All five of them stepped quietly through the gate. The darkness was so thick and heavy that they couldn't see anything clearly—it was as if the night itself had stolen their eyes.
Moments later, one by one, torches began to ignite; their flames flared up in an orderly row and turned a faint shade of blue. One by one, they lit up the vast hall, as though a gentle, mysterious light was coming alive in the heart of the darkness.
A towering dome ceiling loomed above, held up by cracked columns whose shadows danced in the torchlight. The hall was paved with worn and fractured bricks. Chains hung from the walls, their occasional clinking of metal against metal gently breaking the silence.
Then something appeared before them—something they hadn't expected...
Their eyes widened in astonishment, breaths caught in their throats, and a wave of awe and fear swept across their faces.
A young and beautiful woman, seemingly in her mid-twenties, stood before them. Her eyes were the color of the night—deep and dark—but within their depths, tiny points of light sparkled, like stars that had not yet faded into the void. Her long, black, and glossy hair cascaded down her shoulders like the darkest threads of midnight.
She stood in silence, bound by chains—motionless and powerless, like a statue carved of patience and captivity.
Beside her stood a man—appearing young, yet something in his face screamed of an age far beyond human comprehension. His crimson eyes burned like glowing orbs of blood, drawing in every gaze. His straight black hair fell to his shoulders, the color of a starless night.
He wore an elegant, dark coat—flawlessly tailored—not only exuding authority but also an eerie grace. The cut and style were noble, yet clearly not of this world, as if time and space had lost meaning for him.
His silence was threatening. His faint smile—both alluring and terrifying.
His mere presence weighed heavily in the room—a presence impossible to ignore.
Their faces were twisted in shock, but a difference showed in their eyes. Vantias was staring straight at the man, while the others looked at the young woman who stood silently, chained and captive.
Sylphy, stunned, took a few steps forward. Her lips trembled, and in a voice barely above a whisper, she said:
"...Anna?"
At that moment, Daggerol raised his massive axe. His face grew determined and furious; to him, this unknown man was without a doubt their enemy.
Gazel also, without hesitation, drew his heavy greatsword—the kind only someone with his immense strength could wield.
William, his voice shaky, glanced back and forth between the man and the woman and said:
"Anna... We found her... But who is the man beside her?"
That one word—found—was enough to ignite a spark in Vantias's mind. For a moment, his heart warmed—a heat born from hope.
He thought: "My sister is alive... she's safe... All that remains now is to free her. Just one step left to repay my debt..."
A quiet, deep, and deliberate laugh echoed through the cold, heavy hall:
"Heh... heh... heh..."
His laughter echoed off the stone walls, gaining a haunting resonance—as if the hall itself was laughing with him.
The man with glowing red eyes took a step forward and spoke in a calm yet resounding voice:
"What a marvelous gathering…"
His gaze swept over them. Slowly and deliberately, he continued:
"I knew you'd come looking for the lost lamb… That's why I kept her safe for you."
His voice echoed like a chilling whisper across the hall. A faint, cryptic smile curled on his lips.
Softly, but with venom, he added:
"Don't be shy… Come closer. After all, it's been a long road to get here."
In that moment, each of the five felt it: this man was not someone they could face lightly. Something in his presence, in his calm demeanor, in the indifference in his eyes… warned them.
Sylphy, her expression a mix of anger and concern, stepped forward and demanded:
"What did you do to her?!"
The man didn't change his expression or blink. With a thin smile, he replied:
"Nothing special… but…"
His crimson eyes gleamed. His tone turned drawn-out and sly:
"Playing with humans… has always been one of my favorite pastimes."
A heavy silence fell.
Vantias lowered his gaze, as if he had just realized something. In his mind, a thought formed:
"Ah… I see now."
He looked again at Anna—she was unconscious, but seemed unharmed. No visible wounds. Then he turned his gaze to the unknown man.
He stepped forward slightly and asked, voice trembling:
"You… you're a demon, aren't you?"
The rest of the group turned sharply, eyes full of shock and worry.
The man smiled coldly and said, almost with admiration:
"Oh... Interesting. You're clearly clever. Yes, I am a demon."
Vantias felt sure now. The truth sat like a heavy stone on his chest. Fear slowly flowed through his veins. His body began to tremble. He felt ashamed of this weakness, but then stood up straighter and said nothing.
The demon noticed the trembling in Vantias's body and smirked with cruel satisfaction.
Just as Vantias prepared to ask something else, Sylphy turned on the man with blazing eyes and fury in her voice:
"What do you want from us? Who even are you?!"
The man tilted his head slightly and began to pace slowly. His footsteps on the cracked stone floor made a faint crunching sound—louder than any scream in the stillness of the hall.
He gently ran his hand across the unconscious Anna's face, then turned and said coldly:
"What do I want from you?"
A heavy silence fell. Sylphy's breathing could be heard clearly. Vantias unconsciously stepped back. The man slowly ran his finger along Anna's neck—without applying pressure.
Then he whispered:
"Fear."
His voice echoed softly through the hall. The others barely managed to repeat the word:
"Fear?"
He looked at them again and said:
"And as for who I am… I have no name. But in the past, I was known as NightCrawler…"
At that very moment, a cold wind blew from the far end of the hall. The flames on the torches flickered. Shadows twisted across the walls.
The sound of stone cracking echoed from one of the columns—faint, but clear enough for all to hear.
A silence deeper than before swallowed the space.
They all looked at each other in disbelief. The name was unfamiliar to them.
Gazel let out a short, mocking laugh:
"A demon without a name? That means it hasn't fully manifested—and it's weak. I've never even heard of a NightCrawler."
The man's eyes flickered with anger, though his face remained calm. He replied:
"It's no surprise you don't know who I am… But what you see here isn't even me…"
Vantias felt an increasing heaviness in his chest. He thought:
"I have to stop them… If he's provoked further, he'll wipe us all out."
Vantias tried to speak to the others:
"Guys… we should calm down. And really think about the situation we're in right now."
William, his face twisted with rage, snapped:
"Shut up, Vantias! This isn't about what we think—it's about what we do."
With fury burning in his eyes, William turned to the demon and shouted:
"Where is your master? The one who summoned you?"
The man muttered:
"Master?"
His face darkened. For a moment, anger surged, but then he closed his eyes and forced himself to stay calm. Then, coldly and firmly, he replied:
"I don't need a summoner to enter the material world… Though I am limited in how long I can remain here..."
A chilling, terrifying smile spread across his face as he added:
"But I have more than enough time… to butcher you all."