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Chapter 105: The Taste of Trust
Varian was confused.
He blinked. "Uh, Miss Marian... did you cut your nails while cooking or...?"
"Nails?" she asked, confused.
Varian turned to her, holding the fragment between two fingers. "Yeah. There’s a nail in here."
Marian glanced down at her hands. "I don’t think so? No, I didn’t cut myself at all."
The table went quiet.
The air felt... heavier.
Varian looked at Ben. Then at William. Then at Daemon—who was calmly chewing, eyes glinting with quiet satisfaction.
"...Maybe it’s mine," Varian said quickly, forcing a chuckle. "Haha, yeah. I might’ve scratched something while eating."
"Oh my," Marian said, smiling again. "You boys are wild. Be careful—no more nails in food, alright?"
Everyone returned to eating.
Except Varian.
The meat... it was soft. A little too soft. The texture—wrong. The flavor coppery.
Varian chewed slowly, his jaw tightening with every bite.
He glanced across the table at Daemon, who was casually smiling, eyes half-lidded, calm.
But Varian knew now.
This isn’t boar.
His gut twisted.
This is human.
It all made sense. The blood. The bag. The eerie silence when they returned. The boys who had bullied William gone. Not just dead.
Served.
He put his fork down, hand shaking slightly.
"Haha... no way," he muttered, laughing nervously, almost choking on the sound. He wanted to say something to warn the others.
But then Daemon looked at him.
And raised a single finger to his lips.
Ssshh.
Varian’s stomach dropped.
He’s telling me to stay quiet?
His laugh died in his throat. He didn’t know what emotion to feel fear, disgust, disbelief.
He’d seen monsters before.
But Daemon?
Daemon wasn’t a monster.
He was something worse.
He was evil refined, patient, smiling. Watching everyone eat what they didn’t understand.
Especially William, who sat happily beside him, devouring the meat with a child’s appetite.
"Hey, William..." Varian asked, his voice dry. "Do you like the... meat?"
William paused. Looked up at him.
And smiled.
"Yeah. It’s delicious."
Varian felt the sweat sliding down his neck.
He doesn’t even know. Or worse he knows and doesn’t care.
He looked back at Daemon.
Daemon’s grin had widened just slightly. Enough to show he’d seen everything. Heard everything.
Varian swallowed hard.He wouldn’t challenge him.
Not now.Not ever.
Daemon wasn’t just dangerous.
He was the kind of evil you didn’t survive twice.
After finishing the food.
Nyxtriel and Marian were busy clearing the table, chatting softly as they gathered dishes and wiped the table clean.
At the edge of the room, Varian sat stiffly, his food untouched.
Ben noticed. "What’s wrong, Varian? You barely ate anything."
"Huh? Oh—I mean, I just wasn’t hungry," Varian said quickly, forcing a weak laugh as his eyes flicked toward Daemon across the room.
Daemon was leaned back in his chair, calmly talking with William, who smiled brightly at something he said. Like nothing was wrong. Like nothing had happened.
Varian’s fists clenched.
"Excuse me," he said, standing. "I need to talk to Daemon."
Ben nodded, unconcerned.
Varian stomped toward him, seething.
He grabbed Daemon by the arm not roughly, but firmly and pulled him toward the back door. Daemon didn’t resist. He didn’t even ask why. He simply followed, his hands in his pockets, quiet.
They walked in silence until they reached the edge of the forest, where the shadows thickened and the noise of the town faded.
Varian stopped and turned sharply.
"Why?" he demanded. "Why did you kill those two boys and feed them to us?!"
Daemon said nothing.
Not even a blink of regret.
He just shrugged like it was nothing. Like Varian had asked why he’d added too much salt to the stew.
"Answer me!" Varian shouted, his bloodlust surging to the surface, aura flickering wildly around him.
Still, Daemon’s expression remained... bored.
Empty.
Unbothered.
No way. Varian grit his teeth. He still doesn’t feel anything?
Varian towered over him. He was taller, more muscular. Daemon was slim, wiry. He wasn’t glowing with demonic power. Not right now.
I can take him.
He raised a hand, reaching for Daemon’s head—
"Okay," Daemon said softly, his voice flat.
"Game over."
CRACK.
Daemon barely moved. A single open-palmed slap—effortless sent Varian flying like a ragdoll. His body slammed into a thick tree with a dull, sickening thud, bark cracking behind him.
He dropped to the ground, gasping, stunned. His ribs screamed.
That wasn’t aura. That was just... strength.
Daemon stood still, his hand now dropped to his side again, calm.
No killing intent.
No anger.
Just complete, casual dominance.
He stepped closer and crouched down beside Varian.
"You don’t get to question me," he said, his voice low, but sharp enough to cut glass. "You’re alive because I let you be. Just like they were dead because I let it happen."
He stood and turned to walk back.
"And next time... don’t touch me."
Varian lay still for a moment, staring at the tree he’d been slammed into. His hands trembled.
That wasn’t just power.
That was something else.
He’d felt fear before back when he lived under his father’s cruelty. Back when survival meant fighting for food, sleep, and breath. But he’d clawed his way out of that. Killed his tormentors. Grew strong.
He thought fear was behind him.
Until now.
He looked up, watching Daemon walk away with calm, unhurried steps.
He’s not normal. He’s not even close.
Varian clenched his fists.
"...Pathetic," he muttered to himself.
He hated how powerless he felt. But more than that, he hated that his pride—his damn arrogance—was the only thing keeping him from standing beside someone like that.
Daemon wasn’t even prideful. Wasn’t arrogant. Despite his power, he carried himself like none of it mattered.
And that made Varian jealous.
I’m chasing strength, he thought, but he already owns it. And he doesn’t need to show it off.
He stood, brushing dirt from his shirt, letting out a half-sigh, half-laugh.
"I really tried to fight that guy..."
A grin crept across his face.
Then he sprinted after Daemon, catching up with him just before they reached the treeline.
Without warning, Varian clapped a hand on Daemon’s shoulder.
"Hey, pal. Sorry for being a little too arrogant. I’m not gonna challenge you again. Let me swear my loyalty too—like William."
Daemon raised an eyebrow. "The hell? That’s creepy."
"C’mon, I’m serious! Please!" Varian laughed. "No more fights. Unless I get strong enough to make it interesting."
Daemon eyed him for a long second.
Then grinned.
Varian was loud, reckless, and brash—but he had potential. Daemon had met a hundred like him in his past life. And he knew how to shape them.
Slowly. Quietly.
Into killers.
"Alright," Daemon said. "Welcome to the party."
Varian smirked. "Hell yeah."
Then he paused.
"...But seriously. Why did you feed us human meat?"
Daemon shrugged, voice casual.
"I was curious how they’d taste. Turns out... not that different from pork."
Varian stared at him.
Then shook his head, laughing nervously. "Heh... you really are evil."
Daemon smiled.
But said nothing.
"Hey," Varian said, glancing sideways at Daemon as they walked. "What’s the real plan? You haven’t said anything. Are we seriously going to start killing officers?"
Daemon didn’t even look at him. "Who says we have to wait?"
"Huh?" Varian blinked, confused. n𝚘𝚟𝚙𝚞𝚋.𝚌o𝚖
Before he could ask again, they turned the corner—and stopped.
A group of guards stood blocking the path.
Leading them was a familiar figure.
Captain Elyria.
She stood tall, her presence sharp as a blade, her bloodlust thick in the air. Her brown eyes glared with fury.
Flanking her were two bound figures.
Nyxtriel. And William.
Tied. Held hostage.
"Well, well, well," Elyria sneered. "Look who decided to stroll right into our hands. The same rats who escaped are back where they belong."
Varian’s face twisted. "Damn it! We were betrayed!"
Daemon raised a hand, catching Varian by the shoulder before he charged.
From the shadows behind the guards, Ben and Marian stepped forward.
Their faces were pale with guilt—but they didn’t deny it.
"...After everything we went through," Varian growled, "you betrayed us?"
Ben flinched, unable to meet their eyes. "You don’t understand. I needed the money. And more than that—this is payback for what he did."
He pointed straight at Daemon.
"If it weren’t for him, my son would’ve lived a normal life."
Daemon didn’t respond at first. His expression didn’t change.
So... that’s it.
It wasn’t just about money.
Ben brought them into his home just to confirm the truth.
That I’m the one who burned Aurelia.
Daemon smirked faintly. "So you figured it out. Not bad. You really did set the stage well."
Ben’s voice rose, trembling with rage. "Just kill him! Kill that demon bastard!"
Elyria didn’t hesitate. She raised her hand. Magic pulsed in the air as her troops began channeling a large-scale incantation, light gathering in the shape of a war sigil.
"You don’t have to tell me twice," she said coldly. "This bastard killed too many of ours—and stole two of the seven fragments. His execution is long overdue."
Daemon stepped forward slowly.
He didn’t run.
He didn’t flinch.
His aura shimmered, and in the blink of an eye—
His claws extended. Horns broke through his hair.
His pupils glowed red as shadows coiled around his feet.
He smiled.
"Well then," he said, his voice dark and calm, "who ever said those fragments belonged to filthy mages like you?"
The earth trembled beneath him.
One demon. Two allies.
Against a hundred mages.
