"Come here…"
Alan spoke, trying to lower his voice as much as possible.
Yet, the diminutive figure not far away continued to tremble, resembling a kitten cowering in a cardboard box on a rainy day, evoking a sense of compassion.
"Relax… I… won't eat you."
"Ugh…"
As soon as Alan uttered the word "eat," Grellia's already curled-up form shrank back further, emitting a fearful whimper.
Sigh… how foolish of me to mention eating.
As he thought this, Alan glanced at the bag made from a witch hunter's cloak hanging behind him; although it had been rinsed in the moat's water, a faint red hue still lingered.
Hopefully, Grellia did not notice my 'food bag.'
After a long while, it seemed that Grellia had finally grown accustomed to Alan's terrifying visage. She lifted her head, revealing her tear-stained face, and cautiously approached to read what Alan had written.
"Y-You… hello."
After a few moments of blankness, Grellia glanced up at the towering figure before her.
A demon… is greeting me?
Seemingly understanding Grellia's confusion, Alan lifted his hand in a wave, forcing a smile that was more grotesque than pleasing, and pointed to himself, laboriously managing to enunciate two syllables.
"Alan."
He then took the charcoal and began to write on the ground.
"Where is this?"
Upon seeing Alan's relatively friendly gesture, Grellia's expression stabilized slightly. She cautiously stepped closer, hugging her knees as she sat beside Alan.
"This… is Byronvale, the largest city in the North. It was once a neutral nation, but… now it has become the new city of Bortan."
Hmm… Alan nodded.
Indeed, within the limited scope of his historical knowledge, there seemed to be no mention of a place called Byronvale, while the city of Bortan had once appeared in Earth's history.
This means, this place is likely not Earth.
Ha… having already encountered the abyss and demon contracts, I remain entangled in whether I am still on Earth; how utterly foolish I am.
Reflecting on this, Alan touched his bald head and smiled self-deprecatingly.
"Mr. Alan, you… won't harm me, will you?"
At that moment, Grellia, sitting beside him with a hint of restlessness, spoke softly, her head lowered.
"Teacher Marlos said that summoned demons will protect me."
It seemed that Alan's appearance inspired little confidence.
Naturally, for the instant he glimpsed his reflection on the water, he too associated himself with the image of a 'man-eating monster' or a 'child-snatching demon.'
"I… won't harm… protect you."
Alan pointed at his own face and turned to Grellia as he spoke.
"Is it because of the contract?"
Seemingly perceiving that the creature before her had softened a little, Grellia ventured to ask further.
Is it due to the contract?
As a demon, if he failed to escort this little one out of Byronvale, he would face punishment from the demon contract.
But it was not just that…
Although he had spent some time as a little demon, he was still human.
He would not take pleasure in killing for its own sake, nor would he indulge his desires; he would exercise restraint.
Being human, it was natural to possess a sense of justice and a profound urge to protect something.
Despite having a multitude of thoughts, Alan found himself unable to articulate them with his distorted voice.
"No…"
With those deep words, Alan began to draw on the wooden support beam.
A heart.
Grellia gazed at this intriguing symbol, and somehow, a warm current surged within her previously tumultuous heart.
Although Alan wished to communicate further with his young master, he recognized that there would be ample time for that later; for now, he must focus on the pressing matters at hand.
*Squeak… squeak… squeak…*
With the sound of charcoal scraping against the ground, a somewhat uneven line emerged in the moonlight before Alan.
"Who are those people? Why do they wish to capture you?"
As she read Alan's words, a palpable sadness enveloped Grellia's face.
"They are the witch hunters of King Bortan. They kill anyone associated with magic—Mr. Pagg, Lady David, Uncle Blacksmith Marlos, and… and Teacher Marlos, they spare no one. They bind them to stakes and burn them. When those monsters stormed into our home, Teacher Marlos managed to send me away, but he himself…"
As she reached this juncture, Grellia could not suppress her sobs any longer; it was evident that the individual named Marlos held great significance in her heart.
Hmm…
Hearing this, Alan nodded. Although he did not wish to pry into the girl's sorrowful memories, he nonetheless picked up the remaining piece of charcoal and wrote on the ground.
"How do we escape?"
Upon hearing this, Grellia wiped her tears and stood up.
"Teacher Marlos mentioned that tonight a ship would depart from the dock, carrying mages and witches."
The dock?
Alan nodded.
There was indeed a briny scent in the air; if he was not mistaken, following that scent should lead them to the dock.
"Let's go… wish… fulfilled."
With this thought, Alan slowly rose to his feet, preparing to move forward when a small hand grasped his left hand.
Alan turned to see Grellia looking at him with palpable anxiety.
Yet the wariness in her eyes had diminished significantly.
......
At this moment, in the sewer.
"Small footprints appearing out of nowhere, and they seem somewhat aged… it appears to be the little witch those witch hunters mentioned… how amusing, I never would have guessed that they aimed to burn such a small child."
Barros muttered to himself as he inserted the torch he held into a nearby brazier.
The demon hunters were unfazed by the darkness; rather, it was in the absence of light that they could maximize their perceptual abilities; the torch served merely to detect poisonous gases.
Holding a hand axe in one hand, Barros's eyes gleamed in the dark, reflecting a green luminescence that made him appear as fearsome as a demon.
"Looks like this is the place…"
Following the small footprints, Barros lifted his head, surveying the chaos around him, then bent down to examine the headless corpse at his feet. Judging by the marks on the walls, it had likely been slammed against them, resulting in a crushed skull; it was evident that the guard had not lied.
"The stench is overwhelming; it appears to be quite a fearsome creature."
With that thought, Barros stepped through the blood-soaked mud and entered the basement before him.
"…"
Gazing at the scene before him, Barros fell silent for an extended period.
Blood.
The ground was drenched in blood, littered with dismembered human limbs.
All the corpses had been torn apart by a tremendous force, as if they were mere rag dolls, or had been bludgeoned against the wall, resulting in broken bones—one could say the carnage was horrific.
In the center of the room, several white candles lay burned down; on the blood-stained floor, a rudimentary magic circle could be faintly discerned, drawn with the remaining wax.
That scent… the smell of sulfur; indeed, it was the unmistakable aroma of abyssal demons—someone had summoned demons here.
However… it was a relief.
Merely a little demon, and not of pure blood. Yet…
With this thought, the hunter cast a puzzled glance at the corpses behind him.
A total of twenty-three bodies, with only one lacking organs and a thigh… according to the appetite of a little demon, it should have consumed all these remains.
Could it be that the girl had ensnared the summoned demon and forced it into servitude?
Is there truly a demon sorceress so young in this world?
With these questions in mind, the hunter narrowed his eyes, spotting two other sets of footprints leading outward.
One was a larger footprint, likely that of the demon, while the smaller prints should belong to the witch.
Regardless of their identities, following them was imperative.
With this thought, Barros pursued the footprints upward.
"This path… leads to the moat. Do they intend to swim out of Byronvale?"
Barros shook his head.
When they prepared to besiege Byronvale, Bortan's army had readied themselves to breach the city walls, bringing several siege crossbows. However, they had not anticipated a defeat at the front, allowing the royal family of Byronvale to flee, while those crossbows now sat atop the walls, poised to pierce anyone attempting to escape through the moat.
…
Indeed… it is the moat.
Emerging from the sewer and observing the oil-slicked river before him, Barros wrinkled his nose at the unpleasant odor in the air.
There seemed to be something outside the city wall?
"Hello… where is this? Who are they? Why are they capturing you? How do we leave this place…"
Barros carefully ran his fingers over the words on the wall, then picked up a small piece of charcoal from the ground.
A little demon… communicating with a human and even capable of saying hello.
Heavens, if such a joke were told in a tavern, it would surely elicit uproarious laughter from all present.