Xiao had just left a nearby Christian village in ruins, the flames and charred remains serving as a brutal testament to demon dominance. This destruction was nearly routine for him, and the terrified screams of the townspeople had become little more than background music. Xiao cared for nothing but dismantling any semblance of faith or devotion that dared to exist in his path.
As the first snowflakes began to fall and dusk settled over the land, Xiao decided to wander through an ancient forest path. After only a few minutes, he came upon a lone, seemingly abandoned cabin. He raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. Residences were uncommon here; the forest was known for its lurking dangers.
Pushing open the cabin door, he found a dark, ancient space within. Dust-laden shelves lined the walls, cobwebs clung to every corner—signs of long abandonment. And yet, there was a peculiar order to the disarray, as if someone had tended to it recently, despite its isolated and foreboding location.
Xiao stepped inside, taking only two steps before his instincts flared. A sudden presence behind the door set him on edge. He whirled around just in time, gripping the wrist of a figure brandishing a blade against him. His eyes widened as he noticed the mark on the stranger's forehead—a small, unmistakable pentagram.
“A witch?!” he hissed, shock flashing in his gaze.