The story continues in the demon kingdom, the night before Reyanna and the witches' party at the southern castle.

At the western castle, Jane dined with her brother Mahin, three young servants standing a few steps behind, ready to serve the queen and her brother.

After a short while, Olwyn entered the throne room, bowed, and addressed Jane. "My queen, I’ve sent your letter to Nearf as instructed. He should now be at the northern castle, carrying out his duties."

Jane paused mid-bite, lowering her spoon. She turned to Olwyn, her voice calm, "I never gave you those orders."

Olwyn’s eyes widened in shock. "My queen! There—"

Before he could finish, a demon servant stepped forward and announced, "Reyanna, mother of witches, is here, my queen."

Moments later, the doors opened, and Reyanna entered with her signature smile. "Your Highness! And Mahin as well, good day to you both."

Olwyn, glaring at the servants who had opened the door, barked, "Who gave you permission to open the doors?"

One of the servants, smirking, pointed to Reyanna. "The queen did. Do you have a problem with that?"

Mahin, sensing the tension, stopped eating and glanced at Jane for direction.

Jane leaned in slightly and whispered to Mahin, "Wait for my signal."

She then shifted her focus to Reyanna. "What brings you here, Reyanna? Is there something so urgent that it couldn’t wait until after my dinner? And who are these servants? I don’t recall having such uncivilized dogs in my castle."

Reyanna strolled around the chamber, still smiling. "Haven’t you noticed your family’s whereabouts, or are your servants of greater concern?"

Jane met her gaze. "My family is scattered—some here, some elsewhere. I don’t bother keeping track of their movements. Is there a reason I should? And these servants aren’t mine, so perhaps the real question is, are they yours?"

Reyanna replied, Ignoring Jane. "Nearf is in the northern castle, the twins are in the eastern castle, Monroe is enjoying the festivities in my kingdom, Yoranios is missing, and the rest are scattered across the land. One is unaccounted for, and all you have are these… so-called servants. Doesn’t that worry you?"

With a sly smile, Jane said, "So, your grand plan was to have your aircraft attack me right before the party? A clever strategy—diverting the guards to the southern castle to protect the festivities. I was wondering why you’d target me during such a time, but now it’s clear. You want to eliminate me, then make your grand entrance at the party, declaring yourself the new queen in front of all the nobles."

Reyanna clapped, her grin widening. "Impressed?"

Rising from her seat, knife in hand, Jane turned to Reyanna. "What made you think I would yield to you and your little entourage? I am Jane Gray Gyovani, the rightful queen of this kingdom and its people. Your insolence will be repaid in blood."

Suddenly, Olwyn drew his sword and, with a swift motion, decapitated one of the servants. The remaining servant, trembling in fear, cried out, "Reyanna! Help me!"

But Reyanna, still grinning, coldly responded, "I’m afraid your services are no longer needed."

One of the servants, his eyes wide with shock at her words, lunged toward Olwyn with a dagger. But Olwyn reacted swiftly, closing the distance and driving his blade into the servant’s abdomen with deadly precision.

The servant collapsed, lifeless, his eyes frozen in a final, startled stare.

In a swift motion, Olwyn lunged at Reyanna, but she remained calm, her expression unmoved. Raising her hands, she uttered, "Light magic: müqəddəs təkan."

As Olwyn’s blade neared, a powerful wave of light surged from her, throwing him forcefully back into the hallway. He landed hard but quickly recovered, only to find a sword inches from his neck.

He dodged at the last moment, rolling with remarkable agility. Rising to his feet, he found himself surrounded by four servants and three witches, each grinning confidently. Tightening his grip on his sword, Olwyn called out, "My queen! Every man for himself!"

Jane gave a subtle nod of approval and instructed, "Once you're done here, find my family."

With a determined nod, Olwyn charged into battle, facing his enemies head-on.

Back in the chamber, Reyanna met Jane's gaze, a wicked glint in her eyes. "Now, it's your turn."

Jane, still holding her knife, felt something strange. Her pinky and ring finger were numb. Though she managed to summon her powers, they felt weakened, not as strong as they should be.

Reyanna's smile widened. "Feeling that, are you?"

Jane examined her plate, realizing, "It's not poison... but you've done something else."

Mahin, rising from his seat and grabbing his sword, found his right arm growing numb.

"The air," Jane muttered, glancing around the room. "It’s filled with magic. One of your spells?"

Reyanna nodded, drawing a long, gleaming golden sword from its sheath. "This is a holy sword, forged to kill demons and devils," she said. "I know attacking recklessly would be me unwise, but with this spell, I can suppress your powers—and your brother’s. Now, tell me, Jane, how do you plan to avoid your death at my hands?"

Meanwhile, in the Renolva Kingdom, Azravene lay on the ground, gasping for breath. Her left arm had been severed, blood streaming down her face from a long gash that had partially blinded her. A deep wound marred her chest, and another small but vicious cut pierced her stomach.

