The lives of demons are always unchanging.
Evade the Wizards' Hunting Teams, capture Wizards, and then continue to evade the Wizards' Hunting Teams.
Occasionally, when there's leisure, the Old Liches discuss their experiences cooking Wizard flesh, the Little Elves need to care for their Wild Demon packs, and the female demons like to gather and gossip about the Great Wizards who roam the four seas.
The black ship's name is Mist, a warship personally crafted by the Sea Monster King.
Its captain, a Legend among Great Wizards, often became the subject of the female demons' conversations.
It is said that this captain is very young, an original species of demon, born a true demon, and now, not yet a hundred years old, has already reached the peak of a Great Wizard.
It is said that he once piloted the black ship, traversing the four seas in a single day, ambushing thirteen Wizard Hunting Teams, with none of the three Great Wizards leading them surviving.
It is said that he once ventured deep into the seabed on a full moon night, challenging the ancient Sea Monster King, and returned unharmed.
It is even rumored that he once confronted the principal of First University!
Now, this Legend stood before Nikita.
Nikita narrowed her eyes, quietly watching the tall figure with his back to her, and stopped beside the pillar.
"Don't be shy; come closer to see clearly. What I let you see is what you are allowed to see." The gentle voice continued, sounding very tolerant.
Nikita paused for a moment, then obediently moved closer.
The first rule of the demon race: when facing a strong individual, maintain respect and awe, and obey their will.
Leaning against the cabin wall was a wide table board, supported by several slanted wooden props, making the table very stable.
On the side of the tabletop closer to the cabin wall, several black clay pots were haphazardly placed, with wisps of smoke of various colors wavering a few inches above their openings. On the outer side, an ancient leather scroll was spread open, on which complex patterns were outlined in dark gold and silver-white.
A wooden plate was casually placed on the leather scroll. The plate had a simple, rustic style, entirely coated in dark purple lacquer, with intricate patterns outlined in silver thread near the edge. Nikita vaguely felt that these patterns seemed to have some Magic Writing style.
Her gaze swept over the clay pots, the leather scroll, and the intricate patterns, finally resting on the plate.
The plate held a complete, bloody brain, and two dark, sharp thorns skillfully manipulated the tiny folds on the brain, occasionally tapping it gently. Then, as the brain trembled, a misty, silver-white substance was drawn out, sucked into a pair of greenish-black lips suspended in mid-air.
Nikita's vision trembled slightly.
Her gaze followed the stream of light to the greenish lips, then paused, before quickly sliding down. The corner of her eye could only glimpse the hem of a white robe.
The Magic Writing on this robe must also be very particular, she mused inwardly.
"Memories, ah, they are more captivating than power." The gentle voice revealed a deep sense of satisfaction.
Nikita knew he was referring to the silver-white Mist just now.
This is a very popular drink among high-ranking demons, much like the wine Wizards enjoy.
However, this drink is not brewed by Little Elves using nectar and dew.
This drink is filled with the noble and bloody aura of demons; it is brewed from memories that flow out of warm human brains stimulated by demonic energy.
This beverage is called 'Memory'.
Memory is the vintage of time.
For Wizards, nothing is more important than time. Their power accumulates in time, their souls sublimate in time, and memories leave behind the most precious essence in the washing of time.
These essences are the most captivating enjoyment for high-ranking demons.
"This brain belongs to a Little Wizard we just captured yesterday; it's very fresh and very rare. Especially those memories full of power and struggle, they are truly mellow and incomparable." The gentle voice praised, with a hint of reluctance: "Nowadays, these Wizard brains are becoming increasingly rare, especially those registered Little Wizards; it's truly a pity."
Nikita quickly pulled out a dark red clay pot and respectfully handed it over:
"This is Memory I brewed from Duona people's brains. Although it doesn't have the pure taste of a Wizard's, it's full of exotic flavor. I hope you will accept it with a smile."
The Duona people are a branch of an alien race. They recognize the legitimate status of the Wizard Alliance and disdain demons. Therefore, their flesh and souls are often offered as rare spoils of war to high-ranking demons.
"Don't be afraid, lift your head." The captain of the Mist took the clay pot, caressing the raised patterns on it, his voice filled with joy.
Nikita looked up and saw the greenish-black lips, the high-bridged nose above them, and the dark red, deep-set eyes.
In just an instant, she was captivated by those pure eyes, and her entire demonic energy involuntarily stagnated.
A large amount of memories, protected by demonic energy in her mind, surged out like waves.
All memories repeated the same story.
Survive.
Born in Beta Town North District, as the child of a Trickster, Nikita knew from a young age the difficulty of survival. While Wizards' children rode brooms and flew swords, playing in the town, she could only watch enviously, then re-enter the dark Silent Forest with her parents to collect herbs and earn some time.
When she was six, both her parents were gone.
One was dragged to the bottom of the Silent River by a water ghost while crossing it; the other was wrapped by a grey vine and pulled to a treetop while venturing into the Silent Forest.
The Silent Forest, at that time, was the embodiment of death in her eyes.
When she was little, her impression of living was a small piece of black bread an old Trickster on the street broke off and gave to her.
A small piece of dark, hard bread.
The old Trickster's withered claws pinched her face.
Watching her, with tears, stuff the black bread into her stomach.
Living was very hard.
When she was fifteen, she received an admission letter from First University.
She moved into the University dormitory, no longer having to listen to mice fight in a cramped attic; she ate delicious meals, no longer needing to risk venturing into the Silent Forest for a piece of bread; she even had a lover, whose green eyes were always so clear and reliable.
She began to fantasize about the future, about life.
At the University, she lived happily.
In her senior year, with an internship assignment, she once again stepped into the Silent Forest.
She was attacked by a pack of Wild Demons.
When her mentor rescued her, her eyes were already bloodshot.
She told her mentor, "I want to live."
Her mentor said, "Then run, run far away, run out of the Silent Forest, run to a place where there are no Wizards."
So she began to flee.
The Wizards' Hunting Teams were terrifying; they always found lone demons, either turning them to ashes or tying them up and taking them to a dark, unknown place.
But what was even more frightening was that she could no longer control herself and began to use Wizards as food.
She could never go back.
But she was still alive.
Not long ago, her mentor found her with a little girl of six or seven.
Saying, "This child also wants to live."
She nodded and took the child back to the Lich King's territory.
The little girl had not yet transformed, remaining in a half-Wizard, half-demon state.
The Old Liches in the territory were restless, wanting to put this child on an experimental table; the Little Liches in the territory salivated, wanting to taste a Little Wizard; even her companions were scanning them with ill-intentioned glances.
So, she took the little girl and escaped from the Lich King's territory once again.
To survive.
Now, she boarded this ship.
...
The captain blinked.
Nikita came to her senses as if waking from a dream.
She touched her face in horror; it was wet.
There was sweat, and there were tears.
The captain looked at her gently, a smile on his lips:
"Every fallen Wizard has experienced desperate struggles.
Those man-eating bloods are slowly pumped from crying hearts."