Chapter 406: First Night In Delwig

The guesthouse Apnoch left them in was far from ordinary. Its walls were thicker than most places Damien had seen in his travels, its windows narrow slits reinforced with steel lattice, and its doors rune-etched for both defense and privacy.

It was like a private guesthouse for very important people. Damien and his group just managed to fit the requirements considering they were here under the order of General Ivaan. They were indeed VIP.

A fire crackled warmly in the hearth as servants laid out trays of food: roasted game, thick loaves of bread, and pitchers of dark spiced ale.

Lyone stared wide-eyed at the feast, but Arielle calmly motioned for him to wait until the servants retreated. Only when the door shut with a muted thunk did she allow herself a small smile. “Hospitality in a fortress kingdom. Seems our reputation hasn’t preceded us here.”

Damien, leaning against the wall, smirked. “Not yet. Let’s keep it that way.”

They sat down to eat, but even in the warmth and comfort, Damien’s mind was turning. The story Apnoch had shared on the way—about Delwig’s abandonment and survival—lingered like smoke in his thoughts.

This wasn’t a weak backwater clinging to old pride; it was a blade honed by betrayal and fire. He found himself almost…respecting them.

Lyone tore into his food with enthusiasm, drawing a chuckle from Damien. “Eat slower, boy. We’re not on a battlefield.”

“Feels like one,” Lyone mumbled around a mouthful, then swallowed. “Delwig’s story—it’s inspiring. They stood alone and survived. I…” His eyes lowered. “I want to be strong like that.”

Damien didn’t respond at first. His gaze flicked to Arielle, who watched silently, then back to Lyone. “Strength isn’t about surviving one battle. It’s about enduring all of them. Tonight you’ll rest. Tomorrow, training continues. For as long as we stay here, you’ll be training. Nonstop.”

Lyone groaned, though his eyes shone. Arielle smirked into her cup.

Later, when the food was cleared away and Lyone drifted off into sleep, Damien stepped outside into the courtyard.

The night air in Delwig was crisp, cooler than Greshan’s, and the towering blackstone walls loomed even here. A pair of soldiers passed by on patrol, saluting briefly before moving on.

Damien summoned Luton briefly, letting the Stellar Slime devour the scraps of essence cores he had collected earlier and stored in the slime’s (Universal Space).

The creature pulsed with crimson light, digesting everything indiscriminately, before he waved it back into its portal, sending it back to where he’d summoned it from.

For a moment, he was caught in a stray thought. ’Where exactly are his summons coming from?’

He’d thought about it for a while now but there was no grounded theory. Were they from a separate world or from a closed and unidentified place here on their world?

“I guess I’ll find out sooner or later.” Damien sighed, dismissing the thought instantly.

Fenrir prowled at his side, massive and silent, eyes gleaming faintly in the moonlight. Damien rested a hand on the wolf’s head, his thoughts drifting away again.

This time, his thoughts went back to their current location. Delwig.

They were finally here. The place Arielle had spoken about. Where their search or answers on the demons would actually begin.

An abandoned fortress kingdom… no. A forgotten spear still pointed outward. But why now? Why mana beasts infused with demonic essence?

Weren’t they supposed to be searching for answers on demons and not mana beasts with demonic traits? So why did these new deviants suddenly show up?

A memory of Damon surfaced—his twin’s laughter as they sparred in their early teen years, the easy grace with which Damon had handled weapons Damien never mastered.

His chest tightened faintly. If Damon were here, he’d train Lyone better than I can. He’d probably already know the truth behind these beasts too…

However, he knew his father had sent Damon off to a school to grow. He would soon be the heir and so he needed knowledge to act like one.

Their father…

Damien’s fury began to soar at the thought of what had happened between them and he slowly began to tighten his grip on Fenrir’s fur.

The beast howled gently drawing Damien’s attention but he was too busy with his fury that he didn’t hear the wolf’s cry.

The thought lingered until a sharp clang of steel from a far-off watchtower brought him back. He shook his head, sighing. Dwelling on Damon wouldn’t change anything. Lyone was his student now. He had to make do.

“I’ll deal with father when we actually see.” Damien sighed and turned to see his firm grip on Fenrir.

“Oops!” He quickly let go and began partying the wolf.

“I’m sorry, Fenrir.” He said as he cancelled the summon on the wolf.

When he returned inside, Arielle was still awake, seated by the window with her staff resting across her lap. She didn’t turn as she spoke. “You’re thinking too hard.”

Damien smirked faintly. “Comes with the job.”

She glanced at him then, her eyes steady. “Delwig is strong, but don’t mistake strength for invincibility. If your theory about the demons is true, even walls this thick might not save them.”

“Then it’s a good thing we’re here,” Damien replied simply, “how are you holding on? Considering your people left you back at Greshan?” Damien asked with a weak smile.

“I’ll be fine.” Arielle did with a shrug.

He believed her and so he nodded. “Don’t stay up late.” He muttered before retiring for the night.

The dawn came pale and gold, creeping over Delwig’s fortress walls. Bells rang in the distance, not the panicked clangor of alarm but the measured rhythm of a city rising to order.

Damien rose early, as always, and dragged Lyone into the courtyard. The boy stumbled sleepily but held his practice blade.

“Again,” Damien ordered, and they began. He corrected Lyone’s stance, forced him to repeat parries until his arms shook, then tossed him an essence core. “Siphon. You won’t always have time to sit still and meditate in battle. Learn to draw while moving.”

Lyone’s brow furrowed as he tried, crimson light faintly swirling between his hands. Sweat dampened his brow, but progress was progress.

Damien allowed a rare, approving nod. “Better.”

Arielle joined them soon after, dressed in fresh robes. She watched for a while, then raised an eyebrow. “Your training methods are harsh.”

Damien smirked. “Harsh makes survivors.”

Their exchange was interrupted by a knock at the door. A soldier entered, saluting crisply. “Captain Apnoch requests your presence. He says there’s something you should see.”

Damien arched a brow but sheathed his blade. “Lead the way.”

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