Chapter 12 : The Devil's Footsteps in Blood
The sound of children crying and mothers screaming echoed across the southern plains of the palace. Emergency tents had sprouted outside the main gates, guarded by fully armed soldiers—but there was no peace in their eyes. A black mist still lingered in the sky, even though the sun had risen. Demon magic left no visible scars, yet it could be felt with every breath taken by the people.
Nanea, Xebec's younger sister, stood among the rows of survivors. She stared at the bodies growing weaker without a single physical wound—victims of dark magic that drained the soul. A small child lay limp in her arms, eyes rolled back, body cold.
"This… isn't an ordinary wound," she murmured, pressing her palm against the child's chest. A soft blue glow spread from her fingertips, enveloping the child. In an instant, the dark magic unraveled like morning mist forced away by sunlight.
"It worked," she whispered, then stood. "I can't just wait in the palace anymore."
In the distance, Grand Duke Theral stood behind a luxurious carriage, speaking with Duke Malefic beneath an ancient tree.
"The demon attack has thrown the people into panic," said Duke Malefic. "It's the perfect time to weaken the king's authority."
"The people need protection, and we'll be the ones to offer it… History will remember us as the saviors," Theral replied with a sly smile.
They had already spread propaganda among the minor nobles—that Prince Xebec had failed to protect the capital, and the king—now old and frail—was incapable of confronting the darkness. But they didn't know that inside the palace, the king had already taken matters into his own hands.
King Phillipe, father to Xebec and Nanea, stood in his weathered white robes. His body was frail, but his eyes still burned like a hawk's.
"Ready the strategy hall. I will summon the remaining generals and lead them myself."
But even as he walked, his hands trembled. Each time he raised his command staff, his breath hitched. His life force had been slowly fading since Baal's first attack.
"Father," came a gentle voice. It was Nanea.
"You should be somewhere safe, my child."
Nanea shook her head. "I've healed two victims of dark magic. I can be more than just a protector."
The king looked at his daughter. Her face reminded him of the late queen. He nodded with pride, though his heart was being slowly consumed by time.
"Tell Xebec... if my time is up, the crown is not just a burden, but a choice—to keep the light alive."
And elsewhere in the palace halls, a nobleman on horseback rushed in with a report:
> "Your Majesty! A village to the south… completely destroyed. Demon forces are settling there! They're building a permanent magic circle!"
The war had changed its face.
And behind the refugee tents, Nanea raised her sword for the first time before the small troop of survivors she had gathered. Her voice wasn't loud, but it was enough to shake hearts:
> "If we wait for the prince and king alone… we'll die slowly. I, Nanea von Phillipe, will move. Who's with me?"
Half the young troop knelt at once.
And from afar… the eyes of one of Duke Malefic's spies watched it all unfold.
> "The flower of the kingdom has begun to bloom. Perhaps even more dangerous than the prince…"
---
The twilight sky cracked with red streaks—not from the setting sun, but from the lingering magic that burned across the horizon. The shadows of demon troops began to gather in the southwest, around the ruins of the village of Varneth, destroyed just a day before.
Nanea tightened her armguard straps and walked among her small force—young villagers, a few refugee survivors, and two former knights who had refused to return to the palace. One of them, an old man with a gray beard named Ser Calven, looked up at the sky.
> "Their magic circle isn't complete yet. We can destroy it before nightfall."
Nanea nodded. "If we wait, Baal's strength will grow. We must disrupt their ritual."
Meanwhile, elsewhere in the kingdom, Xebec's group—along with Astrid and Aelra—had arrived at the Vathros Highlands, the final stretch before returning to the capital. As they set up camp, a messenger hawk landed on Aelra's arm. The message was from Nanea, written in her signature blue ink:
> "I'm heading south. Varneth is in danger. Father grows weaker. They need you, Brother."
Xebec clenched his hand. He looked east—toward the capital. Then his gaze shifted to Astrid, who was sitting by the campfire, teasing a weary Aelra.