Panting heavily, Azravene lay helpless as Yory limped toward her, his body marked by burns and cuts. Each step seemed to cost him, and when he finally reached her, he dropped to his knees, grimacing in pain. His dagger still gleamed in his trembling hand as he gripped her neck weakly but with intent. Through laboured breaths, he sneered, "Now, where were we? Ah, yes. You were about to tell me how your mother plans to kill Jane. That much is clear. But who’s helping you? I want ANSWERS!"

Azravene remained silent, her body tense as Yory drove the dagger into her right hand. She let out a weak, pained cry. Yory leaned closer, his voice low and menacing, "Who is helping YOU? This isn’t the work of just one person. Is it humans? A devil? A ghoul? I want NAMES!"

Azravene hesitated, her mind racing to find a way out. After a few tense moments, she weakly replied, "A human... a man named Rolf helped us."

Yory narrowed his eyes, pressing the blade against her throat. "A human?"

Azravene, struggling to concentrate, began muttering a spell under her breath, trying to summon a holy sword. She glanced at him, forcing a smirk. "Barely human. All I know is he loves to bet on good horses… if you know what I mean."

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Yory stared at her, his grip tightening again. "Your mother must know more."

Azravene’s gaze darkened. "If you don’t let me go, your friends won't survive," she threatened.

Yory's eyes flashed with recognition. "The fifth merchant? You sent one of your puppets after Joe?"

Azravene’s smile widened. "Heal me and let me go, and I’ll spare him."

Yory hesitated, considering her words for a brief moment. Then he shook his head, his voice cold and unwavering. "You don’t know Joe. That man can take care of himself. What I care about is what *you* know." He pressed the dagger just a little harder against her throat, his eyes narrowing. "So cooperate, and maybe—just maybe—I’ll let you live."

As Yory’s words sank in, his grip on Azravene’s neck loosened slightly, and he lifted his dagger away, perhaps believing he had her under control. But in that brief moment, Azravene seized the opportunity, her voice barely audible as she whispered, "Light magic..."

But before she could finish the spell, Yory acted. In one swift motion, he slit her throat. Blood poured from the wound as Azravene clutched at her neck in a futile attempt to stop the flow. Her eyes widened in shock before they dimmed, her body going limp as death claimed her.

Wiping his dagger clean on her dress, Yory stood up. "I didn’t think you had anything useful left to say," he muttered. "But rest assured, your mother and sisters are next."

After a moment to regain composure, Yory gazed down at Azravene’s lifeless body, his expression dark. "Now, I need something from her. I hate this part," he muttered, gripping her hair. "But to make my point clear, I have to do it."

Without hesitation, Yory began sawing through her neck. The sound of flesh tearing and bone cracking filled the silent clearing, accompanied by the wet splatter of blood. In a few gruesome moments, Yory held Azravene’s severed head. As he chanted a teleportation spell, his eyes scanned the forest, noticing the knights approaching—the battle had drawn attention from the nearby villages, and merchants had alerted the authorities.

Pausing his spell, Yory scowled. "They’ve done something... I can’t teleport to the castle or anywhere near the borders. Reyanna, that damn witch!"

The knights arrived at the scene, eyes wide in disbelief at the destruction Yory and Azravene had caused with their magic. The forest around them was nothing but ashes, trees felled as if a great storm had ripped through, leaving desolation in its wake.

The captain, sword drawn and spell prepared, shouted to his men, "Stay strong, lads! The witch is near!"

The knights nodded, steeling themselves for a confrontation. But as they reached the heart of the devastation, the captain froze. Before them stood Yory, bloodied but upright, holding the severed head of Azravene.

"Who are you?" the captain demanded, suspicion etched on his face.

Yory, still calm, replied, "A merchant. I got caught in the chaos, but I’m fine. This... is her head."

One of the knights stepped forward, his eyes widening in recognition. "Sir," he said to the captain, "I know him! He’s the demon merchant who helped that young merchant the other day!"

Yory nodded in acknowledgement as the captain inquired, "Where is Wav? I've known him for five years. He’s a close friend to my son, and the reports said he left the village with you to hunt the witch."

Pointing toward the distant woods, Yory replied, "Dead. He didn’t make it."

A shadow of sadness passed over the captain's face. Wav hadn’t been a lifelong friend, but the captain had cared for him as a good-hearted young man travelling the world—a rare kind of person.

After a long, heavy silence, the captain sighed, "At least the nightmare is over, and Wav’s soul has been avenged."

The knights nodded solemnly, and Yory began to walk toward the road, deep in thought. The captain noticed his distraction and asked, "Young man, is something bothering you?"

Yory glanced at the captain, his expression calm but tinged with confusion at the captain’s unexpected concern. "I believe my kingdom is under attack by witches. I can’t use teleportation magic, and the only way I can reach it now is by travelling on foot with my cart or renting a fast horse."

The captain studied him for a moment before asking, "What is your name?"

"Yory," he responded. "Just a simple merchant."

The captain, Gon, sheathed his sword and, with a firm resolve, said, "I am Gon. I think we may be able to help you."

