Interlude: Yellow Eyes

  The theater was cold, the air-conditioning humming a low, mechanical dirge. On the massive screen, a victim screamed as a masked killer loomed—the typical cinematic dread.

  The old man in the center row didn't flinch. His eyes were glazed, his mind elsewhere, his fingers mindlessly dipping into a bucket of buttered popcorn. He was a man who had seen real monsters; the ones on the screen were just toys.

  As he reached for another piece, his fingers brushed against another hand. Warm. Solid.

  The old man froze. He hadn't heard anyone sit down.

  Slowly, his neck creaking, he turned. Beside him sat a young man who looked like he had been carved out of light. Long black hair with streaks of platinum fell over his shoulders. He didn't look at the old man; he was leaning forward, a piece of popcorn halfway to his mouth, eyes fixed on the screen.

  "God, I love this movie," Jaejin whispered, his voice smooth as silk. He tossed the popcorn into his mouth and let out a bright, genuine laugh as the killer on screen struck. "It's hilarious! Look at him run!"

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  The old man’s breath hitched. "This is... a horror movie."

  "Is it?" Jaejin finally turned his head. He didn't look angry; he looked amused, like he was watching a child try to explain a joke. He reached out and draped a heavy, friendly arm over the old man’s shoulder.

  "Man... you guys just don't stop, do you?" Jaejin leaned in close, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial hum. "Here you are living the life. Watching movies, crunching numbers, worshiping a demon god every 3 AM... like, okay, I get it. Everyone needs a hobby."

  He started laughing again—a manic, sharp sound that echoed through the empty theater. "But he’s back. He is so back."

  The old man’s pupils dilated. His fingernails began to lengthen, curving into jagged, obsidian claws. His demon blood began to boil with the desperate need to kill.

  "Shhhh, shhhh." Jaejin’s eyes suddenly ignited. The dark brown vanished, replaced by a swirling, predatory Celestial Yellow. The pressure in the room shifted instantly. Gravity seemed to triple. "Let’s be quiet. He’s enjoying the movie."

  The old man trembled, his claws twitching, but as he moved to strike, he felt a presence behind him. Cold. Divine. Absolute.

  Standing in the shadows of the row behind them was a Holy Knight, a spectral remnant of gold and soul-fire, its hand resting on the hilt of a massive blade. It was a manifestation of the Sanctuary—the place where Jaejin’s word was law.

  "He has really little patience," Jaejin smiled, showing a flash of white teeth. He turned back to the screen, grabbing another handful of popcorn. "Let's enjoy the movie."

  The Xin worshiper sat paralyzed, his claws retracting as his heart hammered against his ribs. He wasn't just scared. He was witnessing the arrival of the one thing the shadows couldn't swallow.