"You can sleep in my satchel if you really can't go on," Astrid joked, wrapping her shawl around Aelra's shoulders.
"Then allow me, Lady Astrid, to nap with a will in hand," Aelra replied sleepily.
Xebec chuckled softly and sat beside Astrid. The firelight flickered in his eyes.
> "I have to return immediately. Nanea is moving on her own. The palace is under attack. Father… might be in danger."
Astrid looked at him for a long moment, then nodded. Her voice was softer than usual.
> "I'll come with you."
> "This isn't a royal order, Astrid."
> "No. But I've already chosen your path—not just the throne. Besides, someone has to yank your collar if you start acting foolish."
Xebec turned quickly, partly from surprise, partly because… his heart fluttered. Once again, he realized: beneath Astrid's sharp tongue and sarcasm, lay unmatched courage.
That night, they didn't sleep. Xebec sharpened his blade, training until his aura glowed bright blue at the tip of his sword. Aelra reinforced defensive wards, while Astrid sat quietly—writing something in her small journal.
---
Meanwhile, in Varneth…
Nanea and her force arrived at a rocky hill overlooking the village—now transformed into a massive ritual circle glowing blood red. Dozens of humanoid demons stood in formation—wielding staffs, ritual daggers, and spears cloaked in Baal's magic.
Ser Calven whispered, "If we destroy the main pillar of that circle, their ceremony will fail."
Nanea stared at the black pillar at the village center, guarded by two winged demons and a figure shaped like a man, but without a face—only a thick fog obscured its head.
> "That's… the Sealbearer," Calven whispered. "One of Baal's intermediaries."
Nanea inhaled deeply, then raised her sword high. A blue aura pulsed from it, purer and warmer than Xebec's.
> "For the wounded. For those without a protector. Attack!"
The small force charged down the hill. Arrows flew. Magic exploded mid-air. And the kingdom's sweet flower had now become a spear piercing the darkness.
Dust rose high as the ground around the ritual pillar split apart. The clash between Xebec and the Sealbearer thickened the air—almost as if time itself held its breath.
The Sealbearer moved swiftly with four arms, each wielding magical weapons and cursed daggers. Baal's aura surrounded its body, forming a dark shield that devoured light.
But Xebec had pushed beyond his limits. The blue aura from his blade radiated not just power—but unshakable resolve.
> "I'm not just a prince," Xebec hissed through his teeth. "I am the last fortress of my people."
With a roar, he channeled his full power into the blade. His aura surged, forming a transparent blue dragon circling around him. In a blur of speed, he struck from three directions at once—his afterimage hanging in the air.
The Sealbearer dodged—but one slash severed its main arm. Its scream echoed like two beasts crying at once. It tried to flee into the shadows, but Astrid had already prepared a blood snare—freezing it in place.
> "You will not touch my people again."
With a final slash, Xebec cleaved the Sealbearer in two. The demonic aura evaporated into the sky, and the ritual pillar shattered.
For a moment, silence enveloped the village of Varneth. Only the sound of crackling fire and the choked sobs of the survivors remained. Nanea approached slowly, her face pale.
> "We… won?"
> "For now," Xebec replied, staring at the ruins and the fallen.
Behind them, Aelra knelt and chanted a spell to purify the land tainted by dark magic. Astrid walked slowly, gazing at the bodies of children and women who hadn't survived the demon attack.
> "This victory… tastes bitter."
Xebec remained silent. His remaining hand clenched.
> "If I'd come sooner… they wouldn't have died."
Nanea gently held her brother's hand. "You came, Brother. That already saved more lives than we know."
That night, they set up an emergency camp on the village outskirts. Fires burned, soldiers gathered, and food from the palace was shared with the people.
In the distance, the wind carried whispers—of magic and warnings.
And beyond the mountains, in the ruins of a nearly forgotten temple, a massive eye opened. The earth cracked, and a deep voice echoed:
> "Child of man… Baal's blood has already spilled upon this land. And your time is nearly up, Xebec von Phillipe."
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To be Continued