The night wind whispered, rustling through the trees as a few leaves fell from their branches. The stillness of the night accompanied Dermentian, Dieora, and Lucia on their journey toward the region of Zordema.
The rattling of carriage wheels echoed against the silence. Somewhere above, an owl hooted from between the branches, its sharp eyes following the horse-drawn carriage that carried the three of them.
"Just how insane is that place, really?" Dieora whispered, her voice low.
"They're insane," Lucia replied, shifting her gaze from the moon to Dieora. "From the elders to the children, everyone there practices dark magic."
Her tone was serious enough to make Dieora swallow nervously.
"They live normal lives," Lucia continued, resting her chin on her hand, "but the magical energy rooted within them… that's what isn't normal."
Dieora glanced at Dermentian, who was reading a newspaper, hoping for an answer that Lucia had left hanging.
"Exactly as Lucia said," Dermentian muttered, flipping a page. "They're all dark magic users. Their way of life has existed for a thousand years and still persists today."
"But they never bother anyone outside their own region. That's why neither we nor the kingdom can simply drive them out," he added, turning another page.
The carriage rattled on, occasionally shaking as it rolled over scattered pebbles. Dermentian wasn't reading the newspaper for leisure—it contained vital information about the region they were heading toward.
Every major event in Zordema was recorded by an unknown informant. None of the locals knew about it, since they had cut themselves off completely from the outside world.
"Can you use magic?" Dermentian suddenly asked, glancing briefly at Dieora.
"I'm not sure," she answered, "but I can fight."
"That's good enough." Dermentian adjusted his glasses. "Just in case… we might be in for a surprise."
The driver at the front yawned, struggling against sleep. After twenty minutes, the carriage finally came to a halt before the gates of Zordema.
No guards. No voices. Just silence—like an abandoned land. Dermentian frowned. Even though this region rarely welcomed visitors, it shouldn't have neglected its front defenses entirely.
"Stay alert," he murmured, extending his hand behind him in a signal to take defensive positions.
He snapped his fingers.
"Alberish."
The sound spread outward, echoing faintly, feeding information straight into Dermentian's mind.
Empty.
At least for thirty meters ahead, there was no one.
He motioned with two fingers to move forward. Lucia and Dieora nodded in understanding.
They sprinted toward the gates. Dermentian's eyes darted from side to side. Even knowing the area ahead was clear, he didn't lower his guard.
He leapt effortlessly over the ten-foot iron gate. Lucia reached out her hand, and Dieora grasped it, the two jumped together, landing softly beside him.
Dermentian had been right. The place was empty—eerily empty.
They slowed their pace, walking cautiously, observing every corner.
The air was unnaturally still, as if life itself had never existed here.
"Where is everyone?" Dieora asked, glancing at Dermentian in confusion.
"I'm not sure," he replied, narrowing his eyes at a particular house. "But something's definitely not right."
Among all the darkened buildings, only one house glowed faintly with light. Dermentian decided to start there.
Before stepping inside, he slipped on his black gloves—precautions against any traces of poison or cursed residue that might linger.
Blood stains marked the floor. Dermentian adjusted his glasses and crouched down to examine them closely.
Meanwhile, Lucia and Dieora explored the surroundings. A family photograph hung neatly on the wall—so ordinary, it felt out of place in such an abnormal place.
A lizard crawled lazily across cracked walls, and a rat darted by.
Dieora noticed a white sheet of paper on top of a drawer and reached for it—but Dermentian's sharp voice stopped him instantly.
"Don't touch anything," he warned, startling him into pulling his hand back.
"We don't know whether these objects are infused with dark magic. Best not to risk it."
Dermentian picked up the paper himself. The writing was strange—disjointed, abstract, and difficult to comprehend.
But one word stood out clearly, a Demon
Written in an ancient tongue—one Dermentian recognized from his studies in the Luiotra Academy's archives.
"Demon…" he muttered softly, placing the paper back down.
"It seems they've returned. The demons—most likely, they're here."
He pulled a small torn piece of newspaper from his coat pocket—the same one he'd been reading earlier.
It mentioned that the cult of Zordema would hold rituals only during lunar eclipses. Yet tonight, no eclipse hung in the sky.
And the town's suffocating silence only made the mystery more disturbing. The only clue left to them was that single word, demon.
From where they stood, Dermentian could see the old tower in the distance—their intended destination.
"We need to get there. The sooner, the better," he said, breaking into a sprint.
Lucia and Dieora followed, matching his pace as they raced through the desolate streets.
House after house passed by, but there was still no sign of life.
It was too quiet.
Then, suddenly they saw her.
A little girl walking alone in the middle of the empty road. She looked no older than five—four years younger than Lucia and Dieora.
Dermentian immediately pulled the two into cover. His eyes tracked the child carefully. This could be a trap. Whether human or demon, he couldn't afford to be careless.
The girl sobbed softly, covering her face with one hand as she walked barefoot down the cold path.
Lucia was about to approach her, but Dermentian stopped her again.
"Let's observe first," he said quietly, his gaze never leaving the child.
The girl's sobs echoed faintly. Her eyes darted left and right, searching—pleading—for someone to help her.
Then, in a sudden shift of air, Dermentian sensed something fast approaching straight toward the child.
Closer. Closer...
In an instant, a demon appeared, baring its claws and fangs, lunging at the little girl.
Dermentian moved.
He vanished from sight, leaving only a gust of wind behind. Lucia and Dieora shielded their faces as the sudden blast of air swept past them.
Before the demon could strike, Dermentian's glowing eyes appeared before it. He caught its head and slammed it into the ground with bone-crushing force.
The demon's claws clawed desperately at his arm, trying to break free.
The little girl froze, her tears halted by shock and confusion.
"Where's your Your flock?" Dermentian growled, his voice low and gravelly.
The demon snarled but said nothing. Dermentian lifted his hand and struck its face hard.
"I'll ask again, where's your flock?"
"And what do I gain by telling you that, huh?" it spat, coughing up blood.
"Then die."
Flames ignited around Dermentian's clenched fist. He swung once—
A deafening crack echoed through the ground as the demon's body exploded into ash and charred remains.
Lucia and Dieora stood frozen, awestruck. His speed was beyond comprehension. It was the first time Dieora had ever seen anyone move that fast.
"Are you all right, little one?" Dermentian asked softly. "Where are your parents? Why are you alone here?"
"M–my parents… they're at the Pentaur Lyee," she whispered, her voice trembling. "The demons… they're holding them."
"Lucia, Dieora," Dermentian said, his tone turning firm, "we're heading there next. Get ready to fight."
Both nodded with resolve, their eyes fierce.
"Let's finish this."