After the Fall of the Demon Race, Reincarnated as a Demon Girl - Chapter 16

A sharp pain suddenly shot through Renith’s shoulder. Frowning slightly, she quickly channeled her magic to slowly extract the bullet embedded in her flesh.

Then, mimicking Alegia’s technique, she invoked a holy light spell. A warm, sacred glow flowed over the wound like a gentle stream, instantly stanching the gushing blood.

She thought to herself that her water barrier might have been enough to defend against flintlocks or smoothbore muskets. But technology had advanced significantly over the past forty years, and the power of modern firearms was far beyond what it used to be.

As she pondered this, Renith felt a tingling itch on her shoulder. Looking down, she saw the flesh that had been pierced by the bullet beginning to squirm faintly, showing signs of healing.

This wasn’t due to the holy light magic—Renith naturally possessed such formidable regenerative abilities. This was the body of a demon.

It was precisely because of this physical resilience that demons were so hard to kill.

With such astonishing regenerative power, Renith naturally didn’t need to pay much attention to minor wounds.

She turned her gaze back to Giroth. He was clutching the deep, bone-exposing wound on his ankle with one hand while gripping the gun stock with the other. His eyes were fixed intently on Renith, ready to fire at the slightest movement from her.

Renith was no different—the moment Giroth made a move, she would retaliate immediately.

A breeze blew several strands of withered grass across their line of sight.

At that moment, Giroth seemed to notice something. A barely perceptible flicker of joy passed through his eyes, and the anguish on his face eased slightly.

He suddenly raised his gun and fired two more shots.

Renith wasn’t about to be caught by the same trick twice. If gentle water couldn’t stop the bullets, then:

“Scripture, page 83. Earth Magic—Stone Wall.”

The text in the book seemed to melt, flowing from her palm into the ground beneath her feet. Instantly, the earth trembled, and a massive rocky barrier erupted from the soil, shielding her.

The two bullets embedded themselves into the stone wall, leaving behind two charred craters.

BANG—

But just then, a gunshot suddenly rang out from behind Renith.

Reacting swiftly, Renith raised her left hand. The stone wall in front of her seemed to come alive, writhing eerily.

“Scripture, page 84. Earth Magic—Stone Spikes.”

The solid rock barrier instantly transformed into thick, sharp spikes bursting from the ground. They not only blocked the bullet from behind but also forced the lurking figure into the open.

The man had disheveled hair, an oily face, and narrow eyes gleaming with a sly light.

No wonder Giroth had looked surprised earlier—he must have spotted this man.

Seeing the situation turn against him, the man leaped backward, evading the slow advance of the stone spikes. Then, with a flicker, his figure vanished once again.

Renith frowned. She suddenly sensed another rush of air behind her. Without hesitation, she cast another spell, and the stone wall rose again, firmly protecting her.

“Invisibility? Teleportation? It seems this guy has a decent ‘Divine Gift.’ But that alone is far from enough to kill me.”

Renith’s cold, starlike eyes returned to Giroth.

During the mysterious man’s harassment, Giroth had clumsily rolled back to where his shotgun lay in the grass. Gritting his teeth against the agonizing pain in his ankle, he holstered his revolver and slowly raised the shotgun with both hands.

“My ‘Divine Gift’ is ‘Encirclement Hunt.’ You’d better pray you keep your head!”

Giroth’s face was pale as paper, his teeth clenched, cold sweat beading on his forehead.

As Giroth spoke, the air around them seemed to freeze.

Renith could feel an invisible pressure spreading, like a tightening net slowly closing in on her.

Giroth took a deep breath and pulled the trigger.

A deafening roar erupted from the dark barrel of the shotgun, as if the air itself had been torn apart by the sudden violence.

Bullets?

No.

What shot forth were not ordinary bullets but beams of eerie, magic-infused energy—and not just one. These energy beams materialized out of thin air around Renith, coiling like agile vipers.

One of the beams struck the stone wall in front of Renith, shattering the hard rock with ease. A cloud of dust billowed up like a thick fog, obscuring Renith from view.

Giroth’s frown finally eased. He raised his hand, and the energy beams around him seemed to respond to an invisible command. No longer chaotic, they moved with orderly precision, converging like a blooming flower, concentrating all their power toward where Renith stood.

“Die!!”

Dozens of energy beams fired simultaneously. In an instant, light exploded, dust flew, and a massive crater appeared in the center of the grassland.

Giroth gasped for breath, collapsing weakly to the ground. The man behind him canceled his ‘Shadowing’ ability and hurried to the edge of the smoldering crater.

