Caelen's heart pounded like it wanted to burst. He blinked once, then twice.
No mistake.
Blood.
It was dark, hard to see in full, but it was there—dark and soaked into the lower part of Father Luziel's white robe, like a patch of something sacred turned wrong.
He instinctively took a step back.
"Um… Father Luziel, I seem to have forgotten my jacket… It's kinda getting cold, and I'm freezing right now."
His voice tried to sound calm, but it cracked like brittle wood in a cold wind.
Father Luziel stared at him—his expression unreadable, only his eyes holding something too steady, too sharp.
The priest tilted his head slightly, then turned slowly and walked toward him.
"I'm sorry, I would like to help you with that," he said, softly now, too softly, "but we are running out of time."
His tone shifted like sand beneath a step. "Here, let me do this."
Caelen stepped back.
Just a little.
But the hand caught him. Not tight. Firm. Enough.
"I will not hurt you this time. Let's go before you catch a cold."
He didn't even know how to respond.
The words didn't match the moment, didn't match the stare.
Caelen tried to pull his arm back, subtly and slowly—too late.
A sudden force yanked him forward, and then—
Blur.
The world stretched.
Colors smudged. Trees vanished.
It's like being pulled through a tunnel with no sound.
He gritted his teeth and said nothing.
There was no point. He knew if he resisted now, it would just end faster.
When the colors finally slowed, he was standing in a clearing.
The air was unnaturally quiet. Even the wind felt like it had stopped moving.
In front of him, etched into the forest floor, was a glowing, golden summoning circle.
Complicated lines, symbols, ancient writing—it pulsed like a heartbeat.
"We are finally here," the priest said.
His voice sounded like someone finishing a long race.
Relieved. Triumphant.
Before Caelen could react, a shove sent him stumbling forward.
His knees hit the center of the circle. Hard.
"What the heck is this?!"
His voice cracked, his body trying to scramble out, one hand pressing against the line of the glowing symbols.
Then—shock.
"ARGHHHHH!!"
He screamed as a searing bolt of power shot through his body.
Pain like needles inside his bones.
He collapsed back to the ground, twitching, gasping.
The priest didn't flinch.
When Caelen looked up, the priest's face had changed.
No longer calm, no longer kindly.
Just pure disgust.
"How dare you converse with the Saint… and touch her body with your filthy hands."
The words landed like a slap, and Caelen blinked, stunned.
"What… What are you talking about?"
"You magicless fool," the priest spat. "You think I couldn't sense her magic in your tent?"
He paced now, circling. "Even before that, many of the sisters whispered your sins."
"Wait—what? But I didn't do anything!"
"You did."
The priest hissed.
"Do you even know how important she is? But what would I expect from someone like you..."
Caelen tried again to stand. His legs wobbled.
The priest didn't stop.
He raised his hands to the sky and began to chant in a language Caelen couldn't recognize.
Strange syllables, almost like singing and coughing at once.
The sky flickered.
"No—what are you doing?! Let me go! Where are the others I came with?!"
Caelen's voice rose, but it was swallowed by the light—
The summoning circle flared again.
From above, a white figure descended. Not like a person floating, but like a memory being projected into reality.
Formless and bright.
Yet unmistakably female.
Father Luziel fell to his knees instantly.
"Welcome, your Goddessness. I have finally finished the ritual for your daughter… and now it is time."
Caelen's jaw dropped.
He couldn't look away from the figure.
Even without a face, he could feel eyes on him.
Weight. Judgment.
"It worked…?" he mumbled, and then louder: "That's… that's the Goddess?! GODDESS, PLEASE! Please help me! I don't know what's going on—!"
The light turned to him.
The pressure in the air made his lungs hurt.
"You should be happy," the voice said. Calm. Soft.
It didn't sound evil. That made it worse.
"That you will help me resurrect my daughter. She can finally be with me again."
Caelen's eyes widened.
"What?! What daughter? Emma?!"
"Yes… The one you call Emma. She will become my daughter soon. And I thank you for that."
She raised her hand.
A single point of light shot from her finger and into the center of the summoning circle.
Caelen's body froze.
"No—NO NO NO—!"
The circle lit up like a second sun, and the column of light surged into the sky—
In the distance, beyond the trees, Caelen could see the direction.
The tents.
His body wouldn't move.
He dropped flat. Breath stuck in his throat.
It felt like his soul was being siphoned—pulled and twisted.
"What is… happening…"
The voice of the Goddess echoed.
"It is starting. The Primordial Era… all over again."
And then—
She vanished, watching the sky.
Unmoving.
Caelen's eyes rolled back.
His body is still.
The summoning circle burned beneath him.
The priest stood, grinning.
The wind finally returned.
Carrying with it the faintest scent of flowers and blood.
Still trapped within the magic circle, Caelen lay paralyzed. His limbs refused to obey him—he could feel his strength leaking out of his body, starting from his legs and creeping upward like a slow poison.
He hated this. Hated feeling weak. Hated that the only thing he could see was the last trail of golden light disappearing in the direction of the tent.
