Eryndor sat by the campfire, its flickering glow casting long shadows over the ruins. He sat in silence, lost in thought, until the sound of approaching footsteps broke his focus. Though blind, he could still perceive the world in his own way.

  “These footsteps… Aveline Stormrend?”

  Aveline hesitated before speaking. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

  Eryndor turned toward her, a faint smile on his lips. “It’s alright. I know you’re an honorable person.”

  A sudden quickening of her heartbeat reached his ears. He could no longer see, but he didn’t need to. Aveline was surprised.

  “What happened to your eyes?” she asked.

  “Arayn did it,” he answered simply.

  Aveline’s expression darkened. “Arayn again. He’s the most troublesome participant. Even Saria was killed by him.”

  “And Lyssa too,” Eryndor added. “He killed her as well.”

  Aveline’s eyes widened. For a moment, she stood frozen, then lowered her gaze. Memories of Lyssa surfaced—her loyalty, her refusal to betray her. The weight of the loss settled in as she thought about the pure-heearted girl.

  Eryndor listened. He could hear the sorrow in the rhythm of her heart. He could only offer what little comfort he had. “Lyssa died like a warrior. She fought hard for her freedom.”

  Aveline shook her head. “Dying wasn’t her wish. She was forced into this senseless event.”

  “I see,” Eryndor murmured. “A shame. I never had the chance to speak with her.”

  Aveline studied him for a moment before speaking again. “You seem so calm about this. Doesn’t any of it frustrate you?”

  Eryndor exhaled, his expression unreadable. “I was frustrated when I lost my eyes,” he admitted. “But Arayn was right. My vision was a curse. I relied too much on my ability to see the future, and I grew complacent. I’ve been forcing myself to change, to assert control of my own self. And now, my other senses are nearly as sharp as sight. They’re still evolving.”

  Aveline stepped forward. “Do you want me to heal you?”

  Eryndor nodded. “Sure.”

  She placed a hand over his face, channeling her magic. A golden glow enveloped him, but nothing changed. The injury remained.

  Her expression turned serious. “I’m sorry. This isn’t just a physical wound—it’s a soul injury.”

  Eryndor tilted his head. “Can you heal it?”

  Aveline shook her head. “Healing a soul is extremely difficult. I have the ability, but I can’t use it on others. Besides, it’s not like healing the body. Physical injuries have many solutions, but healing a soul is more like piecing together a shattered vase. You have to reconnect the fragments yourself.”

  Eryndor considered her words. “What about regeneration? Is that possible?”

  “Maybe,” she admitted. “As far as I know, only the werewolves of the Bloodmoon Clan have the ability to regenerate their souls.”

  Eryndor smiled. “I see. Forget it, then. I’m already evolving. I’ll surpass my past self soon enough.”

  Aveline returned his smile. “I respect your optimism.”

  Eryndor gestured toward the fire. “Care to eat before we fight?”

  Aveline’s gaze fell on the campfire, where several rats sizzled on makeshift skewers. Her face twitched—just for a moment—before she forced a polite smile. “I’ll pass.”

  Eryndor heard the slight change in her heartbeat. He chuckled. “I apologize. It was rude of me to offer this to a noble.”

  Aveline sat beside him, her expression firm. “You weren’t rude. I—I can eat it.”

  Eryndor laughed. “No need to force yourself. Just wait while I finish my meal.”

  Aveline shook her head. “I didn’t come here to fight.”

  Eryndor paused, then turned to her. “Then why are you here?”

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  Aveline studied him before asking, “What will you do if you win?”

  Silence stretched between them. Eryndor stared into the fire, the flames reflecting in his sightless eyes. “If I become the successor, the elders of my sect will try to control me,” he said at last. “The first thing I’ll do is assert my influence—both in the cult and my sect.”

  Aveline tilted her head. “And after that?”

  Eryndor exhaled. “The cult members will do anything for power, but they rely too much on external forces—contracting demons, making deals. No one truly trusts their own strength. That’s the first thing I want to change. They need to learn to grow stronger on their own.”

  Aveline met his gaze. “In that case, our goals seem to align. Why don’t we work together?”

  Eryndor heard the resolution in her heartbeat. “I have to admit, I’m curious. Why would a Saintess of the Heralds of the Skyfather want to work with the Crimson Sun cult's successor candidates?”

  Aveline didn’t hesitate. “Because I’m the same as you—I want to change things.” She glanced at the fire, her voice steady. “The first thing I need to change is my own order. Too many of my people refuse to accept those who think differently, and they’re even worse toward other species. I want them to open their hearts, to broaden their views.”

  She looked back at him. “The second thing is the cult. My fellows love to eradicate the cult members when they encounter them, and I am sure many cult members are thinking the same. I want to break this cycle of hatred. I want to change how they pursue strength. They don’t have to sacrifice the innocent or involve themselves in evil. Just as you said, they need to depend on their own power."

