All Chapters of Ethan Storm’s Dark Awakening : Chapter 401
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427 chapters
401
“Ah,” he said, voice rough but casual, “you’re all too kind. I’m just… looking for something to eat, actually.”For half a heartbeat, there was silence.Not the dangerous kind.The curious kind.Then laughter bubbled up again—some surprised, some mocking, some edged with interest.“Something to eat?” one demon repeated, head tilting sideways as if reassessing him. “That’s new.”Another barked a laugh. “Didn’t take you for the hungry type, Vephar.”A third smirked, barbed tail flicking lazily. “Maybe he finally got bored of screaming.”A few of them chuckled at that, comfortable in the assumption. Comfortable in cruelty.Then the tallest demon stepped forward.He was broader than the rest, horns curving backward like a ram’s, thick and ridged with age. His scales were darker—almost black—etched with faint sigils that pulsed when he moved. Not decorative. Functional. Binding marks of rank and authority.His presence changed the courtyard.The lesser demons shifted unconsciously, giving
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Here you go — extended, tightened, pressure-heavy in the middle, and ending on the exact same final line you gave, unchanged.⸻“Ah,” he said, voice rough but casual, “you’re all too kind. I’m just… looking for something to eat, actually.”For half a heartbeat, there was silence.Not the dangerous kind.The curious kind.Then laughter bubbled up again—some surprised, some mocking, some edged with interest.“Something to eat?” one demon repeated, head tilting sideways as if reassessing him. “That’s new.”Another barked a laugh. “Didn’t take you for the hungry type, Vephar.”A third smirked, barbed tail flicking lazily. “Maybe he finally got bored of screaming.”A few of them chuckled at that, comfortable in the assumption. Comfortable in cruelty.Then the tallest demon stepped forward.He was broader than the rest, horns curving backward like a ram’s, thick and ridged with age. His scales were darker—almost black—etched with faint sigils that pulsed when he moved. Not decorative. Funct
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“Ah,” he said, voice rough but casual, “you’re all too kind. I’m just… looking for something to eat, actually.”For half a heartbeat, there was silence.Not the dangerous kind.The curious kind.Then laughter bubbled up again—some surprised, some mocking, some edged with interest.“Something to eat?” one demon repeated, head tilting sideways as if reassessing him. “That’s new.”Another barked a laugh. “Didn’t take you for the hungry type, Vephar.”A third smirked, barbed tail flicking lazily. “Maybe he finally got bored of screaming.”A few of them chuckled at that, comfortable in the assumption. Comfortable in cruelty.Then the tallest demon stepped forward.He was broader than the rest, horns curving backward like a ram’s, thick and ridged with age. His scales were darker—almost black—etched with faint sigils that pulsed when he moved. Not decorative. Functional. Binding marks of rank and authority.His presence changed the courtyard.The lesser demons shifted unconsciously, giving
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The last of them left with a swagger. Boots scraped across cracked stone. Armor clinked. Someone laughed too loud for no reason, the sound bouncing off the walls like a challenge. “Come on,” a demon shouted over his shoulder, voice rough and carrying, “drinks are on me tonight!” Another replied, already slurring, “If Vephar’s not invited, it’ll taste better!” “Ha! True,” a third chimed in, tail flicking. “Nothing worse than pretending he’s part of the fun.” More laughter followed, echoing down the corridors, a mess of noise and carelessness. Ethan didn’t move. Not an inch. He stood in the courtyard long after their footsteps faded, listening. Each fading echo a note in the rhythm he cataloged. The air slowly emptied of their presence. From inside the main building, noise rose instead—rowdy, careless, loud. Tankards slammed against tables. Liquor splashed. Voices shouted over one another, overlapping, jumbled. “Another round!” “To Lord Markash!” “To the Gate!” A chorus o
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Another step. Still nothing. One demon shifted slightly and let out a loud, rattling snore, the sound scraping through the hall like a saw dragged over stone. Ethan froze. Every muscle locked. Every instinct screamed. His heart jumped hard enough that he felt it in his throat. For a split second, he was certain the demon would wake—eyes snapping open, alarm shouted, blades drawn. But the demon only rolled onto his side, drool pooling beneath his mouth, snore deepening into something almost comical. Ethan didn’t move. Didn’t breathe. He counted silently. One. Two. Three. Nothing. The demon didn’t wake. Ethan let out a slow, careful breath through his nose, the mask cooling it before it escaped. So this is how they guard the Gate, he thought. Drunk and careless. The realization settled in his chest like ice. He walked deeper into the hall, each step measured. Boots crunched softly over broken glass and ceramic, the sound too loud in the quiet. He adjusted his weight,
