Chapter 335: Malphas Dreadmoor (2)

The old demon studied him for another quiet second.

Then he nodded once. “My name,” he said evenly, “is… Malphas Dreadmoor.”

“Oh… strong name, I guess. Haha.” Amon chuckled slightly, scratching the back of his head.

A faint smile tugged at the old demon’s lips. “Thanks, Amon.”

A brief silence settled between them before Amon leaned back slightly on the bench.

“Anyways… what were you doing here? Sitting all alone?”

Malphas paused at the question and looked forward again, his deep blue eyes focusing on something far beyond the village square.

“What am I doing?” he repeated quietly. “…What can an old man like me do here sitting alone? Just like the others, I was… recalling my old days.”

Amon’s curiosity sharpened.

“Old days? You got some amazing stories then. Were you born in this village, or did you come from outside and get stuck?”

At that, Malphas’s eyes grew heavy.

He exhaled slowly, the sound weighed down by memory.

“I was also someone who came from outside,” he said at last. “Long ago… I served in the demon army. I worked for the Demon Kingdom.”

Amon straightened slightly, listening carefully.

“I came to the Grave of the Celestial Tree for a mission,” Malphas continued. “A classified operation. Dangerous, but nothing I hadn’t faced before.”

His fingers tightened slightly around the metal can in his hand.

“But somehow… I found myself here instead.”

His gaze swept across the dark trees, the black wooden houses, the endless gray sky.

“In this village. With no way out.”

Amon said nothing.

He could hear it in the old man’s voice. The faint tremor buried under composure. The weight of decades.

After a moment, Amon asked quietly, “When did you come here? How many years have you been stuck?”

Malphas fell silent.

His lips moved faintly, almost imperceptibly, as if counting backward through time.

His brows furrowed. “…Eighty-two years,” he said finally.

Amon’s eyes widened in shock.

“Eighty-two?!” he blurted before lowering his voice. “You’ve been here for eighty-two years?”

He stared at the old demon in disbelief. Malphas looked to be in his sixties.

If he had been here for eighty-two years… and he certainly hadn’t been a child when he arrived…

’That means…’

Amon swallowed slightly.

’He must be over a hundred years old.’

The realization settled heavily in his chest. “Then… how old are you?”

“Haha..” He chuckled lightly. “…I am one hundred and twelve years old.”

’He’s really more than a hundred years old,’ Amon thought.

“Then…” Amon hesitated. “Did you find anything while staying here? Anything about a way out?”

Malphas nodded slowly.

“I tried,” he said. “For years. I searched the forests. The rivers. The caves. I mapped every direction I could walk. I tested the boundaries. I studied the sky.”

His jaw tightened faintly. “But I was never successful.” His voice lowered.

“I tried everything. Every method I knew. Rituals, tracking magic, signals. Even risking my life in the deeper caves filled with monsters.”

His fingers clenched slightly.

“All for nothing.”

He looked down at the ground. “All I found… were sleeping monsters in caves.”

The words carried exhaustion. There was deep regret in his voice.

Amon remained silent, unsure what to say. Why was Malphas so sad? He wondered.

The answer felt obvious, but Amon hesitated before asking.

“…Was there anyone waiting for you back home?” he asked carefully.

The effect was immediate. Malphas stiffened. His shoulders froze for half a second. Then slowly… he nodded.

His hand moved toward his tunic, slipping inside the inner fold.

He pulled something out. A golden, old locket. One could keep a photo in it.

Its surface was slightly worn, scratched by time, but polished enough to show it had been cared for.

Malphas held it gently in his palm.

He caressed it with his thumb before pressing it open.

Click.

Inside was a photograph.

It was not surprising. Amon knew that technology for taking and printing photos existed. There were recordings, vehicles, trains, and even something like mobile devices after all.

The image had faded slightly with age but was still clear. There stood a tall man with black hair and piercing blue eyes.

He looked younger and strong. His expression was filled with pride.

It was clearly Malphas in his prime. Beside him stood a beautiful woman.

She had long brown hair tied neatly in a braid that rested over her shoulder. Two elegant horns curved from her head. She wore a red gown that flowed gracefully to the ground. Her smile was small but warm. Her eyes carried kindness and quiet strength.

And in front of them stood a little girl. She looked about five or six years old.

She had soft brown hair like her mother, though shorter and slightly messy, tied into two small uneven ponytails. Tiny black horns peeked from her head. Smaller versions of her father and mother. She was a cute child.

Her eyes were bright blue, wide and lively. She wore a simple light-colored dress, and her tiny hands were holding onto the edges of her parents’ clothes.

Her smile was huge. Full of innocence. Full of joy.

Amon felt something tighten in his chest. “…Is that your family?” he asked softly.

Malphas nodded. “Yes,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

“My wife… and my daughter,” he told Amon.

His thumb gently traced over the image of the little girl.

“She was five… when I left.”

Amon nodded. He was no longer smiling.

“I still remember it clearly… the time when I said bye to her… saying I would come back. Never thought it would be a goodbye forever. How are they? Are they okay? Or did something happen to them after I was gone… I have no idea.”

He closed the locket and put it back in his clothes. He looked forward, now silent.

Amon wanted to say something… but no words came out.

He was also stuck here like Malphas. But did he have anyone waiting for him? No. Maybe his friends. But in the end, it was not like they were his family.

Was he worried about someone? About how they were doing? Were they okay? Did something happen to them?

No. He had none.

He was alone.

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