Out there, Lars - in Erica's form - was lying on the thick mist, waiting for a signal. He sprawled midair, relaxed, staring up at the dark sky bristling with jagged rocks. Yet his mind was far from calm.
He knew full well that stepping into a fog steeped in such dense magic could only mean illusions lurking inside. And still, Erica had charged straight in. After countless perilous missions and brushes with death, she still loved to throw herself into danger.
Stupid Eri! So clever, yet she never knows when to use that brain of hers properly.
He couldn't stand staying down there with Ortgard or the centaur cavalry either - they were all too rigid, too harsh, too dull for his taste.
With a snort, Lars rolled to one side, brushing the mist with his fingertips as if searching for comfort. It was freezing. The mist sliced like razors. Yet Erica had walked straight into it without so much as a protective charm.
And she's the one afraid of the cold.
Lars twisted to glance down. Below, the faint silhouettes of Ortgard and the centaurs stood like stone statues. He could tell Ortgard was looking up at him.
"When's this gonna end? I just wanna go home…" he muttered, eyes distant.
Suddenly, he felt a murderous presence behind him. He spun around-
Only to be kicked square in the stomach.
The blow hit like a battering ram. It hurled him through the air, sent him tumbling before he crashed hard onto the mist's edge -barely avoiding falling into the abyss. The impact knocked the wind out of him. He coughed violently, clutching his abdomen, eyes narrowed in pain.
"Ghhk… What the hell…?!"
Before him stood a masked figure clad head to toe in black robes. He was tall - massive, really - with muscle bulging beneath his heavy cloak, standing silent and still as a shadow carved from stone.
Lars gritted his teeth, lifting his head to glare at the stranger. His nose still throbbed from the fall. The man didn't say a word. He merely tilted his head, as if studying a meal.
"The hell are you?" Lars growled, pushing to his feet, his shoulders trembling from cold and rage.
"I'm someone you shouldn't have crossed." The voice was raspy, dry.
Then the man lunged.
Lars retaliated with a blast of fire, but the red-hot stream was swept aside by the man's armored forearm, scattering into flickering embers that rained onto the mist.
Instead of retreating, Lars smirked. He spun midair like a wild beast, grabbed the attacker's arm, slid down, and drove his knee hard into the man's ribs.
Thud!
A heavy, muffled impact. The masked figure flinched, sinking slightly into the mist's thick edge - but he didn't make a sound. Instantly, he countered, wrenching Lars closer and driving an elbow at the back of his neck.
Lars snarled, twisting just in time to avoid a fatal strike, then unleashed a burst of green-blue fire at point-blank. The man tilted his head, narrowly dodging - but the flames singed the fringe of his hood, revealing cracked, stone-like skin beneath.
Lars shoved him away, rubbing the back of his neck.
"Heh! Not bad! But Eri's still way outta your league," he spat, chuckling hoarsely. Each breath he exhaled burst into small jets of fire, tearing through the frozen fog.
The masked figure stood motionless, ash and scorch marks scattered across his wide shoulders. He tilted his head again, silently watching.
Lars narrowed his eyes. Flames coiled up both arms, taking the shape of burning claws.
The figure raised his own hand. A curved blade flashed from his sleeve, the metal dulled gray by the frost - like a reaper's sickle pulled from the grave.
In an instant, they clashed. Fire claws and blade sparked on contact, sending arcs of violet lightning through the mist. A slash grazed Lars's shoulder, searing a red burn. Lars retaliated with a fiery punch to the chest, forcing the man back a step. But he retaliated with another swift strike - forcing Lars to flip away at the last second.
Dammit! Fighting midair sucks!
Lars darted to the side, narrowly avoiding a blade that whistled past his neck. From the corner of his eye, he saw the masked brute still unharmed - muscles bulging beneath his robe like a monster in human skin.
"If this keeps up, we're gonna be at it all day…" Lars muttered.
Just then, the ground below shuddered with a low tremor. The mist trembled - something heavy had stepped into the stillness.
Lars glanced down - and saw Ortgard.
The giant in black armor, wielding a spear nearly as tall as Lars himself, was already soaring toward them. His usually gentle aquamarine eyes had sharpened to a predator's glare.
