The End of the Night

After killing every demon, Xilian relit the extinguished torches. Clusters of pure white light joined together.

Amid the phantom crackle of flames, the Grey Fog was driven back once more.

Xilian breathed a sigh of relief, wiped the filthy blood from his face, and leaned on his sword as he tried to recover his strength.

The slaughter had looked effortless, but it had taken a heavy toll on him.

To finish the demons quickly, Xilian had burned the Soul Marrow in his body at full force. Once that brief burst ended, sharp pain shot through his muscles.

Xilian had been a Torchbearer for too short a time. The concentration of Soul Marrow in his blood was still low, and his control of Source Energy remained unpracticed.

As Nuen had said, stepping onto a Fated Path was only the beginning. Xilian still had much to learn.

The taste of ash filled Xilian's throat.

When he lifted his sword, an aching pain swept through his arm. Its once-light weight suddenly felt crushing, and he nearly lost his grip on the hilt.

Thinking of his sorry state, then looking at Nuen, Xilian could not understand how the man had kept up such intensity while fighting through the night.

One thing was clear: as a Torchbearer, Nuen had to be of an extremely high rank.

Suddenly, the burning pain in Xilian's palm turned into waves of satisfaction.

Xilian had pleased the Ouroboros Mark. Amid the frenzied killing, its indistinct Blessing took on a clearer form.

His blood grew hotter, and the concentration of Soul Marrow within it rose by a few tenths of a percentage point. The strange change in his body left Xilian rooted to the spot.

Only when a reckless demon vaulted the high wall and Xilian beheaded it with one stroke did he come back to his senses.

Does killing Chaos purify the Soul Marrow in my body?

Xilian studied the Ouroboros Mark in puzzlement. "Just how much do you hate Chaos?"

He joked aloud, but a storm was raging in his heart.

As a Torchbearer on the Torchbearing Path, Xilian needed to meet two major conditions to advance to Rank Two: Smelter. First, he had to prepare the extraordinary materials for the advancement ritual. Second, he had to purify the Soul Marrow in his body until its concentration reached ten percent.

The extraordinary materials for advancing to Rank Two were not difficult to collect. Raising his Soul Marrow concentration was the real challenge.

To do that, a Torchbearer had to slowly burn his blood over many years, converting it bit by bit into pure Soul Marrow.

The Ouroboros Mark had undoubtedly cut down the time Xilian needed. Clean, decisive killing had replaced the complicated, lengthy slow-burning ritual.

Xilian added Soul Marrow to the torches along his route.

With ample Soul Marrow for fuel, the advancing Grey Fog was visibly held back. Xilian did not let down his guard.

At times he watched the surging mass of demons below; at others, he looked toward the Torchlight Lighthouse.

Mick still held the Torchlight Lighthouse, using a telescope to watch the various parts of White Cliff Town. Whenever he spotted Grey Fog spilling over the high wall, a signal flare streaked across the night sky to direct Xilian to the danger.

Xilian took out his pocket watch and checked the time. Midnight, the darkest hour, had passed. Dawn was not far off.

Once the sun rose, the sinister things on the earth would burn away.

Suddenly, a bright orange-yellow light fell across Xilian's face.

At the Torchlight Lighthouse, Mick had fired another signal flare. This one did not point toward the high wall. It landed inside White Cliff Town.

"No!"

Xilian dropped from the wall and raced toward where the flare had landed.

Frightened voices came from nearby.

The Guard had already surrounded the area. Some had drawn swords or leveled spears, while others aimed firearms into the murky darkness ahead.

Scattered gunshots kept ringing out.

"What's happening?"

Xilian found Tim among the Guard. Tim was panting, with several wounds on his body.

"Some demons got in," Tim explained. "I killed a few, but others hid inside the building... I don't know if there's Grey Fog in there, so I haven't dared make a move."

Compared with tangible demons, the formless Grey Fog was far more deadly.

