Episode 288: Secrets (3)
Damian’s hand instinctively tightened around the hilt of his sword, Dawn’s Edge.
Since his reincarnation, no one had realized that Damian had returned. It was a situation that demanded caution.
“Calm down. I mean you no harm. I don’t even have the power to do so,” the elf said, bowing slightly as if to pick up a pebble from the ground. But his fingers passed right through it.
“An illusion,” Damian muttered.
“Yes, exactly. This form is just a projection to meet you. My real body is in Elvenheim,” the elf explained.
Damian couldn’t help but be impressed. To sense him from such a distance and create such a detailed illusion was beyond ordinary capabilities.
“Who are you, really?” he asked.
“My name is Milene,” the elf replied.
The name sent a shock through Damian. “You can’t be… Milene of the Dreamfire?”
“You know of me,” Milene said, placing a hand over his heart.
“Yes, I am Milene of the Dreamfire, once a member of the Salvation Order.”
Long ago, humans lived lives worse than insects. The continent was not theirs; it was ruled by demons and monstrous creatures. The Salvation Order was formed to change that fate, initially composed solely of humans. But over time, beings from other races joined their ranks, including Milene of the Dreamfire.
“You’re claiming to be Milene?” Damian was skeptical. The Salvation Order was formed a thousand years ago. No elf could live that long.
“It’s natural to doubt,” Milene acknowledged, as if reading Damian’s thoughts. “I bear more responsibilities than other elves, which has allowed me to survive this long.”
The elf before him had the power to create a precise illusion from the distant Elvenheim. With such abilities, living a thousand years didn’t seem impossible.
“How did you know I’ve turned back time?” Damian asked.
“I saw the marks on your hand,” Milene said, pointing to Damian’s hand. “The traces left by the seven ancient powers. I realized it then.”
“Using all the powers of the ancient gods allows one to turn back time… I never thought her theory would be correct,” Milene mused.
“That’s nonsense. I’ve only awakened four powers,” Damian protested.
“Then it must be traces from a past life. I couldn’t have been mistaken. The marks are unique, appearing only when someone attempts to turn back time.”
“No, that’s impossible,” Damian insisted. “I’ve never used the method you’re talking about.”
After killing Dorgo, Damian had taken his own life and returned to the past. He had never used the method Milene described, nor had he known of it.
“Then perhaps someone else used it,” Milene suggested.
“What are you talking about?” Damian was about to dismiss the idea when Milene’s form began to fade.
“Time’s up,” Milene said.
“Wait! I have more questions!” Damian called out.
“I’m sorry. Things aren’t going well here either. We’re focused on repelling Pandemonium’s invasion,” Milene explained.
Damian’s eyes widened. His suspicions were confirmed—Dorgo was in Elvenheim.
“If you want to meet me, come to Elvenheim. Pandemonium is using this port for supplies. Find the ship owned by the dark sorcerer, and…” Milene’s image vanished completely.
As soon as Milene disappeared, Damian clenched his fist. Dorgo was in Elvenheim, and an elf who knew the secret of his return was there too. He couldn’t miss this opportunity. He had to reach Elvenheim as quickly as possible.
“Find the ship owned by the dark sorcerer,” he reminded himself.
Pandemonium was using the port for supplies. Finding the supply ship would lead him to Elvenheim. It wasn’t a difficult task. With his detection abilities, locating a dark sorcerer would be easy.
Just then, a voice cried out, “Help! Is anyone there?”
A boy was running towards him, gasping for breath but not stopping.
“You little brat! If we catch you, you’re dead!”
“Don’t let him reach the others!” Two men, likely sailors by their attire, were chasing the boy.
“Someone, please help!” the boy shouted desperately. But in this remote area, only Damian heard him.
“Sir! Please help me! Please, I—” The boy tripped and fell, and the sailors quickly caught up to him.
“You little pest, causing us trouble!”
“I told you you’d be dead if you ran!”
The sailors began kicking the boy, who curled up to endure the blows.
“Sir… please…” The boy looked at Damian with pleading eyes.
It was a situation he couldn’t ignore. Damian spoke to the sailors, “Enough.”
The sailors turned to him, irritated. “Who the hell are you?”
“Mind your own business and get lost!”
It seemed words wouldn’t work. As Damian prepared to subdue them, he sensed dark magic emanating from the sailors.
He glanced at the daggers at their waists. He wasn’t mistaken; the daggers were emitting faint dark magic.
“What is your connection to the dark sorcerer?” Damian asked, pointing at the daggers.
The sailors froze, staring at him in shock.
“Don’t bother denying it—”
The sailors drew their daggers, and the dark magic intensified.
“A curse of incineration… not an ordinary skill,” Damian noted. Even a graze from those daggers would turn a person to ash. Few dark sorcerers could craft such powerful artifacts. It had to be the work of Pandemonium’s sorcerer.
“Are you from the Order?” one sailor sneered.
“We’ll kill you right here!” the other shouted, charging with his dagger.
Damian unleashed his aura, crushing the sailors with its sheer force. It was too overwhelming for ordinary humans to withstand.
“Gah…!”
“Ugh…!” The sailors trembled, foaming at the mouth before collapsing. Their hearts had stopped completely.
“Wha… what…?” The boy stared in shock.
Damian had directed his aura solely at the sailors, so to the boy, it seemed as if they had died suddenly.
“Looks like you could use some help,” Damian said, smiling gently.
The boy nodded, still dazed. Damian continued, “I could use your help too. Can you show me where you escaped from?”
“This… this is the place,” the boy said, leading Damian to a large warehouse in a secluded part of the port.
The door was secured with thick chains, a clear sign that no one was meant to enter without permission.
