2026-01-16 00:17:16The study door shut behind them with a heavy thud.
Books lined the walls from floor to ceiling, old leather and older dust. A single lamp burned on the desk, its light catching the sharp angles of their father’s face as he looked up.
“What happened,” he said.
Not a question.
Corvin stood straight.
Scott leaned more heavily on his bad leg than he’d admit.
“We encountered the demon,” Corvin said. “High-tier. Fire-based. It ambushed us in the city.”
Their father’s eyes flicked to Scott.
“Injured.”
Scott lifted his chin. “Nothing permanent.”
“That is not the point,” their father snapped.
He rose from his chair.
Slowly.
Each step deliberate as he came around the desk.
“You sensed a high-tier demon,” he said. “Confirmed it. And instead of calling for backup, you engaged.”
“We had an opening—” Corvin began.
“You had arrogance,” their father cut in. “And luck. That is not a strategy.”
He stopped in front of them.
“Do you have any idea what could have happened if it had decided to stop playing?”
Scott shifted. “We could handle it.”
Their father’s laugh was short. Bitter.
“Clearly.”
He turned away, hands clasped behind his back.
“I raised you better than this. Hunters do not rush in alone against unknown threats. You assess. You call. You coordinate.”
“We didn’t have time,” Corvin said quietly.
“You never think you do.”
Their father spun back.
“Get out of my sight.”
Silence.
Then Scott straightened and gave a small nod.
“Yes, sir.”
They turned and left.
The door closed again.
The study fell quiet.
Their father stood there for a long moment.
Then he reached into his pocket.
Pulled out his phone.
Dialled.
It rang once.
Twice.
Picked up.
“We have a demon on the loose,” he said.
A pause.
Then a voice, calm and amused.
“Demons are always on the loose. That’s the point. There has to be demons for there to be demon hunters.”
“This one is different,” their father replied.
“How so?”
“It hurt my sons.”
Another pause.
Longer this time.
“So our initial plan is taking a back seat then?” the voice asked.
“Yes. For now,” their father said without hesitation. “I want this one dead. As soon as possible.”
“Understood,” the voice replied. “I’ll make arrangements.”
The call ended.
—
Outside the study, the corridor stretched long and quiet.
Scott exhaled slowly as they walked.
“Sorry about your leg,” Corvin said.
Scott waved it off. “I’ve had worse.”
They walked in silence for a few steps.
Then Scott spoke again.
“But wasn’t it weird?”
Corvin glanced at him. “What was?”
“The demon,” Scott said. “It was powerful. Stronger than both of us. Could’ve finished us easily.”
“Demons like to play with their prey,” Corvin replied. “Especially when the prey is weaker.”
Scott frowned. “Yeah. I know that. But after it injured me—after you were the only one still standing—it just… left.”
Corvin slowed.
“That’s true,” he said.
Scott nodded. “It didn’t even try to finish us off.”
They reached the corner.
Corvin leaned against the wall, thoughtful.
“Demons are evolving,” he said finally. “They don’t attack blindly anymore. There’s restraint. Intent. Direction.”
Scott snorted. “You told Dad that?”
“He didn’t listen.”
“Dad never listens,” Scott said lightly.
He slung an arm over Corvin’s shoulder.
“If you have a plan to stop the demons, just do it. You don’t always need to seek permission. Do what you have to and apologise later.”
Corvin smiled faintly.
“I’ll try that more often.”
“Good.”
Scott’s grin returned.
“Now. About our earlier discussion.”
Corvin groaned. “I was really hoping you’d forget.”
“I have an excellent memory,” Scott said. “So. When are we sneaking out?”
“You should heal first.”
“Hunters heal faster than the average human,” Scott replied. “I’ll be fine by evening.”
“Okay. If you say so,” Corvin sighed. “Tomorrow then.”
“Splendid.”
Scott clapped him on the shoulder.
“This is why you’re my favourite younger brother.”
“I’m your only younger brother.”
—
The grassland was quiet.
