Moments after Yue sealed herself and the Demon Count within the swirling black sphere, Malachi stood before the shimmering barrier, torn between duty and doubt. Should he intervene to save the despised creature trapped inside?
The Demon Count treated him with nothing but contempt, yet he was still a noble, personally summoned by his master, the Prophet, into this realm. To protect the Count was Malachi's sworn responsibility, and failure to do so would mark him as derelict in his duties.
Still, the idea that a mere twenty-two-year-old magician could best a mighty Demon Count seemed almost laughable. Yet, beneath that scepticism, a gnawing sense of unease lingered. His hand hovered near his sword, fingers tightening around the hilt, already halfway to drawing the blade.