  Eryndor poked at the fire with a stick, watching the embers glow. “Even if the cult changes, hatred isn’t so easily erased.”

  Aveline nodded. “I know. But someone has to take the first step. I’m willing to do that.”

  Eryndor turned to her. “You’ll face a lot of betrayal. Not from me at least, but you will work together with other people, and they will do it. That's the nature of the cult members. We never trust and only work for benefits. Are you sure you want to do this?

  Aveline’s expression didn’t waver. “Every betrayal hurts, but I’ll rise again. Saria betrayed me, but she showed me the way. I will do it for people like Lyssa. She wanted freedom but never had the chance.”

  Eryndor let out a quiet chuckle. “Your ambition is too grand, but that’s what makes it interesting.” He extended his hand. “As long as you don’t change, I’ll help you.”

  Aveline clasped his hand, a small smile forming on her lips. “Thank you, Eryndor… for believing in me.”

  Eryndor pulled a skewered rat from the fire, inspecting the crisped meat. “Now, let’s eat. We can’t work on an empty stomach.”

  Aveline’s face paled. She forced a smile, her voice unsteady. “I-I’m still full. Thanks, though.”

  ---

  Arayn sat in the ruins of a tavern. Gaping holes in the roof exposed the night sky, and shattered windows let the cold air seep in, but the structure still held firm. He had pushed the tables and chairs aside, clearing the center of the room. A sharp-lined pentagram covered the wooden floor, and a throne stood at its heart.

  Arayn approached the throne and lowered himself onto it. A smirk tugged at his lips. “The final phase starts now,” he muttered.

  He raised a hand and began to chant, his voice weaving through the air.

  "Through the veil of shadow and flame,

  From the realm where bloodlines wane, hybrid spawn of the twisted breed, come forth now and heed my need."

  A gust of wind burst through the tavern, snuffing out the candles. Then, within the pentagram, a figure emerged—humanoid in form, yet unmistakably inhuman. It stood tall, its head that of a goat, twisted horns curling backward. A pair of bat-like wings stretched from its back, their leathery surface shifting as it adjusted to its new surroundings.

  The demon straightened its posture and offered a polite bow. “Ah, a summoner of ambition.” Its voice was smooth. “I can provide various services such as granting abilities, eliminating enemies, even bending hearts and minds to your will. All for a very reasonable price.”

  The creature took a slow sniff of the air, then chuckled. “Oh? You’re stuck at level twenty.” A grin split its bestial face. “If you wish to ascend to the expert class, you’ll need a catalyst to fill your primordial crystal. Lucky for you, I can provide that too.”

  Arayn leaned forward, his grin widening. “I like your spirit.”

  The demon placed a hand over his chest and bowed his head politely. "I will do my best to serve you, summoner. Are you from the Crimson Sun Cult? I am a member of the faction led by Lord Azael. That means I am trustworthy."

  Arayn chuckled. "Hey, demon. What's the most lucrative payment for you?"

  The demon's lips curled, and a drop of drool escaped. "The most lucrative? Hehehe, that would be your soul, summoner. No offense. I'm just being honest. Building trust is important, you see. Of course, I know offering your entire soul is impossible, but if you let me take a small sip—a mere wisp—I’ll give you a catalyst to fill your primordial crystal."

  Arayn smirked. "No. Instead, I’ll offer you all of my soul."

  The demon blinked, then tilted his head. "Are you... serious?"

  "After my death, that is," Arayn clarified. "You can have my soul once I’m dead."

  The demon's amusement faded. His glowing eyes bore into Arayn as he spoke with uncharacteristic gravity. "Summoner, I must warn you. Offering something in front of a demon is not a joking matter. Now that you've made the promise, you cannot take it back."

  Arayn leaned back, completely unfazed. "Of course. I’m well aware."

  The demon folded his arms, his goat-like eyes narrowing. "So, summoner, what service do you require of me?"

  Arayn leaned forward, resting an elbow on the arm of his throne. "Tell me everything about the place you live in within the Netherworld—the coordinates, your neighbors if you have any, the lord of your region, the famous figures. Everything."

  The demon scratched his head, his claws lightly tapping against his horns. "That’s… an odd request."

  Arayn’s smirk didn’t waver. "Don’t tell me you can’t grant my wish? In that case, this business is over."

  "Wait." The demon raised a hand, shaking his head. "Of course, I agree. But why? Why wager your soul for something so simple?"

  When forming a contract with a demon, the rules of magic were absolute—one could not lie. That was why Arayn answered honestly. "Because it doesn’t matter if my soul is taken by a demon if I die."

  The demon held his gaze for a long moment before nodding. "Very well, summoner. Listen closely."

  He stepped forward, his wings shifting slightly as he began his tale.