Chapter 180: Demon
The walk to the North Docks was a blur. The sounds of Selorn City—the evening merchants calling their last sales, the clatter of wagon wheels, the distant laughter from taverns—all of it faded into a dull, distant roar, like the sea muffled by a thick wall of glass.
My world had narrowed to a single, cold point of focus: Warehouse 13.
My rage wasn't hot. It wasn't the explosive, reckless fury of Aiden Stromfang.
It was the cold, absolute, calculating rage of my Ice affinity. It was the predatory certainty of Drakerlor, whose ancient, abyssal power was thrumming in my core, an eager whisper that agreed with my intent.
'Yes… tear them down… feast on their fear…'
I kept the divine weapon sheathed, but its aura bled into mine. I didn't bother with stealth. I didn't stick to the shadows.
I walked straight down the center of the cobbled dock-road, my Academy uniform a stark, clean contrast to the grime of the warehouses.
