Chapter 180: Chapter : 180 : Reckless Decisions!

“Sir, we would like some answers now.” Vorrak Den Zathrosk said angrily, looking suspiciously at him.

“Vor, calm down. He probably have some reason for it.” Esyra Velithra Morvayn

“Esyr, I am asking for that specific reason.” Vorrak said, his tone filled with annoyance.

“This will be getting lot more fun.” Kaelith Orven Drosmar murmered, hands behind his head, chair tilted back dangerously.

Vorrak growled low in his throat toward Orven.

“Vorrak, chill. I am just trying to have some fun.”

Someone laughed.

“Kae, you do know how to entertain me.” Thyria Zan Drakmor said, still laughing, “Seriously, without you, I would die out of boredom.”

“Pleasure is all mine.” Kaelith smirked, giving her a thumps up.

“You two, stop flirting.” Morvath Ahn Torvigar said in his stern voice, drumming two fingers on the table in exact rhythm, like he measured time itself.

“Ohh… Come on Morvath. Let the youngs have some fun.” Drastic Veylor Tharnok chuckled, smirking cockily as always.

“Damn right!” Thyria laughed, slapping on the table.

Thyria leaned forward, eyes glittering with that dangerous mix of mischief and fire.

“Honestly, Kae… if you tilted that chair any farther back, you’d fall right into my lap.”

Kaelith’s smirk widened. “Would that be a problem for you, Thyr?”

“A problem?” She snorted, rolling her neck like a wolf stretching before a pounce. “Please. I’d consider it a gift from the demon king.”

Morvath exhaled sharply, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You two are unbearable.”

Drastic barked a laugh. “Oh, lighten up, Morvath. Not everyone is built from stone and rules.”

Kaelith tapped a finger against the table, his gaze sliding toward Thyria with lazy intent.

“So, Thyr… am I that entertaining? Or are you just easily amused?”

She slapped the table again, louder this time, making Vorrak flinch. “Kae, you’re a walking headache. But—”

She hooked a thumb toward him, grin sharp. “You’re my favorite headache.”

Vorrak groaned. “Are you two… seriously doing this right now?”

“Doing what?” Thyria blinked innocently. “Talking? Laughing? Existing?”

“Flirting,” Vorrak muttered.

Kaelith tilted his head thoughtfully, eyes locked on Thyria. “Is that what we’re doing, Thyr?

She leaned even closer, lips curling in a slow, deliberate smirk. “Well… if it bothers Vorrak this much, then yes.”

Kaelith’s grin sharpened. “Then I’ll make sure to keep it up.”

“Oh please do,” She purred, drumming her claws on the wood. “I’d hate for this meeting to become boring again.”

Esyra sighed dramatically. “We are never getting answers at this rate…”

Morvath’s fingers continued their perfect rhythmic tapping—faster now, betraying irritation.

Drastic elbowed him. “Tell me you weren’t at least mildly entertained.”

Morvath stared forward, expression flat.

“…I refuse to answer that.”

Thyria snorted. “Translation: he’s enjoying this.”

Kaelith winked at her. “Everyone enjoys us, Thyr. Some just pretend they don’t.”

Her laugh echoed through the room, bold and bright and Vorrak finally slammed his palms on the table.

“ENOUGH! Can we please continue before they start mating rituals!?”

Thyria and Kaelith exchanged a glance.

Then, perfectly in sync—

“Nah.”

Zyssha Krynn Velshar cracked a smile, but didn’t said anything.

Meyla Saren Valorth burst out laughing toward them, cutely.

Then she looked toward Lazira.

She was frowning. Resting her head on the table, sighing lazira, tracing imaginary patterns on the table. As she muttered repetedly, “Onee-Chan…”

“Lazira… Are you alright?” Meyla asked softly, as she was aware why she is sad.

Lazira looked toward Meyla, then looked away, again. Continuing to frown again.

“Alright!”

Everyone looked toward the head of the round table. Silence rippled instantly. His voice was deep, cool, carrying weight without effort.

Every demon shut their mouths.

“I am happy to see that everyone is still in good spirits and haven’t lost their will yet. Even though what happened recently.”

He looked toward the frowning Lazira. Lazira understanding his indication, pouted

toward him.

“Start explaining yourself.” Vorrak hissed.

He exhaled slowly, the sound a soft rush of breath that somehow carried more gravity than any shout in the room.

His posture straightened—not rigid, but deliberate.

Relaxed in the way a blade is relaxed when sheathed… yet ready to be drawn at any moment.

Every founding member of Pale Hands—every demon at that round obsidian table—watched him with a mixture of tension, expectation, and confusion.

Only Thyria, even while curious, still leaned on her elbow with that faint smirk tugging her lips… though her eyes sharpened with interest, not mischief.

