Chapter 5: Demon commander
"My name is Helga, granddaughter of Daveron of Dreams. Today I have taken possession of a child. Honestly, at first I had no such intention… but this one, I could not let him go. No. He must be mine."
Helga reclined gracefully upon the scaled back of a lesser wyvern, its leathery wings cutting through the frigid northern winds. In her lap I lay unconscious, my white hair matted with dried blood and lake water, small frame limp against her silver-threaded robes. A beautiful, possessive smile curved her lips as she gazed down at me.
Her slender fingers traced the cruel scars that marred my eye sockets, deep, jagged lines that refused to fade, as though carved by hatred itself.
"Don't worry, little one," she murmured, voice soft as falling snow. "You will be alright."
The wyvern banked sharply, descending toward a sprawling kingdom buried beneath eternal white. Towers of black ice and obsidian rose from the drifts like the spines of some slumbering beast. Snow swirled in endless veils, yet the air carried the faint metallic tang of blood and burning incense, Fortsterling, the Demon Country, where cruelty was not sin but sacrament.
They approached a grand mansion perched on a frozen cliffside, its walls veined with crimson runes that pulsed faintly beneath. The wyvern landed with a thunderous beat of wings. Below, a line of maids awaited in perfect formation, each one radiating at least Bronze-rank aura, their black-and- red uniforms immaculate despite the howling gale.
"Yunna," Helga called.
From among the servants stepped a woman with vivid green hair cascading like spring vines and hazel eyes that held quiet, unreadable depths. Her face was gentle in repose, beautiful in a way that seemed almost out of place amid the northern cold.
"Take this little one. Wash him clean. Dress him in new robes. And enhance the doors of his chamber with binding runes, he is not to leave."
Yunna blinked once, gaze dropping to the small, scarred boy in Helga's arms.
"Madam Helga… such caution for a child? And one so… handicapped?"
She did not voice the full question, but the implication hung in the air. Helga merely smiled serene, unyielding.
"Do as I command."
Yunna inclined her head and stepped forward. With surprising gentleness she lifted my body from Helga's grasp and carried me into the mansion's shadowed halls. Her expression remained composed, yet the moment they passed beyond sight of the mistress, her lips thinned.
"Why must Madam burden me with such filth?" she muttered under her breath.
Without ceremony she carried me to the bathing chamber and threw me into a massive copper barrel filled with steaming water infused with cleansing herbs.
The shock of heat and sudden submersion ripped me from unconsciousness.
"Anki!"
Panic surged through me. I could not feel the familiar weight of the bracelet on my wrist, the cool coils that had become my eyes.
I exploded out of the barrel in a spray of water, claws extended, fingernails sharpened by instinct , lunging blindly toward the source of the aura.
"Where is my sword?!"
Yunna's eyes widened fractionally.
"Ah… now I see why Madam is interested."
Without hesitation she unleashed her Silver-rank aura, sharp, oppressive, pressing me down like winter steel. Yet I did not falter. Instead I charged in.
She seized an empty bucket and swung it in a vicious arc toward my head.
My heightened senses screamed warning. I threw up both forearms to intercept . The impact rang like struck iron; I staggered back several paces.
Unbeknown to me, a bar of slick soap lay behind my heel.
My foot came down, slipped.
Mid-air, time seemed to slow.
"Have I been cursed in this life to suffer?" I thought wryly.
My skull cracked against the stone floor.
Darkness claimed me once more.
When I awoken, pain throbbed behind my my head, and a dull ache pulsing behind my sockets. I tried to rise, only to discover thick ropes binding my wrists and ankles to the four posts of a wide bed. The cords were not ordinary; they thrummed with suppressing aura sapping my strength with every twitch.
"Child, you need to calm down."
The voice came from beside the bed, familiar, gentle, yet laced with unshakable authority.
I turned my head toward the violent swirl of energy that marked her presence.
"It's you again!"
"Let me go this instant!"
I thrashed against the bindings but it was useless. Each struggle only drained me faster, leaving me gasping for air.
"Damn the one who tied these ropes…" he cursed inwardly.
"Struggling is futile," she said calmly. "Those cords were woven by the monks of the Demon Fist Academy. The more you resist, the more aura they devour from your body."
I forced my breathing to steady.
"Who are you? And where is my sword?"
A soft rustle of silk as she sat on the edge of the bed. Her aura brushed against him,deep, cold, fathomless.
"Oh… where are my manners?"
She spoke with the serene courtesy of one who held absolute power.
"My name is Helga. The Seventh Demon Commander of Fortsterling."
The words struck like a spear through ice. My heart hammered against my ribs.
"I've been captured by demons…" I thought, panic rising sharp and bright.
"Where is my sword? Give me my sword!"
My voice cracked with raw demand.
Helga did not grow angry. Instead her tone deepened, edged with quiet menace.
"Child… I know you are not truly afraid of me. Not yet. But trust me, I can give you reason to be."
Her aura shifted, turning devilish, vicious, coiling like black smoke around my throat. The air grew heavy with the scent of iron and brimstone. For the first time I truly understood: one wrong word, one tantrum too far, and she would end me without hesitation.
"Little one," she continued softly, "I have already placed a Blood Centipede within your chest. Believe me when I say you do not wish to learn what happens should I slay its queen."
She extended her hand. A golden mote of energy flickered above her palm, tiny, beautiful, deadly.
I went still.
"I know you are blind," Helga murmured, leaning closer, "yet you act as though you possess perfect control at every moment. It fascinates me."
She placed her palm flat against my chest. Cold sweat broke across my skin.
"I traced the source of that confidence to one simple truth."
Her voice dropped to a velvet whisper.
"You can perceive the flow of mana… or, if I may be more precise, the flow of life itself."
My breath caught.
Now it was not only the sword i feared for.
I feared for my ife.
Helga's smile widened, beautiful, terrifying, utterly possessive.
"Little one… from this day forward, you are all mine."