"How old am I...?" Damon was slightly taken aback by her sudden question.
After a mont of thought, he replied,
"Hmmm... there is at least a two-hundred-thousand-year gap between my birth and yours."
Sithara’s eyes widened, taking what he had said completely out of context.
Two hundred thousand years was inconceivable. No mortal could live that long. Even those who sohow reached the seventh class advancent did not possess lifespans anywhere near that vast.
"Amazing..." she muttered under her breath.
Damon didn’t say anything further.
Technically, he wasn’t lying. There were at least three different eras between them. Sithara had been born in the Zero Epoch, while Damon had been born in the Third Epoch.
Even though he was still seventeen, he could truthfully say there was an enormous gap between them.
That was the thing about truth, leave out a small detail, and it could beco more deceptive than a lie.
It was part of the reason Damon didn’t put much faith in his skill Eye of Veracity.
Truth was far too easy to twist.
Sithara, however, seed almost excited by the answer. She leaned forward and began bombarding him with questions. At that point, Damon didn’t really mind. He answered whatever she asked.
His life was interesting.
He even casually flexed how he had once been killed by the Goddess of Doom, only to shrug it off by waking up a month later as if it were an inconvenience.
Sithara was completely impressed.
Which was par for the course, it wasn’t exactly difficult to impress a child.
It wasn’t long before Lyn woke up. He seed disoriented at first, blinking slowly as he regained his bearings. The mont clarity returned, he imdiately checked on his sister, scanning her body for injuries.
When he confird she was fine, he let out a long sigh of relief.
Not long after, he joined in eating the food Damon had prepared.
As they ate, Damon reached into his shadow storage and pulled out the mana core of the sand spitter, placing it carefully in front of them.
It was a smooth, golden-brown orb that shimred faintly, pulsing with contained power.
"This is the mana core of the sand spitter," Damon said evenly.
"I figured you’d want to have the core of the first monster you killed after reaching the first class."
The two of them stared at it.
Then, like the children they were, they jumped to their feet and began dancing excitedly, singing a little song Damon didn’t recognize.
Damon raised his hand, casually forcing them to sit back down, though there was a faint, beaming smile on his face.
"Now that you’ve advanced, I’m sure you know what to do with this, right?"
Lyn nodded slowly.
"Yes. We’re aware that those who awaken gain the ability to refine their bodies using mana cores, permanently adding to their strength."
Damon nodded as well.
The two children began explaining what they knew, and to his mild disappointnt, they knew quite a lot already. He wouldn’t get the chance to teach them much, but that was fine.
Lazarak entered the tent with a wide grin.
"Congratulations. This calls for a celebration."
His gaze then dropped to the food Damon had prepared.
"How could you?" Lazarak said dramatically.
"I can’t believe you started without ..."
Damon rolled his eyes.
"Go to sleep. We’re going to be on the road for the next few days at least, and there will be no resting."
The joy of awakening instantly dimd under Damon’s totalitarian tone. Without protest, they logically chose survival, washing up and heading to bed.
Dawn was going to be harsh.
At least they had warm beds.
.....
Damon lay on a soft cushion, his eyes open, staring at the tent ceiling.
The closer they got to Yari, the more anxious he felt.
’Everyone is still alive,’ he thought.
’They have to be.’
He had been afraid to hope.
But he refused to despair.
.....
It was a good place.
More importantly, she was lucky to have found it, a small, quiet cottage tucked away from the chaos.
The last thing Sylvia rembered was a brutal battle with Lilith Astranova, just before the giant nightmare consud them all.
Honestly, Sylvia was the one person who knew they wouldn’t die, as long as they avoided damage from anything outside the nightmare’s black body.
That was why, even when the world descended into hell and everyone fought desperately for their lives, she ignored them and focused solely on fighting Lilith Astranova.
And even with careful, ticulous planning...
She was losing.
The thought frustrated her deeply.
Losing to Lilith Astranova felt inevitable. No one believed she would win, not even Sylvia herself.
She clicked her tongue, gazing at the floating book in front of her.
Just like everyone else, Sylvia was here too. She had been heavily injured by Lilith Astranova, and when the nightmare consud them, she heard the sa announcent as everyone else.
They were inside the nightmare of Lazarak.
And just like everyone who was conscious enough to hear it, there was a promised reward.
Whoever survived until the end of the nightmare would gain the fourth class.
Her gaze lingered on the symbol engraved on the book.
’What are you planning, ********,’ she thought.
Even thinking the unknown god’s forgotten na was forbidden.
Yet Sylvia alone was allowed to rember it.
She had been entrusted with his forbidden to and its infinite knowledge.
That was why she knew exactly who would co knocking on her door after months of waiting.
She glanced at the runes carved into the altar, the potions she had prepared long ago.
A familiar sense of déjà vu washed over her.
And right on cue—
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Sylvia smiled faintly, her white hair gleaming in the dim light of her witch-like cottage.
Before she could respond, the door was violently pushed open.
A woman with red hair and erald-green eyes stepped inside.
The mont the door opened, the runes ignited, firing sharp, glowing white arrows toward her.
However, the woman simply raised her hand. A barrier she had prepared beforehand shimred into existence, obliterating the arrows on contact.
Sylvia didn’t even move.
"After experiencing this four different tis," she said calmly,
"I suppose you would expect it. Good thing I added that."
Before Lilith could react, a bucket dropped from above.
It struck her square on the head.
Monster dung spilled everywhere.
Sylvia smiled.
"That, made her very happy."
It was so Damon-level pettiness.
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