Era of the Demon And Angels

A Few Days Later

Nimfa crouched near a fallen tree, fingers trailing along the rough surface of a broken branch. She picked up a sturdy stick, testing its durability between her hands.

"This should work… I think?" she murmured to herself.

A voice cut through the still air.

"Nimfa! I need those sticks to start the fire!"

She sighed, shaking her head. "Yes, yes, I'm coming!"

Pushing through the underbrush, she stepped into a small clearing where Noir stood. The scent of blood and damp earth clung to the air. At his feet lay a freshly slain wild boar, its lifeless eyes reflecting the dim light of the setting sun.

Her golden gaze flickered with disapproval. "You killed again?"

Noir arched a brow at her tone, his crimson eyes glinting with mild amusement. "What? Do you want to eat leaves all day?"

She crossed her arms. "Mortals eat like this for survival."

Noir let out a low chuckle, dragging the boar toward their makeshift butchering area. "Survival is the only rule, regardless of the realm. If we're here, we follow their ways." His movements were fluid, the blade gliding effortlessly through the boar's flesh.

Nimfa hesitated before lowering herself onto a log Noir had set up earlier. Her gaze lingered on his hands—strong, steady, precise. Every slice was clean, efficient. She found herself oddly mesmerized by the way he worked, as if butchering was an art rather than a necessity.

"Wow… That's amazing," she murmured without thinking, absently tracing the bark beneath her fingertips.

Noir paused for a moment, glancing up at her, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

Nimfa's Thoughts

"He's different now. When we first met, he was cold, distant. But now… he's more open. More willing to talk. Maybe what happened a few nights ago made him lower his guard."

Her breath hitched slightly as a memory flickered through her mind—that night when she had clung to him, desperate for warmth, whispering words she hadn't even fully processed.

Heat rushed to her cheeks.

"Ugh, why am I thinking about that now?" She shook her head, willing the thought away.

A small smile played at her lips, but it quickly faded.

"I wonder… how are my kin? Are they still searching for me? Would they understand why I'm here, traveling alongside a demon?"

Her fingers curled into her lap, unease creeping into her chest.

"Noir might be right. Here in the mortal realm, I'm vulnerable. If someone were to strike me down—"

Her eyes darkened as she sank into her thoughts.

Rustle. Rustle. Rustle.

The sudden noise sent a jolt through her body.

Noir reacted instantly. With a swift, fluid motion, he grabbed his butchering knife and hurled it toward the bushes without hesitation.

The blade struck deep into the trunk of a tree.

A high-pitched scream followed.

"Kyaa!"

Nimfa stiffened, her pulse quickening. She shot up from the log, eyes locked onto the bushes.

Noir, however, didn't move. His fingers brushed against the hilt of his sword, muscles tensed, his crimson eyes narrowed and sharp.

Noir stepped forward cautiously, his grip steady on the hilt of his sword. Nimfa followed close behind, golden eyes shimmering with curiosity. As Noir reached out, he brushed the thick foliage aside—revealing a small, trembling figure curled up in the dirt.

His crimson eyes narrowed.

"A beastkin?" he muttered.

The child flinched at his voice, pressing herself against the ground as though trying to disappear. Then, his gaze landed on something that made his expression darken—iron shackles clamped tightly around her neck, wrists, and ankles. The metal was crude, rusted, and stained with dried blood.

"A slave, huh?" The thought settled bitterly in his mind.

Beside him, Nimfa gasped. Her body tensed, and all sense of caution melted into horror.

"This child… her body is covered in scars." Her voice trembled, barely above a whisper. "And these chains—why would anyone do this?"

Nimfa took a step forward, reaching out instinctively.

The beastkin's reaction was immediate—she panicked.

A broken, rasping whimper escaped her chapped lips as she scrambled backward, her shackles clinking violently. Terror flooded her amber eyes, wide and untrusting, darting between them like a cornered animal. She tried to press herself further into the dirt, fingers clawing at the ground as if she could burrow herself away from them.

She didn't believe them. She didn't believe in kindness.

Her ragged clothes were barely more than torn scraps, caked with dirt and blood. The stench of neglect clung to her—weeks, maybe months, without proper care. Flies buzzed around her frail body. Her ears—once likely perky and alert—were drooped low in exhaustion and fear, her tail coiled around her bruised legs, trembling.

Nimfa's heart clenched painfully.

She couldn't just stand there.

Ignoring the child's struggling, she dropped to her knees and pulled the trembling girl into her arms.

The beastkin screamed at the contact—a raw, broken cry, as if expecting pain to follow. Her body stiffened, muscles locking as she gasped in terror. But… the strike never came. No chains yanked her back. No fists rained down.

Just… warmth.

A gentle embrace.

The beastkin's breathing came in sharp, uneven pants, her mind battling between conditioned fear and the unfamiliar sensation of comfort.

A soft whisper followed.

"Aqua Puris."

A faint shimmer of blue light danced in the air before a gentle stream of crystal-clear water materialized, swirling around the girl's frail body.

