Slazar was still staring at the old man Willem, his eyes gleaming faintly with suspicion, like someone digging through mud in search of buried truth.
He spoke in a low voice, laced with unease and hesitation:
"Old man... I have a question."
Willem looked at him calmly, as if he already knew what would be asked, and replied:
"Of course. Ask what you will, Ri."
Slazar hesitated for a moment. The question was like a thorn buried in his chest... if he pulled it out, it would bleed. But he steeled himself and said slowly:
"What do you know about... Rahigh?"
The moment the name was spoken, Willem's expression changed—as if a shadow had just passed behind him. His eyes widened, and his voice trembled slightly as he said:
"Don't say that name aloud, Ri... Don't."
Slazar looked at him in silence, then whispered as if awakening a nightmare:
"Why?"
Willem scratched his beard, now visibly shaken, and said:
"Because uttering his name may cost you your life, Ri... To speak the name of the rogue demon, the betrayer, is no light matter."
Before Slazar could respond, his head was struck by memories—vague, broken flashes. Like someone had pulled back a veil on a door that was never meant to be opened.
Suddenly, he found himself standing inside a crimson cathedral, built of blood and stone. Heavy chants echoed through the air, before falling into a suffocating silence. And then… the scene unfolded before him:
Rahigh stood before a black altar, its walls bleeding from deep cracks. On the other side stood a man clad in ceremonial robes, the symbol of the Bloody Cross etched across his back.
The man spoke, his voice like a buried echo from the depths of a grave:
"If you walk through that door, Rahigh… you will be an enemy of the Church forever."
Rahigh looked at him, his voice sharp and cold like a storm:
"Grayman… this is your final warning. Stay out of my path. Neither you nor your celestial blades can defeat a High Altar Demon."
Grayman smiled then—his voice laced with sacred malice, echoing as he said:
"If the light cannot force you to kneel… we will break you in the name of blood."
And in that moment, the memory snapped—like a thread torn from the fabric of his soul.
Slazar cried out, clutching his head in agony, flames seeming to burn behind his eyes. Willem rushed to him, concerned:
"Are you alright, Ri?"
Breathing heavily, Slazar replied:
"Yeah... I just... need some rest."
He left Willem without another word and stepped inside the inn with heavy feet. Climbing to his room, he locked the door tightly behind him, and collapsed onto the bed like a butchered corpse.
The pain wasn't just physical... it was something deeper.
Something that should've stayed asleep.