Damien finished the last bite of his morning meal, pushing the tray aside as he rose from his seat.

There was no time to waste.

He had already made up his mind—before anything else, he needed to check on the captives.

Their well-being was his top priority.

Adjusting the freshly gifted clothes, he made his way to the hallway, where he quickly spotted the familiar guard assigned to him.

The man stood at attention, his posture rigid, awaiting orders.

Damien didn’t waste time.

“I’d like to see the rescued captives,” he said firmly. “Both the injured and the ones who are just recovering.”

The guard nodded, his expression calm and unsurprised.

“The Queen anticipated this request,” he responded. “She had already instructed me to escort you to them should you ask.”

Damien’s brows lifted slightly. ‘She planned ahead, huh?’

It wasn’t surprising. Queen Lareen had a sharp mind.

“Good,” Damien said simply. “Lead the way.”

With that, the guard turned on his heel, guiding Damien through the palace.

The walk to the infirmary was quiet, save for the soft echoes of their footsteps along the polished stone floors.

Upon arrival, Damien was immediately greeted by the strong scent of medicinal herbs and the soft murmurs of healers tending to their patients.

Rows of neatly arranged beds filled the spacious chamber, occupied by the injured captives who were still recovering.

Some of them were awake, while others remained unconscious, their bodies still healing.

Damien stepped forward, his sharp blue eyes scanning the room.

Then, he moved.

One by one, he visited each individual, speaking to them, checking on their recovery progress, and offering a few words of reassurance.

Some of them smiled weakly, grateful for his presence.

Others expressed their gratitude in hushed voices, thanking him repeatedly for saving their lives.

One man, whose arm was still wrapped in bandages, looked up at Damien with an expression of deep appreciation.

“You’re really something, you know that?” the man said.

Damien smirked lightly. “I get that a lot.”

The man chuckled before gesturing toward a small wooden board game beside his bed.

“Play a round with me?” he asked. “I’ve been stuck here for too long, and I need a distraction.”

Damien arched a brow, but after a moment, he sighed and sat down.

“Just one round,” he said. “Don’t expect me to go easy on you.”

The man grinned. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The game lasted only a few minutes, and although Damien lost effortlessly, the lighthearted moment was exactly what the injured man needed.

After finishing the game, Damien continued his rounds, ensuring that no one felt forgotten.

Even the unconscious ones weren’t ignored.

Damien paused by their beds, standing in silence for a few moments before uttering a small prayer under his breath.

Once Damien was satisfied with the condition of the injured captives, the guard led him outside toward the second area—where the physically healthy captives were being sheltered.

Unlike the infirmary, this space was open, resembling a courtyard surrounded by stone walls and warm lantern lights.

The people here were sitting or standing in small groups, engaging in quiet conversations.

But the moment they noticed Damien’s arrival, a hush fell over them.

Then—one by one—they stood up.

Before Damien could even speak, the entire group lowered their heads in a deep bow.

“Thank you,” one of them said, his voice heavy with emotion.

“You saved us,” another added, eyes gleaming with gratitude.

More voices followed, overlapping each other.

“We owe you our lives.”

“We will never forget what you’ve done.”

“You’re the reason we’re still standing.”

Damien exhaled softly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I don’t need your gratitude,” he said. “I only did what had to be done.”

But the captives remained firm, their gazes unwavering.

“You may not want it,” an older woman said, stepping forward. “But you have it anyway.”

Damien sighed in defeat.

There was no point in arguing.

Instead, he simply nodded.

“Fine,” he muttered. “Do what you want.”

The captives smiled, their postures relaxing slightly.

Satisfied, Damien took a few steps forward and began speaking to them individually.

Some asked about their future plans, while others simply wanted to shake his hand or express their appreciation.

The atmosphere was warm, filled with a newfound sense of hope.

As Damien continued his rounds, a familiar voice suddenly called out.

“You’re faster than me, huh?”

He turned to see Lizella approaching, her expression a mixture of amusement and relief.

She had expected to drag Damien here herself, only to find that he had already arrived ahead of her.

Damien smirked. “I don’t waste time.”

Lizella crossed her arms, glancing around at the people he had checked on.

“You really made sure to visit every single one of them, didn’t you?” she observed.

Damien simply nodded. “They deserve that much.”

Lizella smiled softly, her gaze warm.

“Then let’s finish the rest together,” she suggested.