Too quiet.
Charred earth stretched in uneven patches, blackened scars cutting through new green shoots already pushing up through the soil.
Nature was resilient.
Hunters, too.
They’d clearly done something here.
Lumi stood at the edge of the field, hands clenched.
[So what are we doing here?]
“I’m training,” Lumi said.
He stepped forward and threw a punch, fire flickering weakly around his fist before sputtering out.
[That was embarrassing.]
“Shut up.”
[Gladly. After I laugh.]
Lumi scowled and tried again.
Another punch.
Another poor stance.
Fire flared crookedly, licking the air at an odd angle.
[Your footing is wrong.]
“I didn’t ask.”
[Your shoulders are tense.]
“I said shut up.”
Ashen didn’t.
[You’re punching like you’re giving a fist bump.]
Lumi growled and swung harder.
Missed the stance completely.
Nearly lost his balance.
[Ah. There it is. Rage.]
“Why do you always do this?” Lumi snapped.
[Because it’s funny.]
“I need to get stronger,” Lumi said. “Strong enough to help with the hunt.”
[You want to join them to hunt weak demons? How dull.]
“I’ve never hunted before,” Lumi replied. “Of course I’ll start small.”
[You humans and your caution.]
Lumi tried again.
Punch.
Kick.
Wrong.
Wrong.
Wrong.
Ashen laughed in his head.
[You’re doing it wrong.]
“I know!”
[Then listen.]
“No!”
Lumi’s frustration boiled over.
He screamed and slammed his foot into the ground.
Fire exploded outward.
Not focused.
Not controlled.
A ring of heat surged through the grass, flames rippling in all directions before dying out harmlessly.
The field went still.
Lumi stared.
His chest heaved.
“…I didn’t mean to do that.”
The grass was singed.
But intact.
He lifted his hands, shaking.
“That was… a lot.”
Ashen was quiet.
Then—
[Now that’s how it’s done.]
Lumi swallowed. “What?”
[Fire doesn’t come from technique alone.]
Ashen’s voice lowered.
[It comes from rage. Passion. Desire.]
Lumi looked at his hands again.
[Harness your emotions. Feed the flame.]
The wind rustled the grass.
Lumi took a steady breath.
He stretched his arms and the fire finally answered.
“Yes! I did it. I’m not powerless anymore,” Lumi jubilated.
[That’s great. So can we burn something bigger now?]
“No.”
[Till later this night then.] Ashen muttered.
“What?”
[I didn’t say anything. Keep training.]
Previous Chapter
Latest Chapter
74
Lumi stopped at the final stair.For a moment, he thought he was mistaken.His father stood within the outer ring of the formation, coat immaculate as ever, hands clasped behind his back as if he were observing a board meeting rather than standing at the edge of something deeply forbidden.Opposite him stood the Blackwell patriarch, sleeves rolled to the wrist, fingers marked in ink and blood.The air above the circle rippled.Not opening.Not yet.But thinning.“Dad?”His voice sounded too loud in the underground chamber.Both men turned.The Blackwell patriarch’s expression did not shift. No panic. No guilt.Only calculation.“You were not invited,” he said mildly.Lumi’s gaze snapped to his father. “What is this?”The Calder patriarch regarded him the way one might regard an unexpected complication in an otherwise elegant equation.“We are correcting a flaw,” he said.“In what?”“In the structure of power.”The runes brightened as if punctuating the statement. Lumi stared closely a
73
“What? Your father? As in also a demon?” Lumi blinked. [What? You think I was given birth to by a raccoon? Of course a demon gave birth to me.]“What do you want me to do? Last time I tried meddling with demon magic, I ended up binding one to myself,” Lumi reminded.[You must go beneath the arena.]Before Lumi could respond, Scott’s staff sliced through the air toward Lumi’s shoulder. Lumi twisted aside, boots skidding across stone.“You’ve picked a brilliant time for instructions,” Lumi muttered under his breath as he ducked another strike.[Listen to me.]Scott pressed forward.A thrust.A spin.A sweep aimed at Lumi’s legs.Lumi vaulted over it, flipping cleanly before landing in a crouch.[Whatever they are doing below us must be stopped. They’re toying with what they don’t understand. If my father crosses over the same way I did—]Scott lunged again.“There’s no time for riddles,” Lumi snapped internally, blocking a downward strike that jarred his arms. “Explain so I’ll know wha
