Free Web NovelChapter 179: Chapter 179: Darkness and Light
[Gale’s POV]
Ovelia and I stood at the counter of the takoyaki stall, watching the woman merchant work. Her hands moved with practiced efficiency—ladling batter into the hemisphere-shaped molds on the griddle, adding chunks of octopus, flipping each golden sphere with a swift poke of a metal pick. The smell was intoxicating: savory, slightly smoky, with the rich umami of the dark sauce she brushed on each finished piece.
"Five servings," I had told her. "Different flavors. The classic, the spicy, the cheese, the wasabi, and the one with the extra octopus."
She’d nodded without looking up, her focus on the griddle.
Now, minutes later, she slid the last of the takoyaki into small cardboard boxes, each containing six perfect spheres. She arranged them in a paper bag, folded the top neatly, and placed it on the counter. "Be careful," she said, her voice soft. "They’re still very hot."
I paid and reached for the bag.
As my hand approached, I saw her flinch—a tiny, involuntary recoil, as if she expected me to strike her or snatch it roughly. The reaction was so familiar it made something twist in my chest.
"Thank you," Ovelia said from beside me, her voice warm and genuine. She smiled at the woman—that open, unguarded smile that seemed to soften everyone it touched.
The woman’s tension melted. She smiled back, a real smile, and nodded at Ovelia. "Enjoy." freewēbnoveℓ.com
We walked away, the paper bag swinging from my hand while I held a paper stick with a half-eaten cotton candy still on it. The fairy and wolf stuffed toys were still wedged under each of my arms, the cookbook pressed against my side. I was carrying so much I could barely move without something shifting or threatening to fall. I was starting to resemble a walking merchandise display.
Ace is taking too long, I thought irritably. My patience for carrying this ridiculous stuffed toys was wearing thin.
I glanced at Ovelia. She was looking around at the passing stalls, her red eyes bright and curious, no longer clouded by the hesitation that had plagued her earlier.
"Ovelia," I said. "Do you want to try one? We can stop at that table over there." I nodded toward a small, empty wooden table tucked between two stalls.
She shook her head, that small smile still on her lips. "No, I’m okay. Let’s eat later. Together. With everyone." She popped the last bite of her cotton candy into her mouth, then walked to a nearby trash bin and dropped the paper stick inside.
Finally. She was expressing her preferences. Voicing her thoughts without second-guessing herself. The change was subtle, but I could feel it through our bond—a loosening of something that had been tightly wound for far too long.
Then I sensed it.
Mana. But not like any I’d sensed before. It was a cold, hungry presence—like standing at the edge of a pit and sensing the vast, hungry darkness below. If I touched it, it would swallow me. Consume me.
I activated my Fairy Sight without conscious thought.
The world shifted. Auras bloomed around me—the warm orange of festival-goers, the cool silver of the few werewolves nearby. But behind us, in the direction we’d just come from, there was something else. A darkness so dense it seemed to drink the light around it. It pulsed with a slow, malevolent rhythm.
More intense than Ann’s. Much more.
The vision from Ovelia’s mind flashed before my eyes—the masked figures, the massacre, the Flesh Hunters.
Is it one of them?
"Ovelia!" I thrust the bag of takoyaki toward her. "Carry this!"
She took it automatically, her red eyes widening as she took in my expression. "Gale, what’s wrong?" Worry saturated her voice.
I grabbed her hand, squeezing perhaps too tightly. "No matter what happens, stay here!" My voice came out harsher than intended, but I couldn’t soften it. "If something bad happens—if you feel threatened at all—don’t hesitate. Activate the familiar sigil and summon me immediately."
She stared at me for a long moment, processing. Then she nodded, her expression shifting from worry to determination. "I don’t understand what’s going on," she said, her voice steady. "But you come back here safe and sound. That’s an order."
A surprised laugh almost escaped me. An order. She was finally embracing her role.
I nodded once. "Now you’re finally acting like my master."
I turned and ran, following the trail of that terrible dark aura. As I moved, I grabbed the remains of my cotton candy, still clutched in my free hand, and crushed it into a ball. I shoved the entire thing into my mouth. The sweetness melted on my tongue, a brief comfort against the cold dread settling in my stomach.
I needed to confirm. I needed to see with my own eyes if the Flesh Hunters were real, if they were here, if they were hunting tonight.
The dark aura pulsed ahead, waiting.
[Ace’s POV]
Both men lay on the ground.
The tattooed one was on his knees, clutching his side where my elbow had connected. The bandana man was sprawled on his back, cradling his twisted wrist, his breath coming in ragged gasps. They were beaten. They knew it.
I stepped over them and walked toward the barrel.
A hand clamped around my ankle.
