"Crap. Crap. Crap."
Marcus cursed inwardly, clutching Serah close as his gaze remained locked on the distant crimson spike that pierced from the like a bloodstained fang.
He grit his teeth.
'I stayed out too long after using that much dark myst... should've retreated right after the job. Damn it... I'm still too close to Caelmoor. I thought I was far enough out just get to the outskirts—but of course I got traced. I should've known better.'
Two centuries had passed since the third Demon War, and in that long, bitter aftermath, dark mages were no longer seen as humans. They had become myths twisted into monsters—demonspawn wearing human flesh. It started subtly: whispers, suspicions, minor exclusions. But it escalated into open hatred once the Crescent and Solara Kingdoms signed their infamous decree—declaring dark mages as threats to all of mankind and vowing to purge them completely.
