Chapter 10 : A Forgotten War.

"A long time ago," Zehris began, "the Demonbloods weren't just some forgotten race. We were the first rulers of this land."

Ethan's breath caught.

"That's not what the empire's records say," he said carefully.

Zehris chuckled. "No. Because the empire's records are lies."

He turned to Ethan, gaze sharp.

"The Verrentis Empire was built on slaughter and stolen power. It didn't rise on its own. It consumed what came before it."

Ethan's mind reeled.

That wasn't in the novel. None of this was.

Zehris continued. "Our kind ruled for centuries. But then the humans came—with their mages, their armies, their lies. They couldn't defeat us, not in a true war. So they did something worse."

His silver eyes burned.

"They erased us."

Ethan felt a chill crawl up his spine.

"They wiped our names from history. Destroyed every record of our existence. Hunted down every last one of us until nothing remained."

Zehris gave a sharp, humorless smile.

"Well. Almost nothing."

Ethan forced himself to think.

If that's true…

If the empire had wiped out an entire race, covering up the truth—then what else had they erased?

What else had been changed?

And more importantly—why was Zehris appearing now?

Ethan narrowed his eyes. "Why did they want your kind gone?"

Zehris grinned.

"Oh, that's simple," he murmured. "Because we were too powerful to control."

Ethan's stomach dropped.

Before he could respond—Zehris moved.

Faster than sight.

One second, he was standing across the clearing—the next, he was right in front of Ethan, eyes glowing.

And when he spoke next, his voice was a whisper against reality itself.

"They thought they could erase us." His fingers curled slightly. "But fate doesn't forget so easily."

Then—Ethan felt something.

A sharp, unnatural pull in his chest.

As if the world itself had just shifted around him.

His vision blurred.

For the briefest second, he saw something—a glimpse of a different time, a different life.

And then—it was gone.

Ethan staggered back, gasping.

"What the hell was that?"

Zehris smirked.

"A reminder," he murmured. "That the story you know? The one you think is real?"

His silver eyes gleamed.

"It's just another lie."

Ethan's breath came fast.

The moment Zehris touched him, it felt like something inside him cracked.

For the briefest second, his mind was somewhere else.

A ruined city drowning in crimson light.

A broken throne.

A name he didn't recognize—but somehow knew.

And then—nothing.

Ethan staggered backward.

His vision swam. His chest ached, like something deep inside him had been ripped open and stitched back together.

"What the hell did you do?" Ethan gasped.

Zehris watched him with lazy amusement, leaning against a tree like nothing had happened.

"I told you," the Demonblood murmured. "Fate doesn't forget so easily."

Ethan gritted his teeth. "That wasn't fate. That was—"

He cut himself off.

Because he had no idea what that was.

It wasn't a memory. Not his.

But it felt… familiar.

Like a word on the tip of his tongue that he couldn't quite say.

Ethan clenched his fists. "If you want me to help you, you need to stop speaking in riddles."

Zehris tilted his head.

"Who said I need your help?"

Ethan's blood ran cold.

Before he could react—Zehris moved.

Faster than thought. Faster than sight.

One second, he was standing in front of Ethan. The next—Ethan felt claws press lightly against his throat.

Not enough to cut. But enough to remind him they could.

The Demonblood's silver eyes burned.

"You freed me," Zehris murmured. "But don't mistake that for control."

The pressure disappeared.

Zehris stepped back, smirking.

"Now," he said, stretching his arms lazily, "shall we talk about where we're going next?"

Ethan exhaled shakily.

Right.

Because he had just betrayed the empire.

And Seran Durell wouldn't let that go unanswered.

The hunt had already begun.

And if Ethan wanted to survive?

He needed to find out who he really was—before someone else did.

Ethan hadn't slept.

The night was too quiet.

He and Zehris had put miles between themselves and the wreckage of the caravan, but the weight in Ethan's chest refused to fade.

Because he knew what was coming.

Seran Durell was making his move.

---

In the Empire...

Seran didn't hesitate.

The moment House Meridan's caravan failed to report in, the empire's response was swift and merciless.

By sunrise, imperial banners flooded Velmire.

By noon, the Retrievers had returned—not in scouting pairs, but in full units, dozens of Tier 3 and Tier 4 aura warriors searching for a single target.

And by nightfall, Seran himself arrived.

His silver-and-gold armor gleamed beneath the torchlight as he rode through Velmire's gates, his presence alone enough to send the underworld into panic.

Seran never moved without purpose.

And now, the empire's most dangerous war general was personally hunting down one single man.

Ethan Vale.

Seran stepped into Dorian Grayveil's hideout.

The information broker didn't even try to lie.

"I don't know where he went."

Seran smiled.

Then he placed a dagger against Dorian's desk.

It wasn't a threat.

It was a reminder.

Seran had used that same dagger to cut out a nobleman's tongue once.

A nobleman who had dared to lie to him.

Dorian stared at it. Then exhaled slowly.

"…You're serious about this one, aren't you?"

Seran leaned forward, his golden eyes gleaming.

"I am always serious," he said softly.

Then—he left.

The message was clear.

He wasn't stopping until he found Ethan.

And when he did?

There would be no negotiations.

Back in the wilds, Ethan sat by the fire, staring into the flames.

He could feel it.

The world shifting. The story spiraling further away from anything he recognized.

And now?

Now Seran was coming.

Zehris stretched beside him, looking completely unconcerned.

"You're tense."

Ethan didn't respond.

Zehris smirked. "Worried about your precious war general?"

Ethan exhaled sharply. "You should be too."

Zehris chuckled. "Why? He's just a man."

Ethan turned to him.

"No," he murmured. "He's not."

Zehris raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

Ethan's fingers curled into fists.

"Seran Durell isn't just a general," he said quietly. "He's the man who's supposed to destroy the empire."

Zehris stilled.

For the first time, his smirk faded.

Because if there was one thing Demonbloods understood—it was destruction.

And now?

Now the empire's most dangerous man was coming straight for them.

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