Chapter 388: Races of the Blood Veil Continent
Third Person’s POV
The word ’tonight’ rang in her mind like a gong, and feeling his thumb and looking into his deep crimson eyes and his handsome face, Lucy’s blush deepened until her cheeks glowed scarlet and her maiden heart fluttered like a young fawn.
Her eyes lowered, and hid the watery shine in them, as her voice emerged in a quiet, almost childlike murmur.
"...Mm. I understand, Ethan."
Her trembling eased slightly, but her grip on his hand lingered as if she feared he might vanish the moment she let go.
Seeing that she had calmed down, Ethan didn’t waste another moment and turned toward the blood-red banner where the vampires were supposed to gather.
Contrary to what others might have expected of him if they had known him, he chose not to wander toward the unknown or the openly hostile factions.
Instead, he went where he at least stood a chance of allies in an unknown place or, at the very least, where he had fewer immediate enemies.
To step into the areas of demons, werewolves, ice dragons, or even specters’ territory would only spark questions from them that he absolutely had no intention of answering, especially when it came to the matter of why he, as a bloodling, had been cast out by his own to walk and wonder alone among others.
As he guided Lucy and Velcy through the throng and weaved seamlessly between shifting bodies, a quiet thought flickered in his mind.
’Isn’t this exactly like the saying—that the calmest place lies in the eye of the storm?’
All around him surged a tide of creatures, yet a strange stillness clung to his steps.
Most of those he passed were demons, as it was obvious from their horned silhouettes rising like jagged peaks in the sea of figures.
As he surfed through them while holding the hands of the two girls, Ethan’s sharp eyes caught the striking variety among them.
They had horns of every imaginable shape and hue, with some curling backward like rams, others spiraling upward like ivory crowns.
But he quickly noticed that most of them had normal, short half moon horns like Lucy and the Vord family demons whom he had fought in the City of Vord.
And judging by what he saw, even the strange and dangerous dark haired young man he had spotted below the banner of the Empire of Abyssal Dominion also had the same pattern of horns, so it was definitely not some criterion for nobility or some powerful bloodline.
It was the most common, though some rare ones shimmered faintly as though touched by magic.
Also, what made him nod internally was that the colors of their horns matched the shades of their hair, and it seemed as if their lineage carved its mark not only in blood but in bone.
Each cluster radiated a subtle aura—distinct, potent, and unmistakably tied to the power of their clans.
But the strangest thing that struck Ethan was how wrong the common tales were, as not all demons were hulking brutes with grotesque faces.
The crowd that had gathered from almost every corner of this huge and diverse continent clearly painted a more complex truth that had been invisible to him before.
Some of them bore lean, skeleton thin bodies similar to the pole like thin Alrin he had fought in the forest just hours before.
And as he focused on remembering the fight in the forest, he realized that they most likely had strange abilities like the bones of Alrin that were capable of growing detachable custom spurs and becoming his close combat or a lethal throwing weapon towards his enemies.
As for others, many towered massively with their physiques themselves proving the terrifying legends of old.
And among them were the rarer ones, pale-skinned, fine-featured, and almost delicate to the eye, though he had no doubt that they were just as dangerous.
This breadth of forms fascinated him, though he kept his calm and senses on alert that betraying nothing outwardly.
But in the square, the demons were not alone, as he also saw packs of werewolves prowling the gathering, with their wolf ears and thick swishy tails bristling under the torchlight.
They were of multiple shades, ranging from platinum gray, metallic blue, and jet black pelts that rippled with restless energy.
The air around them carried a constant, low growl of suspicion, and as his gaze lingered on their gray-eared kin, Ethan’s eyes flashed, and recognition sparked in them as he concluded that those were the same breed he had fought not long ago.
Their appearance, scent, and their movements—it all fit.
To his greater surprise, he even spotted cloaked shapes drifting at the edges of the crowd.
Long, dark robes skimmed the stone ground, and their hems kissed the ground like shadows that had come alive.
Instantly, he realized who they were.
They were specters, and he recognized them easily as their presence naturally unsettled the surrounding atmosphere and all beings other than them.
And though they spoke no words, the void beneath their hoods seemed to drink in the lamplight as even the bolder demons kept a careful distance from them.
And then, there were also humans, though they were only a handful, yet still unmistakable.
They wore dark robes embroidered with faint runes, and wooden magic staffs clutched tightly in their hands, and their voices hushed as they exchanged wary words.
Their eyes flitted again and again toward the altar rising at the far end, while being unable to hide their unease.
They seemed like intruders here, brittle glass amid steel and fang.
Well, it was obvious why they would feel that way as their numbers were the least in this place.
Even though various thoughts and opinions mixed in his mind, Ethan pressed onward step by step with the girls close at his side and attracting little attention other than some young teenage girls eyeing him due to his looks.
Sensing their gazes, Lucy grew even more nervous.