The sound of fire burning filled the clearing but it wasn't aggressive or hot. It flowed instead, smooth and gentle, like a slow breath.
Light-green flames bloomed from Doctor Angelo's hands and drifted into Ellie's wounds. The healing wasn't instant, yet anyone watching could see the difference. Torn flesh knitted together. Blood stopped flowing.
I went further.
My crimson eyes pierced past the skin and I could see the cells realigning albeit very slowly. Hairline fractures in bone sealed as if they had never existed.
My praise and admiration for Angelo rose.
He might truly be one of the most gifted healers I had ever seen.
'Healing magic… but not the holy kind. It burns the wounds but it doesn't really burn. It's soft, yet firm. Precise yet kind.'
When Ellie was done, Angelo turned to Corre. The same light-green fire transferred into his body, burning injuries away without leaving scars behind.
Moments later, the flames faded.
Angelo wiped sweat from his brow. His breathing remained steady, but the strain behind it was unmistakable. Healing two people with serious injuries and in succession clearly took a toll on the old man.
Corre rolled his shoulder once. Then again.
"…Impressive. As always," he muttered.
Angelo smiled faintly. "You give me too much credit. I only did what I could."
Corre nodded, then—slowly—his gaze shifted and discreetly landed on me.
I felt it immediately.
'Sigh, he's still bothered about that? Just forget me.' I thought as I ignored his gaze and stood straight, posture relaxed, eyes calm. The truth was that Corre might not be the strongest here, but his mind was probably the firmest. The fact that he was the first one to wake up when the sleeping miasma hit proved that. But I was different.
Corre's eyes narrowed slightly.
When I finally looked back, he was still staring as if he'd wished for it. Thus, I dipped my head in a small, polite bow and my lips upturned a little.
'Am I overthinking this?' Corre thought to himself as he smiled back although in delay.
He scoffed inwardly.
'No matter how much I look at him, he's just a normal teenager and he wasn't any help earlier too.'
Unfortunately, one of the knights hadn't survived the ambush. The bandits weren't exactly normal after all. They were able to use mana and had insane skills to boot. Even Angelo couldn't heal the dead.
It wasn't my first time seeing the dead I had seen death countless times. Had caused it more times than I cared to remember. Normally, it meant nothing to me.
Yet as I watched the knights and adventurers bury their fallen comrade, I realized my expression weren't the usual expressionless face. It hasn't been for a while.
"Leo… why did you have to go?" a younger knight sobbed. "If not for me, you'd still be alive…"
Then I noticed that the dead knight was on the older side, probably almost 40 years of age. That knight was the weakest out of everyone there, except the three coachmen. Wasn't it obvious he would die?
Still, I understood the grief and why the atmosphere among the knights were heavy. The reason why I could understand? My gaze turned to my right hand. I could only think of the ring I was wearing as the reason.
"Do you get why they're crying?" Zayn asked quietly, standing by my side.
'What a strange question to ask. What does this boy think of me? But I understand where he is coming from.'
"Do you?" I replied back. Not just as small talk, but a genuine question. Out of curiosity. Even compared to demons I had always lacked emotions, but now, I can understand people better.
Zayn laughed softly, not loud.
"You really put that ring on without knowing what it was?" he said. "You must have noticed by now."
I stayed silent, but indeed, I now had noticed the changes.
"There's a reason it was sealed so deeply and guarded by the Demon King," Zayn continued. "It doesn't just mask demonic energy or make demons look human."
He paused.
"My sister once told me this—its creator was a human inventor who fell in love with a demon princess. He made the ring so she could live her dream to live in the human realm and to do so without fear… but also so she could feel his deep love for her as deeply as he did."
I listened.
"However, the Demon King, not Valier, his grandfather actually, killed the human in front of the girl. Since then, the rings have been stored in the Citadel's treasury."
I have never heard that story.
Not from my clan elders nor from the Demon King Valier. But I have never intrigued myself with such stories anyway nor was I interested about whoever's bloodline.
But I looked at the ring once more.
I chuckled slowly.
The confirmation surprised me more than the feeling itself as my gaze shifted to the mound of dirt marked with stones.
Before sunrise, the carriages moved again. At dawn, we left the cliffs behind and returned to flatlands dotted with grass and sparse trees.
Inside the first carriage, the adventurers had returned to their usual selves. Corre spoke with the knights, discussing routes and threats. Jane and Ellie chatted endlessly—mostly about trivial things. The young archer Mike was clearly the silent one, and was the younger brother in the group.
Zayn, on the other hand, talked to everyone.
Zayn conversed with the old man healer a lot and even the coachman and was even popular with the knights. He took the liberty of moving from carriage to carriage and was talking to people a lot during breaks, even when they were peeing, and I cannot understand but they seemed to enjoy his presence.
He also loved playing cards with the knights and seemed to have great luck or probably just skill.
I was fairly certain he could survive in the human realm even without me, but he made sure to keep saying to me to never leave him or forget him.
Two days later, the horse carriages saw a city. The sky turned overcast gray and the last traces of light clung to the horizon.
It was the last city before the borders of the Jian Dukedom—the same territory the knights hailed from. Thankfully, we encountered no more bandits along the way. There were monsters, yes, but only goblins foolish enough to attack a convoy like ours.
During the journey, Zayn and I learned more about Doctor Angelo. He was one of the four royal doctors of the Jian Dukedom, dispatched under the king's authority and escorted by the knights. The adventurers and coachmen were all paid directly by the crown.
Time passed.
Soon, evening came. The sky had darkened into a dark hull with grey overcast and light soon emerged like stars in a certain area of the territory.
Then—
"We're here!" the coachman soon yelled, waking up some people.
Heads leaned out from the carriages at once.
About a thousand meters ahead lay a small town. At first glance, it appeared untouched—no scorch marks, no collapsed buildings. A collective sense of relief passed through the group.
Then we noticed it.
The gates were wide open.
Unguarded.
As we entered, the only sound was the gushing of water below the castle and the creaking of wheels and the weight of the carriages pressing against the wooden planks.
The town was empty.
There were no residents. No movement. Buildings stood intact but hollow, like abandoned shells.
My gaze lifted toward the castle.
I could sense hundreds of humans inside. Or rather, human bodies. Demonic energy seeped from every corner of the structure, thick and suffocating, growing stronger the higher it rose—peaking at the very top.
'This town is infested with demons,' I realized. 'And there is a demon lord here.'