207 The two twisted minds! Revival?
Chapter 207
City of Harlington, back alleyways.
Just like any city in the world, the city of Harlington had its own slums and dirty alleys where criminals, thugs, or other anti-social elements resided or were active.
The narrow, twisted streets seemed to swallow light, leaving only shadows where danger lurked at every corner.
The air here was thick with the stench of decay and desperation, where the line between life and death was razor-thin.
The smell of rotting garbage and filth permeated everything, mixing with the occasional distant wail of someone too far gone to be saved.
These were often lawless zones where sometimes the cost of life became cheaper than a loaf of bread.
Here, morality was a luxury no one could afford, and a human life was traded like currency—cheap and easily spent.
In these shadowy corners, power ruled, and mercy was a forgotten concept. The weak either learned to hide or were devoured by the strong, leaving nothing but bones and empty promises in their wake.
Only the strong and skilled survived in such areas of poverty. And even the strong rarely survived without scars—physical and otherwise.
In one of the old shabby houses, there was a moment of disturbance. The faint sound of wood creaking underfoot broke the stillness, a subtle shift in the oppressive silence. The house stood out even among the dilapidated surroundings, its broken windows and sagging roof a facade for something far more sinister within.
It was a place that seemed to sink into itself, as though the weight of the sins committed inside had made the very walls bow in despair.
Inside the house, there wasn’t much except for some cheap, old furniture. Dust-covered shelves and tattered curtains lined the walls, giving off the illusion of neglect—though the real activity lay just beneath the surface. The air was stale, thick with the scent of dust and mildew, though the real danger lay hidden beneath the surface.
An air of unease clung to the room, as if it was haunted by the malicious intentions of those who frequented it.
However, this was all just a front—an artificial makeover to imitate the other houses in the alleyway.
The dingy exterior and rundown appearance were carefully crafted to mislead prying eyes, ensuring no one looked too closely at what really went on behind closed doors.
Beneath the worn floorboards, the truth simmered, hidden from prying eyes. It was a trap—a facade hiding the dark web of schemes and plots brewing underneath.
Under this shabby-looking facade, two people stood next to each other. One appeared to be holding a long piece of paper, while the other held a shiny rock.
The paper was old and weathered, its edges frayed, but the writing upon it still pulsed with dark energy. The rock in the other’s hand gleamed ominously, glowing faintly with power, as though alive in its own right.
The dim light from a single flickering bulb cast long shadows across the room, giving the scene a sense of unease. The shadows seemed to dance along the cracked walls, their jagged edges crawling up toward the ceiling, twisting and contorting as if mimicking the thoughts of those present.
“If we manage to do it this time, we will be even closer to our goal than before!”
The woman’s voice cut through the silence, sharp with anticipation. Her fingers trembled slightly as she gripped the paper, her excitement barely contained.
The woman’s voice was filled with urgency, her eyes gleaming with ambition as she stared at the paper in her hands. The flickering light cast eerie reflections in her eyes, making her look almost feverish, consumed by the promise of what was to come.
It was the voice of a woman who spoke, indicating one of the two was a woman.
“Hmm. I’m sure we will. We’ve been delayed because of those bastards from the Unholy Sun Sect. Look what happened in the end? Now there’s not a trace of their past glory.” The man’s voice was low, tinged with bitterness. He spat the words out, his grip tightening on the rock as if imagining it was one of the sect members.
“Humph. They must have gotten too complacent with their new young recruits. Offending not one but all five major clans together at once? Even demons dare not pull such a stunt.” Her lips curled into a sneer, her disdain for their recklessness clear.
There was no sympathy in her tone, only the cold satisfaction of seeing someone else’s downfall.
“I know, I know… still, I feel it’s a bit weird how they suddenly targeted the clan and got erased so easily. There must be a reason they directly reached out to attack the clan heirs.” He furrowed his brow, suspicion creeping into his voice as he pondered the chain of events.
Something about it felt off, as if there was a missing piece to the puzzle.
“No use thinking about it. We don’t need to concern ourselves with that matter; we have to do our job as told.” Her voice was sharp, cutting off his train of thought.
She had no interest in distractions, only in what lay ahead.
“You’re right. With the recent surge of exorcists around the normal human cities, security has tightened everywhere, and our actions have become even more restrained. Fortunately, we finally got this chance.” The man spoke in a desperate tone. His hands tightened around the shiny rock, his knuckles white with tension.
“It’s all thanks to those dumb idiots who went ahead and got themselves killed, making the clans actively hunt for heretics everywhere. Those exorcists are like mad dogs—once marked, they won’t leave! Gosh, so annoying!” The woman spat the words out, her eyes flashing with irritation as she paced the room.
The woman huffed in annoyance.
“Well, don’t stress too much. This city is still kind of backwater compared to others, and the people here have differing opinions on the existence of exorcists, so it shouldn’t be a problem for us to fetch a high quantity of souls.” The man’s voice was calm, almost too calm, as if he’d already made peace with the chaos to come.
____________________
Join for FREE at : patreon.com/WinterDragon573
Join for FREE at : patreon.com/WinterDragon573
WinterDragon_1
Creator’s Thought