"Have you sealed off the area?" Xilian asked.

Someone answered, "The torches are all in place. We've isolated this patch of darkness."

Xilian kept asking questions.

"Is anyone still inside the building?"

"A few people couldn't get out in time. They might still be alive, or they might not have fully turned into demons yet."

Tim sighed wearily. "Xilian, can you do it?"

"Do what?"

"Kill them," Tim said heavily. "Kill townspeople we've known for years, even if they're beyond saving."

Xilian was silent for a moment, then asked a question of his own.

"Tim, what kind of person do you think I am?"

They had lived together for so many years that Tim's answer came almost at once.

"A heartless bastard."

Xilian did not argue. He merely smiled.

Tim froze for a moment. Something complicated flickered in his eyes before he spoke again with certainty.

"Yes, you really are a heartless bastard.

"I still remember how you looked when you killed Bell. Your eyes were completely calm, as though you were slaughtering livestock. Not a ripple of emotion."

Tim paused, his voice edged with self-mockery and helplessness.

"That was when I understood. You were born for this work, and I wasn't.

"The first time I killed someone, I panicked. My hands wouldn't stop shaking. I jabbed at him several times with my sword and still failed to kill him quickly. All I did was make him suffer more.

"For a long time afterward, I was terrified. My palms always felt sticky, as though I could never wash the blood off them. I woke from nightmares again and again, my clothes soaked in cold sweat."

As he spoke, he looked down at the sword gripped in his hand. Sticky black blood coated its edge, giving off a sickening stench.

"I've always felt that I never got used to this life. I just... went numb."

Tim looked up at Xilian again. Confusion filled his eyes, along with... a trace of envy.

"Xilian, what were you thinking when you killed Bell?"

"You don't want to know."

Xilian refused to tell him what he had felt then, but added something else.

"Ever since the moment I killed Bell, something terrible has been spreading through my mind."

He continued in a voice barely above a whisper.

"Worse, it doesn't disturb me. I even feel... pleased."

With that, Xilian strode into the darkness.

The demons had hidden in a three-story building. Hating light by nature, they had destroyed every light source as soon as they broke in. The rooms were dark and filled with the foul stench of decay.

Xilian spread Soul Marrow over his blade and ignited it. As the sword blazed, he gripped his pistol in his other hand, its muzzle drifting across the darkness.

In the wavering light, Xilian could make out claw marks across the floor and walls, along with shattered wooden tables and cabinets. Drops of foul blood had fallen onto the floor, corroding it into a dense scatter of pits.

He found the townspeople who had failed to escape in time. Their broken bodies lay strewn about like toys someone had torn apart.

"Hah..."

Xilian quieted his breathing.

Killing could raise the concentration of Soul Marrow in his body through the Ouroboros Mark, but the Soul Marrow he had burned could not be restored at once. His stamina had limits, too.

Compared with his earlier peak, Xilian was undeniably weak now.

Still, he stepped into the darkness.

What sustained Xilian was not the extraordinary power of a Torchbearer. It was what Nuen had always taught him, a creed almost branded into his blood.

Responsibility.

Xilian did not know whether he was the deranged killer Tim believed him to be. But he was certain of one thing: he had a powerful sense of responsibility.

Once he took responsibility, he had to stand tall and see it through.

As his boot heel ground over debris on the floor, Xilian softened even his breathing—but he still disturbed the thing in the dark.

"Finally decided to show yourself?"

Xilian sneered. A sharp claw swept past the tip of his nose.

He stepped back half a pace. A claw stabbed into the spot where he had just stood, sending corrosive white smoke curling from the stone.

Xilian leaned against a load-bearing pillar to steady his breathing. His trembling Fire Sword cast wavering patches of light.

The exhaustion from burning Soul Marrow ate into every muscle. The hilt felt so slick in his hand that it might slip free.

My Soul Marrow is nearly burned out...

Xilian swallowed his iron-tasting fear. "But there's enough left to kill you."

