Erica stepped into the room to grab a few more vials of solution. Lars was slowly waking up, and he reminded her:
"This time, take plenty with you. Don't mess up like the last mission."
"Yeah, yeah, I know! Look who's finally awake, huh?"
"Yeah. I'd rather sleep than listen to those two bicker like kids."
Typical Lars. Whenever he didn't want to be bothered, he'd just doze off - so deeply, in fact, that sometimes Erica wondered if he really was asleep at all. He still heard her muffled cries when nightmares came. She suspected he just pretended to sleep so he wouldn't have to talk about it.
When she returned to the living room, she found Fallon already dressed, looking much more refined - like a true aristocratic gentleman, except she was very much a woman. Jarrak just stood there, eyeing Fallon from head to toe before sneering:
"Well, well. Looking fancy, aren't we? Nothing like before."
"Obviously," Fallon replied with a forced smile. "When you're home, dress for comfort. When you step outside, dress properly - neat and tidy. Who'd want to be judged or looked down on for filthy clothes?"
"Ooh, someone's clearly throwing shade." Lars snickered, earning a sharp glare from Jarrak.
"It's not like I chose to look like this…" Jarrak muttered under his breath.
"Chosen or not, kiddo, you still need to stay presentable when meeting people."
Fallon snapped her fingers. Instantly, her shadow coiled around Jarrak's body.
"Pretty demons attract goodwill more easily. Didn't you know?"
In the blink of an eye, the mud caked on him vanished. His face looked cleaner and brighter, and his ragged clothes turned neat and crisp.
Only now did Erica notice: beneath the dirt, Jarrak had a mop of messy black hair, a chubby face, and striking blue eyes. His clothes hung a bit loose, probably adult hand-me-downs - she spotted a few crude stitches at the sleeves and pants, as if they'd been purposely snipped to make them fit better.
Jarrak stared at himself, wide-eyed. Who wouldn't be surprised when it all happened in seconds?
Fallon beamed, like a proud mother admiring her well-groomed son.
"See? Looking sharp - who wouldn't like you now?" she teased.
"… Thank you," Jarrak murmured, bowing his head. But Erica could see the flush creeping up his cheeks.
"By the way, where's your village? And that best friend of yours?" Erica asked.
"We're from the same village. I don't even remember its name, but the chief's called Terwan."
"Huh!?" Fallon frowned, then unrolled a scroll to check. "That's the same old geezer at the village where I'm assigned."
"Huh? So we're headed to the same place? What a coincidence…" Erica muttered.
"Probably just dumb luck. My mission's to investigate a suspicious group there. A year ago, the investigation team found eight villagers under Terwan's watch traveling to different layers of Hell. Nobody thought much of it - until they returned a few days ago, each dragging back a little imp demon. They're all poor, orphaned kids. Who knows if they're running experiments or something worse."
Erica's lips parted slightly. "… This sounds strangely familiar…" She frowned, trying to recall where she'd read about something like this. It didn't seem like just another mission report.
"Anyway. You three go find that missing kid. I'll handle my part. Meet back at Terwan's house when you're done, got it?"
"Yes, ma'am!"
Fallon tossed a magic orb into the air. A portal opened, shimmering and swirling. One by one, they stepped through.
On the other side, a dark red river seethed and hissed, sending up waves of iron-scented steam that stung the skin. This was the Phlegethon - River of Boiling Blood. It snaked around the cracked plains of the Seventh Layer, its banks barren and lifeless.
Countless souls waded in the blood-red current. Some stood knee-deep; others up to their necks. A few were fully submerged, only their hair drifting on the surface. These were sinners who had repented too late. The river reminded them each day of their crimes and the innocent lives they'd destroyed. So they came here willingly - soaking themselves as penance, day after day.
"We should get moving. It's sweltering here!" Fallon said.
Erica and Fallon were about to step forward when Jarrak stopped them, panic in his eyes.
"Wait - are you two just going to walk through that? At least find a shallow spot first!"
"Can't walk on air, huh? Pity. But lucky for you, we have magic."
Fallon snapped her fingers. At once, they lifted off the ground. Jarrak yelped, thinking he was flying - only to realize he felt solid beneath his feet. He glanced down and saw a shadow carrying them like a platform.
Erica patted his shoulder gently. Seeing his wide-eyed wonder, she explained:
"It's Fallon's magic. She can control shadows - hers and other people's."
Jarrak nodded stiffly, eyes still glued to the river below. Some sinners looked up curiously; others remained lost in their ritual of pain. The group drifted silently across, landing on the opposite bank in no time.
Ahead lay a small village. Fallon spoke first:
"We're here! The village of the tyrant Terwan. I'm off to do my part - feel free to explore, kids!"
She disappeared into the bustling crowd, leaving the trio behind.
Erica chuckled at how Fallon called Terwan a tyrant. This man was selfish, hot-headed, and far too arrogant for his own good - which was exactly why Fallon could toy with him so easily. She didn't need torture to break him; she was his living nightmare, haunting him day and night with traps and tricks more insidious than any blade.
Erica glanced around, wondering where to start, when a sudden unease prickled at her senses. It wasn't the presence of any dark aura - it was the way everyone was staring at them. One look was enough to tell they were not welcome here.
Then, out of nowhere, a few stones came flying at them. Erica quickly shielded Jarrak, taking most of the hits herself, but when she looked over, she saw the culprits - a gang of Hellborn demon brats. They howled with laughter, shrieking even louder when a well-aimed rock struck Jarrak square on the head.
The adults around didn't bother to intervene; in fact, they seemed more than happy to join in. Some even hurled knives their way - thankfully, none found their mark.
Lars was about to give the brats a beating, but Erica stopped him. She knew there was no reasoning with these people, and fighting back would only make things worse. Grabbing Jarrak's hand, she cast an invisibility spell.
A collective gasp rose around them as the onlookers began scanning wildly, like predators sniffing out prey that had just slipped through their claws.
Jarrak looked startled at first, but then his face relaxed - he seemed to realize what Erica had just done. Now, they could only search in silence; asking questions was out of the question, except maybe to the sinners soaking in the river. Unfortunately, Erica didn't know anyone in the Violence Layer. Making connections here was nearly impossible - these people weren't like those in Wrath, who let rage blind them. Here, violence was deliberate, calculated. Everything about this place was complicated and cruel.
She stole a glance at Jarrak. He was still rubbing the spot on his head where the rock had struck him. Seeing that downcast look on his face made her recall the things he'd confided in her. It wasn't hard to imagine how much bullying he'd endured - no wonder he'd grown up starved for affection. No wonder he clung so fiercely to the hope of finding his only friend, no matter how far he had to go.
"By the way, where's your home?" Erica asked.
"Not far from here," he said quietly.
"Who's watching over it while you're gone?"
"My imp friends," he replied, voice flat but with a trace of warmth. "They're just like me - no family, no clue who our parents are, tossed aside by everyone in this hellhole. We met by chance and swore to stick together. It's the only way we survive here."
Erica let out a soft 'hm' and turned her eyes back to the road. The dirt path they followed was streaked with dried blood and gouged with the scars of blades. The crooked huts lining the roadside looked ready to collapse at any moment.
Voices grew louder the deeper they went, mingling with the brutal crash of fists and iron. Erica realized they had stumbled into the marketplace - though to her, it looked more like a makeshift arena. It made sense: here, meat, liquor, and killing tools were traded by wagering blood and bone. Lose, and you faced whatever punishment these violent beasts deemed fitting.
"I hope Louise is okay..." Jarrak murmured.
"Tell me about this friend of yours - what's he like?"
"He's really kind. He always tells us to be good people, not to become depraved like those other brutes. He even taught us how to fight back when we're bullied… but sadly I'm too weak, so I never manage to do anything right."
"Huh? Sounds like someone who's found enlightenment already." Lars remarked with a grin.
"Yeah!" Erica nodded in agreement.
"He's also the one who's protected us so many times. Our clothes, our food - it's all thanks to him. We really owe him everything."
"Even the clothes you're wearing now?" Erica gestured at the boy's outfit. He scratched his head awkwardly and forced a smile.
"Yeah… Well, fun fact for you - this used to belong to old man Terwan."
"What? You stole it from him?"
"Yep! Sometimes we even trick him together, for fun."
Jarrak chuckled as if reminiscing about mischiefs past. Erica laughed too; no wonder that old man despised Jarrak so much.
A while later, the group arrived at Jarrak's house. Truth be told, they couldn't really be called poor - it was a proper two-story house, just very old. It sat on the village's outskirts, surrounded by homes that looked quite clean, free of bloodstains or slash marks. Erica guessed this must be the neighborhood for the "enlightened" ones.
They opened the door and stepped inside. It was pitch dark, not a single flicker of light. Jarrak grew visibly anxious. Erica lit a torch, casting a flickering glow around the room. She sensed faint magical energy - about eight people, by her estimate - all huddled together at the edge of the light's reach.
"Everyone? Is anyone here? It's me - Jarrak!"
He called out, tension tightening his voice. No reply. Suddenly, something shot toward him so fast he couldn't react.
"You idiot, Jarrak! Where the hell have you been all this time?!"
A girl's voice shouted furiously as she grabbed him by the collar and shook him hard. He tried to pry her hands off but failed.
"Do you know how exhausted we were searching for you?! And you just vanished without a word, you lunatic!"
"Wait, sis! I can explain!"
Erica moved to intervene but was immediately surrounded by a group of kids wielding rusty spears. They looked terrified, mistaking her for some bully or enemy.
"Stop! She's not a bad person!" Jarrak yelled, gasping for breath.
The children exchanged uncertain glances, then gradually backed off, hurrying toward the pair still grappling on the floor. The girl showed no sign of letting Jarrak go - she genuinely looked ready to strangle him.
Erica grabbed the girl and pulled her off; some of the kids helped loosen her grip. Eventually, the girl had no choice but to let go. She squirmed furiously in Erica's arms, cursing all the while. Jarrak rubbed his neck and let out a relieved sigh.
"Let go of me!! Who the hell are you?!" she snapped.
"I'm Erica. And I'm Jarrak's new friend," Erica answered without missing a beat.
Hearing that, the girl stopped struggling. Erica released her. She shot Erica a sharp, appraising look, but then her expression softened slightly.
"A friend, huh? Well… you don't look like a liar." She turned to glare at Jarrak. "And you! Where the hell have you been for a whole year, huh?! Do you know how hard Louise looked for you?!"
"Louise?!" Jarrak gasped and scrambled to his feet. "He's back?!"
"Yeah. He came back a few days after you left. I told you he would, but you were too stubborn to listen."
"So where… where is he now?"
"He went out to find food," one of the children piped up.
Jarrak clutched at his hair, overwhelmed. Erica and Lars exchanged a glance - Lars's eyes seemed to say they didn't need to stay here anymore; they could go help Fallon now.
But… was it really that simple?