James's defiance sent a chill through the Demon Cult members.
"I do love a challenge," a gaunt old man cackled, his few remaining strands of hair a sickly yellow, his bony fingers clutching a staff.
"Don't kill him just yet," he rasped. "Screaming souls are a delicacy."
"Just wait a little longer," another voice chimed in, laced with malice. "Once that Blood Shadow loses control... heh heh heh..."
Sinister laughter echoed through the group.
The color drained from James's face, replaced by a grim determination.
Escape was no longer an option.
He wasn't afraid of death.
His father had died on the Abyssal battlefield.
But...
He glanced at Draco, standing protectively before him. He could face death, but he couldn't bear the thought of Draco suffering.
"If Senior Draco becomes a Blood Shadow, loses control... I'll never forgive myself."
His left hand brushed against something cold and metallic.
