Cecilus asked around for lodging and eventually ended up staying with an old demon woman on the edge of the village.
She was a childless widow whose husband had died decades ago, leaving her alone with her crop field and a house built from warped driftwood. She accepted Cecilus's silver only after insisting he take a warm meal as well.
There was an inn available. He could have stayed there.But strangely, the villagers — demons of the southern continent — greeted him with small nods and calm expressions. No fear. No disgust. No muttered slurs.
It was unsettling.
"So… white devil," Cecilus muttered to himself, as he sat at the woman's hearth that night, "why are these people so calm around me? Compared to the others we've met… it's almost too peaceful."
The white devil manifested in a faint shimmer of light at his side.
"My guess? They once had a good experience with an elf," it said.
"That feels like a pessimistic assumption. Maybe these demons simply don't judge as harshly."
"My opinion is there to help you. If you're going to complain, don't ask for it."
"Yes, however, you stated it with a suspicious amount of confidence."
"I wonder…"
The devil faded away, leaving Cecilus alone with the crackling fire.
A week passed without event.
Cecilus spent most days training behind the widow's house until his muscles burned, pushing his exhaustion to the edge so his soul wouldn't spiral instead. When he wasn't practicing, he walked along the cliff paths and watched the ocean gnaw at the rocks.
One morning, as the spray drifted over the docks, he spotted Darrin and Finnan preparing their small boat.
"So the kid is coming too?" Cecilus asked.
"Yes," Darrin replied, tightening a rope. "My son here needs experience before he's old enough to take ownership of the boat."
Finnan puffed out his cheeks. "I don't want to steer this stupid ship my whole life! I want to be an adventurer like Mr. Elf! Like Taeral!"
"Quiet down," Darrin said, flicking him on the back of the head. "Adventuring isn't a stable job. And even adventurers need a helmsman on their travels."
"Oh… I didn't think about that…"
Darrin stepped closer to Cecilus and murmured, "He'll grow out of this phase. The older you get, the more you learn what truly matters."
"Saying that to an adventurer is quite bold," Cecilus replied.
"Most adventurers chase strength or thrill. But you… you don't look thrilled by anything. No joy. No spark."
"I disagree," Cecilus said. "I feel thrilled every time I try the local food."
Darrin barked a laugh. "Ha! So you can joke, elf!"
Cecilus nodded toward the water. "Shall we be off?"
They boarded the boat, and Darrin pushed them from the dock. The sails unfurled, catching the wind. Soon, the village shrank into a smudge of color behind them.
Cecilus leaned against the boat's edge, letting the endless horizon quiet his thoughts.
When night fell, he slept as usual — until Finnan's retching woke him.
The boy leaned over the railing, violently seasick.
"Didn't you want him to steer the boat?" Cecilus muttered to Darrin. "Why not hire a mage to cure his seasickness?"
"They're expensive," Darrin answered firmly.
They are? Cecilus thought groggily. I could've sworn they were easy to hire…
He covered his ears under his hood and eventually drifted back to sleep despite the noise.
When morning came, the sun was already bright and cruel. A distant speck lay ahead — their destination.
"Mournspire Isle," Cecilus murmured. "Doesn't sound like a pleasant place."
You're right, the devil spoke in his mind. It isn't. You're here to contract a giant bloodcrow — likely your toughest fight yet. No weaknesses. And, irritatingly, it's the perfect counter to you.
Cecilus's eye twitched. "Will there only be one?"
Giant bloodcrows are territorial. The one nesting on this isle didn't survive by sharing. And remember — you can't kill it. The slower the defeat, the stronger the contract chance.
"Wonderful," Cecilus muttered.
But soon, the island sharpened into clarity.
A massive mountain dominated its center, its peak lost in the clouds. A dense forest wrapped the base like a dark ring.
"I've never seen a mountain that tall," Cecilus whispered.
You've never seen a mountain, period, the devil replied dryly.
"And it nests at the top… perfect."
They reached the shoreline, sand crunching beneath their boots.
"We'll set up camp here," Darrin said. "How long will you need?"
"I'm not sur—"
Two days, the devil interrupted. Tell them to leave if you take longer.
"Two days," Cecilus said. "If I'm not back, leave without me. You've already been paid for the journey here."
Darrin nodded. "We'll stay for that long."
They waved as Cecilus stepped into the forest, swallowed quickly by the shadow of the mountain.
***
Far to the south, across the demonic continent, a lone demon trudged through snow-swept hills. Though summer had arrived, the southern lands twisted seasons into nonsense — blistering heat one month, blizzards the next.
He was tall, with pale blue skin and elongated limbs — unlike the sand-toned demons of the desert.
At last, he reached a cave glowing with firelight. Inside, female demons lounged around the flames, fanning embers despite the frigid air. Their clothing was minimal despite the cold, and the blue-skinned demon kept his eyes strongly averted.
He approached the massive figure sitting at the back — grey skin, white horns curling high, eyes half-lidded in perpetual boredom.
"Lord Oblivoros," the blue demon said timidly, "I've come for my mission. You sent a messenger for me."
A deep, thunderous voice responded.
"Very good, Nerevrax. Ramon's traces have entered our continent. A soul user has finally appeared. You will extinguish him."
Nerevrax bowed. "Yes, sire… but would it not be more effective if you confronted him? Time magic surpasses soul magic in every way."
"If I go now and he dies easily, it wastes my time," Oblivoros rumbled. "If you go and lose, that would amuse me. No soul user in history or the future will ever rival Ramon. Your strength will suffice."
He flicked one finger. "Go. I sense the soul mage near Mournspire Isle."
"Yes, my lord."
Nerevrax stepped outside, raised his hand, and released a faint, icy glow. The snow shifted, gathering into a massive mound. He climbed atop it, and the mound erupted into a spiraling storm of frost that lifted him into the sky.
"Damn, it's cold!" he shouted as he spun upward in the whirlwind.
"Only a few days until I reach the ocean…"
***
Cecilus reached a steep incline, leaves and soil slipping underfoot until he hit a sheer rock wall.
…Shit. Now I actually have to climb.
"Instead of wearing yourself out, use your summons."
"What do you mean?"
"You have a summon that can boost you. The dust elemental."
"Ah." Cecilus scratched his cheek. "Right. I didn't think of that."
"Unless you thought I wanted you to use Xena as a stepping stone."
Cecilus ignored that.
A whirl of sand spiraled a few feet away, coalescing into the dust elemental's small tornado-like form.
"We're going to make it blast you up there," the devil said, pointing at a high ledge with an unhelpfully enthusiastic grin.