Damien didn’t argue.

Together, they continued moving through the courtyard, ensuring that every last rescued individual received the time and attention they deserved.

Some were still recovering mentally, their eyes haunted by past horrors.

Others were already looking toward the future, eager to return home once they were strong enough.

Regardless of their individual situations, one thing remained constant—

They were alive.

And Damien was determined to make sure they stayed that way.

Rescued captives who had once been nothing more than lost souls now spoke with hope in their voices, their eyes no longer clouded with fear.

Damien and Lizella spent hours ensuring that each person had been checked on, their conditions assessed and acknowledged.

But after the work was done, the two of them found themselves lingering.

Lizella sat atop a stone bench, watching as the people around them engaged in quiet conversations, some even laughing.

She turned to Damien, who stood a few feet away, arms crossed, his gaze thoughtful as he observed the captives.

For the first time since they’d arrived, he seemed relaxed.

She took the opportunity to ask something that had been on her mind for a while.

“So,” Lizella started, breaking the silence, “what’s your goal, Damien?”

Damien glanced at her, one brow raised.

“My goal?” he echoed.

“Yeah.” She leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on her knees. “You’re strong, and you obviously have a purpose. So, what is it?”

Damien let out a small breath, staring toward the darkening sky.

“I want to be strong enough,” he said after a pause.

Lizella blinked. “Strong enough for what?”

Damien’s fingers tightened slightly around his arms.

“Strong enough to protect my loved ones,” he admitted.

Lizella nodded, understanding.

It was an honorable goal—one that most warriors shared.

But then—

His voice dropped in tone, and when he spoke again, his aura shifted.

“And to kill a certain someone,” he added. For the first time, Damien told someone this part of his goal. A part he’d kept to himself all along.

Lizella’s eyes narrowed slightly at the sudden change in his demeanor.

His expression hardened, his usually calm gaze now sharp and cold.

Whoever this person was—Damien wanted them dead.

She could tell from the way his posture tensed, the way his breathing slowed slightly, as if restraining himself from letting his emotions take over.

She didn’t pry.

Instead, she simply asked, “Do you think you’ll succeed?”

Damien’s answer came without hesitation.

“I know I will.”

His certainty was unshakable, and Lizella found herself believing him.

Even if she didn’t know who his target was, she knew one thing—Damien didn’t make empty promises.

A moment of silence stretched between them before Damien turned the question back to her.

“And you?” he asked. “What do you want, Lizella?”

She let out a soft hum, considering his question carefully.

“I don’t want to be a failure,” she finally said.

Damien arched a brow. “That’s it?”

Lizella chuckled.

“I want to make my mother proud,” she continued, “but more than that, I want to make myself happy.”

She sighed, leaning back slightly.

“For the longest time, I felt like I didn’t belong anywhere. Even before I was captured, I didn’t think I had a purpose. But now…”

Her fingers brushed against the feathered crest of Aquila, who was still resting nearby.

“I want to change that.”

Damien watched her for a moment before nodding in approval.

“That’s a good enough reason,” he said.

She smiled.

“Glad you think so.”

And just like that, their conversation ended on a lighter note.

As the last of the captives settled in for the night, Damien and Lizella finally decided to part ways.

“You heading back?” Lizella asked.

Damien nodded. “Yeah. I need to rest before I leave this place.”

Lizella smiled. “Then I guess this is goodnight.”

She offered a small wave before turning toward her own quarters.

Damien watched her go for a moment before shaking his head, exhaling lightly, and making his way toward his own room.

As Lizella entered the hallway leading to her quarters, she felt a presence ahead.

The moment she saw Queen Lareen standing there, arms crossed and smirking, she knew she was in trouble.

“Enjoyed your time with Damien?” her mother teased.

Lizella froze.

Her cheeks flushed red almost instantly.

“It’s not like that!” she protested, a little too quickly.

Queen Lareen chuckled. “I didn’t say it was.”

Lizella groaned, rubbing her temple. “Mother, please.”

Queen Lareen only smiled knowingly. “You act differently around him, that’s all.”

Lizella huffed, refusing to meet her mother’s gaze as she hurried past her, heading straight for her room.

“I’m going to bed,” she muttered.

Her mother’s soft laughter followed her down the hallway.

Queen Lareen shook her head in amusement before turning and heading toward her own quarters. “Tonight’s a good night.”

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep