Elizabeth and Louis were trapped inside the church, which the demoness had shielded. Meanwhile, William stood alone in the courtyard, shrouded in dark mist and facing a terrifying figure: a Wrath-Level Demon.
William heard a faint voice from behind the church wall, which was beginning to grow magical roots.
"Don't worry too much about him," Louis said in a low, almost mumbled voice, as if trying to calm himself. "Even though he's just an orphan and not a Sentinel, I saw that he was quite strong when I fought you—even though it was a misunderstanding. He knows how to take care of himself."
William held his breath. That voice... They still thought of him as if he hadn't changed.
"I'm just worried," Elizabeth said. Her voice trembled and faltered. "I don't know why, but I got carried away. Because I couldn't save Morgan. And he..."
The words hung in the air. There was silence, as if an old wound had reopened.
"He's gone. I miss him, too."
Louis's voice was softer this time.
William closed his eyes for a moment. Morgan. The name still echoed within them. His old name. But he was no longer Morgan—he had transcended that. He was not human. He was something else now.
Yet, even grief couldn't erase the lingering tension. The church had become a war room, a sanctuary turned trap. Inside, Elizabeth and Louis fought the remaining remnants of the Bride Demon.
As for William...
He stared at the figure before him.
The gray-hooded demoness stirred. The long staff in her hand vibrated as if it were alive, and balls of purple energy exploded toward him. The blast of magic struck the ground, shattering the ancient church's stones.
William moved quickly, leaping lightly to the side and slipping into the small garden behind the church. Dry branches rustled as he passed, but his steps remained silent.
Like a hunter scenting its prey, the demoness pursued him. She didn't hold back. A large ball of purple energy emerged from her staff, pulsing like a living heart, and shot straight at William.
But William didn't dodge.
He stood tall with one arm outstretched.
The impact should have shattered her. Instead, the energy stopped right in her palm and shattered into tiny flakes.
Finally, the demoness stopped advancing. She reached for the gray hood covering her head and slowly lowered it.
Her face was revealed.
Her skin was white, but not like human porcelain; it was like lifeless wax. Her lips were a deep purple, and her emotionless eyes were surrounded by black lines that emphasized her fallen aura. Her long, snow-white hair was adorned with a small, dark jewel-studded crown that was unbecoming yet elegant.
Her shabby wedding dress still exuded an aura of long-buried aristocracy.
William studied her face without fear.
He knew who stood before him.
All the names buried in the annals of magic and darkness, all the information he had ever absorbed, spun clearly in his mind. There was no mistake. That face...that name...
"I know it's you, Velmire," William said. His voice was flat. Cold.
There was no fear. Only certainty.
Velmire.
[Name: Velmire]
[Status: Demon]
[Tier: Wrath]
[Order Number: 5]
[Type: Mage]
A Wrath-level demon. One of the cursed entities that destroyed a noble family in the past. Her power is derived from humanity's deepest emotions: rage and despair.
William spoke her name without hesitation: "Velmire."
"Velmire."
Silence greeted his words.
The demoness, who had been so brutal and ferocious, suddenly froze. Her movements halted. It was as if William's voice had pierced something that should have remained buried—a memory or a name that should never be spoken.
"You..." Velmire muttered, her voice low, but her eyes began to burn. "What did you call me?"
Her tone changed drastically; now, it was a roar of rage. "How dare you say my name! Do you thirst for death, human?!
A dark aura radiated from her body like a storm. The wind from her magic blew hard, tossing William's ponytail. But William didn't flinch. His gaze remained calm, cold, and sharp.
He didn't answer.
He just stared, observing as if he understood everything already.
Velmire laughed—loud and shrill, like cracking glass. It was a laugh containing mockery, satisfaction, and centuries of festering hatred.
"Humans are weak!" she shouted. "So easily deceived by desire, envy, and anger! They sell their souls for trivial things. And I...I merely fulfill their desires."
She walked slowly toward William, her staff digging into the cracked, rocky ground. "Don't think I started it all. It was the humans themselves who sought their own downfall."
William still didn't answer.
"Including you, damned human. You dare challenge me? Not even those two Sentinels could stop me. I've slaughtered hundreds, and my power grows with every drop of human blood!"
That statement was no empty boast.
Velmire was a Wrath-level demon, which is one level above Destruction. His subordinate demons, the corpse brides, were at the Cruelty level.
As the world knew, demons' power grew from the poison of human emotions. The more provocation, deception, anger, and sorrow, the stronger they became. But the quickest way? Slaughter. The altar of human blood.
That was Velmire's path.
She had blended in among humans for decades by using a disguised aura to evade the Sentinels' radar. However, concealing a dark aura wasn't something demons could easily do. Not everyone could do it. Even the strongest could only obscure it, not eliminate it.
Unfortunately, she had mistaken William for a mere human.
A fatal mistake.
Had she known who William truly was, she might have thought twice before starting this war.
"I will make you my one hundred and third sacrifice!" Velmire shouted, his eyes burning. "After that, I will surpass my limits. I will become invincible!"
She spread his arms, laughing loudly and triumphantly.
However, William's laughter cut through the air.
It was a low, piercing laugh. Not one of fear. But of mockery.
"You should know who you're insulting," said William, his voice calm yet sharp as a dagger.
Velmire stopped laughing. His eyes narrowed.
"Hm?! Quite bold for a human. You're seeking death with your own mouth."
In a rage, she slammed her staff into the ground.
The ground rumbled. Tendrils of the cursed plant shot toward William from within the burnt-black cracks, twisting like venomous snakes, ready to tear him apart.