Chapter 32

Deciding he had done enough, Dumaine withdrew his hand from the boy’s forehead. A vile grin stretched across his lips as he examined the child more closely.

The boy looked to be around fifteen. Hard to tell while he lay flat, but his build was ordinary. And his face—when Dumaine studied it in detail—was striking only in how unremarkable it was. Eyes, nose, mouth, ears… all plain. So plain that Dumaine almost marveled at how a face could be so completely devoid of distinction.

“Kuek. This plain little brat will soon become a demon. Kukuku!”

When the boy regained consciousness, Dumaine intended to flood his body with ruinous energy. He would mold him into something strong—an unfeeling killer who would slaughter whenever boredom struck. That way, the boy would serve perfectly as a toy. And if, by some misfortune, the toy died, then Dumaine would simply turn the killer into his next toy. The game would repeat endlessly.

“Ugh…”

Time passed, and when the gray aura swirling through his body finally dispersed, the boy groaned. His eyelids fluttered open, eyes darting around though he was still too dazed to move.

Shapes loomed at the edge of his vision, vague silhouettes. Something was in front of him that looked like a man’s face, but it was blurred, like waking from a dream. He rubbed his eyes with his fingers, trying to clear them.

“Ah…?”

When he opened them again, his hazy sight resolved into the figure of a man—and he let out a confused sound.

It was an exceptionally handsome man at first glance. But to the boy, beauty or ugliness made no difference. Because what he saw before him was a demon.

Memories stabbed back: hiding in a wardrobe, that terrifying smile, a sword raised high above him.

Most of all—those eyes.

Gray eyes. Branded so deeply into his mind that they would never fade. To him, those eyes were fear itself.

And now, staring wide-eyed, he saw them again—right before him.

The boy couldn’t even wonder if he had died earlier, nor question why he was here now. Terror consumed all reason.

Dumaine’s gray pupils filled him with absolute dread. The fear clung to him, devouring his thoughts until he could no longer sense anything else.

It left him with only one response: a scream.

“UWAAAAAAHHH!!”

Eyes wide, the boy bolted upright as if struck by lightning, stumbling backward in a blind panic. His breath came in ragged gasps as he tried to focus on the figure before him.

The demon with gray eyes stood there, sword in hand, wearing that same dreadful smile.

Terrified that the demon would strike him down again, the boy kept retreating, step after frantic step. But Dumaine only stood there, grinning still, without making a move.

Splosh.

The boy’s frantic hands pressed against the ground as he scrambled backward, landing in a shallow puddle. But the water beneath his palms was warm.

Soon, the sharp tang of blood stung his nose.

He raised both hands and stared at them.

Drip… drip…

His palms were already drenched in red, blood trailing down the backs of his hands in slow drops.

“Uh… uh… uhh…”

Broken sounds leaked from his lips, his wide eyes losing all strength. Even so, perhaps by instinct, he used his bloodstained hands to inch himself further back.

But the sight around him offered no chance to regain composure.

“Kruk! Yes, I love that look of trembling fear. Kukuku!”

Dumaine chuckled as he slung his sword over his back and walked toward the boy. Yet the boy didn’t even seem to see him coming. He only kept whimpering and retreating, hands and feet weakly clawing at the ground.

[How many now?]

Amid his enjoyment, a voice echoed inside Dumaine’s mind—the will of the Sword of Ruin, Pahshaz.

How many, it asked. Dumaine already knew the answer.

“Kruk. Four hundred sixty-nine. Even counting numbers can be amusing, kukuku!”

Four hundred sixty-nine. Not just a number. It was the total count of all those he had slain across three villages.

Around the settlement, countless crows already filled the sky, blackening the air. The ground itself was covered—though not by crows alone, but by the dozens of corpses they feasted on.

Caw—caw—

Their cries echoed through the air, eerie and unrelenting, mingling with the stench of blood that drowned the village.

Then—halt!

The boy, who had been shuffling endlessly backward as if nothing could stop him, suddenly froze. Yet his arms and legs kept moving frantically, proving it wasn’t his choice to stop. No matter how he thrashed, he could not push himself away. The terror kept him blind to reality.

“Kruk! Yes… you’ll do nicely.”

Dumaine reached the boy and placed his palm on the child’s forehead once more. As expected, the boy didn’t resist. His limbs only flailed in a useless attempt to retreat.

Wooong—

Gray aura flowed again, circling the boy’s head. This time it didn’t spread through his body. It lingered around his skull, swirling.

Moments later, the aura vanished. The boy’s blurred eyes regained focus. His desperate limbs stilled.

With a flicker of awareness returning, he instinctively looked up.

Their eyes met.

Dumaine’s gray pupils bore down on him as that vile smile split into words.

“Kruk. What’s your name?”

“Ah…”

A hollow sound slipped from the boy’s mouth.

Clip-clop. Clip-clop. The steady beat of hooves rang in my ears.

The stone wall that had been hazy in the distance now loomed in full view. Massive, built of gray stone blocks. Sturdy in appearance, yet flimsy enough to crumble with a single spell.

I brushed aside the useless thought and scanned my surroundings. Trees and rocks receded behind me, while the walls grew closer. Everything pulled away as the wagon advanced, and when I turned my head back, everything else pressed nearer once again.

This was what the Sage had meant by duality. When something drew farther away, it also drew closer; when something came closer, it inevitably receded.

“Wasn’t your daughter supposed to marry soon?”

“Hahaha, yes, she’s already of age.”

“Ah, what a pity. I had half a mind to match her with my boy.”

While I was lost in idle thoughts, I caught the chatter of the merchants riding the same wagon as me. Their voices brimmed with an easy cheer.

“But say, that mercenary up on the carriage… doesn’t his hair seem a bit long?”

The merchant who’d first mentioned the marriage shifted the topic.

“What do you mean, a bit long? That’s downright long, I’d say.”

Another man answered in a hushed whisper, as if afraid to be overheard.

I tuned out their voices and tilted my head skyward. The blue heavens stretched wide, torn with sharp streaks of white cloud. The breeze was cool, adding to the clarity. But then, I spotted a mass of dark clouds. Judging by the wind’s direction, they would pass right over the caravan.

It seemed reaching the next city, Pralet, today would be impossible. We’d likely be forced to camp in the rain.

“Excuse me… what’s your name?”

“Kain.”

I answered shortly to the cautious voice from behind me. The name was enough. Still, I thought about the rain. Monsters always attacked more viciously during storms. The sound of rainfall masked their movements, while in such weather their senses far surpassed those of humans.

“You seem rather young, don’t you? How old are you?”

Again, the voice carried that cautious edge. It was natural—approaching someone who stayed quiet and distant was never easy. All the more so when that someone was a mercenary. Exceptions existed, of course, but not here.

“Twenty.”

In truth, that number differed from my real age by eighty-seven years. I had entered the Demon Realm at ten, lived there until I was a hundred and six, and now faced spring again in the Human Realm. My true age was one hundred and seven.

Looking back, I had lived a long time. Wasted it in abnormal ways, perhaps, but lived nonetheless.

“Ah… I see.”

With that, the merchant fell silent, and the conversation ended there.