Chapter 97: Thorns and Dawn
Translated by Addis of Exiled Rebels Scanlations
Editor: PlumSauce
Three months later, the first group returned.
There were thirteen human spellcasters, two bloodkin, and six werewolves. According to the bloodkin practitioner whose mind was clearest and most stable, the devil hadn’t revived instantly. It had fragmented its soul, moving it out bit by bit, and only about “half a year ago” had they first encountered the devil sacrificial target in its fully freed form.
In truth, it hadn’t even been half a year. From the sandbox’s activation, just over three months had passed. In a space without day and night, where time couldn’t be measured precisely, perception of time easily became distorted. It was like being locked in a dark, silent room: though only a few days had passed, one might feel as if an eternity had elapsed.
The returnees underwent a series of physical examinations — checking the severity of injuries, whether they had been affected by Umbrals, and whether any hidden spells were still active on their bodies. Several vehicles departed at dusk, reaching the small villa — once Lucian Blackmoon’s private research institute — just as night fell.
They were greeted not by nurses, but by the hunter Paul and bloodkin Danny. Inside the house, half the people bustling about were exorcists who had once had private dealings with the Blackmoon family; the other half were practitioners from the Menkovár family. Of course, Arthur Menkovár was there too. Though he knew little of medicine and ancient magic, he could only help lift and carry the injured — by himself, he could manage several at once.
Lucian appeared much as he had before. He had resumed his composed, scholarly demeanor, though his complexion was somewhat haggard. It wasn’t fatigue — newly turned bloodkin often went through this phase of frailty: struggling with psychological barriers to eating and learning to manage their heightened senses, bearing a heavy physical and mental load.
Lucian wore a white lab coat and completely unnecessary glasses with no lenses, sitting beside a bloodkin patient’s bed.
“My goodness, you’ve adapted so well,” the patient said. Though he looked like a boy, he was actually over three hundred years old. His gaze at Lucian was warm. “Only three months since your transformation, yet you look so stable… Truly worthy of Arthur’s offspring. Arthur treats you well, doesn’t he?”
Lucian cleared his throat, adjusting his glasses. “Sir, now is not the time to discuss my personal history. I hear you witnessed the devil’s first full appearance, correct?”
“Oh, yes…” The patient cradled a cup of blood spiked with a magical potion, as if it were a hot coffee, shoulders tensed. “I don’t remember which day it was. We were ambushed, but couldn’t find any trace of the assailants. Several companions went missing. We searched as we advanced — we never found them. Later, we encountered another ‘expedition force.’
“That group of Oath of Vengeance knights called everyone that — they liked the name. We met the third expedition force. That team should have included the witch sisters from the Arabian Peninsula, Tave and Lela. They’d been ambushed too, losing several members, including Tave. Only Lela remained.
“Deville Coraci told us to stay away. Suddenly, he used that power — the black, thin, blade-like things. I’m a dark creature myself, but even I shivered seeing them. Coraci insisted that the girl wasn’t Lela because ‘Tave’s mascara has glitter; Lela’s is pure black.’ They always stressed that. Now, Tave was dead, yet the one claiming to be Lela still had glitter on her lashes.
“The imposter ‘Lela’ spoke in a man’s voice. We didn’t understand what was happening. Suddenly, the black robe she wore was torn apart by some force, revealing nothing inside… only a head rolling to the floor — that must have been Tave’s head and body. Her body had long been shredded completely!
“At that moment, the spellcasters’ arrays detected the missing people, including the real, dead Lela. Their flesh had been stripped away, leaving black smoke-covered skeletons forming humanoid shapes, advancing towards us from all directions. Then a strange man’s voice said, ‘Thank you for personally delivering the food to me.’
“I knew the resurrected sacrificial target would consume lives continuously. The more the evil spirit fed, the stronger it became — and the devil was no different. At first, it wasn’t afraid of us, thinking it was still in the Blackmoon basement… But it quickly realized something was wrong: it was inside a sandbox.
“From that moment, the real battle with the devil began. No — ‘battle’ isn’t the right word. It was a war. Had this occurred in the real world instead of the sandbox, what would West Bay City have become? I can’t imagine…
“From that day, we never saw Deville Coraci again. I heard exorcists say he couldn’t fully control his power and feared harming us.”
Lucian nodded. The research institute still held much data and records on Coraci. Unlike when he had been in Hungary, the Coraci now used a human body, not one designed to handle devil power. Perhaps he will never be able to control himself precisely.