I looked down. The tattooed man had crawled forward, his grip surprisingly strong despite his injuries. His face was half-transformed now, snout elongating, teeth sharpening, fur bristling along his jaw.
"Let go," I said, my voice cold as winter stone. "My wife has been waiting for me. I don’t have time for this."
He tightened his grip. His transformation continued, muscles bulging, claws extending.
I drew my sword from its scabbard in one fluid motion. The blade gleamed in the dim light. "I already gave you a warning."
"Father, STOP!"
A small body launched itself from behind the barrel and landed directly in front of me, arms spread wide. The child. A girl, no more than ten, trembling violently but standing her ground. In her outstretched hand, she held my coin purse.
The father’s transformation halted. His features hung in a grotesque half-state, caught between man and wolf. "What are you doing, Ninna?! Step aside!" he growled, his voice distorted.
"The... the purse has a Silverhowl crest," she stammered, her voice shaking but audible. "He... he must be a Silverhowl knight. Or... or part of the royal family." Her eyes, wide with terror, never left mine.
I sheathed my sword. The click of metal against leather echoed in the narrow space.
"Here, sir." The girl thrust the purse toward me, her small hands trembling. "Take it. Please."
"Stop it, Ninna!!" The bandana man struggled to his knees, his face pale with pain. "Mother needs medicine. She’s sick. We need—"
"But you and Father will die if you push him further!" The girl’s voice cracked. Tears spilled down her cheeks, catching the faint light from the alley’s entrance. "Don’t you understand? He could kill you! He could kill all of us!"
The words hit me like a physical blow.
Ovelia.
I saw her face in my mind—the same terror, the same desperate courage, the same willingness to sacrifice herself for people who were important to her. Like when she had tried to shield Ray from the knife that the drunkard threw at the restaurant the last time we came here. This girl, standing between me and her father, was a mirror of my wife in another life.
I sighed, the sound heavy with exhaustion and something softer. I almost lost control. Almost became the thing they feared.
I reached out and took my coin purse from her trembling hand.
"Please don’t kill us," the girl begged, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Please don’t hurt us. I’m not really a thief. My father and brother lost their jobs. My mother... she’s so sick. We didn’t know what else to do."
I opened the purse and looked inside. There, nestled among the coins, was my wedding ring. Silver, with small diamonds encircling the band—a match to the ring on Ovelia’s finger. Relief washed through me, warm and profound.
I slid the ring onto my finger. I should have worn it from the start.
"Did you steal from the woman who shouted ’thief’?" I asked, my voice quieter now.
The girl shook her head vigorously. "No, sir. I tried, but she saw me before I could take anything. I swear."
Her father released my ankle. He crawled to his daughter and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against his chest. His half-transformed face was wet with his own tears.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out the coin purse containing my prize money—the winnings from the game stall, the ten percent share, the coins that had felt like triumph only an hour ago.
"Taking something that isn’t yours is never justified," I said, my voice steady. "Even when you’re desperate. Because it’s a shortcut that doesn’t really work. It creates a victim. Today, that victim was me. Tomorrow, it could be someone who truly can’t afford to lose what they have." I paused, letting the words settle. "It’s a choice that makes the world a little meaner. A little more frightening for everyone."
Damn it. I sound like Ray.
"Sorry, sir," the girl whispered into her father’s chest.
I held out the purse. "Here. Take it. And never steal again."
The girl’s eyes went wide. Slowly, hesitantly, she reached out and took the purse. Her fingers closed around the leather as if it might burn her.
The father opened it. His breath caught. "This... this is a huge amount of money," he whispered.
"We can buy mother’s medicine now. We can even build a shop," the bandana man said, his voice thick with disbelief. "We can... we can start over."
The father looked up at me, his eyes shining. "I’m sorry. For what we did. For what we tried to do. We were wrong. So wrong." He clutched the purse to his chest. "With this... we can build something honest. I swear it."
I said nothing. I simply turned and began walking toward the alley’s entrance.
But I’d only taken three steps when two figures appeared, blocking the light.
A male werewolf and a human. Village watchmen, by their uniforms and the staves they carried.
"Someone reported a fight in this alley," the werewolf said, his eyes scanning the scene behind me—the beaten men, the crying child, the drawn sword still visible at my side.
I walked past him without slowing. "It was a misunderstanding. It’s resolved."
As I passed, I heard his sharp intake of breath. "Prince Ace," he whispered.
I didn’t look back.
I ran.
The festival lights bloomed ahead, warm and golden, a stark contrast to the cold darkness of the alley. I pushed my legs faster, my heart pounding with a need that had nothing to do with danger.
I need to see her smile. I need to touch her. I need to know she’s safe.