Ortgard looked up, locking eyes not with Lars - but with the masked figure.
"Fall back, Hellhound. I'll handle this," Ortgard said, his voice thunderous and calm.
Lars lowered altitude, spat out blood, and laughed dryly.
"Bout damn time you showed up."
Ortgard didn't reply. He spun his spear, its tip carving through the fog, scattering it like thick sludge. The masked man didn't move - still clutching his curved blade, eyes hidden beneath the dark mask, unblinking.
"Assassin look suits you," Ortgard said. "But you're too green to take us down."
The masked man tilted his head. This time, he chuckled - a low, burnt-coal rasp.
"We'll see…"
Then, from his body, a thick black smoke burst forth - dense as burning oil - engulfing the air around them. Both Lars and Ortgard squinted, backing off, but the smoke spread like a flood, devouring the hovering mist.
"Shit, he's trying to vanish in the smoke?" Lars growled, fists aflame.
But no.
Inside the smoke, shapes emerged - distorted forms.
Arms too long, legs bent backwards, heads twisted at unnatural angles, faces warped beyond recognition. They hovered midair like restless corpses, drooling onto the mist-stained floor.
"Hallucinations? No, they're real…" Lars hissed, heat pulsing from his skin while a chill crawled down his back.
"Not a typical summoning," Ortgard muttered, spinning his spear. "They're coming from his body."
The masked man raised his hand - then the monsters swarmed.
"Let's see if you can survive this," he laughed.
Ortgard narrowed his eyes, calm but defiant.
"You're not the only one with allies."
One of the creatures lunged at Lars from behind, tongue like a thorned whip aimed at his neck-
Fwhip!
A pitch-black arrow whistled through the air, piercing the creature's skull. It shrieked and dropped like a shredded sack.
Down below, the centaur cavalry had taken formation. Dozens of half-man, half-horse warriors stood in disciplined rows, their heavy bows drawn, arrowheads glowing with infernal magic.
"FIRE!" one of them shouted.
A storm of arrows tore through the smoke. Each one struck true—into the monstrous horde. Black blood sprayed, some burned, some shrieked as they fell.
Ortgard raised his spear high and slammed it forward. From its tip, a bolt of pale lightning cracked through the fog, obliterating two more creatures crawling toward him. Winds gathered around him, laced with ashes and low, inhuman growls.
The masked man didn't budge. He stood at the center of the chaos, smoke and fire all around him. His eyes glowed red behind the mask.
"Haha! Not bad, not bad. But let's see if you and that girl survive what comes next."
At that moment, deep inside the thick fog, Erica was staggering forward - her body drenched in sweat and blood. Her chest rose and fell in ragged bursts. The illusions woven into the mist seemed to sense her exhaustion. They giggled near her ears, then vanished like cold gusts brushing past her skin.
She'd already taken several hits. The worst was a stab wound to her left thigh.
Come on, Eri. Stay on your feet. You have to find it - before it finds you.
"It's pointless."
The soft voice floated in from the haze.
Erica snapped her head back - nothing behind. A flicker in front caught her eye. She turned just in time to see a flash of light lancing toward her.
She dodged sideways as a curved dagger sliced past her cheek.
Her hand shot out, seizing the attacker's wrist. In one swift motion, she grabbed his collar and hurled him down - but her fingers clenched nothing.
No body.
Just smoke.
She froze. Then instinct kicked in and she leapt back, both arms raised defensively. The fog remained dense, cold enough to burn—but now, the chill was nothing compared to what had just manifested.
A laugh echoed low and even, as if from the depths of a cave.
"Well done. But you're getting weaker."
A shape emerged from the fog.
It was a boy - thin and pale, no older than nine or ten. His black hair was sparse, and his face was sunken like someone long starved. He had no eyes - just two deep, hollow sockets of darkness. He wore a white tunic, with a crimson scarf slung across one shoulder.
"Louise, is that you?" Erica asked.
The boy frowned, tilting his head slightly.
"You know me?"
Know you all too well.
"You're scrawnier than I thought. No wonder Jarla called you 'the nine-year-old boy.'"
His expression shifted. A wrinkle formed between his brows, and his lips pressed tightly together, as if suppressing something sharp and raw.
"You… know Jarla?"
Erica nodded, her eyes never leaving him.
Louise fell silent. Something in his mind - his young, broken mind -was turning. He took a step forward, noiseless, his skeletal body seeming to glide across the mist.
"Who are you… to know her?" His voice was small, but it carried from some distant, forgotten place.
"I'm Jarla's friend. A recent one. He told me a lot about you."
"I see. Then she probably sent you here… to find Jarrak. And… me too. That's sweet. But I'm afraid she'll be waiting a long, long time."
Louise smiled.
Erica didn't like that smile. Not one bit. She also sensed a presence behind her - spun around - but too late.
Steel bit into flesh.
Blood sprayed, red rain upon white mist.
Her neck snapped. Her head hit the ground with a dull thud, rolled once, then stopped - eyes still wide open, as if they hadn't quite understood what had happened.
Her headless body crumpled slowly, like a felled tree. Her fingers still clutched her axe, twitching weakly before falling still.
Louise stood behind her, arm outstretched, frozen in the motion of his last strike. His hollow eyes stared at the fallen head, expression unreadable.
He wasn't smiling. He wasn't trembling.
Only disbelief remained on his face.
He turned to face the one who had struck the killing blow.
A grotesque demon loomed behind him - twice Louise's size, round as a bloated cauldron, with sagging flesh like melting fat, a mouth that split from jaw to ear, revealing jagged yellow teeth. Erica's blood still dripped from his plump fingers, the curved dagger gleaming with it.
"Haha! Been a while since I've killed someone! Damn, I missed that feeling."
"I told you not to harm anyone, Borko…" Louise murmured.
The fat demon tilted his head, smacking his lips.
"Oh, quit pretending you're the good guy. A few more bodies won't hurt. Besides, that one was stubborn. Should've been put down sooner."
"That's right, that's right!" more voices echoed around them.
Louise exhaled sharply. His face contorted with frustration. His hands trembled as he lowered his gaze.
"She… she only wanted to help."
"Still just a kid, huh? You don't understand how things work."
As Borko bent down to pick up Erica's head, her body suddenly moved.
With a push from her arms, she vaulted upright - her foot smashing into Borko's chin with crushing force. She flipped through the air and landed on both feet, axe spinning as she pointed it straight at him.
Borko reeled back, roaring in pain as he collapsed. Louise stared, stunned, eyes wide in disbelief.
She stood as if death had never touched her. Still headless. Still moving.
Her axe hummed with heat.
Borko scrambled to his feet, clutching his chin where blood now oozed between the folds of his shaking flesh.
"Isn't she a Hellborn?!"
Louise took a step back. He'd heard the legends of the Darker family - and now, standing before him, was living proof. This girl wasn't just a Hellborn.
She was impossible.
Borko inhaled sharply, then bellowed:
"NO HEAD AND STILL THIS DAMN STUBBORN?! FINE!! LET'S RIP YOU OPEN AND SEE IF YOUR GUTS STILL WORK!"
He charged, blade raised high, eyes wide with frenzy. Erica didn't flinch.
As he rushed in, she spun her axe in a wide arc - flaring like red flame slicing the fog.
"DIE-!"
CRACK!
The axe bit deep into Borko's shoulder, cleaving down to the bone. Black blood erupted like a ruptured sewer, splashing onto Louise's face.
Borko screamed, dropped his blade, and dropped to his knees.
Erica wasn't finished.
She grabbed his slimy flesh with one hand and yanked him forward, driving her knee into his gut - once, twice, three times - each strike brutal enough to pulp bone and organ.
Louise felt his mouth go dry. He didn't know what to do.
Then, it began.
From Erica's severed neck, muscle and sinew stretched out from empty space. Red strands twisted like roots, knitting together layer by layer. Blood vessels sprayed, then coiled inward, fusing with fresh flesh. Skin folded over raw muscle. Green hair sprouted. Her violet eyes snapped open, blazing as they locked onto Louise - and Borko.
"Looks like no one here's heard that Hellborns don't die easy," she said, smiling gently - without a shred of malice.
Before she could say more, a low growl echoed to her right.
From within the white fog, a shadow scuttled forward.
It was a grotesque centipede-human hybrid, spined and twitching, dozens of hands sprouting from its back. It glided over the mist like a living harpoon, mouth wide open with crooked teeth, no lips, drool stringing from its jaw.
Whoosh!
Erica didn't hesitate. She leapt, spun her axe midair, and brought it down in a crushing blow.
CRACK!
The creature's skull shattered like a melon. Its body convulsed briefly, then collapsed, smoke and ash hissing from its spasming form.
But it wasn't over.
The mist began to swirl violently. More shapes emerged.
Dozens of abominations clawed their way into view - distorted human forms stretched beyond reason. Some had swollen heads, others arms growing from impossible places. Some cackled like twisted children, others whispered incomprehensible phrases.
"So now you decide to come out?" Erica muttered, gripping her axe.
A winged beast lunged from behind - half bat, half human, wielding a whip of fire coiled around its arm. Erica didn't turn—she slashed backward in a spinning arc.
CLASH!
Axe met whip, sparks erupted. The creature screamed, flung backward into the mist - where it exploded.
She somersaulted forward, slicing another as it crawled toward her. Her axe carved a jagged arc through its chest, splitting it into two uneven halves.
Louise just stood there, stunned at first - but then something in him steadied. He took a deep breath and began to sing.
Erica heard his voice.
She lunged forward - but was blocked by a swarm of demons.
Sleep, my child, the wind grows cold,Night is deep, and stars are old.Stone and root, and bone and tree,All will rest, and so shall thee.
Erica's head felt light, her eyelids heavy. Her quick, darting steps slowed as though sinking into molasses.
Hush now, little flame of mine,Dream beneath the ancient pine.Wolves may howl and rivers cry,But Mother sings, and time goes by.
The world around her blurred, her body weightless, as if adrift in some strange current. In that moment, a twisted demon lunged, claws slashing sideways. Erica raised her axe by reflex - but not in time.
Slash!
A searing pain tore across her shoulder, hot blood spraying into the mist.
"Kh-!" She clutched the wound, but the pain was grounding - keeping her from drifting away.
So she bit down hard on the tip of her tongue. Blood welled in her mouth, the metallic tang snapping her mind into focus. She dropped low, rolled out of the encirclement, and swung her axe in a wide arc. Steel screamed through the air, forcing a gap in their ranks. Seizing the chance, she lunged for Louise, bringing the axe down in a killing stroke.
Louise barely evaded - but not without cost. His arm was severed at the elbow, the hand tumbling away. Blood burst from the ragged stump, soaking his shirt crimson. His face twisted in agony, yet he uttered no sound - only clutched the ruined limb with his remaining hand, chest heaving.
Erica stood before him, breathing hard, her gaze cold and unyielding.
"You can still feel pain, can't you?" she said at last, voice heavy. "Then why keep killing? You've had your revenge - do you really need to wipe them out completely?"
Louise gave a strained laugh. "Ha! Maybe none of them are even alive anymore. What I want is to destroy the rotten empire Algernon built - and the jackals who'd carry on his work. Even if his bloodline is gone, his savage loyalists would still oppress and exploit the people. That was my father's fear, even in death - his regret, for not having the strength to stop him."
"And what makes you think that would still be true after a thousand years?" Erica asked, her tone sharpening.
"Because someone showed me how they live now."
Her eyes widened.
Only those in the highest circles had the privilege to know of mortal life in the human realm.
So there really is a greater power behind this.
She opened her mouth to speak - when suddenly, a cord cinched tight around her throat from behind. Pain shot through her neck. She stomped back, trying to ram her attacker, but an arm locked around her waist, pinning her arms. More hands shoved her down, slamming her face into the ground.
"It's taken me a thousand years to get my revenge," Louise murmured. "All of us are the same. We won't let you destroy everything we've built. Your friend will be stopped too - my allies will see to it."
"And you'll risk your friend's life just for revenge? Some friend you are!" she spat, straining against the grip.
"Nothing bad will happen - this ritual only drains his power. It comes back with time. And… he's always wanted to see the world. I'm just helping."
What?! Who said that?
"And now," Louise's voice softened to a mock lullaby, "you need to sleep."
He began singing again.
Erica thrashed, but her muscles grew slack, as if her strength were being siphoned away. Her throat closed, vision dimming. The air thickened, pressing down like the weight of the deep sea.
Then… she began to chuckle. The surrounding demons sneered, thinking she'd gone mad.
"You know what? You've already fallen into my trap."
High above the fog, Lars circled with burning wings, weaving between lunges from twisted beasts. Arrows from Ortgard's centaur cavalry rained upward in blazing arcs - but the number of monsters kept multiplying, a diseased swarm spilling into the air.
Lars panted, his arm still ablaze. He was about to call for reinforcements when - something glinted through the mist.
"Huh?" He froze midair.
Through the grey murk and slick mud, a streak of silver ripped the air like a shooting star - an all-too-familiar hunting knife, its serrated blade engraved with a flame motif. Erica's knife.
He'd been worried when he'd heard that eerie singing earlier, afraid she'd failed. But now - confidence surged back.
Reaching into her pack, he pulled a cerulean orb and hurled it toward the heart of the fog - where the knife had come from.
The orb pierced the mist and erupted in a burst of searing light. Wind howled, light spilled like the sun breaking over Hell's midnight. The fog tore apart, twisted demons shrieked, clutching their heads. Phantoms hiding in the illusions were forced into view - grotesque forms with burning red eyes, bleeding, warped flesh. They curled in on themselves, as if burning alive.
Lars dove, Hellhound form blazing. The centaur cavalry, seeing the light, surged forward, lances lowered, crashing through the thinning veil. They ignored the masked man's abominations, cutting a path toward the core.
Within the shattered mist, Louise readied himself - though surprise flickered across his face. He looked up, saw the charging cavalry… then looked back down.
Erica was gone.
Ha! It worked!
She was already racing toward the ritual's heart - her double waiting there. She'd split off a clone the moment she entered the fog, sending it cloaked and silent while she drew the enemy's fire.
Risky, but worth it.
Ahead, a tide of oppressive black energy gathered.
The ritual's center… was close.
Through the smoke, a magic circle emerged - etched in blood, anchored by chains of hair and human bone. In its heart, blurred figures writhed, their souls being torn in half. Black vapors coiled around them, draining life, feeding streams of crimson energy into a towering stone pillar.
Three robed figures stood guard, faces hidden behind coal-black masks, arms raised in invocation.
A strong ward enclosed them - but nothing Erica couldn't break.
She rejoined her double, raised her axe, and swung with all her might.
SCREEEEECH!
The barrier shattered like glass, a shockwave flinging one cultist into the pillar. His mask cracked open, revealing a pale face with eyes corroded by shadow. Another spun toward her, firing a string of dark sigils - but she was already gone, reappearing behind him to hack off his arm, then dropping the last with a brutal blow.
Her boots crunched over the circle's boundary. The air here was colder than the mist outside - each step pressing down through whispers, phantom pleas for help.
She looked up. The stone pillar drank the captives' life-force, and above it, a tear in space widened - a churning red vortex, clawed hands and bulging eyes pressing from the other side.
"They're opening a gate…" she muttered.
Not while she stood here.
She charged, pouring all her strength into a single downward strike.
CRACK!
The axe bit deep. A silver-grey explosion tore through the pillar, scattering the blood-fed energies. The crimson streams writhed, screamed, and burst into showers of burning gore.
The stone split. Black ichor gushed from the wound, smoking. The vortex above quaked, then began to collapse, folding in on itself.
Breathing hard, Erica scanned the captives - nine children, freed and unharmed. She found Jarrak among them, pale but peacefully asleep. Relief flooded her.
Ash still rained like bloody snow as she rose, scanning the ruin like a predator.
From beyond the mist - hoofbeats thundered.
BAM. BAM. BAM!
