Felix Centric One Shots

Blind Faith (Minlix)

"Faith does not need eyes to see the truth."

The mortal village lay quiet beneath a moonless sky, its narrow streets pressed flat by fear and old grief. Smoke from low chimneys drifted like tired ghosts, clinging to stone and thatch, while the air itself carried the sour echo of things long endured and never spoken aloud. It was the kind of place evil settled into comfortably—not loudly, not dramatically, but like rot in a beam no one bothered to replace.

Seven shadows unfolded at the edge of the village, stepping out of a seam in the world that stitched realms together. Their feet touched the earth without sound.

They were brothers, though not by blood as mortals understood it. Demon-kind bound itself through choice, through oath, through survival. Chan stood at the center without trying to, broad-shouldered and steady, power rolling off him in controlled waves. His horns were pulled back into his glamour, but his eyes glowed faintly red, catching every movement, every breath of the village around them.

"This is the place," Changbin muttered, his voice low and gravel-deep. "Stinks of it."

Hyunjin tilted his head, long hair stirring though there was no wind. "Years of it," he said softly. "Lingering harm. Repeated. Intentional."

Jisung's jaw tightened. "They didn't even try to hide."

"They never do," Minho replied. He stood slightly apart, arms crossed, expression unreadable. His magic sat closer to the surface than usual, sharp and restless, like something pacing behind his ribs.

Seungmin rolled his shoulders, eyes cold and precise. "Father and two sons. According to the markings, the women weren't the first. Or the last."

Jeongin swallowed, his youthful face hardening as he nodded. "We end it tonight."

Chan gave a single, decisive nod. "Cleanly. No collateral. Mortals sleep through this."

They moved through the village like a shared breath, unseen, unheard. Doors did not creak when they passed. Dogs did not bark. Even the insects seemed to still, instinct bowing to something older and far more dangerous than fear.

The house sat at the edge of the village, leaning inward on itself, its windows dark. Rot lived here. Chan could feel it—the sticky residue of cruelty soaked into the walls, into the ground beneath. He lifted a hand, and the wards dissolved like mist.

Inside, the air was heavy. Sour. The father lay drunk at the table, soul already dim and bloated with rot. One son slept upstairs, dreams twisted and loud, leaking malice into the ether. The second son—

Chan paused.

"There's an innocent presence," he said quietly.

Minho had already turned toward the far room, his eyes narrowing. "Different," he murmured. "Quieter."

They split without speaking. Changbin and Hyunjin went for the father. Jisung followed the stairwell scent of the elder son. Chan, Seungmin, Minho, and Jeongin moved down the narrow hall toward the final room.

A candle burned inside.

The door creaked open.

Felix sat on the edge of a small bed, hands folded neatly in his lap. His hair was pale gold, almost luminous in the candlelight, falling into his eyes. His head was tilted slightly, as if listening—not to the demons themselves, but to the way the air had changed when they entered the room.

He smiled.

"I was wondering when you'd come," he said gently.

Jeongin froze.