Ravi carried Debbie inside, and the citizens' hatred turned to disgust as they backed away, allowing him to pass through unimpeded. Inside, a nun yelled at a child who seemed indifferent to the crowd's reaction or to whatever Ravi was presumed to have done. However, when their eyes met, Ravi realized the true depth of dread.
Uvrodon had never instilled such fear in him before, causing his heart to desire to escape. Every fiber of his being urged him to kneel, hoping the monster might show mercy and grant a swift demise until a slap snapped him out of the haunting vision.
Gasps resonated through the surroundings as Mary, the nun, dared to strike the monstrous being. Despite murmurs speculating on the abrupt cruelty of the once-kind nun, the unconscious girl in Ravi's arms conveyed a different narrative to him.
'Is this a side effect of her spirit weapon, or are these people just that oblivious?' Ravi mulled to himself.
Any wielder of a weapon had to possess greater strength and stamina than a common soldier. This requirement tripled for spirit weapon users. Considering the weight of the little girl and Mary's current condition, Ravi dismissed the notion of her carrying a pocket knife, let alone a spirit weapon.
'They've all gone mad,' Ravi concluded.
A grunt drew his attention to the unconscious girl, who stirred awake, while the wound on her forehead, along with even the slightest trace of blood, had vanished without a trace.
"What the?" Ravi followed the scar on his wrist, which extended all the way to his shoulder. It was the mark of the wraith, designating him as its lifelong target—a scar that had resisted the efforts of every healer he had encountered. Now, it disappeared on its own, leaving no trace behind, all because of a child who regarded it with contentment?
— — —<>|*|<>— — —
Ric cast aside Mary's insult, diverting his attention to a stranger's scar.
Flesh is doomed to refill its vessel; the soul. Scars were hard to heal because one has to fix their soul to fix a scar. One must sever the remnants of the past, their traumas, and regret to heal such a wound.
Ric couldn't care less about a stranger's well-being. What he sought was the death energy lingering within the soul.
Harnessing light and nurturing life is simple.
Delving into the abyss of darkness and confronting the specter of death is insurmountable.
Rather than attempting to heal the soul, Ric opted to conceal the scar with an additional layer of tissue. To the untrained eye, it might appear as though the wound had been healed.
Ric made a calculated bet that the stranger would cling to the scar while he continued to erase it. The intention was to compel the stranger to convert his life force into death energy, which Ric planned to siphon for himself later.
To his astonishment, the stranger fell for the illusion, inadvertently healing his soul while Ric performed superficial patchwork.
"Something is seriously wrong with these people," Ric muttered, shooting a glare at the stranger. "How is it that none of them possess any death energy, even when they're on the brink of death? Who the hell is giving them hope?"
"Life is so hard," Mary murmured, reminiscing about the newborn she had once cradled in her hands. "While death always remains easy." She surveyed the area, knowing all too well that, despite appearances, the trio had not departed; a struggle for life had unfolded here.
With a sigh, Mary followed Ric's gaze and spotted the lone guard. "Where are the trio?" she demanded.
"Huh!" Ravi attempted to evade the child's gaze while searching for the trio. "They entered a while ago... but I can't seem to find them anywhere."
YOU ARE READING
Demon King
FantasiaGood has never won over evil. At least for the people of Saint. Now fate has pitied and spun its wheel, dragging a stranger into their lands. A villain who stood at the pinnacle of evil. When all hope is lost, you remove a thorn with a thorn and Fat...