A strange noise from deep in the corridor pierced the silence: an infant's wail mixed with the scrape of sandpaper.

Suddenly, the beam overhead burst apart, and a demon plunged down amid a shower of wood splinters.

Xilian's spine snapped straight. Muscle memory moved faster than thought.

He spun and kicked off the wall, driving his blade upward through the demon's belly. Clothlike organs and black blood splashed across the wall. Two claws scraped past the Fire Sword, dragging orange-red sparks from its metal.

"Is that all you've got?"

Xilian spat bloody foam at the shattered demon. From the corner of his eye, he caught another crawling along the base of the wall, its compound eyes glowing a ghostly green in the dark.

The demon sprang at him with a shrill screech.

Xilian ducked and rolled. His Fire Sword swept along the floor, severing both the demon's legs in one stroke. Gunshots followed, punching through its misshapen head and bursting it apart.

The fight was not over. A rapid series of tremors ran through the space beneath the floorboards.

The floor split, and a demon burst through, its fangs aimed straight at Xilian's throat.

Xilian was too exhausted. His twist to evade it came half a beat late.

A sharp wooden splinter grazed the side of his neck, drawing blood.

The searing pain did not make Xilian retreat. Instead, fervor lit his face.

The force behind Xilian's downward sword strike suddenly surged. The Fire Sword pierced the floor and the demon beneath it.

As he drew the blade from the crack, thick black blood ran up its groove and burned.

Still not satisfied, Xilian fired several more shots into the floor. Only when blood kept welling through the gaps did he believe the demon was dead.

When he reached the living room, Xilian's ragged breathing sounded especially loud in the open space.

Xilian tore down a curtain and wrapped it around his bleeding right arm. By the firelight outside the window, he saw the last demon hiding in the building.

"So you did bring the Grey Fog in after all?"

They were close to each other, yet Xilian could not make out its shape. It looked as though a layer of black gauze covered it.

An urgent pain pulsed in his left palm, telling Xilian his suspicion was right.

The demon attacked without warning.

The instant its claws tore through the murky fog, Xilian bent his knees and leaned back. His blade swept past its jaw. Sparks scattered across its upturned scales with a series of tiny pops.

Its slit pupils contracted.

Its tail whipped toward him with a foul gust. As a barb grazed Xilian's side, his boots slammed against the stone wall. The push hurled him away, but the demon stayed on him, a black shadow lunging into his face.

Too fast.

Xilian instinctively swung his sword down. Half a broken horn sprayed hot blood across his face. The demon bit down on the back of the blade, its claws reaching straight for his heart.

"Get off!"

At the last instant, Xilian pressed the hilt down, caught the demon's fangs with his sword's guard, and flipped himself over its back.

Its tail whipped at him again, but he ducked aside as if he had seen it coming.

"Stay down!"

Xilian pulled the trigger. The metal bullet punched through a vertebra in the demon's spine.

He drove the Fire Sword in through its tailbone and wrenched it upward along the spine, tearing the entire backbone and the nerve clusters infesting it from its body.

Black blood splashed across the wall. The twitching nerve cord curled around the sword's tip like a dying snake.

"Hah... hah..."

This time, Xilian had given everything he had. Weakness filled his body, and his vision began to swim.

The twitching nerve cord still writhed around the sword's tip. Gritting his teeth, Xilian raised the blade to the back of the demon's head and thrust it through a seam in the skull, sealing its final roar in its bleeding throat.

Xilian pushed open the door.

The cold wind swept the last trace of the stench from the room. Standing with his weight on his sword, he heard his own hoarse voice.

"They're all dead."

The moment the burden lifted, Xilian's taut nerves snapped.

The sounds around him faded. He sank weakly to one knee and looked up toward the edge of the night, where a faint glow was rising.

Dawn was almost here.

The tide that had besieged White Cliff Town all night was slowly retreating into the Spirit Realm.