The filth and grime dissolved instantly, washing away years of neglect. The weight of dirt lifted from her skin, revealing patches of soft, untouched fur. Her matted, brown fox-like ears twitched slightly, as if slowly coming back to life. A delicate, bushy tail—once stiff with filth—unfurled cautiously behind her.

As the magic faded, Nimfa leaned back slightly, brushing damp strands of tangled hair from the girl's face.

She smiled warmly.

"There, all clean."

The beastkin girl trembled, her breath still shaky. She stared at her own hands in disbelief, her fingers curling slightly, as if trying to confirm they were real. The grime that had defined her existence… was gone.

For the first time, her dull amber eyes held a flicker of life.

Then, her body moved before her mind could think. She lowered her head and bowed.

"…Thank you."

Her voice was barely a whisper—small, fragile. But there was gratitude woven into it. A feeling she had long forgotten.

Nimfa's smile widened. "I'm not done yet."

She placed her palm gently over the child's frail shoulders and whispered another spell.

"Radiant Bloom."

A golden light bloomed like a delicate flower over the child's injuries.

Her scars began to fade, disappearing like mist under the morning sun. The deep, cruel whip marks that had marred her arms, legs, and back melted away—as if the past itself was being rewritten. The pain, the suffering, the reminders of chains… all erased in a gentle, radiant glow.

The beastkin gasped softly. Her fingers hovered over her skin, her expression unreadable. The wounds that had defined her existence—the proof of her suffering—were simply… gone.

Tears welled up in her amber eyes, but she didn't cry. She only stared at Nimfa—confused, uncertain, as if struggling to accept this kindness as reality.

She had never known warmth. Never known gentleness. And yet, here it was.

Noir, who had been watching silently, sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

Noir's Thoughts

"Sigh." He exhaled, shaking his head slightly.

"What am I going to do with this angel? Just grabbing someone and healing them without a second thought… she doesn't even know if this girl is dangerous."

He looked at Nimfa again, seeing that same radiant smile on her face.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

"Well… I guess that's just how you are."

As Nimfa finished healing the beastkin's wounds, she gently pulled the trembling child into an embrace.

Her arms wrapped around the girl's frail body, offering warmth and comfort.

"You… what happened to you?" Nimfa whispered, her voice laced with concern. She held the girl closer, her delicate fingers brushing over the rough scars that marred her small frame.

The beastkin tensed immediately.

A sharpened panic flashed in her amber eyes as she let out a muffled whimper.

"Hnnnn…!"

She squirmed weakly, trying to break free, but her malnourished body betrayed her. She was too weak to fight back.

Noir's crimson eyes twitched slightly as he watched the scene unfold.

Noir's POV

"Is that how you ask a question? By strangling them to death?"

He sighed internally, folding his arms as he observed the beastkin's desperate but fruitless escape attempt.

"But more importantly—why is there a slave out here in the open?"

His eyes narrowed as he glanced toward the dirt path leading from the distant Jinglin province, a well-known center for trade, including illegal slave auctions.

"Did she escape? Or was she being transported there before something happened?"

His thoughts lingered on the implications, but his musings were interrupted as Nimfa finally noticed what she was doing.

She gasped softly.

"Ah!"

Realizing she had unintentionally squeezed the girl too tightly, she quickly released her grip.

The beastkin sagged against her chest, taking in deep, shaky breaths.

"Poof."

Her tiny lungs filled with air as she tried to steady herself, her fox-like ears twitching slightly.

Nimfa leaned forward, extending her hands with a worried expression. "I'm sorry! Are you okay?"

Noir let out a long sigh, stepping closer before crouching down to eye level with the girl. His sharp crimson gaze met her weary amber eyes, his voice low and firm.

"What's your name?"

The beastkin froze.

The strength in his voice, the cold weight of his stare, sent a primal fear coursing through her tiny body. Her breath hitched.

Then—without warning—she bolted.

With a soft yelp, she darted behind Nimfa, gripping her right shoulder tightly and pressing her small frame against her back.

Her fox-like ears flattened against her head, her tail curling around her leg as she trembled behind her newfound protector.

Nimfa, startled by the sudden reaction, turned her head slightly, feeling the child's small hands clutching at her clothes.

She pouted before glaring at Noir.

"Hey! You're scaring her!"

Noir blinked, tilting his head slightly.

"Hmm… Did I go too far?"

He frowned, sulking slightly as he rubbed the back of his head.

Nimfa, noticing his reaction, chuckled softly. "There, there," she said playfully, patting the beastkin's head.

Her golden eyes softened as she leaned down, whispering reassuringly, "Don't worry. He's actually a nice person… he just doesn't know how to express his feelings."

She stifled another giggle at her own words.

Noir narrowed his eyes at her. "I heard that."

Ignoring him, Nimfa smiled warmly at the child.

"I'm Nimfa."

The beastkin's trembling had lessened. Something about Nimfa—her warmth, her gentle fragrance, the way her voice carried kindness instead of cruelty—slowly melted the walls of fear that had been carved into the girl's soul.

The beastkin hesitantly lifted her gaze, staring up at Nimfa's delicate features, her golden eyes shimmering like the morning sun.

Awe filled her face.