Meanwhile, in the demon kingdom’s southern castle, Aurelius panted heavily, his chest and stomach marred by deep wounds. He clutched a large sword, glancing around the nearly demolished castle. The grounds were littered with the corpses of witches who had sought his life, as well as demon traitors disguised as servants under Reyanna’s orders. Some bodies lay cleaved in half, others cut to pieces, the remnants of a fierce battle still lingering in the air.

Aurelius staggered through the wreckage, surveying the aftermath of the battle. With a faint, strained version of his usual smile, he called out, "Where are you, Lysandra? The yellow witch who uses light and holy magic should be able to brighten this place up. Come on now, light the candles so we can have a proper celebration tomorrow!"

Lysandra, hidden in one of the servant's quarters, panted heavily. Her left eye was bruised, and her right hand severed. She winced, her mind racing in disbelief. "He was supposed to be paralyzed by that spell! Why in the blue hell is this demon still walking and talking?"

Despite his pain, Aurelius moved with determination, his thoughts stormed. *Outside, the knights are battling Reyanna’s forces—demons and witches alike. Our army’s tied up protecting the borders, and we can’t even summon them. The witches have probably cast a barrier to trap us. They’re attacking all four castles, trying to wipe out the Gyovani family. First, I need to deal with the witches here, free the people, and stop this madness. Jane, Nearf, Mahin, Jasmine, Kunvy—stay strong!*

He knew what had to be done, even if it came with a price. Chanting under his breath, he steeled himself for what was to come. "This witch’s spell is holding me down. If I don’t break free, I’ll never defeat her. Yoranios and Fenris warned me against using this, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Forbidden magic: Barbar şeytan."

As Aurelius invoked the forbidden spell, a dark, foreboding power surged through him, intensifying his demonic strength. The castle air grew thick with malevolent energy.

Meanwhile, Lysandra pressed her hand over her mouth to stifle her panicked breathing. She could feel something dreadful approaching, something far beyond what she'd anticipated.

At that moment, two witches and three demons hurried down the hallway, heading straight for the scene of Lysandra and Aurelius’s battle. When they arrived, they froze in horror. The castle was littered with corpses, but more terrifying was the figure moving slowly in the shadows.

In an instant, bloodcurdling screams pierced the night, their echoes carrying all the way to the city, sending chills through anyone who could hear them.

Lysandra's heart sank as the distant screams of her sisters echoed through the castle. Tears streamed down her face as she whispered in anguish, “I’m sorry, sisters. My weakness cost me the chance to save you.”

A heavy silence fell over the castle, a stark contrast to the violent battle still raging outside, where knights clashed with Reyanna’s demons and witches.

In the western castle garden, a witch attempted to cast holy magic. In a swift, lethal motion, Kiya decapitated her, watching the head roll away as she muttered, “Ula, if only you were here! But you're with the Gyovani twins in the east. You’d better be safe... If not, I'll make sure you regret leaving me a widow!”

Nearby, a group of knights gathered, and Kiya raised her voice, rallying them. “We can’t let them breach this castle before our queen finishes with Reyanna. Move quickly!”

The knights responded in unison, “YES, COMMANDER!”

Meanwhile, at the southern castle, knights stormed the enemies, with Aurola leading the charge. Yet even as the battle consumed them, both she and the demon sorcerers sensed a chilling presence approaching.

The moment of hesitation was brief. Dismissing the eerie sensation as a mere distraction, they refocused on the fight, their attention returning to the battle raging before them.

At the castle, Lysandra used detection magic to cautiously search for Aurelius. Once she was sure the floor was clear, she slipped out of her hiding spot and crept down the shadowy corridors.

Her steps faltered as she reached the hallway where the traitor demons and witches had met their gruesome fate. The sight made her stomach churn—blood splattered the walls, and her sisters lay dismembered among the fallen. Tears welled up again, but she pushed down her despair. There was no time for grief.

As she contemplated an escape through a nearby window, her detection magic flared, warning her of someone approaching. She quickly concealed herself behind the ruined throne in the main hall, her heart racing.

The moonlight, filtering through a hole in the ceiling, revealed a figure slowly making its way down the hallway. A towering silhouette, it carried a great sword soaked in blood and the severed head of a witch.

Lysandra steeled herself, silently preparing her light magic. She poised for a strike, eyes fixed on the monstrous figure.

The figure stopped before the shattered throne, as though sensing her presence. The light revealed the creature fully—a monstrous version of Aurelius, his long yellow hair matted with blood, his red eyes glowing with demonic intensity. He stood there, gripping his sword with one hand and the witch’s severed head in the other.

Whispering to herself, Lysandra murmured, “Rest in peace, sister. I will avenge you.”

Aurelius scanned the room before him, his voice a guttural growl. “I... found you.”

The moonlight bathed the scene in an eerie glow, casting long shadows. Lysandra, shaking off her fear, summoned her light magic and faced him. “Aurelius Gyovani, master of the barbarian magic!”

Aurelius’s lips curled into a savage grin, his monstrous voice bellowing, “WITCH... DIE!!!!!!!!!!!!”