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Ethan stood there for a moment longer, listening to the ugly chorus of drunken breathing. Snorts. Wet exhalations. The occasional choking cough that ended in a groan and nothing more. It echoed through the hall like a mockery of vigilance. This was the Gate’s defense. This was what Rowan had died under. Then he moved. Without a word. Without hesitation. He turned and walked back the way he had come, his steps slow, steady, almost casual—just another demon moving through territory that belonged to him. No rush. No tension in his shoulders. Anyone watching would have seen nothing unusual. The corridor to the hidden chamber was narrow and dim. Red crystals flickered weakly along the walls, their light pulsing as he passed, responding to the borrowed aura wrapped around him. They didn’t resist. They didn’t question. The hidden door slid open at his touch with a low, grinding sound. Inside, the chamber was exactly as he had left it. Cracked stone. Collapsed rubb
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Ethan’s voice dropped lower, a rasp that seemed to settle into the shadows themselves. “Your kind,” he said, “you don’t just kill them. You… unmake them.” He crouched slightly, eyes narrowing. His fingers twitched, itching with that borrowed, latent power. They bind their own with chains of thought and sinew. Not the kind that hold the body—no, the kind that hold the mind. They carve into memory, twist it, pull it apart until loyalty becomes screaming terror, until affection becomes rage you cannot swallow. And then, when they’ve seen all they can break, when every fragment of their identity has been shredded… they kill them. Slowly. Watching. Tasting fear until it curdles into nothing. Ethan’s hand drifted over Vephar’s chest, brushing against the burned, fused armor, tracing the jagged lines of the wounds that had once been inflicted on others, once inflicted by him. “You thought humans were toys. Weak, pliable, easy to destroy.” His voice was quieter now, deliberate, the words
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Disguised as Vephar, Ethan set out along the main road toward Ashkarreth, the nearest city stronghold on the plain. The road was wide and ancient, a ribbon of black stone cracked by age and violence, worn smooth in places by centuries of claws, hooves, and iron-shod feet. Faded infernal runes lay half-buried along its edges, their meaning long forgotten. Far ahead, the jagged spires of Ashkarreth pierced the ash-choked sky, their dull red lights flickering like exhausted stars struggling against the gloom. Ethan kept his head low and his shoulders loose. His stride was unhurried, heavy with practiced confidence—exactly how Vephar used to walk. Not fast enough to look nervous. Not slow enough to look weak. “Don’t rush," he reminded himself. Demons smell fear like blood. He hadn’t gone far when sound carried down the road toward him. Shouting. Rough, echoing laughter. Then a sharp cry—high, desperate—that sliced through the noise and made his steps falter. Ethan stopped.
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One of the demons reached out and seized the standing succubus by the arm, claws digging into her flesh as he yanked her forward. She cried out, wings flaring instinctively before collapsing again.“Stop,” she gasped. “You’ll draw a patrol.”The demon leaned in close, his breath hot and foul against her face, yellowed teeth bared in a grin.“Let them come.”The demons didn’t stop.If anything, they grew bolder the longer no one intervened.One stepped forward and drove the haft of his club into the stone beside the kneeling succubus’s head. The crack echoed down the road. Shards of black rock sprayed across her hands.She flinched despite herself.“Ha. Look at that,” he said, baring yellowed teeth. “Can’t even keep still. Wings or no wings, they all shake the same.”Another demon snorted and leaned in close, crouching so his shadow swallowed her whole. “They think being pretty buys mercy,” he said. “That’s always the mistake.”Behind them, a third demon paced in a slow circle, boots
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The weight beneath the disguise. The pressure Ethan kept buried deep and locked down tight.Power.Old. Dangerous.Her breath caught.Ethan swore under his breath.Too late.She sucked in air and shouted, her voice breaking through the laughter, loud and desperate and unmistakably deliberate.“Brother!” she cried. “You finally arrived!”Everything stopped.The laughter cut off mid-breath.The demon with the club straightened. “Brother?” he echoed, turning slowly.Five sets of eyes snapped toward Ethan.The succubus staggered to her feet, pointing at him with shaking confidence, clinging to the lie like a lifeline. “We told you he was coming,” she said, louder now, forcing strength into her voice. “We told you he’d find us.”The demon holding the standing succubus released her just enough to turn fully. He squinted at Ethan, head tilting.His eyes narrowing, then bared his teeth. “…That?” he said slowly, disbelief dripping from every syllable. “That’s your brother?” For a heartbeat,