Chapter Twenty-Four: Dispelling the Darkness

The air was thick with the stench of sludge, seeping silently into Carlos’s nostrils and instantly transforming into a pungent, metallic tang. The crimson mark of the Winter Moon on his forehead throbbed violently, reacting to the dark aura unique to demonic arts that drifted through the air, madly agitating the mark’s senses.

Within his body, his blood seemed to react to the environment as well, growing from warmth to a fevered boil, pulsating and swelling in his veins in relentless waves.

“What is this?”

Carlos’s face was deathly pale, his gaze quivering, his voice hoarse. As soon as he spoke, a sweet taste filled his throat, and a mouthful of blood spattered from his lips.

Tarik Enzo’s mouth curled into a mocking grin, baring two neat rows of white teeth as he sniffed the air with his nose thrust forward, the hollow gleam in his eyes betraying an almost feverish excitement.

Enzo let out a strange laugh. “This is bloodline—the pure blood of the Summer Moon.”

Summer Moon, my foot, Carlos fumed inwardly. I’m the heir of the Winter Moon lineage, not some damn Summer Moon.

He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth, cursing silently.

The little witch, Meru Elindale, crouched on the ground. Carlos’s blood had stained the hem of her dress. Her hair was disheveled, her face pale, but her large bright eyes stared in wonder at the faint red mark on Carlos’s forehead.

She trembled as she lifted her head, her face filled with terror. “Ah! Are you of demonic blood?”

Carlos glared at the girl. “Don’t compare me to filthy mud-dwellers. I’m no demon-spawn. I have inherited the purest Winter Moon bloodline.”

“That’s impossible. No one can inherit the blood of two of the Seasonal Old Gods,” Meru Elindale exclaimed, seemingly deaf to Carlos’s protest, her eyes wide with amazement.

As a witch, she was certain of what the scent of this blood meant.

Carlos fixed her with a cold stare, correcting her. “What Seasonal Old Gods? What Summer Moon? I have no idea what you’re talking about. Let me repeat myself: I am Carlos Stevenson of the Winter Moon, and I carry only the Winter Moon legacy of the Stevenson family.”

Enzo’s gaze was deep and focused, his mouth opening and closing as he revealed an expression of sudden understanding. “My poor guest, it seems you truly don’t know that you carry the Summer Moon within you. You have inherited two of the bloodlines of the Seasonal Old Gods. Though I don’t know how such an anomaly as you could have come to be, the Summer Moon is the purest bloodline among the demons. With such noble blood, if you follow me back to the Abyss, undergo the demonic baptism, and become a Child of the Abyss, you will be honored as never before. For instance, this lovely and adorable little witch will pledge her eternal loyalty to you, and I believe she would be more than willing to offer you everything.”

Meru Elindale’s cheeks flushed, and she looked awkward and conflicted. She glanced at Carlos, who stood with his head bowed and face shadowed, and stammered, “Meru Elindale is willing to offer herself to the noble Child of the Abyss…”

But as she spoke, she saw Carlos slowly lift his head, his gaze as cold and sharp as a blade raking across her, and she fell silent in fear.

Carlos bit out each word, his voice tense with defiance: “As a human, I will never have anything to do with the demons of the underworld—not even the slightest connection. I would rather die!”

He stood straight as a board, rigid and unyielding, a chilling gleam flashing from his eyes—not the eyes of a man, but of a beast lurking in darkness.

Tarik Enzo was not angered by Carlos’s words. Instead, he spoke with the gentleness of a man admiring a beauty who had captured his heart.

“Young man, I forgive your blasphemous words against the great demons, for in your current state, you are clearly consumed by an endless desire for the dark aura. Your body is desperate to absorb the shadowy essence from the forbidden demonic arts, isn’t it? Child of the Abyss, face your desires! Do not deceive yourself!”

Carlos’s lips were pressed tight, blood seeping from his mouth again. He wanted to refute Enzo, but reason told him that his body truly was filled with a possessive hunger for the very aura he should have despised.

He struggled desperately for control, silently screaming for calm—this had to be a demon’s trap.

It is always hardest to take the first step toward corruption. Once one has tasted its sweetness, the darkness within is all too eager to take over.

That was Carlos now. Once the heavy metallic scent drifted silently into his body and dissolved within him, he could no longer resist the desire rising inside.

Gradually, he closed his eyes, surrendering the defenses of nose and mouth. Small breaths at first, then larger gulps, he began to draw in the dark aura from the air.

Though his mind protested, his body was no longer his to command.

At the same time, his forehead burned fiercely, the foul air fusing with his blood, turning its warmth to scalding magma. Yet the Winter Moon mark on his brow suddenly released a chill, cold clashing with hot, leaving his already frail body in turmoil.

Thankfully, the sensation did not last long.

A pure, radiant aura flooded into him, instantly sweeping away the darkness.

Carlos sensed the change in the air, and his scarlet eyes flew open. He turned toward the source of the light behind him.

The light came from a golden hammer, held aloft by a figure just four feet tall.

A short figure, with a balloon-like belly and two long, whip-like mustaches dangling from his ruddy cheeks, had broken through the demonic enchantment shrouded in sludge and appeared at the door of the Witch’s Chamber.

Bundled in leather, his stature unimposing, the dwarven man stood in the doorway with a weary gaze—but it lent him an overwhelming presence.

In a flash, the thick sludge receded like a tide before its nemesis.

“You again—the Radiant Knight!” Carlos exclaimed in surprise as Tarik Enzo’s face darkened and he cried out in alarm.

The dwarven knight softly recited an ancient verse that spread through the room: “Dispel the mire, drive away the darkness—holy light endures forever.”

“Carlos, you’re really here—come out quickly!” called a familiar girl’s voice. It was the slender elven maiden Vivienne, standing behind the dwarf and speaking in her sweet tone.

“I saw the note at your door—I knew it was this wicked witch’s doing. She even colluded with a demon to harm you, but luckily Maclyn was here. He’s a Radiant Knight of the Dwarves, so don’t worry, you’ll be safe. Cook has gone to the basement to fetch Dubuyi—I promise you, Dubuyi won’t let this wicked witch off again!”

Vivienne spoke as she pointed at the dwarf in front of her, holding the glowing golden hammer.

Carlos finally understood, exhaling in relief as he hurriedly warned, “Be careful—this demon is a commander-class.”

The dwarf knight Maclyn’s eyes blazed at Carlos’s words. “Don’t worry, my friend—light will always triumph over darkness!” he declared with confidence.

Carlos glanced at the self-assured dwarf, then turned to look at the motionless figure behind him.

Demon Tarik D. Enzo’s smile had vanished, and the deepening shadows on his face made his hollow eyes seem even more unfathomable.