72
The engine cut.Silence settled around the car like a held breath.Calder estate rose ahead of them—stone pale against the afternoon sky, banners snapping in disciplined rows, sigils glowing faintly along the outer walls.Aidan was the first to step out.“Bit dramatic, isn’t it?” he muttered, shutting the door with a soft thud. “They couldn’t wait an extra hour?”Nevan rounded the bonnet, adjusting the cuffs of his coat. “It’s the Calders. They don’t wait. Very impatient family.”Cleodora stepped out last.She smoothed her sleeve.Said nothing.The gravel crunched beneath their boots as they approached the gates. Guards gave them curt nods and allowed them through without delay.Inside, the estate felt… alive.Too alive.The air vibrated faintly with gathered power.Nevan frowned. “Why does it feel like we’re late to something?”A horn sounded.Deep.Resonant.The sound rolled across the grounds and into their bones.They exchanged a look.Then quickened their pace.---They entered t
71
The morning air was sharp with frost when the two patriarchs stepped out onto the upper terrace overlooking the Calder arena grounds.Below them, banners snapped in the wind.Servants moved in careful lines, adjusting sigils etched into stone, polishing railings, preparing for the spectacle.The Concord Trials.Tradition dressed as honour.Power disguised as sport.The Calder patriarch adjusted the cuffs of his coat, gaze sweeping the estate with quiet satisfaction. Beside him, the Blackwell patriarch stood with his hands clasped neatly behind his back, expression composed, unreadable.Footsteps approached.Measured.Respectful.A young aide stopped several paces away and bowed deeply.“My lords.”Neither man looked at him immediately.Only when the Calder patriarch gave a small nod did the aide straighten enough to speak.“There has been… an unexpected development.”The Blackwell patriarch’s eyes shifted.“Speak.”“Scott Blackwell has just arrived at the entrance.”Silence followed.
70
Lumi had been walking the corridors for nearly half an hour when he felt it.A shift.Not loud.Not dramatic.Just a ripple in the air near the main entrance, like a new presence stepping across an invisible line.He turned instinctively.Through the tall arched windows lining the corridor, he could see the front courtyard below. Cars parked outside in a neat row. Hunters in formal attire moved in measured clusters, their crests pinned to lapels, their sigils faintly shimmering in anticipation of the trials.And there—At the gates.A familiar silhouette.Dark coat.Still posture.Shadows pooling faintly at his heels.Scott Blackwell.Lumi stilled.For a brief second, he simply watched.The Blackwell patriarch was nowhere in sight.No entourage.No formal procession.Just Scott, standing at the entrance as if he had arrived alone by accident.Was he their only representative or did they send him ahead to check out the competition first?Lumi descended the staircase without quite reali
69
Lumi woke to the sound of movement.Not voices, not shouting—just the low, constant shuffle of a house being rearranged. Fabric dragged across stone. Footsteps pacing and repacing. Metal clinking faintly, then stopping, then starting again.For a moment, he stayed where he was.The ceiling above him was unfamiliar in a way that still unsettled him. Calder ceilings were high, arched, ribbed with dark beams that looked more like cathedral bones than architecture. Even the light that filtered through the curtains felt heavier here, weighted with age and expectation.He swung his legs out of bed and dressed carefully.The clothes laid out for him were formal. Dark. Trimmed with the Calder sigil in thread so fine it was almost easy to miss. He hesitated before fastening the last clasp, fingers lingering there as if the fabric might bite back.When he stepped into the corridor, the estate was already awake.Servants moved briskly, arms full. Banners were being carried down from storage, the
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