried blood.

"You also look as though hell chewed you and decided you tasted terrible."

"It tried."

The corner of Tarvak’s mouth twitched, though it never became a smile.

He walked to his chair and sat.

"The official report says a Furnaceback Centipede swallowed you, a Prime Calamity Crag Hound, and the rebel carrying the stolen cases. More than fifty witnesses saw it. Your War Tag was destroyed immediately afterward."

Simon nodded.

"That is true."

Tarvak’s fingers tapped once against the desk.

"How are you alive, Blackmoon?"

Simon allowed a tired silence to pass before answering.

"I was lucky."

"With a Half-Step Abyssal Beast?"

"An ant can be lucky even when it comes to Demon Kings. Do not doubt the power of luck, fate, and destiny."

Tarvak’s gaze sharpened, but Simon continued calmly.

"The inside of its throat was lined with hard ridges, and I caught one before the muscles dragged me deeper."

He lifted his burned hand slightly.

"I also had a one-use defensive artifact called an Abyssal Tortoise Shell Bead. It formed a barrier around my body and stopped the heat and pressure from killing me immediately."

"Abyssal Tortoise Shell Bead?" Tarvak raised a brow.

Simon nodded, but did not give more information about the ’artifact’.

"The barrier was not strong enough to last."

Simon looked toward the narrow window as if recalling the darkness inside the beast.

"The centipede began gathering fire and I knew I would die if I waited. So I used a technique I had only recently learned to attack it."

Tarvak’s brows drew together.

"You injured a Half-Step Abyssal Beast?"

"From the inside," Simon corrected. "Its armour did not matter there."

He lowered his hand.

"The attack made it lose control. I felt it turn away from the battlefield and burrow underground. After that, I could only hold onto the throat hook while the Abyssal Tortoise Shell Bead cracked around me."

His voice remained steady, but his bloody appearance made the account seem far worse.

"I thought I was going to die. The artifact was almost completely destroyed when somebody attacked the centipede from outside."

Tarvak furrowed his brows.

"Somebody?"

The office door opened before Simon could answer, and Korran stepped inside.

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