Chapter 1051 The Young Fire Demon <TOC> Chapter 1053 Night within the Painting
Translator: SumTLMan
The process of ushering out the intruder unfolded like a complete farce.
Initially, Canaan politely requested the fledgling Fire Demon to depart. Yet, the fiery sprite utterly dismissed the plea, choosing instead to engage in a juvenile game of “you can’t catch me” within the yard.
When the impish Fire Demon dared to stick out its tongue in mockery of Canaan once again, Fafnir stepped into the fray.
She descended upon the courtyard with an imposing aura, sending a shiver of fear down the imp’s spine. In a display of raw strength, Fafnir seized the long, black tail of the Fire Demon, swinging it around like a javelin.
With a powerful grunt, she launched the fiery sprite. The crimson entity traced an arc across the sky, landing beyond the boundary of the property. As the Fire Demon struggled to regain its bearings, a bag filled with three hundred demon gold coins conveniently dropped beside it.
With Fafnir’s stern warning, Angel anticipated that the mischievous demon would not dare return.
However, he had underestimated the young Fire Demon’s obstinacy.
Following the departure of the most recent batch of visitors, Angel’s coffers had finally swelled past ten thousand demon gold coins, the total nearing sixteen thousand.
Canaan was already preparing for the next wave of customers when Angel halted her, deciding to end the day’s business.
Moreover, he rewarded Canaan with ten demon gold coins for her service.
Canaan was somewhat puzzled — they had only received three groups of visitors, and there was still ample time left in the day. Why the sudden decision to close shop? Nevertheless, being a humble clerk, she had no authority to question the store owner’s decisions.
Furthermore, Canaan was eager to avenge the humiliation suffered at the hands of the Fork Tailed Demon from the day prior. Thus, she gratefully accepted the generous remuneration and prepared to bid Angel farewell.
Nonetheless, just as Canaan was about to swing open the store door to depart, a bundle of flames was spotted huddling beneath the doorframe.
This flaming ball was none other than the juvenile Fire Demon that Fafnir had tossed away earlier.
At this moment, the originally round eyes of the young Fire Demon had morphed into an inverted triangle, with its fiery pupils seething with anger.
As Canaan glanced over her shoulder towards the shopkeeper, contemplating his next move, Angel walked over. With a squinted gaze, Angel said to Canaan, “You go on. I’ll handle things here.”
Canaan instinctively took a few steps forward. Just as she was about to observe Angel’s method of dealing with the young Fire Demon, a resounding “thud” echoed as the door was abruptly closed.
Both Canaan and the young Fire Demon were stranded outside.
Canaan thought, “…So this is your way of handling it?”
Canaan was flustered in the wind, while the young Fire Demon, in reaction to the closed door, was like a lit explosive. It took a flaming sword from its mouth, ready to hack at the wooden door.
Canaan hesitated, wondering whether or not to intervene. But before she could decide, Fafnir appeared before the young Fire Demon, just like the previous scenario, and with fear in its eyes, the demon was again flung far away.
Judging by the trajectory, this distance was probably even greater than the last.
After Canaan confirmed there was nothing she could assist with at the Phantasmagoria, she took her leave. Soon after Canaan entered the main road, she noticed the previously dim-lit young Fire Demon, fuming with anger, storming back towards the Phantasmagoria.
Canaan thought she saw a hint of moisture in the young Fire Demon’s eyes.
Was she imagining it? How could a fire-element demon possibly cry?
Canaan shook his head, ignoring the young Fire Demon. After all, with the mighty Fafnir overseeing the shop, there was nothing for him to worry about.
On the flip side, Angel, brimming with excitement, was tallying up the day’s earnings. Just yesterday, he had been mulling over a change in his money-making strategy, yet today he had accomplished his goal with ease, saving him a significant amount of time and naturally uplifting his spirits.
The effortless achievement of this goal was due not only to the extraordinary effectiveness of the ‘Rhythm of the Ocean’ but also largely thanks to Prapa’s enthusiastic promotion. Angel thought to himself that when he visits the Hunting Museum later, he might as well reward Prapa for his efforts.
Indeed, he was preparing to go to the Hunting Museum.
Primarily, he intended to deliver the money from the sale of the Immortal Flame Bone to Lord Night. Secondly, disguised as an Abyssal native, if he wanted to purchase goods in La Sutherland, he virtually had no means to do so, leaving him no option but to have Lord Night purchase on his behalf.
Therefore, a trip to the Hunting Museum was unavoidable.
As Angel descended from the attic, he heard the loud banging and hollering from outside the cabin, much like the pounding of drums. Fafnir was leaning on the round table, snoozing. She only raised her eyebrows when Angel came downstairs.
The one knocking on the door was the same little Fire Demon from before. It looked furious, causing a ruckus around the cabin. However, it didn’t dare cause too much trouble, fearing that Fafnir might throw it out again, just like last time.
Angel informed Fafnir of his upcoming itinerary, to which Fafnir waved her hand dismissively, unconcerned with what Angel planned to do.
With the young Fire Demon at the door, it wasn’t fitting for Angel to leave through the front door. The backyard was concealed by an illusion spell. After activating Boundless Silence, he stealthily slipped away from the backyard.
Upon leaving the woods, Angel took a long look at the young Fire Demon from afar.
The demon, who had been tossed out twice, was now standing at the door. Its pitiful face showed it wanted to rage but dared not to — a stark contrast from its previous defiant and bratty behavior.
Angel shook his head with a smile and retracted his gaze.
Not far from the Hunting Museum, though the path was populated by demons, Angel had witnessed the manifold forms and behaviors of these demons in recent days. With the unveiling of their fearsome faces, his fear had ebbed somewhat.
After all, he had been audacious enough to employ a half-demon as a shopkeeper.
In addition, he now bore the Mark of Flame and the dragon scales of Bina Jonis, which provided a degree of security. Considering the proximity of the Hunting Museum and the Phantasmagoria cabin, he dared to venture out alone.
Throughout his journey, Angel had managed to avoid attracting the attention of demons, reaching the Hunting Museum without a hitch.
The Hunting Museum was a colossus, rivaling even the Ocean Theatre he’d reconstructed in the Initial Heart City. However, the Ocean Theatre was a marvel of architecture crafted by human masters, and thus more delicate and refined in appearance.
Naturally, this refinement was a manifestation of Angel’s aesthetic values, not a diminution of the Hunting Museum’s uniqueness.
Demon architecture is characterized by its peculiar style. The Hunting Museum was no different. If one weren’t told this was a shop selling hunting materials, they might mistake it for a terrifying cathedral of a wicked church.
Pushing open the hefty door, Angel was greeted by a dimly lit entrance, illuminated by the silver candelabras nearby. Further inside, the scene was pitch-black, reminiscent of an otherworldly space shrouded in darkness.
The floor was a checkerboard pattern of black and white, and every echoing footstep added an eerie rhythm to the journey.
After taking a dozen steps or so, Angel halted as he heard heavy footfalls ahead of him.
A flicker of firelight emerged from the darkness.
An unsettling fiery face, marked with fierce patterns, broke through the obscurity.
“Lord Night.”
“Come in,” Night gestured for Angel to follow after a curt nod, turning to lead the way.
As nightfall donned its mantle, the flame in the lanterns of the Hunting Museum blinked into life one by one. The previously inky and dreadful atmosphere that pervaded the museum transformed into a gentle luminosity. Their footfalls echoed within the vast, open space, as if a fuzzy fringe had been woven around the sounds, imbuing Angel with an inexplicable sense of solitude.
Night guided Angel through the hallowed halls and to the reception room. As they traversed past the exhibition room, Angel cast a casual glance within.
At first sight, the horrifying array of demonic specimens startled him. Yet, on a second look, Angel found himself enthralled by an immense painting that dominated the back of the exhibition room.
A swath of flame bisected the inky background of the painting.
It was as if a roaring inferno was scorching through the gloom of Night, burning a hole into the darkness.
Despite the painting’s seeming simplicity, Angel felt an undercurrent of tension seething beneath its tranquility. There was a palpable struggle and an air of defiance, seemingly seeping right out of the canvas.
Even as Angel arrived in the reception room, he found himself somewhat in a daze. Somehow, when he lifted his gaze to meet Night’s, he was involuntarily reminded of the painting.
“You appear a tad distracted?” Night’s low, raspy voice reverberated into Angel’s ear.
“That painting I saw in the exhibition room earlier… it’s quite…” Angel searched for many descriptors, but none seemed apt. Eventually, he conceded, “…distinctive.”
“Distinctive? I thought you’d find it bland, given its simplicity.”
“I don’t find it simple at all. The messages it conveys to me are intricate — tranquility, turbulence, struggle, repression, and defiance.” Angel paused for a moment, “Truth be told, I feel as though looking at that painting is like looking at you, Night.”
Upon hearing such a conclusion, many might burst into laughter. Yet, Night found itself in a daze, as if it had stepped back in time. Years ago, a dear friend had worn a similar smile, asking, “Can you guess what I am painting?” Before an answer could be provided, the answer was revealed, “I am painting you.”
Watching Angel from across the table, a faint smile found its way onto the face of Night. With a voice that barely rose above a whisper, it said, “Indeed, the perspective of humans seems to offer far more intrigue than that of demons.”
Angel paused, taken aback. Although Night had been speaking to itself, Angel had still managed to catch the contents of the monologue.
A human’s perspective? So, Night knew that he was human?
After his initial shock subsided, Angel realized this revelation was within his expectations. Indeed, when Fafnir first met Night, she had been extremely guarded. This suggested that Night was far from weak. It wasn’t surprising that he could see through Angel’s disguise.
However, what puzzled Angel was how Night managed to see through his human disguise even with the protection of the Mark of Flame. Could it be that Night was even more powerful than Odeklaes?
“Let’s put the painting aside for now,” Night’s words veered off in a different direction, abandoning the previous topic. “Have you come to me because you’ve amassed enough demon gold?” He asked, probing Angel’s intentions.
Though not constantly monitoring the goings-on at Phantasmagoria, Night knew that the Hunting Museum wasn’t far from there. He noticed several batches of demons with abnormal water energy passing by his museum. Making the connection, he could easily infer that Angel must have made quite a substantial sum that day.
Chapter 1051 The Young Fire Demon <TOC> Chapter 1053 Night within the Painting