The Yandere Demon Lords & Me-Chapter 32: Blood Debt and Blade Vows - 1

"Blades are not cold. They just haven't been touched the right way."

....

The cold rain had stopped.

But the ominous silence was worse.

Too clean.

Too even.

Like the world had taken a breath and forgotten to let it out.

Rein stepped lightly across the moss-lined path, Zeraka flanking his right, Valaithe humming quietly behind, Elaris trailing as rear guard. They were in formation. Alert. Ready.

And then.

The wind shifted.

That was all the warning Rein got.

No scent. No footfall. No breath.

Just the sudden wrongness in the air—like the world blinked, and when it opened its eyes again, something red was falling from the sky.

He dropped instinctively.

A crimson blur sliced through the space where his throat had been, a blade hissing like silk torn through flame.

"Contact!" Zeraka roared from behind him.

The beast-woman launched herself forward in a blur of claws and rage—but not fast enough to stop the first strike which Rein barely missed.

The assassin didn't hesitate.

She moved like gravity was optional, irrelevant.

Veils snapped in the wind.

Blades gleamed faintly in the cloudy sky.

She wasn't just attacking Rein.

She was outright executing him.

But she never finished the strike.

Mid-leap—just before the final blow could fall—her body jerked, like she'd run into an invisible wall.

Her right hand locked up.

The dagger in her grip trembled violently, red sigils glowing up her arm.

Rein twisted to the side, felt the wind of the blade kiss his ear—and hit the dirt rolling.

The blade missed.

Zeraka hit her next.

Their clash cracked the air—a tangle of monstruous claw and blade, the assassin barely deflecting in time.

Sparks sprayed. Flesh scraped.

Zeraka's eyes were wide—feral. Furious.

"She's veiled!" Zeraka growled, turning around. "Can't smell her!"

Valaithe raised her hand behind them, already conjuring a mist to burn away cloaking curses.

Elaris moved in low, silent, sword drawn in case she had an opening.

Rein staggered to his feet, bruised but not bleeding.

He turned—

And saw the assassin stagger back, off balance now.

Her blade was shaking vigorously in her firm grip, as if it was rejecting it's presence entirely.

Her other hand went to her ribs—where the sigil glowed, burning through her glove.

Smoke curled from her wrist.

"Why can't I..." she whispered, horrified.

Then she looked up.

And saw Rein clearly for the first time.

The veil over her mouth fluttered with her breath. Her eyes widened—not in fear, but something deeper.

Stranger.

Recognition.

"You're not supposed to look like that," she breathed. "You're not supposed to have... eyes."

She stepped back.

Zeraka lunged again towards her—

Too late.

The assassin vanished in a shimmer of red mist.

_____

They found her not long after.

Collapsed beneath a crooked tree at the edge of a crumbling ridge, veil torn, one blade buried in the dirt beside her.

Her body trembled. Her right arm hung limp at her side. Her lips were pale.

She didn't move when they approached.

Didn't flinch when Zeraka raised a claw.

Didn't blink when Rein stepped into view.

She just said, "Kill me. I failed."

She coughed—blood laced with sparks hit the mud.

"I was trained to kill you before you awakened."

She looked up slowly, her voice fragile but steady.

"But now that I've seen your face... I think I was sent to fail."

The assassin sat slumped beneath the twisted tree, blood dripping from her right sleeve in a slow, steady rhythm. Her breathing was shallow. Her hands were still.

She wasn't resisting.

Which somehow made it worse.

Zeraka stood a few paces away, circling like a caged animal. Her claws twitched every time the assassin shifted even slightly.

"Say the word," she growled to Rein. "One swipe, and this ends."

Valaithe leaned against a moss-covered stone, arms folded. "I'd rather take her apart slowly. See how many oaths are tangled in her spine."

Elaris said nothing. Just watched.

Sword ready.

Expression unreadable.

Rein stepped forward, ignoring them all.

"What's your name?"

The assassin looked up at him.

Up close, she didn't look older than him.

Her skin was pale—not sickly, but bloodless, like whatever warmth she once had had been burned out by something holy and cruel.

Her red veil hung in tatters. Her lips were chapped. Her right eye was bruised.

But her gaze was locked.

Not on his face.

On his chest.

Like she could see something glowing beneath the skin.

"Iris," she said softly.

"Third blade of the Scarlet Vow. Bound to end the Throne before the Crown wakes."

Rein frowned. "What does that even mean?"

She coughed again. Blood. A lot of it.

"I was raised to find you before you ever became you. Kill the man. Kill the future."

She looked down at her hand, where the sigil still flickered faintly—cracked, leaking sparks.

"The cult said you'd be all flame and ruin. A false god wearing soft skin. Easy to kill before the soul stirs."

Zeraka's tail lashed. "You tried to kill him. That's all I heard."

Iris didn't deny it.

But she didn't look at Zeraka.

Only at Rein.

"I found you too late."

"You've already started becoming."

Rein squatted in front of her, resting his elbows on his knees. "And what does that mean?"

She blinked slowly.

"I couldn't kill you."

"Not because I missed. Not because I hesitated."

Her hand twitched, as if remembering the dagger that refused to move.

"Because something in me wouldn't allow it."

She looked into his eyes.

And this time, Rein saw it.

Not fear.

Not devotion.

Recognition.

Like she'd known him in another life, another war, another world—and had been trained to destroy that memory.

"When I saw you," Iris whispered, "I remembered dying. In your arms."

Zeraka stepped forward, claws up.

Rein raised a hand.

"Not yet."

He turned back to Iris.

"You said 'before the crown wakes.' What crown?"

Iris smiled faintly.

The kind of smile people gave just before breaking.

"The one that doesn't sit on your head."

"The one that grows in your heart."

Then she passed out.