Lyria, the demon with pale skin, sat gracefully like a porcelain statue, her back to the woman. Her scarlet locks shimmered under the firelight, soft and smooth, cascading down like streams of silk. Two elegant, obsidian horns curved backward from her forehead, glinting faintly with a natural polish.

"Miss, your hair is so beautiful," Sia whispered, awestruck as she combed through the strands like someone handling sacred fabric.

Lyria didn't respond at first. Instead, she sat still, her long fingers gently cradling a glowing egg close to her chest. The firelight reflected in her deep ruby eyes, giving them an ethereal glow.

Due to the recent shutdowns, Sia had found herself with little to do—her job as an attendant on hold, the town paralyzed with fear. Helping Lyria had been a distraction from her anxiety, but now curiosity nudged her again.

"Miss... since you're a demon, could you tell me more about the demon continent?"

Lyria's crimson eyes twitched slightly, gaze momentarily unfocused.

"I don't remember much," she replied in a low, thoughtful tone. "Except that it was a brutal place. Unlike these human lands... it lacks warmth and fertility. All that thrives there is strength... and pain."

Sia paused mid-brush, lips parted, but said nothing more. She sensed that pressing further would be futile. A cold silence followed, thick enough to choke on. Then, unable to suppress her concern, Sia asked in a hesitant voice:

"Miss... aren't you worried about that Sir?"

She swallowed and added, "I mean... his life might be in danger. He may be strong, yes... but against the top leaders of this town? He might not fare better..."

PFTTTT!

A sharp laugh cut through the silence.

Sia froze.

Lyria... was laughing.

The sound was light, graceful, yet so unfamiliar it felt alien in the quiet room. Her cheeks had the slightest lift, a soft curve forming at the corners of her lips. Her smile—delicate and deadly—was like moonlight reflecting off a crimson blade. Even her crimson eyes seemed to soften as though recalling something far warmer than her usual coldness allowed.

She looked beautiful. Unnaturally so. A predator, yes—but a serene one.

"The last thing I need to worry about is Master," she said with quiet confidence. "From what I've seen... Master doesn't even take SSS ranks seriously. No... he doesn't even put the gods in his eyes."

"So naturally," she continued, gently stroking the egg in her arms, "he must possess power... or secrets... that make him untouchable."

Just as her voice trailed off, a new one echoed from the hallway—

"My... my... my... My Lyria knows her master quite well, doesn't she?"

Lyria's smile vanished.

Her body tensed ever so slightly.

There leaning against the doorframe—stood Kael, soaked in blood. His coat was torn, the edges scorched, one side of his face smeared with ash and crimson. And yet, he stood tall, one arm loosely draped against the doorway, grinning.

Sia's eyes widened in horror.

Lyria turned her head calmly, her cold expression returning like a curtain falling over the stage.

"That was just acting," she said, voice smooth as glass. "To comfort the young woman. Nothing more."

Kael blinked, a brow lifting at the flat declaration.

"Acting?" he asked, his tone dry as he stumbled one step forward, his blood dripping on the wooden floorboards.

For a moment, something flickered in his eyes.

Then..

Kael took another step into the room—and then staggered.

"FUCKK!"

Kael cursed feeling overwhelmed.He surely exerted himself a bit.

The smirk that had curled his lips just seconds ago faltered. His knees buckled slightly, and the blood trailing down his arm thickened, now dripping freely onto the floor with a wet splack.

"Sir?!" Sia shot up in panic.

Kael lifted a hand as if to wave her off, but his arm trembled mid-air, fingers twitching, and then he crumpled forward like a toppled statue.

THUD.

His body hit the wooden floor with a weighty, echoing crash.

Sia rushed forward, kneeling beside him, panic flashing in her eyes. "He's burning up! Miss, he's losing too much blood!" she cried out.

Lyria didn't move immediately. She sat there, the egg still cradled in her lap, eyes trained on the man collapsed in front of her.

The sharp scent of scorched fabric, blood, and metal mixed into the room's once warm air. For a long second, her expression didn't change—but her pupils constricted ever so slightly.

She stood up in a slow, fluid motion. Her bare feet padded softly against the wooden floor as she walked toward him. Kneeling beside Kael, she placed her hand on his shoulder—and frowned.

His mana circuits were pulsing erratically, overexerted, like a furnace pushed far beyond capacity

Wounds criss crossed his back and chest, many hastily closed by crusted blood. There were signs of spatial warping across his left side, remnants of his own attack backlash.

"Idiot..." Lyria muttered under her breath.

A faint glow began to hum around her fingertips as she placed her hand over Kael's chest.

Demonic runes—intricate, elegant—crawled across her arm and into him like wisps of black flame.

Sia, watching this in awe, whispered, "What are you doing?"

"Healing him... but not with your petty human spells. This is demon magic—blood-bond restoration." Lyria said. "Painful. Violent. Effective."

As her magic seeped into him, Kael's body jerked slightly—his back arching in reflex—but he didn't wake up.

His brow twitched. A groan left his lips.

Lyria leaned forward slightly, brushing a few strands of hair from his forehead. Her expression turned... almost gentle.

"You idiot…" she repeated, this time more softly. "You could have just run away… but no, of course you had to fight a small army alone."

A beat of silence passed. Then her crimson eyes turned to Sia that baffled her.

Sia body twitched in fear as she felt like seating before a predator who could devour her any moment now.

"Fetch hot water. Clean cloth. And something strong to drink."

Sia nodded and ran out.

Lyria turned back to Kael, whispering just above a breath.

"Next time... don't make me think you died."

Then, with a flick of her finger, she flicked his forehead lightly.

Kael groaned again in his unconscious state.

Only if he was awake, he would have screamed..

'What the heck?'

'My Lyria don't talk that much.'