"Latriys..."
Asuma released Urillia and stepped toward her.
The holy chains hissed and flared brighter as he approached. They were not meant for him. The closer he came, the more his skin burned. Gold light scorched against the Blood Primordial's aura wrapped around his body.
But he did not stop.
He forced his arm through the chains.
The flesh sizzled.
The smell of burning skin filled the ruined street.
The princess stood untouched by the seal, yet he—who had fought an abnormal demon—was being shredded by sacred bindings.
Still—
He pushed forward.
Until at last—
He wrapped his arms around her.
The moment he embraced her, the world shifted.
A flood of memory poured into him.
Not his.
Hers...
The great city of Sintra.
Towering cathedral spires of the Holy Church pierced the sky. Bells rang above polished marble halls.
But beneath—
There were cells.
Cold.
Damp.
Forgotten.
In one of them sat a small girl.
Thin.
Barefoot.
Chained at the ankle.
Her hair matted. Her body malnourished. Dust clung to her skin.
Marks covered her hand—an intricate seal branded into her flesh.
She trembled in the corner as footsteps echoed down the corridor.
Asuma's chest tightened.
This wasn't a demon.
This was a child.
A Child he recognized.
The memory shifted.
The church above preached salvation and protection.
Below—
Ritual chambers.
Medical mages in white robes.
Latriys lay strapped to a stone table.
Runes were carved into her skin.
Not gently.
Injected.
Forced.
Her screams echoed through the underground cathedral.
Something ancient was being forced into her body.
A vessel.
A container.
A weapon.
The ritual spiraled out of control.
Darkness erupted.
One mage disintegrated instantly.
The underground cathedral collapsed in shadow and blood.
Another memory.
The Carja Republic.
Cities burning.
Shadow legions marching.
The Noctyrix fully awakened.
Latriys' body suspended within a monstrous shell as destruction spread.
But even then—
Inside—
She was fighting.
Struggling against the power forced into her by the very church that claimed to protect humanity.
The scene softened.
Fionalla.
The sage's gentle laughter.
Traveling across Anorak.
Latriys smiling.
Giggling.
Looking... free.
With every passing year, the darker memories dimmed.
The warmth grew brighter.
She had begun letting go.
Healing.
Until today.
The flood ended.
Reality returned.
Asuma was still holding her.
The golden chains tightened violently, digging into her skin, forcing the Noctyrix outward.
Urillia stared, stunned.
She had been raised to see threats and assets.
Demons and humans.
Power and weakness.
This—
Was neither simple nor political.
Yet even now—
Her mind calculated.
Saving Latriys could shift factions.
Create leverage against Caius.
Stabilize eastern unrest.
Even in catastrophe—
She thought of the empire.
Asuma tightened his embrace despite the chains burning through his back.
"You're not a monster," he whispered into her ear.
"You were made into one."
The Noctyrix howled.
The chains flared brighter.
Golden sigils rotated around Urillia's eyes as she maintained the seal.
The demonic aura thrashed violently, trying to reject the purification.
Latriys' body shook in his arms.
Then—
For the first time—
Her voice surfaced beneath the layered growl.
"...Asu...ma..."
Faint.
Fragile.
Human.
The shadow armor cracked.
The red eyes flickered between crimson and their original hue.
The Noctyrix roared in fury as if being torn from its throne.
The chains began pulling the demon essence outward like black smoke forced from a wound.
But it wasn't complete.
The primordial blood inside Asuma reacted violently to the holy seal.
His vision blurred.
His heart pounded irregularly.
The witch's voice whispered faintly in the back of his mind.
"Hold her. Just a little longer."
The golden chains tightened once more.