Chapter 9 : The Blood That Defies Fate.

Ethan's breath caught in his throat.

The battle raged around him—knights clashing with the twisted creatures, fire spells exploding in the air, the caravan guards shouting orders.

But none of that mattered.

Because the Demonblood was looking directly at him.

"…You don't belong here either, do you?"

Its voice was smooth. Amused. Like it had just stumbled upon an interesting puzzle.

Ethan's mind raced.

This thing—this being—wasn't supposed to exist. Not anymore.

Yet here it was. Alive. Talking. Aware.

And somehow, it knew Ethan was different.

How?

Captain Rael recovered first.

"Contain it!" he barked, his golden Tier 4 aura surging to life. He raised his sword, and the other knights moved in—a dozen warriors, their auras burning red, blue, and gold.

Ethan barely had time to react before the first knight charged.

The Demonblood turned—and moved faster than anything Ethan had ever seen.

Its hand blurred forward, catching the knight's blade mid-swing. The steel cracked like glass.

Then—a pulse of silver energy erupted from its body.

The knights were sent flying.

Ethan staggered back.

This wasn't just a warrior with a strong aura.

This was something beyond the normal power system.

And Ethan had no idea how strong it really was.

The Demonblood exhaled, rolling its shoulders as if shaking off rust. Its silver eyes flickered back to Ethan.

"You," it murmured. "You smell… out of place."

Ethan forced himself to speak. "And you're not exactly normal either."

The Demonblood grinned, flashing sharp, inhuman teeth.

"Perceptive."

It glanced at the chaos around them—the knights struggling to rise, the mages gathering power for another attack.

Then it spoke again.

"Help me," it said. "And I'll give you answers."

Ethan's blood ran cold.

Help a Demonblood escape?

The empire would hunt him for the rest of his life.

But if this thing really knew why the world was changing…

Could he afford to say no?

Ethan's mind raced.

The battle raged around him—knights regaining their footing, mages gathering power, firelight flickering against steel.

The Demonblood stood before him, chains still clinging to its wrists, silver eyes burning with an unnatural light.

It had just offered him a deal.

"Help me… and I'll give you answers."

The words echoed in Ethan's mind.

His instincts screamed at him to say no.

To let the empire take it.

To walk away.

Because if he helped this thing escape, he wasn't just running anymore.

He was betraying the empire.

Becoming a true fugitive.

But…

Ethan wasn't sure the empire deserved his loyalty.

Not after Ironwood. Not after Seran.

And if this Demonblood really knew why the world was breaking—why fate was rewriting itself—could he afford to let it be captured?

No.

He made his decision.

And he made it fast.

The mages finished their casting.

"Contain the beast!" Gavril Renwick, the 3rd Circle fire mage, barked the order, his hands crackling with flames. "Sealing formation—now!"

Four more mages raised their staffs.

Glowing sigils blazed in the air, forming a tightening ring around the Demonblood.

Ethan acted before he could think.

He lunged toward Gavril.

The mage barely had time to react before Ethan slammed his shoulder into him, breaking the casting circle.

The light shattered.

The spell collapsed.

And in that split second—the Demonblood moved.

A pulse of silver energy exploded outward.

The knights were sent flying again, their auras flickering. The mages staggered back, their focus broken.

And Ethan?

He felt the Demonblood's clawed hand close around his arm.

Then—they vanished.

---

The world blurred.

Ethan felt his stomach twist, his vision darken, his body yanked through something cold and empty.

Then—suddenly—they were somewhere else.

No more fire.

No more knights.

No more caravan.

Just dark trees and silence.

Ethan stumbled forward, nearly falling onto his knees.

The Demonblood released him, stretching its arms with a sigh.

"Well," it murmured, glancing around the darkened forest. "That was unpleasant."

Ethan forced himself to breathe.

He had just burned every bridge.

No more hiding. No more blending in.

He had just officially betrayed the empire.

And now, there was no going back.

The forest was silent.

No shouting knights. No crackling flames. Just darkness and cold air.

Ethan exhaled, his pulse still hammering in his ears.

He had just committed treason.

And now he was alone in the woods with a creature that shouldn't exist.

The Demonblood stretched its arms, rolling its shoulders as if shaking off rust. Its silver eyes gleamed in the dim moonlight.

"Well," it murmured, amused. "That was dramatic."

Ethan swallowed hard.

"You teleported us," he said. "That's… not normal."

The Demonblood chuckled. "Neither are you."

Ethan stiffened.

He didn't like that answer.

Because it confirmed what he already feared—this thing knew something about him.

Something he didn't even know about himself.

Ethan forced himself to stand straighter. "Who are you?"

The Demonblood tilted its head.

Then—it smiled.

"My name," it said slowly, "is Zehris."

Ethan frowned.

That name wasn't in the book.

He would have remembered.

And that meant Zehris wasn't just a forgotten side character.

It was something new.

Something completely outside the original story.

Zehris smirked, watching the realization dawn on Ethan's face.

"Oh," it murmured. "Now you're starting to understand."

Ethan felt cold.

Because this wasn't just about history changing.

This was something else entirely.

Something rewriting reality itself.

And Zehris knew why.

Ethan stared at Zehris.

His mind raced, trying to connect anything—any forgotten passage, any hidden lore from Eclipse of the Eternal Empire—that could explain who, or what, was standing before him.

But there was nothing.

The Demonbloods were extinct. That was the only thing the book had ever said about them.

Yet here was Zehris. Alive. Breathing. Smirking.

Ethan exhaled sharply. "What are you?"

Zehris tilted his head. "You already know that."

"Fine," Ethan muttered. "Then how are you still alive?"

Zehris laughed softly. It wasn't a happy sound.

"Ah," he murmured. "Now there's a story."

He turned slightly, gazing at the black treetops above them. His silver eyes reflected the moonlight, giving him an almost ethereal appearance.

Then, finally—he spoke.