******
Still at the village square, the poor and weak Demons lay strewn across the ground, most trembling uncontrollably, and in contrast, the less fortunate ones continued coughing up blood, their bodies convulsing in agony.
At this moment, they did not, in any way, resemble the terrifying creatures they were known to be. Instead, they appeared like fragile beings crushed beneath the weight of pure fear. Their eyes, wide with dread, continued darting around as if searching for escape — but there was none.
They hadn't seen the owner of the voice that had just spoken, but how could they not remember it?
They would recognize it anywhere.
Even in death, they would remember it, and it would scare them awake.
It belonged to the demon they despised the most in this world after the Celestial race — the monster who had turned their lives into an unending nightmare.
Kaelrik.
