Chapter 467: The Sooner The Better

As the final embers of the battle faded into the afternoon air, the forest stood torn and trembling, the earth marred with craters of flame and streaks of blood that still hissed faintly as fire devoured their remnants. Smoke hung heavy, curling upward in thin wisps, carrying with it the metallic tang of charred flesh. From above, descending with the ease of someone utterly unshaken by the carnage, Marcus dropped down from his perch atop the tree. His boots landed lightly against the scorched ground, and as though the devastation were nothing more than a backdrop to a casual stroll, he began to hum a faint tune. Hands tucked loosely in his pockets, he wandered through the ruined clearing, eyes scanning with a detached curiosity at the wreckage until they inevitably settled on Serah.

“Wow,” Marcus drawled as he reached her, his lips twisting into that familiar half-smirk. “You really are something else, princess.” His gaze flickered past her, toward the place where the Pureblood’s monstrous form had already begun crumbling to blackened ash. “Never thought those polished knighthood tactics would hold weight against a Pureblood, but here you are—living proof. That brain of yours must be really special to pull that off.” His words carried that mocking lilt, yet his eyes gleamed faintly with something sharper, though he masked it beneath nonchalance.

Serah, chest rising and falling with controlled, measured breaths, let her claymore rest against the ashen ground. “Thank you… I guess,” she said, her voice steady though fatigue laced its edges.

“You’re welcome,” Marcus replied lightly, the delight in his tone almost playful. He stretched his arms lazily as though shaking off dust before turning on his heel. “Well, since you’re done here, let’s get moving. I’m starving—and you’ve gotta be too after that show you just pulled off. Let’s head back to the cabin, whip up something warm, yeah?” Without waiting for her reply, he started toward the sunlit treeline, footsteps casual, his hum resuming.

But Serah’s voice called after him, halting his stride. “I have a question.”

Marcus slowed, his shoulders rolling slightly before he glanced over his shoulder, dark onyx eyes gleaming with curiosity. “Yeah?”

“Why was the Pureblood afraid of you?” Serah asked, her tone calm yet edged with something deeper—an earnest searching. “Because of you, it abandoned its natural way of fighting. Instead of using its cunning, it fought like a Redblood—a brute. That isn’t normal.”

For a moment, Marcus simply studied her, his expression unreadable. Then, a smirk curved across his lips, sly and guarded. “C’mon, princess. I already told you—I’ll answer everything you want to know about me once you finish your little gauntlet with these demons.” He flicked two fingers toward her, dismissive but not unkind. “And lucky for you, you’ve just checked one off the list. Two more left.”

Her brows drew together slightly. “So you mean I must wait until I’ve defeated two more demons before you tell me the truth?”

“That’s the deal.” His tone was playful, though his gaze remained sharp as a blade. “Two more fights, or one if you’re feeling bold enough to take them both at once. Either way, the answer’s waiting at the end. Now come on, let’s get some food in you.” He waved her off casually, already turning back to the path he intended to take.

But her next words froze him mid-step. “If that’s the case, then I’ll fight the other two demons today.”

Marcus stilled, the forest seeming to grow quieter around them as his onyx eyes narrowed. Slowly, he turned, his gaze settling on her with an intensity that belied his earlier levity. He studied her calm expression, her eyes steady, her grip on the claymore still firm despite her wounds. Finally, he sighed and pivoted fully to face her.

“Not that I doubt your ability,” he began, his voice laced with a rare seriousness, “but fighting two Purebloods immediately after taking one down? That’s not brave—that’s damn near suicidal.” His words carried weight, but his tone was less mocking now, more a measured attempt at reason.

“You’ve fought more than three at once before, haven’t you?” Serah asked, her crimson eyes locking onto his unflinchingly.

The question made Marcus pause. His brows arched faintly in surprise, though he quickly masked it with that cool grin. “Yes,” he admitted, voice low but honest.

“Then I should have no problem doing the same with these two.” Her voice was firm, unwavering.

Marcus chuckled softly, though the sound lacked its usual playfulness. “Maybe you shouldn’t. But tell me, princess—are you sure you’ve got the reserves left in you? Enough myst to burn through two Purebloods at once?”

“Of course I do,” Serah answered without hesitation. “Thanks to you. By putting fear in its heart—if demons even have one—you forced it to abandon its instincts and fight out of its element. That mistake made it easier to defeat than I ever expected. I used less myst than I would have in any other circumstances.” Her tone carried certainty, her confidence rooted not in arrogance but in careful observation.

Marcus tilted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly as he extended his perception outward, tapping into his Mystsense. His gaze traced over her, reading the current of energy within her body. And what he saw confirmed her claim—despite the cuts and wounds marking her skin, her reserves remained shockingly intact, nearly brimming, pulsing like a steady flame refusing to be snuffed.

He drew in a slow breath. ’Even with those injuries, she’s still standing at nearly her peak… That’s not just impressive—it’s ridiculous. Talk about durability.’ He almost laughed to himself. ’This princess really is something else.’

Finally, he nodded. “Well… fine, princess. I won’t argue against your decision.” A smirk touched his lips, edged with approval. “If that’s what you want, I’ll summon the other two for you.”

“Thank you,” Serah said, then added, her voice quieter but steady, “But before you do… I don’t want you here this time. And I believe you already know why I’m asking this.”

Marcus regarded her in silence for a long moment, then a low chuckle escaped him. “Yeah. I get it. You want them in their comfort zone, no fear in their gut, no shadow looming over them. Just them, pure and untethered.” His smirk sharpened, though his eyes glinted with something almost proud. “Fair enough. Besides, it gives me time to cook us something decent while you play with your prey.”

He turned once more, striding toward the forest’s edge. As he lifted a hand in a lazy wave, his voice drifted back, fading with distance. “Don’t get yourself killed, princess.”

As Marcus disappeared into the distance, his figure swallowed by the thick embrace of the forest, Serah exhaled softly. A smirk touched her lips, faint yet tinged with an unexpected warmth of appreciation. “Look at him… being all considerate about me,” she murmured under her breath, her tone laced with a teasing edge. “Cute. But I don’t need it right now.”

Her gaze lifted skyward, toward the blazing sun perched high in the heavens, its brilliance casting a halo of gold through the gaps in the canopy. She closed her eyes, drawing a slow, controlled breath. At once, steam hissed gently from the wounds etched across her skin, rising in wisps like spirits set free. The cuts began to knit faintly, the flow of blood halting as her fiery essence seared the damage shut. She stood motionless, letting the heat and her willpower force her body into temporary stability.

It was then the air shifted. The stillness of the ruined clearing fractured as the distant shadows stirred. They stretched unnaturally, slithering across the forest floor like serpents searching for prey. The darkness swelled and coiled, pulling itself into tangible form until, at last, two distinct figures loomed within the haze.

The shadows shattered away, peeling like burned skin to reveal what lay beneath. Towering bodies emerged—two Pureblood Blood Demons, their presence pressing against the clearing like a suffocating weight. The first bore two thick, jagged horns that curved backward like blades of obsidian. The second, broader and heavier in frame, carried four horns rising from its crown in a grotesque crown-like display. Their eyes were pits of abyssal black, but at their centers burned golden irises—rings of hunger and malice that glowed like molten metal.

The smaller of the two already seemed massive, its muscular build flexing with cords of unnatural strength, veins bulging in thick lines that pulsed as though rivers of dark fire coursed beneath its skin. The four-horned demon dwarfed it further, its body grotesquely sculpted with muscle, every breath it took sending tremors through its chest as those same blackened veins throbbed and twisted like living things.

Their arrival brought silence, a tension that seemed to bow the trees and crush the air itself. Their eyes locked onto Serah, drinking in the sight of her battered form—blood dried upon her skin, her body marked by the struggle she had just endured. Yet despite her wounds, she stood tall at the center of the clearing, her claymore planted upright into the earth, both hands resting with casual firmness atop the hilt. Her posture was unyielding, a sentinel in defense of something sacred, crimson eyes gleaming like embers beneath her brow.

The demons’ sharp-toothed grins widened, their lips peeling back into jagged mockeries of delight. To them, she appeared a prize: a guardian weakened, prey already broken but too proud to kneel. The two-horned demon tilted its head, its grin trembling with anticipation, while the four-horned let out a low, rumbling growl of amusement that shook the air like thunder.

“Well,” Serah spoke at last, her voice calm, even, carrying no trace of fear. “You two look uglier than the last one.”

Her crimson gaze never wavered as the words fell from her lips, sharp and deliberate. Her high ponytail swayed gently in the afternoon breeze, strands catching sunlight like thin strands of flame, but her stance remained rooted.

Her words hung in the still air for only a breath before she added, her tone cold yet laced with quiet resolve: “Shall we begin?”

***

Not far from the clearing, Marcus had halted his steps, ensuring the distance between himself and Serah stretched far enough to let the confrontation unfold without his presence looming over it. The forest shadows clung to him like old friends, the silence around him broken only by the faint rustle of leaves.

Under his breath, he spoke a single word, sharp as a command: “Phantom.”

The effect was immediate. His own shadow rippled unnaturally beneath him, detaching from his feet and peeling itself from the ground as if it were alive. The darkness rose and twisted until it molded into a humanoid figure—a perfect shade of Marcus himself, standing silently before him, its presence darker than the void from which it was born.

Marcus studied the doppelgänger with narrowed eyes, his voice calm but firm as he issued his command. “Keep an eye on them. If things go south, alert me immediately. But stay out of sight—completely. Don’t let her notice you.”

The Phantom inclined its head once, a silent nod of understanding, before dissolving backward into the undergrowth. It slithered like spilled ink, moving with no sound, no trace, drawn inevitably toward the clearing where the clash would soon erupt.

Marcus, satisfied, turned away. His steps resumed their leisurely rhythm, shoulders relaxed, as though he hadn’t just sent a living piece of his essence to watch over a fight between monsters. “Your move, princess,” he muttered faintly, his smirk curling once more as he disappeared deeper into the forest, leaving the shadow to spectate the coming storm.

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