He flicked his gaze toward Vorrak first.

“Vor, I get it,” He said calmly. “You want the reason. The real one.”

“Finally,” Vorrak growled. “So start talking. Why reveal yourself to him? Why show a human—Aiden Nightshade—that you’re human too? We built this order to kill humans. To break their empire. To defend demonkind.”

He breathed in, tapping one knuckle against the table.

“If I showed Aiden who I am,” He began slowly, “it’s because Aiden Nightshade is not a human the way the world defines humans. Not anymore.”

Vorrak scoffed. “Oh, spare me your poetic—”

“No,” Kaelith cut him off softly. “Listen. For once.”

His voice dropped lower.

Serious.

Unornamented.

Unmistakably honest.

“When I looked at Aiden… I didn’t see a human.” He leaned forward, eyes darkening.

“He saw a threat that eclipses everything we’ve fought so far.”

A cold chill crawled along the room like a living thing.

“Strong?” Drastic asked. “You think he’s strong enough to fulfil the prophecy—”

“You haven’t seen what he really is,” He murmured. “Not the power. The nature. Aiden Nightshade is a chain reaction waiting to consume kingdoms. A living anomaly. And if we don’t understand him, we can’t fight him. We can’t predict him. Hell, we can’t even anticipate where he’ll stand when the war truly begins.”

He tapped his own chest lightly.

“Are you telling he is stronger than you?” Esyra asked.

“Not yet. But he will be.” He replied.

Vorrak said, “But… he showed that Child of Prophecy something even the lower memebers doesn’t know. Why trust him with that?”

Kaelith gave a faint, humorless smile. “It wasn’t trust. A pause. “It was necessity.”

Thyria’s ears flicked, eyes narrowing. “You don’t do things without a deeper layer. What are you not saying?”

He looked at her. For the first time since the meeting started.

“Aiden Nightshade has something in him,” He said quietly, “Because it’s the same thing I once had.”

Meyla blinked. “What thing?”

His voice dropped to almost a whisper.

“Hunger.”

Not for food.

Not for violence.

A hunger for purpose. For belonging. For carving one’s fate into the world with or without permission.

“Aiden Nightshade is someone who will shape the future whether we like it or not,” Kaelith continued. “And the moment I saw him… I understood something.”

He met each member’s eyes in turn.

“If we don’t understand him… if we don’t guide him… then someone else will.”

Thyria leaned back, expression uncharacteristically serious. “So you revealed your identity to him… in hopes he would look at you and see an equal? Not a target?”

“Exactly.” He nodded. “Aiden Nightshade is not our enemy. Not yet. But he could become the worst one we’ve ever faced if left alone in the dark.”

Morvath’s voice was flat. “And what if you’re wrong?”

Kaelith shrugged with a crooked smile.

“Then he’ll be the first one Aiden kills. Simple as that.”

Thyria slammed her hand on the table again, but this time not in laughter.

“Hey—don’t joke like that.”

Kaelith gave her a softer grin—the kind he rarely offered.

“Thyria… it was never a joke.”

Silence drowned the room like deep water.

—

One by one, chairs scraped back. Cloaks shifted. Boots echoed.

The meeting was over.

Yet he did not rise.

He remained seated at the head of the table, watching them disperse like shadows slipping back into the deeper dark. His expression unreadable, carved from something older than stone.

—

Thyria stretched the moment the doors closed behind them, arms lifting high as her back cracked loudly.

“Ugh, sitting for that long is torture. I swear my spine is plotting revenge. And not the sexy kind.”

Kaelith snorted. “You have a sexy kind of spinal revenge?”

“Kae, everything about me has a sexy setting,” she said smugly, rolling her shoulder. “Some of us were born blessed.”

“Truly tragic for the rest of us,” He replied with mock pity.

She bumped her shoulder into his. He bumped back.

They walked off together, laughter echoing through the hall.

Vorrak stormed ahead, jaw clenched so tightly it looked ready to crack.

Esyra kept pace beside him, her steps quieter, calmer.

“Vor,” She murmured, “breathe.”

“I will breathe when he stops making reckless decisions,” Vorrak growled.

“So never?”

Vorrak glared at her. She hid a smile.

Zyssha peeled away first, entering her room with the serenity of a blade sliding back into its sheath. Not a word spoken. Not a single emotion betrayed.

Morvath and Drastic walked side by side down the long corridor, their footsteps opposites—one measured, one casually loud.

“Morvath,” Drastic said suddenly, “where is Xerath? Haven’t seen him since yesterday.”

Morvath didn’t even look over. “I don’t know. Most probably killing humans.”

Drastic nodded. “Reasonable.”

—

END OF Chapter : 180 : RECKLESS DECISIONS!

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