"Everything is finally going according to plan," the priest's voice slithered closer. "And now… I can finally end you, filth, before you lose all feeling."
His boots crunched against the dry leaves as he approached the circle, his silhouette growing with every step.
"F-Fuck yo—"
Taint me.
The words weren't his. A whisper slithered into his ears, cold and unnatural, making him freeze mid-curse.
The priest sneered. "Filthy mouth as well… but what do I expect from someone like you?" He raised his hand slowly, light forming near his palm into a glowing sphere. "Just like your friends… I'll cleanse the world of your filth."
Taint me.
The whisper again—louder this time, more urgent.
Suddenly—possessed by instinct or desperation—Caelen bit down hard on his tongue. Blood filled his mouth. Gritting his teeth, he stuck out his bloodied tongue and dragged it against the runes on the circle.
The response was instant. The golden glow of the magic circle twisted—corrupted—into a deep red, and the symbols began to shimmer with malevolence.
"What in the Goddess's name…" the priest stepped back in horror.
Then he saw the blood, saw what Caelen had done, and his face twisted in rage. "You disgusting piece of shit!"
He hurled the light sphere at Caelen. It struck the red circle with a blast of blinding force.
A wave of white-hot energy burst outward, and when the light cleared, the red glow was gone. The circle had vanished. Nothing remained.
The priest stared, breathless.
"That… that was too close," he muttered, eyes scanning the now-empty field. "What was that?"
"NOOOOO!!! I DON'T WANNA DIEEEEEE!!!"
Caelen's scream echoed in the void as he writhed on the cold ground.
"Hey, shut the hell up!"
The voice hit him like a slap—feminine, soft but commanding, like silk with a blade beneath. He stopped.
Eyes wide, he looked up.
Ruins surrounded him—shattered stone walls, fractured like a bomb had gone off. In front of him stood a throne, jagged and violet, almost alive with power. On it sat a figure, glowing like the Goddess—but darker, wrapped in violet shadow. Feminine. Shapely. Commanding.
She lounged lazily, her chin resting in one hand as she eyed him like an insect.
And yet… there was amusement in her tone.
"Finally decided to shut up, huh?" she said, tilting her head.
"W-What?! Where am I?! What happened to the priest?" Caelen scrambled to sit up, the rubble crunching beneath him.
At the word priest, the figure shifted ever so slightly—an edge entering her presence.
"Priest? Haven't seen one of those in a while," she said slowly. "So… you were with one before you got here? Wait—don't tell me… are you with the church?"
Her voice chilled at the end—casual, but laced with something darker.
"No, no, no! I'm not with them!" Caelen shook his head fast. "I was almost killed by one!"
A pause. Then, laughter—low, rich, pleased.
"Oh? I like that," the shadow said with delight.
Still confused, Caelen looked around—and that's when he saw it. Beyond the throne, deep in the cracked walls, was a purple, transparent barrier. On the other side—
—figures.
Twisted, monstrous outlines with hungry eyes. He couldn't make out their faces, but their presence was maddening.
"What the hell is that?" he pointed.
The shadow turned her head. "That? Oh, just some greedy bastards who want my husband's seed."
"Seed…?" Caelen's face twisted in confusion.
"Not that seed," she grinned—he could feel the smirk even if he couldn't see her face clearly. With a flourish, she raised her hand and summoned a small, black seed that pulsed faintly with dark energy. "This one."
"I-I wasn't thinking what you thought I was thinking, alright?! And… what is that?"
She giggled—a light, eerie sound. "A primordial seed. My husband's legacy. We managed to extract it before everything fell apart."
"Primordial…?" Caelen's eyes widened as he recalled what the Goddess had said. "Wait. That sounds familiar…"
"Oh? So you have heard of it," she said, now intrigued. "Well, I was planning to give it to the first fool who stumbled in here and didn't disintegrate on the spot. You, surprisingly, are still alive… magicless, armorless, weak—but alive."
From a pile of rubble beside the throne, she pulled a black book with golden edges. It pulsed with the same aura as the seed.
"What do you mean?" he asked cautiously.
"They entered before you. Died screaming. And they were a million times stronger." She pointed beside him.
Caelen turned and froze. Piles of what he thought were stones were actually bones. Not white and clean, but blackened, like they'd been burned from the inside out.
"Those were… people?"
"They were." she said simply.
He swallowed hard, not knowing what to feel.
Then her voice shifted—calm, almost playful. "So what do you say… do you want to become a demon?"
Caelen looked up.
"A demon?" he repeated.
"You'll gain magic," she nodded, holding up the seed. "Power. Purpose. But… you'll make a lot of enemies."
The offer hung in the air—heavy, dangerous, and real.
Caelen stared at the black seed… then at the bones.
He had no magic. No power. No allies. Just a dying body, and a goddess who wanted to use him as fuel.
"…What happens if I say yes?"
The shadow figure leaned forward, her voice low, promising, full of wicked delight.
"Then, my dear Caelen… you'll finally stop being prey."