“Tsk tsk, Giroth, you’re as terrifying as ever… She’s dead, right? No, not even ashes left.”

“Cough… Should be. Stop wasting time and help me stop the bleeding!”

Giroth coughed violently, his voice weak. Only then did the man realize how severely Giroth was injured. He turned around, intending to provide emergency treatment.

But as he slowly turned, a beam of sacred light swept gracefully through his body, shooting straight into the clouds above.

Giroth’s eyes widened in horror, his gaze fixed on the man like a nail.

“Why are you looking at me like that…? What’s wrong, Giroth? Wait, something’s not right. Why can’t I… control my body?”

No sooner had he spoken than he looked down at his hands.

Except he didn’t.

In the next second, his head was cleanly severed as if by an invisible blade. It tumbled to the ground, while blood gushed from his neck like a fountain, splattering the earth in gruesome blooms.

As the last traces of dust settled, Renith’s figure gradually became visible. She was enveloped in a soft, slightly dim glow, her fingertips still shimmering with the residual warmth and light of holy magic.

“Scripture, page 851. Holy Light Magic—Pseudo-Divine Art: Sacred Sanctuary.”

“Scripture, page 852. Holy Light Magic—Pseudo-Divine Art: Light Sever.”

Giroth’s move had been powerful, but the magic Renith had recently transcribed was even stronger.

In the instant those viper-like energy beams shot toward her with deadly speed, Renith had activated ‘Sacred Sanctuary’ without hesitation, blocking all the beams. Then, taking advantage of the moment the man by the crater let his guard down, she used ‘Light Sever’ to behead him.

Blood splattered across Giroth’s face. The warm, sticky sensation and the pungent smell of blood shattered the composure and pleasure he had felt while “savoring” his meal in the restaurant earlier.

Now, all he felt was fear. He knew he would soon end up like the man lying on the ground—a rotting, forgotten corpse.

“I was wrong—I was truly wrong!”

Giroth cried out hoarsely, his legs giving way as he knelt down and bowed deeply in Renith’s direction.

His desperate posture resembled the traditional “dogeza,” but to Renith, it seemed more like a distorted, insincere bow.

“What were you wrong about?”

Renith gently swayed her short staff, the tip gathering faint starlike motes of magic, as if ready to deliver a final, lethal blow.

“I shouldn’t have eaten them! I shouldn’t have… I was just too hungry, too afraid of starving!”

Giroth’s thoughts drifted back to his difficult years in the west, where he spent his days herding cattle and sheep across the vast grasslands.

A cowboy—such a lowly profession.

Once you became one, no one would look you in the eye.

But what choice did he have? It was his family’s only means of survival, their sole source of income, even as the wages grew meagerer.

Under the scorching sun, his sweat drenched his ragged clothes, yet the pay was pitifully small.

The cattle and sheep he herded were nothing more than assets to his employer, tools for making a living. Strictly speaking, they were not his to slaughter and eat—his employer forbade it.

To fill his stomach and support his family of four, he could only steal moments to hunt in the mountains and wilderness with crude tools, surviving on poaching.

Then came an exceptionally harsh winter. The black bread he had bought with all his hard-earned savings gradually dwindled as the long, cruel season dragged on.

Every bite felt precious, squeezed from between his teeth, but it wasn’t enough to last through the winter.

Misfortune struck again when a sudden blizzard swept through, burying all roads to the outside world under relentless snow.

There was still a month left until winter’s end.

Giroth stared in despair at the world blanketed in white. He could only huddle in his dilapidated cabin with his three emaciated children.

In the dim light, a child’s weak, tearful voice spoke:

“Father, I’m so hungry…”

The words hammered at Giroth’s heart, deepening his anguish.

He held the child tightly but had nothing to offer. Tears welled in his eyes, but he forced them back.

Wait… food…

He looked at the child in his arms.

Wasn’t this… edible?

No, he couldn’t. As their father, he should do everything to keep them alive!

The fifth day.

The sixth day.

The child in his arms lost consciousness. He wouldn’t last much longer either.

Hungry…

So hungry…

I don’t want to die…

Silently, he picked up the child, walked to the pot, and took the meat cleaver hanging on the wooden board.

One swing… two…

He struck a match, lit the fire, went outside to scoop a handful of snow, and dropped it into the pot.

He watched quietly as the snow melted into water—then turned red. He added the chopped meat into the pot.

Soon, the pot boiled, filling the cabin with the aroma of stewed meat.

Giroth couldn’t wait. He took a half-cooked piece and chewed.

It was bloody.

But it tasted delicious.

Now he could survive the winter.

He just had three fewer mouths to feed.

But now, all that remained of him was his head.