Chapter 17 Nimfa and Noir

Lyric's POV

"My friend… he protected us. He saved this egg from the goblins that attacked us."

Her voice wavered. She lowered her gaze, staring at the dragon egg cradled in her arms.

"But he's already—"

A lump formed in her throat, cutting off the words. Tears welled up in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks, trembling as they fell.

"It's my fault…" she whispered. "I lost my friend… because I wanted to play in the mountains."

The weight of guilt pressed down on her small frame, her fingers tightening around the egg as though it were the only thing keeping her together.

Noir's POV

He listened in silence, allowing the girl's sorrow to settle into his mind. Her pain was one he recognized all too well.

"If you wish to protect something," he murmured, "then you must be willing to stake your life on it."

He understood what she was truly saying. The loss of her friend wasn't just grief—it was regret. A burden she felt she had to carry alone.

Noir knelt down, lowering himself to her level. His voice was steady, quiet, but firm.

"Your friend was brave," he said. "He sacrificed himself to protect you and this egg."

He closed his eyes briefly. Memories stirred—flashes of battles long past, of comrades who had fought beside him, only to be swallowed by death.

A deep ache pulsed in his chest.

"I am done with destruction. I just want to live a peaceful life… but fate seems to have other plans."

His hands clenched slightly. How many times had he tried to escape? How many times had blood found him, no matter where he went?

"So be it. If fate insists on pulling me back into this world… then this time, I will take control. I will protect what I want to protect. Those close to me… I will not lose them."

"You fought hard too," he continued, reopening his eyes. "Now, I will take that burden from you. I will protect this dragon… and I will ensure its safety."

Gently, he placed a hand on Lyric's head.

Lyric's POV

The touch was unexpected.

Warm. Steady. Familiar.

Her breath hitched. A long-forgotten memory surfaced—of someone who had once comforted her in the same way, a flickering light in her darkest moments.

"This feeling…"

A single thought crossed her mind as she closed her eyes, leaning into the touch.

"It's warm."

For the first time since her friend's death, the crushing weight on her chest seemed to ease, if only a little.

Noir's POV

A faint smile ghosted his lips beneath the mask. It was small—barely there—but for those paying attention, it was unmistakable.

His cold, unreadable gaze softened, if only for a fleeting moment.

Nimfa's POV

She blinked, stunned.

"Eh…?" Her golden eyes widened, flickering with disbelief.

"Noir… smiled?"

She searched his face, uncertain if she had truly seen it or if her mind was playing tricks on her.

A demon—one who had brought terror and bloodshed—had just shown kindness.

"So… you have a soft side too," she murmured under her breath, watching him with new curiosity.

Ronan's POV

Ronan clenched his fists, his heart pounding.

"What is this…?"

He struggled to reconcile the image before him with the demon he remembered from the massacre a decade ago.

The Noir he had seen back then was a monster. Merciless. Bloodthirsty. A demon who slaughtered without hesitation, his mask hiding nothing but death.

But now…

The man before him was different.

And that terrified him more than the demon he once knew.

Noir observed Lyric, her small hands trembling as she clutched the dragon egg.

"What's your name?" he asked, his voice calm but firm.

"Lyric Vaelora," she answered softly.

"Mm… that's a nice name," he said, his tone unusually gentle.

There was a brief silence before Noir continued.

"And… what about your friend?" His gaze was unreadable. "The one who protected you?"

Lyric flinched slightly. She lowered her head, hesitating. For a long moment, she seemed unable to speak. Finally, in a shaky voice, she whispered, "I-It's… Caelum Luthielle."

Noir noticed the weight in her words. The grief. The guilt.

"I see…" His voice dropped slightly, solemn. "I will remember his name—Caelum Luthielle."

Lyric's eyes widened just a little, as if surprised that Noir would acknowledge him.

"Th-Thank you," she murmured, blinking away fresh tears. Slowly, she extended the dragon egg toward him. "Here… take care of it, okay?"

Noir gently accepted the egg, holding it carefully.

"I will," he promised. Then, his sharp gaze locked onto her. "But you must do your part as well. Keep growing stronger. If you want to protect those you care about, you must be willing to fight for them."

Lyric nodded weakly, but before she could say anything, her body swayed. Exhaustion overtook her.

Her eyelids fluttered shut. Then, she collapsed.

Nimfa moved in an instant, catching Lyric just before she hit the ground.

"She's just exhausted," Nimfa said, worry written across her face.

Noir studied her carefully before nodding. "I suppose so."

He adjusted the egg in his grasp before slipping it into his dimensional pouch.

Nimfa's golden eyes flickered with curiosity. "That pouch…" she muttered, her fascination obvious.

Still, she shook the thought away and turned toward the village. "But… what about the people who were injured in the attack?"

Noir hesitated.

For the first time, doubt crept into his thoughts.

He could stay. He could make sure the wounded were tended to, ensure the villagers were safe. A decade ago, he wouldn't have even considered it. But now…

He clenched his fists. This isn't my fight.