The bloodkin patient finished the potion and exhaled deeply. “I’m not worried about Deville Coraci. I’m a bit worried about that boy called John Lockland. He seems very close to Coraci, always staying as near as possible. Until the time we evacuated, I never saw John again — I think he’s probably still with Coraci.”
Several months passed after that. Occasionally, someone emerged from the sandbox to report on conditions, receive treatment, and recount their experiences.
The West Bay City branch of the Association had a new location again. Their offices were getting increasingly remote. First, the twenty-ninth floor of an office building — which had been shattered by the devil’s power; then, a standalone house far from downtown — which had been destroyed by explosions and fire; now, they had moved from a temporary military tent to an old warehouse on the city outskirts, spending every day reinforcing the walls and strengthening magical protections.
In the past few months, it had been strange — not just in West Bay City, but hunters and exorcists everywhere were unusually idle.
At the end of the year, Mariana, who had transformed from a Lizardman into a human, left Liz’s house and boarded a plane to Miami. She had submitted an application to join the Association and was about to begin training.
West Bay City’s branch was in a special situation and couldn’t offer her sufficient guidance, and the headquarters knew Mariana had switched bodies. They preferred to send her to a district with more complete training infrastructure. Thus, her training location was set in Miami.
Mariana had long grown accustomed to using a human body. Now, her speech, gestures, and demeanor were indistinguishable from any ordinary young human girl. Once in the U.S., she was surprised to learn that the hunters there were also unusually idle, with few opportunities to deal with dangerous creatures.
Her instructor explained that this was because “all sufficiently dangerous creatures had left”. Bloodkin elders who secretly manipulated black-market factions, werewolf tribes who occasionally clashed, uncontrollable violent spirits and monsters… Some had already entered the sandbox with the expedition forces; others stayed holed up in their lairs, monitoring the Association’s website for updates.
“Normal people should enjoy this downtime… But somehow, I kind of hope those monsters survive and return,” the instructor said, smirking wryly as he refreshed the Association’s site on his phone.
At the camp on the West Bay City outskirts, only four or five people remained on duty. The rest had mostly returned to their normal lives. By Christmas and New Year, only one tent remained by the sandbox gateway.
On a snowy midnight, Lathander huddled miserably under a blanket, clutching a thermos and pressing his folding chair as close to the electric heater as possible.
Half his body protruding from the tent, Carl stared blankly at the thin layer of snow.
Vampires weren’t afraid of cold, but mortal-born demons were.
“Hey, pull the curtain down,” Lathander complained. “You’re not cold, but I’m freezing. Carl… have you still not figured it out? She won’t accept you.”
Carl’s vacant expression stemmed from the fact that, on Christmas, he had somehow mustered the courage to tell Carolyn “I love you” — and the entire office staff had mocked him relentlessly ever since.
He slumped back into the tent. “I’ve thought it through. I’m not going after her anymore. I suddenly realized we’re not right for each other.”
“Then why are you still moping around all day?”
“Not because of Carolyn,” he said. “It’s because…I’ve been thinking about John and Coraci.”
Lathander scooted closer to the heater, motioning for Carl to sit beside him. Carl was wearing only a shirt and trousers despite it being winter — just looking at him was chilling.
The young bloodkin continued,“I’ve accepted that I can’t be with Carolyn, yet I still think about her all the time. I know the two of us won’t be together. Even if I’m not willing for it to be this way, there’s nothing I can do.”
“Mm. Sure. But what does that have to do with John and Coraci?”
Carl sighed. “Coraci can’t leave the sandbox,” he said. By now, most of the Association knew this. “John can’t accept that reality, but he has no choice. Even if he’s not willing for it to be this way, there’s nothing he can do. Look, I felt miserable all day just giving up one hope — imagine how John feels. In the future, even if they win and destroy the devil, John will either have to give up Coraci or give up his old life. For the two of them, whatever they sacrifice…it will hurt like hell.”
Lathander lowered his head, taking a sip of instant coffee from his thermos. After a long pause, he said slowly, “I just realized…you actually have some of the poise of a domain bloodkin.”
“I don’t understand…”
“I mean your emotional intelligence is higher than I expected.”
Carl wasn’t sure if that was praise or sarcasm. Before he could respond, the sound of scraping metal and a roar came from not far outside the tent.
The young vampire and demon exchanged a glance and dashed out with inhuman speed.
Outside the manor gate stood a jet-black Nightmare horse. A knight in full copper armor held its reins. His sword was raised as he howled with excitement — more like a werewolf than a Doomcaliber knight.
A white-haired mourning singer sat atop the horse, supporting a human who was badly injured. The human wobbled and slipped from the singer’s arms.
Carl reacted instantly, catching him mid-fall, and then stood stock-still in front of the Nightmare.
“Are you with the Association?” the mourning singer asked in a hoarse voice.
Carl nodded mechanically. He was holding an unconscious mage, standing next to a howling Doomcaliber knight, and facing a mourning singer on a Nightmare mount… Carl was a little afraid of those empty, flame-lit eye sockets and stood frozen in place.
Lathander stepped forward and took the human from his arms. “They came out of the sandbox! Why are you just standing there?”
They had barely led the Nightmare to the roadside when a few more humans appeared out of nowhere at the manor gate. Then came a massive wolf carrying an injured person, followed by a bloodkin practitioner still maintaining a detection array despite having exited the sandbox.
About fifteen minutes later, another group of black Nightmares emerged — several had lost their riders. Behind them came a bloodkin in tattered clothing, who lunged at Carl the moment he stepped out. He clutched Carl’s neck, sobbing uncontrollably.
“What’s wrong? Who died?” Carl asked in panic. He recognized the bloodkin as a senior practitioner of the Council of Domain Bloodkin, over a thousand years old. He couldn’t imagine such an elder holding him and crying.
“Many have died, my dear,” the elder said, cupping Carl’s face and pressing a kiss to his forehead. “How long were we in there? Two years? Three? But…it’s over now. We can come back!”
“Of course you can…”
“No, I mean,” the bloodkin turned back to watch the others still emerging from the sandbox, “we’ve finished what we came to do!”
After Lathander carried the unconscious human into the tent, he overheard the exchange as he stepped back out:
“My dear, we won! The soul of the devil sacrifice…is gone, completely!”
Inside the sandbox.
Once, it had been an endless library. Shelves spread out like a jungle, the books mere hollow replicas. Perpetually unchanging light poured through the tall windows, while the void outside remained untouchable.
Now, the infinite library resembled an infinite tunnel. Deep pathways spiraled upward, guiding people back to the real world.
After following the indicators to the exit, many practitioners glanced back at the tables, chairs, and shelves — most of them unrecognizable now, except for the light beams from above that still scattered across the path.
“Did you see the devil fragment?” a human mage whispered to a companion.
A bloodkin practitioner sucked the last few blood bags — fortunately, they had indeed secured victory within the year, or their supplies would have run out. He corrected the mage’s phrasing: “You should call him by name. His name is Deville Coraci.”
“Fine, Coraci. Did you see Coraci? About seven tunnels back, I think I saw him,” the human replied.
Since timekeeping tools were useless, they had to use distances as a measure of time. “I don’t think he can ever be human again… No, I’m not criticizing him. In fact, we should embrace him. But… he really can’t be human anymore. He’s like a machine that’s severely malfunctioned…”
The bloodkin tossed the empty bag aside and exhaled. “Alright. Let’s leave. Don’t forget — we should get out first and then report. People are waiting for us outside.”
Between the large tunnels lay zigzagging corridors. Many small resting rooms had collapsed; immobile corpses stood in the shelters, and the smooth floors were now full of pits and uneven surfaces.
John walked along the dimly lit path, clutching Coraci’s hand tightly.
Coraci walked behind him. Whatever John said, Coraci did not respond. John wasn’t waiting for a reply; he occasionally spoke to himself.
He pulled a finely bound hardcover book from a shelf — it could not be opened, merely a book-shaped object.
“If only we had two more days back then, maybe you could have made a real book? Even copying a Blackmoon family tome…even a complex magic book would do. I could just look at the illustrations. There will always be some books that I could understand. It would pass the time… After all, we’re going to be here for a very long time, right?”
He draped an arm over Coraci’s shoulder, helping him navigate an obstacle-strewn section of floor.
Coraci’s eyes still lacked irises and pupils; in fact, they looked stranger than a year ago. No shine, no gleam — just black and white like inorganic carvings. He did not speak, did not move his gaze, and his face was expressionless. Fortunately, he could still walk and follow John.
Others had seen him like this before. They didn’t have a chance to ask anything; John simply led him deeper into the ruins and disappeared.
The practitioners understood that every time Coraci used the devil’s power, his soul and body fell out of sync. Mild symptoms included the loss of his Eyes of Truth ability. No one could predict the worst effects.
Now, due to this disharmony — Coraci had devoted his soul to fighting the devil sacrifice — he had once completely lost control.
He had abandoned self-control, forgotten everything that maintained his humanity. Now, though calm again, the link between soul and body was severely damaged, irreparably out of sync.
He could no longer freely command his body, like a machine that could no longer receive the correct instructions.
“Don’t worry, Coraci,” John said, able to read Coraci’s emotions from that blank face. “I already knew about all this not long ago.”
Coraci stared straight at him. John continued,“You can’t leave the sandbox, right? I don’t know the exact principles, but we’ve been in here together for so long…I figured it out.”
Coraci feared what he was about to hear. Before John spoke, he already knew what he was about to hear.
“If you can’t leave, I’ll stay too.”
Trying to appear casual, John patted his shoulder lightly, imagining a “sandbox life” together: “Since I can come and go freely, I can move things from your house in here,” and “If you want to see someone, I can let them in to visit.”
But that was impossible.
Coraci moved his feet stiffly, silently thinking, My control over this body is steadily deteriorating. Soon I will lose all ability to move, but my soul will live forever. I will be trapped in a paralyzed body, surviving in the sandbox…like back then, when I was sealed inside that gem beneath the earth. No different from death.
He wanted to laugh, but could not control his facial muscles. He wanted to say, John, you misunderstand what will happen — it’s not romantic at all.
From several rows of shelves away came the sound of horses’ hooves approaching. Coraci suddenly stopped.
John looked back and saw Coraci’s lips move slightly, silently forming the words: “It’s time.”
He wasn’t sure if that was what Coraci had meant. So he leaned closer and squeezed Coraci’s shoulder. “Are you trying to make me leave? Maybe I will… But only for a little while. Then I’ll come back. Don’t even think about saying, ‘This place isn’t yours.’ A few months ago… It might have been a few months ago, you already said something like that to me.”
He cupped Coraci’s face in his hands. “I completely understand what you’re thinking. Coraci, you’ve always been like this. Remember a few years ago when I bonded with you? Back then, you wanted to give up. You would rather be treated as an experiment, be killed as a threat, rather than fight for me. You’ve always let others decide your fate. You were like that in the forests of Hungary, when you were an Association mediator, and even now…you’re still like that!”
He paused and took several deep breaths. Bloodkin didn’t need to breathe, but at that moment, he felt as if his heart were racing uncontrollably.
“Coraci, you know I’ve always avoided touching a friend’s blood, let alone yours. But I have never regretted the bonding. Do you know why? Because I realized — you like to give up. You always think about surrendering. Without the bond’s power, I have no other way to make you look in the right direction… So even if you disagree, I am ordering you to accept me staying here!”
No sooner had he finished speaking than a sudden chill swept over him. John instinctively stepped back, and he saw something flicker in Coraci’s eyes.
The black eyeballs regained a hint of light, and the rigid corners of his eyes — the sculpted, lifeless edges — moved slightly.
Bloodkin don’t normally feel cold. Yet within less than half a second, a needle-sharp chill started climbing upward from John’s feet, as if his body had plunged into an icy lake.
Coraci’s voice rang out, but his lips didn’t move.
“I’ve saved every last bit of self-control for this moment,” Coraci ‘spoke’, “but I can’t hold it for long. I have to act quickly.”
“What are you saying?” John asked, the sensation disturbingly familiar. Not long ago, he had felt something similar — that fear that comes from deep within the soul when facing a devil. No being could resist it.
Familiar black fragments began appearing out of thin air again. Sparse, slowly spinning, they gradually gathered around Coraci.
“John, you commanded me…that I must not leave you…”
Coraci stepped forward. John instinctively wanted to retreat but held himself in place.
The swirling obsidian shards whipped up tiny vortices, tossing Coraci’s disheveled black curls into an even greater disarray. His coat that was draped across his shoulders slipped off, slashed with countless cuts.
The shards did not disperse. Instead, they gathered up the stones, wood splinters, and metal around Coraci’s feet, merging them together. Eventually forming into a black spear, hovering beside him.
Perhaps because he wasn’t speaking aloud, Coraci’s tone was flat, emotionless, like an artificial reading machine.
“You said I can’t leave you…but you never said I can’t hurt you.”
With that final syllable, the spear shot through the air and struck John in the heart.
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