WebNovels

Chapter 13 - Chapter 13 Devil or Human

A silver butterfly rested quietly on William's shoulder, its wings fluttering slowly in the cold moonlight. Silence enveloped the ruined garden. William stood tall among the rubble, his body surrounded by a dark, roaring aura.

His jet-black hair, tied in a ponytail, fluttered in the swirling energy around him. His clothes, as vibrant as autumn maple leaves, remained unstained. But most striking of all was the look in his eyes. Cold. Clear. Merciless.

William didn't change his appearance. He remained an eighteen-year-old boy. However, even a tiny portion of the dark aura radiating from him was enough to subdue the demoness before him. He had deliberately released it. Not to fight, but to instill fear in Velmire.

Velmire, who had previously been so arrogant, took a step back. However, his haughty demeanor remained firmly behind a panicked expression.

"You... you... impossible..." His voice trembled, yet he remained filled with ego. "You're not human. That aura... Your power is on par with a Destruction-level demon. No, you're a Supreme Faction!"

William was silent. His eyes remained unblinking.

Velmire snorted. His laughter was bitter and mocking, but it didn't hide the growing tension he felt.

"So you're the Fourth Demon King," he said, staring at William with a mixture of awe and disgust. "How amusing. With such power, you stand on the side of humans? Disgusting. You're a stain on the name of the Demon Kings!"

The aura around William pulsed. He didn't move. But the air felt suffocating.

Velmire continued defiantly.

"Your predecessors weren't like this. They didn't pity humans. They worshiped hatred, oppressed humans, and offered them as sacrifices to power. They knew their place—above all else. But you…?"

She spat blood and wiped his lips with the back of her hand.

"Unworthy of that name. Demon King, what honor would you have if you defended such lowly creatures as humans?"

William remained silent. But his eyes were bloodshot. He lowered his head slowly. The murderous aura thickened—not with shouts or threats, but with a piercing calm.

"I told you..." he murmured. "You are truly bold. Even in front of me, you insult me. But..."

He lifted his head. His red, calm, and determined eyes returned to Velmire.

"Can you still speak after this?"

Instantly, Velmire's laughter stopped.

She looked down, her eyes wide. There was an open wound in her chest. It was a gaping hole, and blood was beginning to soak her white dress.

"W—what...?" she hissed softly.

She didn't know when it had happened. She didn't know when or where. But in the last second before her consciousness shattered, she saw it—a silver butterfly darting like a bullet of light and piercing her body to destroy the demon core in her chest.

It was not just a heart. It was the demon essence—a ball of purple light the size of a baseball—that was her lifeblood.

Now, that ball...

...was in William's hands.

He lifted it slowly and stared at the faint purple glow in his palm. Not with pride. Nor with hate. Just emptiness.

William stared at the glowing purple orb in his palm—the life essence of Velmire, a Wrath-Level Demon. Its shape was almost beautiful, like a jewel, but it was the source of thousands of mercilessly slaughtered souls.

He tilted his head slightly and stared at Velmire. His body trembled, and his once-proud face was now scarred and dusty with raw fear.

"Do you still feel superior to me after this?" William whispered. His voice was even and almost gentle, yet it held a hint of death. "You won't rise again. Not after your heart's core is destroyed."

Velmire screamed softly. Fear had finally destroyed the last shred of his pride. "No! Please! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

He repeated it over and over like a final prayer. But William didn't budge.

Apologies born of fear, not remorse, meant nothing to him.

He clenched his fists. The first crack sounded like a bone breaking. The purple orb began to crack, tiny cracks spreading like a crystal splitting open. An instant later, the object shattered. Purple light exploded into fine fragments that turned into mist and black smoke, which slowly vanished into the night.

Velmire screamed. Her screams came not from her body but from the remnants of her soul, which had been shattered along with her core. In a matter of seconds, the sound was gone. It was as if she had never existed.

William stood still, observing the emptiness left behind by Velmire.

She had lived for fifty years. She was a true demon, not a human transformed into one like him. Still, they were once the same: creatures with hatred in their hearts. The difference was that William chose to overcome his hatred. Velmire hugged him tightly.

He could see the fragments of her victims' souls. They were young brides who should have lived happily. They were destroyed by the obsession, jealousy, and hatred of a demoness and her summoner who couldn't accept the love of another.

William took a deep breath. Slowly.

Then he stepped forward through the mist that Velmire had left behind. He knew there was something far more sinister beneath this darkness. The true mastermind.

His hand reached out and gripped the wrist of a noblewoman hiding behind the bushes in the church garden.

The woman gasped. Her blonde hair was neatly pulled back, and her luxurious turquoise dress was still flawless. Aristocratic beauty was etched on her face. But William saw only arrogance and hatred in her face.

She tried to pull her hand away, but his grip was unwavering.

She swiftly pulled a dagger from beneath her clothes and thrust it at him, a reckless movement devoid of technique—just a surge of panic and hatred.

William raised one hand.

Flick.

His fingertips brushed the dagger as if it were a mosquito. The dagger flew away and landed with a dull thud on the ground.

"Orphanage brat," the woman spat angrily. "How dare your filthy hands touch me!"

William merely snorted softly.

"Lady Caroline Roselle. Eldest daughter of Earl Roselle. Sister of Lady Anastasia." His voice was cold and sardonic. "You've finally come out of your hiding hole." 

Caroline's face tensed. Her anger boiled over.

"How dare you, you lowly brat!"

She raised her hand to slap William. But before she could, another hand stopped her.

A Sentinelese soldier in formal attire appeared with several other soldiers and grabbed Caroline's hand swiftly. Behind him were Elizabeth and Louis, standing tall with five other Sentinelese soldiers. They were of the Lower Order, yet they carried an air of authority.

Elizabeth stared at William with a calm, serene gaze. Louis, on the other hand, simply stared at the restrained Lady Caroline.

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