His voice was colder when he finally spoke. "We leave."

Nimfa frowned. "But—"

"You've already been exposed," he cut her off. "I don't want to deal with humans. If we stay, they'll try to use you… twist your kindness into something they can exploit. We're leaving. Now."

His tone was final.

Yet, for a fleeting moment, Nimfa thought she saw something behind his mask—an emotion he quickly buried.

Reluctance?

Regret?

Her chest tightened, but she said nothing.

Instead, she looked down at Lyric, gently adjusting the girl's position in her arms. "Put her in front of the soldiers," Noir instructed.

With a flick of his wrist, the dark chains binding Ronan unraveled and vanished.

Ronan gasped as his body was freed. "Huh? I—I'm free?" He flexed his fingers, testing his movements.

Nimfa walked toward him, cradling Lyric carefully.

"Lyric—!" Ronan rushed forward, meeting her halfway. She gently passed the sleeping girl into his arms.

He held her close, checking her face anxiously.

A breath of relief escaped him. "She's just asleep…" The tension in his body eased.

But as he looked up, he saw Nimfa walking away.

Something inside him snapped.

"Why are you following him?!"

His voice rang out, raw and desperate. He had wanted to ask her this from the moment he saw them together, but now, seeing her leave—**choosing to walk alongside a demon—**made the question burn even more.

Nimfa didn't answer.

She didn't even stop.

She simply kept walking, her silhouette growing smaller as she disappeared beyond the gates with Noir.

As they left, she finally spoke, her voice quiet.

"Is it really okay to ignore him?"

Noir didn't look back. "Yes. Don't meddle with humans. They're selfish and greedy—always looking out for themselves." His words were sharp, but there was something beneath them. Something… bitter.

Nimfa pouted. "Hmmm… Have you ever looked at yourself in the mirror?"

Noir didn't answer.

As the village faded into the distance, Nimfa glanced back one last time.

A new journey had begun.

In the heart of the Abyss, within a colossal chamber of shadows and flickering crimson light, sat a lone figure upon a throne of blackened obsidian.

The air was thick with power—suffocating, heavy, absolute.

His presence alone was enough to bend the space around him, warping reality itself. And yet, in this moment, something stirred deep within him—an unseen shift, a disturbance in the carefully woven threads of fate.

Malgrath's fingers twitched.

His right hand rose to his chest, where something unseen, yet intimately felt, had faded.

"The curse… it's gone?"

A murmur, low and thoughtful, escaped his lips. His expression remained unreadable as he straightened in his throne.

And yet, for the briefest moment—a memory surfaced.

A distant voice. A warmth long forgotten.

"Malgrath, you have warmth in your soul. Thank you."

Elara's voice.

His fingers curled slightly, clenching at the feeling that resurfaced—a feeling he had buried long ago.

A smirk ghosted across his lips, fleeting as a whisper.

Then—his crimson eyes snapped open, cold and unreadable once more.

Before him, an assembly of high-ranking demons stood in perfect formation, their figures cloaked in the abyssal mist that coiled and writhed at their feet.

The throne room, vast and adorned with twisted spires of black stone, was filled with nothing but their presence and the suffocating silence that followed.

And then—his voice, sharp and commanding, cut through the air like a blade.

"So… did you find Noir?"

The demons in line stiffened.

A single figure stepped forward, lowering itself into a deep bow before speaking.

"M-My Lord… we have yet to locate him."

A pause. A heavy silence.

Malgrath's gaze darkened.

"Why?"

Though his voice was quiet, it carried weight enough to crush mountains.

The demon who had spoken visibly trembled under his gaze.

"W-We…" The hesitation was evident. "We've searched the mortal realm, but…"

Malgrath's fingers tapped lazily against the armrest of his throne. A slow, ominous rhythm.

"So, you still cannot find a single outcast wandering the mortal plane?" His voice was void of emotion, yet each syllable sank into the demons like a heavy chain wrapped around their throats.

"Tell me…" He leaned forward slightly, the dim red glow of the chamber casting shadows across his face. "Are you all truly that useless?"

The demon faltered, its body shaking slightly. "I-I… I am sorry, my lord—"

"Spare me your apologies."

Malgrath sighed, a slow, drawn-out exhale as he lazily rested his temple against his knuckles.

Then, with a flick of his fingers—

"Go."

The air trembled. The order was absolute.

"By any means necessary, bring him back to me."

At once, every demon in the chamber straightened.

"Yes, my lord!"

Their voices echoed in unison before they swiftly departed, disappearing into the swirling void beyond the throne room.

And as the last of them vanished into the darkness—

"Siiigggghhhhhhh!"

A defeated groan echoed from one of the departing demons.

"I really thought I was going to die back there…"

Another demon snickered, slapping a clawed hand onto its comrade's back. "Well, good for you. You live another day."

A chuckle rippled through the departing group, but beneath it all, they knew—failure was not an option.

Malgrath's command had been given.

And no one defied the Lord of the Abyss.