Through the shredded fog, a cavalry stormed in - at its head, a towering, fur-bristled figure with eyes of flame: Lars, fangs bared in exhilaration. Beside him rode Ortgard, the steel-clad centaur warlord, his bone-plated armor spattered with demon blood.
"Eri!" Lars roared, spotting her.
Before she could answer, more abominations clawed from the broken circle - horned, root-ridden, half-branded monstrosities.
"Damn it…" Lars growled, then grinned wolfishly. "Let's give 'em a show."
Louise stepped from their ranks, the masked man beside him.
"Pathetic," the latter sneered. "Couldn't even deal with one girl. No matter - this isn't over. We've still got another site."
"And my ally is already there," Erica said flatly. "Surrender. You have nowhere left to run."
"We'll see."
They charged - only for a slow, deliberate clap to cut through the chaos.
From the thinning mist, Fallon emerged - lounging on a fur-draped chair, Terwan bound in her shadow beside her, terror plain on his face. Behind her stood another cavalry and a line of captured sinner-demons.
"My, my… did I miss all the fun?" Fallon's sharp smile swept the scene, stopping on Erica. "You did well."
"Who the hell is this?" the masked man snapped - but went silent as his gaze flicked to the prisoners.
Fallon merely snapped her fingers. Shadows surged, binding each sinner - Louise, the masked man, and the rest.
"Don't resist, unless you'd like the same treatment as your friends," Fallon said softly, her voice slicing through their protests.
Louise narrowed his eyes but didn't struggle. Others weren't so wise - Borko roared, nearly breaking free, until the shadows yanked him under. The others froze.
"Tch. Some people just can't take a hint," Fallon muttered. "Ortgard, they're yours. I'll be by later to watch the interrogations. For now - come along, Eri, Lars."
Erica and Lars exchanged a glance. No words - but both knew the battle was done.
The shadows retreated, dragging their captives into the dark. Ortgard rode forward, his armor still dripping.
"I'll secure the area," he said.
"Do as you like - just don't overdo it," Fallon replied.
Lars shifted back to human form, leaping lightly onto Erica's shoulder.
"Let's go. Nothing left here."
She started to speak, but he cut her off.
"I know what you're thinking. Save it for later."
She nodded. They left the shattered ritual behind, the groans swallowed by shadow. Through the thinning mist, she caught Louise's gaze - he offered a weak smile, then looked away.
"Lars, why do people without eyes seem like they can still see you?" she asked suddenly.
"…What? Is that a joke? Ask Yona - she's always got her eyes closed."
"Mm. Maybe. Guess it's just instinct."
Lars sighed. Erica always had these strange questions after a fight.
They approached Fallon, who looked weary but alert. She beamed.
"Well, well! You two did great, though I was worried. Saw a few centaur corpses on the way. And your clothes are in tatters - Yona's going to have her hands full."
"True enough. But, uh, Lona…" Erica glanced around, then leaned in. "I need a favor."
"Oh? What's got you so troubled?"
Erica said nothing - just glanced at Terwan. Fallon followed her gaze, eyes glinting.
"Well, well… if it isn't Elder Terwan," Fallon said brightly. " I forgot that you're still with us?"
"I… am, Lady Lacey," he answered heavily.
"Good. I trust you'll still be able to hear what your superiors have to say."
A centaur rider approached. "Lady Lacey - we have reports of multiple bombings in Terwan's district. Heavy structural damage, no casualties - but most sinner housing destroyed… including Terwan's own estate."
"What?!" Terwan roared.
Erica and Lars turned away, but Fallon caught it, smirking. "No need to look for the culprit. Elder Terwan will take responsibility."
Terwan stared, slack-jawed. Erica blinked in surprise, Lars almost relieved.
"As leader, it's only right. He agrees, of course," Fallon added. The rider nodded and left.
Her smile never wavered, but her eyes turned cold. "Consider this a light punishment. I'll pretend I saw nothing. How long you can keep it that way… is up to you."
Terwan opened his mouth - but her gaze cut him off. He swallowed hard and nodded.
"Good. Time we left. And I'm taking this chair with me - consider it a souvenir. Let's go home, Eri, Lars."