The Embrace of Corruption and a Sister’s Return

The elf girl rode in on a white horse, moonlight cascading over Sovenia’s silver hair, each strand gleaming with a soft luster.

She rode upon Little White, the divine steed, her emerald shawl fluttering gently in the night breeze, accentuating her graceful, slender form. Her flawless, melon-seed shaped face, hidden behind a veil, remained largely expressionless, save for her long, pointed ears, which trembled subtly in the moonlight.

Wawalde’s dark red eyes mirrored her image, Sovenia in the moonlight, transforming into the very light of humanity within his gaze.

He recalled her previous embrace, that warm touch, the sole beacon in his darkness, pulling his hand and rescuing him from the black mire.

“Miss Sovenia…” His voice was hoarse, almost unrecognizable, laden with despair. “I feel terrible. I can’t control my emotions. I’m furious.”

“I want… I want to tear them apart, to devour their flesh and blood.”

His black talons trembled slightly, magma-like liquid dripping from their tips.

“My body craves slaughter, craves blood. With every swing of my claw, I feel that… that joy.”

Wawalde’s voice grew softer, filled with self-loathing. “I disgust myself, Miss Sovenia. I loathe my body, these desires. Yet, if I don’t fight, if I don’t use my transcendent power, I can’t protect you.”

He lifted his head, his face, split to the ears, was contorted with agony, appearing even more terrifying in the moonlight.

“Now… I can’t even transform back into a human.”

Sovenia dismounted her horse, her knee-high leather boots making a soft sound on the earth.

She walked to Wawalde, looking up at the three-meter-tall monster, her golden eyes devoid of any fear.

She reached out her hands and wrapped them around Wawalde’s thick waist. Her head only reached his chest, where black scales felt cold and hard, but she did not recoil.

“You’ve done very well, Wawalde.” Her voice was soft, unintentionally mimicking the lullaby-like tone of her supposed mother in a dream. “You protected us, you defeated the enemy. That is more than enough.”

Wawalde’s tears fell to the ground, sizzling as they burned.

‘This must be my unique advantage,’ Jimi thought. ‘After a hundred years of fighting in the Demon Realm, only I could have held on so firmly.’

Wawalde gradually calmed under her embrace. This emotional dependence would prove more effective than any magical contract.

As long as she continued to play the role of the gentle and considerate companion, Wawalde might not always remain by her side, but he would forever obey her commands.

Yet, at that moment, Wawalde’s inner turmoil seeped through his hot, hard scales, flowing into her skin and flooding her mind.

Pain.

Pain.

Pain.

The power of corruption, like countless venomous snakes, coiled around Wawalde’s soul, tearing at his will. They whispered in his mind, tempting him to surrender, to abandon his humanity. With every act of killing, those whispers grew louder.

Wawalde resisted desperately, often finding himself sinking into it, only to force himself, through sheer agony, to pull back from the wicked pleasure again and again.

‘It must be a hundred times worse than waking from five hours of sleep in a warm bed on a cold winter day, only to face the icy wind,’ Jimi mused. ‘I never struggled so much, directly embracing the “Ascension Power” myself.’

Jimi’s pointed ears drooped slightly.

She recalled the time she ascended to become a demon. She had once been human, lived on Earth. But when she accepted the gods’ blessing, when her body began to “ascend,” those memories blurred.

She forgot that hunger meant eating; she only knew hunger meant fighting, meant slaughter. She even forgot her former Earth name, remembering only the two characters: Jimi.

‘But this is a necessary, minor cost,’ she rationalized. ‘Power is paramount, the only means to control one’s destiny amidst the turbulent currents of fate.’

‘Wawalde is still too weak,’ Jimi told herself. ‘He isn’t like me; he hasn’t endured the hell of a mine s*ave, hasn’t learned to survive in despair.’

‘He should realize soon that these are not pain, nor mutations, but blessings, small prices to pay. Compared to demon king-level power, what are these trifles?’

‘But then again…’

Jimi looked up, surveying the corpses around them.

She hadn’t drawn a single card in this battle. The most valuable armor and weapons on the four knights had been shredded by Wawalde’s talons, resulting in significant loss of spoils.

‘Therefore, it’s best to avoid letting him reveal his true form in the future,’ she concluded. ‘This isn’t out of some fragile sympathy, but a tactically valuable choice derived from careful calculation.’

Wawalde’s demonic form was shrinking, beginning to stabilize.

Jimi stood on tiptoe, reaching out to touch Wawalde’s head. The black scales were rough and cold, yet her touch was gentle, like a mother caressing a frightened child.

“You’ll be alright,” she said. “You just need time to adapt.”

Wawalde’s breathing gradually steadied. The silver light in his dark red eyes grew brighter. He could feel the evil whispers receding, the power of corruption slowly being suppressed by his will.

His body began to shrink. The black scales receded, talons withdrew, and demonic membrane vanished. Within minutes, Wawalde transformed back into the blond, blue-eyed young man.

He still held Jimi, burying his face in her shoulder.

“Thank you.”

Sovenia patted his back, remaining silent. Her pointed ears perked up, returning to their usual posture.

“Ahem.”

A voice broke the tender atmosphere.

The Heir Knight stood not far away, having long since returned to his human form, without the comforting embrace of a maiden or mother.

“I hope I didn’t interrupt you,” he said. “I… I’m very grateful to you both.”

“I never imagined that Mr. Wawalde, like me, had his body corrupted into a demon, yet his soul remained pure and human. Nor did I expect those weaklings to betray the family, betraying humanity itself.”

“Perhaps your mother is already a cultist.” Sovenia released Wawalde and turned to face the Heir Knight, her voice as calm as if stating a fact.

“Impossible!” the Heir Knight immediately retorted. “My mother is a devout believer; she couldn’t possibly—”

His words trailed off midway. He scratched his head.

“…It’s highly possible,” he sighed. “Otherwise, she wouldn’t have sent people to put a bounty on me. But she is my mother. And I, her proud son, have been turned into this monstrous state on the battlefield against demons.”

Wawalde walked over to the Heir Knight and clapped him on the shoulder.

“I will help you,” he said. “Together, we will eradicate the evil forces within your territory.”

“I will reward you handsomely, Mr. Wawalde,” the Heir Knight said solemnly. “As long as you assist me, you will receive your due compensation.”

Sovenia stood to the side, her golden eyes fixed on the Heir Knight. She noticed his shadowy body was subtly trembling.

‘He must be absorbing the residual demonic energy in the air. For a demon of Wawalde’s caliber, manifesting his true form would undoubtedly release a vast amount of demonic aura.’

‘Is he enjoying this feeling?’

Sovenia remained silent, merely making a mental note of this detail.

The trio mounted their horses and rode back to the manor under the cover of night. Sovenia declined to ride with Wawalde, instead taking one of the fallen knights’ warhorses and following behind.

The Heir Knight began to recount his experiences.

“While fighting demons on the front lines, I was surrounded by enemies while covering my comrades’ retreat,” his voice was low. “In despair, I heard a voice. It told me that if I pulled out *that* sword, I would gain power. I didn’t know which one…”

Wawalde interjected, “So you pulled out that sword.”

“Yes, my hand immediately found the hilt. I pulled it out, only to realize it was a spine sword, embedded in a corpse,” the Heir Knight explained. “I killed all my enemies. But my body was also corrupted. I returned to my post seeking help. But what they offered me wasn’t healing, but extermination.”

“This is the corruption of the Four Gods from the Highest Heaven,” Sovenia stated coldly.

“There’s no saving you; you are merely a future demon.”

“I have overcome the corruption,” the Heir Knight asserted, his tone firm.

“I have maintained my righteousness and preserved my soul.” Wawalde recalled his own experience. Had it not been for Sovenia’s embrace, he too would have lost his humanity.

“Then, is there a woman who loves you?” he asked. “For example, your sister? Would she accept you?”

The Heir Knight fell silent. Dark mist billowed around his body, churning like the uncertainty within him.

Wawalde and Sovenia exchanged a glance, neither speaking.

They encountered the peasant guards on night watch before the manor’s wooden walls.

Sovenia claimed they had urgent business, and after being granted passage, they arrived beneath the castle.

For some reason, The Heiress Elina had been waiting below the castle for a long time. Upon seeing her brother return, her eyes immediately lit up.

“Brother!” She rushed forward, hugging the Heir Knight tightly. “You’re finally back! I knew you were alive; you wouldn’t die on the battlefield like Father.”

The Heir Knight stiffly embraced her back, whispering, “The tall, slender figure is me.”

Miss Elina paused, surprised, but she didn’t loosen her grip. Instead, she hugged him even tighter.

“As long as you’re back,” her voice was choked with tears. “That’s all that matters.”

Sovenia looked at Wawalde, noticing his eyes were moist and shimmering, reflecting the moonlight.

“Mother has become very strange,” Miss Elina whispered, releasing her brother. “I suspect she’s been putting bounties on adventurers to use them for sacrifices.”

“How many waves have come?”

“Miss Sovenia’s group is the fourth…”

Sovenia glanced around, ensuring no one was eavesdropping, then quietly recounted the recent events to Miss Elina: the ambush by the Forest Warband and the betrayal of the four knights.

“Impossible!” Miss Elina gasped. “How could Raymond and the others—”

Sovenia pulled out several Four Gods insignias and the personal evil artifacts of the four knights from her backpack. Under the moonlight, these artifacts emitted an ominous glow.

Miss Elina’s face turned pale at the sight of these items.

Sovenia stated, “You need to take us to see your mother.”

“She’s not in the castle,” Miss Elina shook her head. “But I know where she is.”

“The small chapel?” Sovenia inquired.

Miss Elina shook her head again. “Deeper within.”