Novel Full Chapter 428: Am I That Reckless?
Chapter 428: Am I That Reckless?
The night air was cool, carrying the faint scent of pine and wet soil. Crickets chirped beyond the grassy fields, their chorus the only sound aside from the crunch of footsteps as Damien and Lyone trudged toward Delwig’s looming gates.
Fenrir padded silently at Damien’s side, Aquila stalked behind with wings folded tight, and Luton pulsed lazily on Lyone’s shoulder as though the little blob found their slow return amusing.
For a long while, neither spoke. Lyone’s legs burned, but he clenched his jaw, forcing himself to keep pace.
Damien’s stride was steady, almost unbothered, as if he’d just taken a leisurely walk instead of reducing an underground complex to rubble.
Finally, Lyone broke the silence. His voice was quiet but edged with curiosity.
“Damien… how?”
Damien glanced sideways, brows lifting slightly. “How what?”
“How are you like this?” Lyone gestured vaguely at him—his calm gait, the presence of three terrifying summons, the aura of casual strength that clung to him. “You’re not even that much older than me. Seventeen, maybe eighteen? But you’re stronger than anyone I’ve ever seen. Even Captain Apnoch looks at you differently. So… how?”
For a moment, Damien said nothing. His gaze fixed on the distant torchlights dancing along Delwig’s walls. Then he chuckled softly.
“Luck.”
Lyone frowned. “Luck?”
“Mm.” Damien shoved his hands in his pockets, shoulders rolling back. “A few strokes of bad luck, turned into good luck. And then… a shit ton of hard work.”
He didn’t elaborate, but inside, his mind flickered with old memories.
Every single day had been a struggle. His body breaking under endless battles. His essence strangled and suppressed by expectations he could never meet. His father—Lord Terrace—had written him off as a failure before he’d even had the chance to prove otherwise.
And yet, in the cracks of that neglect, