Dragon King: Throne of Demons and Gods
Chapter 98: When You Gaze Into The Abyss, The Abyss Gazes Back

Chapter 98: When You Gaze Into The Abyss, The Abyss Gazes Back

The crowd had stayed silent for a while, like a city holding its breath.

But now, slowly, their voices returned.

Murmurs. Cries. Quiet prayers. People hugged each other. Some sobbed openly, others just stared, as if expecting Darwin to rise up and say it was all a joke.

The Guild Master sat on the ground, his hand over his face.

"Logan."

He looked up.

A man stepped through the line of guards. His eyes were tired, and his short black hair was messy from lack of sleep.

His coat brushed the ground as he walked.

"Marcia," Logan muttered.

He stood quickly and grabbed the man by the collar.

"What happened?!"

Guards rushed forward. Logan’s aura surged out, a violent pulse that made the cobblestones tremble.

Marcia calmly gestured to the guards.

"Let him go."

The guards stopped, hesitating, and then backed off.

Marcia looked at Logan, then sighed.

"You might get your answer faster if you didn’t try crushing my throat."

Logan’s fingers shook. He gritted his teeth, then forced himself to let go.

"...Sorry. Just... tell me. What happened? How could something like this happen to him?"

Marcia fixed his collar slowly.

"Honestly... it’s a surprise to me too. Only one of them ever stayed in the capital. The others were scattered. I wasn’t aware someone else from the Hero party was around."

Logan clenched his fists.

"He came back a few days ago. He said—"

But then, he stopped.

His mind flashed back to Darwin’s warning. Not to trust anyone. That a demon might already be among them.

He said nothing.

Marcia tilted his head.

"Oh? So the last person to see him alive was you, and now he’s dead? Hmm.... Could it be that you’re the one who did it?"

Logan’s eyes flared with anger.

Marcia smiled.

"Relax. That was a joke. It’s already confirmed. The killer was a demon."

Logan folded his arms.

"And how do I know you aren’t one?"

Marcia smirked.

"Good. If one day I meet someone who looks like you and talks all calm and wise, I’ll know it’s a demon."

Before Logan could argue, a woman approached. She had short-cut blonde hair and wore armor marked with the royal emblem.

Her voice was cool and sharp.

"We don’t have time for a clash of egos. The King has already demanded answers. Don’t make this harder."

Marcia turned to her.

"What’s the result?"

She nodded at the guards.

They stepped forward and carefully formed a tighter wall around the crowd.

She then gestured to Logan and Marcia.

"Come. You need to see it yourselves."

Logan followed with heavy steps.

When he reached the sheet again, the woman knelt and pulled it down to Darwin’s hips.

Logan froze.

He covered his mouth with one hand.

Darwin’s body was a ruin.

Every inch of skin was bruised. His ribs jutted out at odd angles. His arms were bent where no joints existed. One shoulder was twisted completely backwards. His hands were still curled like claws.

Several open wounds showed white bone and mangled tissue.

Marcia crouched slowly.

"Mmmmh..." he murmured quietly.

The woman stood.

"Multiple lethal injuries," she said. "Broken bones in every limb. Ribcage crushed. Possible internal bleeding. Asphyxiation. Blood loss. We can’t even tell which killed him first."

She looked down.

"But it’s clear. Whoever did this... wanted him to suffer."

Logan sat hard on the street.

He couldn’t breathe.

He remembered Darwin’s words. The fear of death he described.

He died like that. Exactly like he feared.

Marcia took off his gloves.

"I’m doing it now."

Logan looked at him, dazed.

"You mean..."

Right. He had forgotten.

Marcia was a necromancer. Not the type who raised skeletons or summoned ghosts. But he had studied death. Understood mana in the moment of final breath.

He had discovered something.

A different kind of necromancy.

Marcia leaned down to Darwin’s head. He whispered.

"Rest well, Sir Darwin. We’ll find the bastard who did this."

Then he pressed his forehead against Darwin’s.

The woman turned to Logan.

"He can see the memories of the dead. But only if the mana hasn’t fully faded."

She looked back at Marcia, who was glowing faintly in a black aura.

"Which means... Darwin knew. He knew he would die. So he condensed all his mana into one place, to make sure we would know."

Marcia’s body stilled. The aura twisted like smoke around him. His eyes turned dark.

His breath slowed. His body tensed.

Marcia opened his eyes. He was still in the alley, but it was night.

The world was not black, nor was it grey.

It was soaked.

Marcia blinked.

A thick, oozing fog dissolved around him. It clung to his skin, his lungs, his thoughts. When it faded, he was... someone else.

His hands, bigger. His coat...familiar.

Darwin. Marcia was in his body.

He was walking through the streets.

The city was alive. People moved past, shoulders brushing, mouths moving, carts squeaking, dogs barking.

But...

There was something wrong.

Marcia through Darwin’s body, could feel what he felt, and know what he was thinking about.

But Darwin wasn’t thinking. His mind floated, dull and silent, with a strange weight pressing in his chest.

Dread.

Like swimming in pitch-black water, knowing a creature was there with you.

Marcia’s breath hitched. That feeling...

He turned.

More streets. More people, no threat.

But the feeling didn’t fade. If anything, it grew sharper. Darwin’s breath came slower, heavier. Marcia immediately understood.

The demon was nearby.

Darwin must’ve felt it. He kept walking, but there were still no thoughts in his head. Just weight. An invisible presence crawling under his skin.

Marcia tried to turn. To look.

Then he froze.

Everyone in the alley had stopped.

They were staring.

His feet slowed. The people, ordinary just moments ago, stood still, faces turned toward him.

A vendor at his cart. A child holding a toy. A maid crossing the lane. A man drinking from a mug.

All of them.

He passed by a merchant. Her head turned unnaturally slow. Her mouth had disappeared. Her eyes were completely black.

No lips. No teeth. No expression.

Just blank, staring things.

Marcia’s heart thundered.

This wasn’t a memory. It was a nightmare.

Darwin’s gaze rose.

From the alley, a woman stepped forward. She was barefoot, each step graceful and echoing in the alley.

Her dress was deep burgundy, cut daringly low, clinging to her like liquid silk.

The fabric shimmered despite the grime at the hem, and her long sleeves ended in thin, lace gloves.

Her skin glowed pale beneath moonlight, her black lipstick sharp against her lips.

Her hair tumbled in raven waves down her back, and her dark eyes gleamed with a predator’s calm.

She smiled sweetly.

"My... what a beautiful night," she murmured, her voice smooth as velvet. "To meet the one and only Shield of God... it’s such a delicious blessing."

Her voice was delicate. Almost too soft, like she was caressing the air.

Marcia felt his spine stiffen.

Darwin stood still, his face grave.

He sighed.

"So this is where you decided to settle things."

Around him, every person in the alley turned. Their faces were still, their eyes now pure black.

Their mouths had vanished.

Not a sound.

The woman, still smiling, took a small step forward.

"We gave you so much time," she purred, her voice slow and honey-sweet. "You could have died quietly in a forest. Commit suicide in a warm bath... somewhere hidden. But no... you stayed here."

She tilted her head, and her voice dropped to a hush.

"And now, you’ll traumatize the early birds with the beauty of a fresh cadaver. It means that in the end, despite living for so long, you still wanted to be seen. How selfish of you."

She twirled her fingers.

"And now, you’ve lost the privilege of a peaceful and painless death."

Darwin frowned.

"Is this a game to you?"

"Everything is a game, darling," she replied. "And death is the prize."

He looked around.

The people had moved.

They had surrounded them in a slow, silent circle, eyes pitch black and mouths erased.

Then, a low hum. Like a whisper rising from a grave.

A strange chant, wordless, hollow and droning, filled the alleyway. It was like the voice of dead people echoing from their grave.

Marcia couldn’t tell where it came from. It came from all of them. From nowhere.

A haunting chorus without mouths.

Darwin narrowed his eyes.

"So it’s true then. Your goal? The infiltration. The Hero..."

"Oh my, so full of questions." She giggled.

But then, her face changed.

Softer, slower.

"You should be sorry, you know," she whispered. "For dragging someone else into your flamboyant death."

Darwin blinked.

But Marcia?

His blood froze.

The woman paused in mid-step. Her head tilted slowly, sensually.

Her gaze sharpened, and she stared, but not at Darwin, but just beyond.

Right through him.

Marcia.

She smiled, lips parting in a gentle, sultry curl, black lipstick gleaming under the alley’s light.

"Curiosity... it’s a wonderful thing. But have you ever wondered why the cat never lives to tell the tale?"

Marcia’s chest tightened. His skin went cold, breath caught halfway.

This wasn’t just a memory.

She knew he was there.

The chants grew louder.

A heavy pressure fell over him, thick, pulsing, suffocating. It wasn’t sound anymore. It was sensation, he could feel them more and more, not as Darwin, but as himself.

And then, she moved.

The woman spread her arms wide.

From her back, two long, gleaming black daggers slipped free into her hands, wicked and curved like the smile she wore.

"We’re coming for you," she purred, her voice dropping into something inhuman.

Her face twisted.

Lips stretched far too wide. Eyes bloated and bleeding black. Her beauty shattered into something monstrous.

Then everything cracked like glass breaking. The world folded in on itself.

And Marcia woke up, breathless.