“My family and others are trapped inside…” the boy explained, tears welling in his eyes.
“How did you manage to escape?” Damian asked.
“There was a small hole… I was the smallest, so I got out to find help.”
“You’re lucky,” Damian said, understanding the boy’s tears.
“They… they kidnapped us… we didn’t do anything wrong… strange people just took us and brought us here…” the boy sobbed.
Damian realized what Milene had meant by “supplies.” For dark sorcerers, food and weapons were secondary. What they needed most were humans, to replenish their dark magic. While they could use elves from Elvenheim, humans were easier to capture and transport.
“Disgusting,” Damian muttered, approaching the door. He gripped the chains and twisted them, breaking them as if they were made of clay. He swung the door open.
Inside, over a hundred people were huddled together, their eyes filled with despair.
“Who… who are you?” one of them asked.
“I’m here to rescue you,” Damian replied calmly.
Hope flickered in their eyes at his words.
“Come out, all of you. You’re safe now—”
“Who said you’re safe?” a voice interrupted.
The people’s faces turned to stone at the sound. Damian turned to see a group approaching. Ten figures, all exuding dark magic.
“Nine high-class dark knights… and that one…” Damian assessed, preparing for the confrontation.
Demian fixed his gaze on the man standing at the back.
The man was well-built, but his head was unusually large, making his shoulders appear narrow.
“He’s no ordinary guy,” Demian thought.
A tingling sensation ran through him. This man was clearly more powerful than a dark sorcerer.
“Hmm.”
The man with the oversized head glanced at the twisted chains Demian had left behind.
“That’s some serious strength. Where do you hail from, knight?”
“That’s none of your concern.”
“Did you leave your manners in your mother’s womb? What’s with that mouth of yours?”
Demian’s eyes twitched. Insulting him was one thing, but his mother?
“You seem confident in your skills, but you’ve picked the wrong opponent.”
The man spread his arms, and magic circles formed from dark energy appeared around him.
“My name is Alterio. People call me Alterio the Arsonist, and they fear me.”
As soon as Alterio revealed his name, the people in the warehouse screamed.
“Al-Alterio the Arsonist? No way!”
“We’re all doomed… Oh no…!”
Demian looked around at the panicked faces.
“Sir Knight… this is bad…”
Even the boy Demian had saved earlier was trembling with fear.
“I’m sorry. Because of me, you’re in danger too… I’m so sorry…”
“Who is this guy, anyway?” Demian finally asked the boy, unable to hold back his curiosity. Alterio’s face twisted in disbelief.
“You mean you don’t know who I am?”
“And if I don’t?”
“Even for a knight out of touch with the world, this is a bit much.”
Alterio chuckled, a hint of mockery in his voice.
“Let me introduce myself again for our clueless knight. I’m Alterio the Arsonist, the great villain of Pandemonium.”
Alterio spoke with confidence, certain that this time Demian would be struck with fear.
“The great villain of Pandemonium?”
But Demian only looked more puzzled.
“Strange. I know all the major villains from the War of Destruction, and I’ve never heard of an Alterio.”
Demian was familiar with every notorious figure from the war. If he didn’t know someone, it meant they had perished before the war even began.
“If I don’t know you, you must not be worth much.”
Alterio’s face contorted with rage at those words.
“Let’s see if you can still talk like that when your legs are reduced to ashes!”
Alterio unleashed his dark magic, and flames erupted beneath Demian’s feet.
In an instant, Demian stomped the ground, snuffing out the flames with sheer force.
“What…?”
Alterio was taken aback.
How could someone so easily extinguish the fire conjured by a villain of Pandemonium?
“So that’s why you’re so confident!”
Alterio attempted to cast another spell, but Demian’s hands blurred into motion.
The dark knights were slammed into the ground, their heads crushed as if struck by a massive hammer.
Alterio’s jaw dropped.
The enemy hadn’t moved, yet in the blink of an eye, they were all dead, their heads buried in the dirt.
Alterio couldn’t comprehend what had just happened.
“You… what did you just do…?”
Alterio’s voice faltered as he pointed accusingly. He realized something strange.
“Wait, when did you draw your sword?”
Just a moment ago, Demian’s hands had been empty. Now, a longsword was in his grip.
Alterio hadn’t seen him draw it, let alone wield it.
“What kind of trickery…?”
Suddenly, blood spurted from his neck.
His throat had been slashed without him even noticing. Blood gushed from the half-severed wound.
Alterio tried to clutch his neck, but his arms wouldn’t respond.
His forearms had been severed at the joints, tendons and muscles sliced clean through.
His legs gave out beneath him, his knees having been cut.
Alterio collapsed to the ground, screaming.
“This can’t be… I’m the great villain… Alterio the Arsonist…!”
Demian approached and drove his sword, Dawn, into Alterio’s chest.
“I have a few requests for you. I hope you’ll comply.”
Demian looked down at Alterio, who gritted his teeth.
“Go to hell…!”
Demian didn’t react to the insult. Instead, he unleashed the holy power contained within Dawn.
“Aaaah! Aaaah!”
The holy energy began to burn Alterio’s body.
“You bastard…! Do your worst! I’ll never submit!”
“You’re a tough one. But there’s always a way.”
Demian rolled up his sleeve and grabbed Alterio’s head.
“I’ve been wanting to try brainwashing a villain of your caliber… I never thought I’d get the chance.”
A sinister light emanated from the ‘Power of Lust’ embedded in his hand.
“What are you doing… Stop… Stop it! Stop it, I said! Aaaah!”
An unknown force invaded Alterio’s mind.
The pain was excruciating, as if his brain was being torn apart, and Alterio’s screams echoed endlessly.