NOVEL NEXT Chapter 41: Liege
Bathed in shimmering gold light, a white string—no longer than a few inches—materialized in Damien's left hand. In his right, he gripped his silver dagger, wet but familiar.
His body dripped with blue blood, soaking his hair and clothes until he resembled something primal, half-human, half-beast. He stood tall amidst the carnage, lips curled into a manic grin, as the last of the Lizard riders writhed in Joseph's encroaching flames.
But just before the fire could claim both mount and rat, the silk in Damien's fist snapped forward.
It unspooled like a serpent tasting blood, slithering through the air with purpose.
Then, as the silk threaded its way through the wall of fire, it coiled around the back of the Lizard perched atop its rat, a bone dagger clutched in its clawed hand.
Damien's fingers tightened around the strand. With a sharp pull, the creature was yanked backward, hissing and flailing until its body lurched toward him.
Its head hit the ground a moment later, and he breathed heavily.
I feel much better.
Like a proper Demon, he stood soaked in blood, basking in the warmth of his enemies' deaths. Around him, the Cohort stared in silence, fear gathering in their eyes like storm clouds. Their stares unsettled him, coiling heat in his gut and bile in his throat.
And with a dagger in his hand, that was a dangerous thing.
Jenna's brown eyes widened in shock, Blythe's pale blue eyes rimmed with horror, Joseph's held something close to admiration, and James—
James' eyes were filthy.
A wave of revulsion crawled down Damien's spine, icy and sharp as broken glass.
How dare he look at me? I should gut him right here, screw subtlety.
But in the end, it wasn't James who held his attention.
It was the monk.
For the briefest, most minuscule of seconds, his eyes flickered. Maybe from fear, or perhaps it was the glimmer of realization: that whatever plan he'd made for Damien wasn't going to be so simple.
I don't need a virtue for the likes of you, big guy.
However, his face, like the mark on his skin, was a mask. Beneath it churned thoughts and emotions no one had ever touched. With a flick of his wrist, he dismissed his weapons, and a bright, effortless smile curved across the devil's lips.
Now's not the time…Unfortunately, I still need them.
He wasn't reckless, nor stupid enough to let pride blind him. Damien always saw the bigger picture, and right now, that picture was survival. If that meant tolerating people he despised… besides Blythe… so be it.
"I just really wanted some XP!" he said, chipper and innocent, as if the blood on his hands were nothing more than paint.
Joseph narrowed his eyes, voice light but probing.
"Are you sure your virtue doesn't give you a speed boost or something?"
Oh, now you're making jokes? Bold of you.
"I wish," Damien replied, scratching the back of his head with feigned sheepishness. "But never mind that—where are we?"
Amused, he watched as panic began to spread.
James was the first to scream.
"The tents!"
Just like before, the others scrambled. Joseph and James were shouting, tearing through the area, utterly oblivious to the fact that they were no longer where they'd been. The cliff walls had shifted, and they were back on a straightaway, deeper in the canyon.
The Grey Monk leaned toward Jenna and whispered something low, her face turning a ghostly pale, just like before.
Then, as if the world had a sense of humor, Damien glanced over to Blythe. Tears streaked down her cheeks, and her voice cracked with the same desperate question.
"Do you know what's going on?"
He shook his head slowly.
"No… but I'm thirsty. Do you have any water?"
She knelt and rummaged through her supply box, only to freeze.
"It's all gone. Everything's gone!"
Chaos erupted.
James and Joseph fumed, shouting threats and swearing vengeance on whoever had stolen from them. This time, Joseph had been hit as well.
Jenna stood frozen, her hand to her chest, as if she could feel another sliver of her soul being carved away. And Damien watched it all unfold with quiet satisfaction.
The panic.
The unraveling.
The sharp taste of control.
It was all perfect.
Exhaling with a sigh that bordered on bliss, he stepped away from the group and began to absorb his monsters.
...
Damien Veyne: Hellbound
◆ Trial Stage / Physical Enhancement: First Circle / ★☆☆☆☆☆☆ (1 / 7 Stars)
◆ First Circle XP: 3034.75
◆ Weapons:
• Common Dagger (1/7 Stars)
• Spider Silk (.25/7 stars)
◆ Starting Sin: Deception
◆ Sin Ability: Deceptive Gamble — Your lies become 70% more likely to succeed; however, there is a 1% chance that your deception will rebound upon you, ensnaring you in its web.
◆ Starting Shackle: The Veil of Lies — When you embrace deception, the Veil encircles your body and soul, inflicting searing pain with every falsehood.– Error: Without a magical virtue, the Veil's effect cannot diminish your spellcasting power.
◆ Starting Virtue: None
◆ Virtue Ability: None
◆ Corruption Ratio:100%
Damien let out a soft chuckle and lowered his head.
A lot of XP, but it's just never going to feel bigger.
The Whistler hadn't called again, not since it relinquished its control over them, and Damien hadn't planned for that. But it worked in his favor because Joseph was more on edge, and the others quietly unraveled.
In the freezing silence of a desert night, the Cohort huddled along the canyon's left wall, pressed close to a flickering fire. No one spoke, and the warmth barely reached their skin, much less their bones.
Tension had stolen their voices.
For the Grey Monk and Jenna, it was the creeping dread of knowing they had been controlled—memories not fully their own, strings pulled in ways they couldn't trace. For Joseph and James, it was a significant loss of their supplies, their pride wounded, and a feeling of directionlessness.
And Blythe... she was probably still thinking about her sister.
Earlier, Damien pulled her aside and spoke with that same soft, unsettling kindness he always wore when lying through his teeth.
Life or death.
That's what he'd told her.
That her sister had been caught between survival and the end. A cruel lie wrapped in just enough truth to keep her off balance. For he knew what was coming, and he needed Blythe duller than usual.
With nothing else to occupy him, Damien's thoughts circled an unsettling idea—his connection not just to the Whistler, but to the trial itself. There was something there, something more profound.
Typically, this would be the hour he let his mind drift to what came after passing all seven circles. Climbing the ranks of the Organization, or maybe even revisiting his encounter with Summer.
However, this was more pressing at the moment.
Liege...
He gave a mental shrug, a dry laugh echoing in the back of his mind.
What am I kidding? To my knowledge, I've never set foot in hell before a couple of weeks ago—
Then a dark chill crept down his spine, settling deep in his soul
Unless the Whistler altered my memories further than I realized...