Chapter 1091: 1090: Thorgan’s First Sister
Simon looked at the three Daemons with a solemn expression.
He didn’t move. He simply observed them, letting his perception reach out carefully toward each of them.
The man with coral-like growths along his jaw and shoulders was a Minor Demon King. His aura was heavy and steady, like a rock sitting at the bottom of the sea.
The broad Daemon with curling ram’s horns was stronger. A Prime Demon King. His aura was rougher, wilder, and it pressed outward with every breath he took.
Then Simon turned his attention to the woman with long black hair.
His brows drew together.
Trying to sense her true aura was difficult. It was like staring down into an abyss of deep water. The deeper he looked, the darker it became, and he could not see the bottom.
But one thing was certain.
She was at least as strong as a Superior Demon King.
And if his luck was bad, a Supreme Demon King.
And there was something else.
The feeling he got from her was familiar. It reminded him of Blackwind Valley, of a masked classmate who had hidden a Demon King behind the aura of an Archfiend.
It reminded him of Sunless.
’Is she a Shadow Walker too?’
Simon’s gaze moved to the shadow at her feet. It was still now, but he had just watched it peel away from a wall and kill a soldier without her even turning her head.
It was obvious she had an affinity for the shadow element and she was also more dangerous than the other two.
The beast tamer’s words echoed in his mind.
We sent monsters.
Simon’s eyes narrowed slightly.
’Could she also be one of Thorgan’s sisters?’
He wouldn’t be surprised.
If The Dominion had brought monsters to Vhal-Sar this time, then those monsters could very well be Thorgan’s brothers and sisters, or at least some of them, along with other powerful members of The Dominion.
While Simon was observing them, the three Daemons noticed him.
The coral-jawed man glanced at him first, then the ram-horned Daemon turned his head. Finally, the black-haired woman slowly raised her eyes toward him.
At first, their gazes were dismissive.
To them, he was only a Greater Demon. A Greater Demon standing on a sheet of ice in the middle of a burning harbor was hardly worth their attention.
The coral-jawed man had already started to look away.
Then he stopped.
His brows drew together, and he looked back at Simon more carefully.
The ram-horned Daemon also frowned.
They had perceived it. The pressure of his two Royal bloodlines, it was faint but undeniable beneath his restrained aura.
Curiosity appeared in their eyes.
The black-haired woman’s expression, however, changed in a completely different way.
Her face went still. Her eyes were fixed on him and they didn’t move.
Then Simon felt it through his Seed of Wrath.
Killing intent.
Anger.
Hatred.
It rose from her like a tide, slow at first, then heavier and heavier, until it pressed against his senses from across the entire harbor.
Simon frowned.
He had several guesses as to why.
Perhaps she was the true body behind the fake Veyra, and she had recognized the one who had just cut her clone’s head off.
Perhaps she was another of Thorgan’s sisters, and she could smell her brother’s blood on him the same way the impostor had.
Or perhaps she had simply been told about him by the others.
He couldn’t confirm which one was right.
Then his expression changed.
At the edge of his perception, he had sensed a different aura.
It was faint and weak, flickering like a candle about to go out. But it was familiar.
Veyra.
Simon turned his head toward it. It was coming from the base of one of the collapsed watchtowers along the western section of The Wall, half buried beneath broken stone.
She was alive, but just barely.
Simon glanced at the three Daemons once more, then he made his decision.
He would go to Veyra.
He had several reasons for this.
First of all, he needed to confirm her condition. If she was dying, he needed to reach her as quickly as possible before that faint aura disappeared completely.
It wasn’t because he cared about her. He barely knew her.
But in this battle between The Abyss, the Daegrins and The Dominion, Veyra was needed. She was a Prime Demon King and one of the very few Daemons fighting on the side of Vhal-Sar. If she died, things would become much more difficult for him and everyone else.
And if she was still capable of fighting, she could help him.
There was also the possibility that she would be a liability in her current state. But that wasn’t enough of a reason to leave her where she was.
Simon turned toward the watchtower.
He had barely moved when a figure appeared in his path.
The black-haired woman.
She hadn’t crossed the distance. She had simply been there, rising out of the shadow of a broken pier as though she had been standing in it all along.
Simon stopped.
His eyes narrowed, and his guard went up at once.
His fingers tightened around the hilt of the Chaos Blade. Demonic energy flowed into his legs and arms, ready to move at the slightest sign of danger. The wind around him gathered quietly, and his Seeds of Sin stirred in his heart.
He was ready.
Up close, she was tall and slender, wrapped in a long black coat that seemed to swallow the light of the fires around them. Her hair fell straight to her waist. Her skin was pale, almost grey, and her eyes were dark, so dark that Simon couldn’t see where her pupils ended.
She looked at him for a long moment.
Then she spoke.
"You’re Blackmoon, right?"
Her voice was soft and calm.
Simon tilted his head slightly.
"I am."
He kept his eyes on hers.
"And you are?"
She smiled.
It wasn’t warm. It was cold, so cold that a shiver crawled across Simon’s skin despite the heat of the burning city around them.
"Ilvara," she said. "Thorgan’s first sister."
She tilted her head, mirroring him, and her smile didn’t change.
"You know Thorgan, right?"
Her voice became softer.
"You remember him, right?"
Simon’s expression became solemn.
He didn’t respond.
Instead, his attention flicked toward the other two Daemons.
The coral-jawed man was still standing on the roof of the burning warehouse. The ram-horned Daemon had risen from his crouch beside the shattered pillar.
Both of them were watching.
Neither showed any sign of joining the fight.
But Simon didn’t believe that for a moment. If an opening appeared, or if Ilvara needed help, he was certain they would interfere in one way or another.
Ilvara’s smile widened slightly when he didn’t answer.
"Not going to say anything?" she murmured. "That’s fine."
She raised her hand.
"I’ll send you to a place where you won’t even get the peace of death."
The shadows moved.
Not just her shadow.
Every shadow within three hundred meters.
The shadows of the burning warehouses. The shadows beneath the piers. The shadows of the corpses lying in the streets and the beasts frozen in Simon’s ice.
All of them rose at once.
They stretched upward from the ground, long and thin and black, twisting like serpents as they climbed into the air. Their tips narrowed into points as sharp as spearheads, glinting dully in the firelight.
Hundreds of them.
No.
Thousands.
They filled the sky above the western harbor like a forest of black thorns, all of them bending slowly toward him.
Simon’s grip on the Chaos Blade tightened.
Ilvara’s hand fell.
The shadow thorns struck and Simon cursed when he saw this.
"Fuck."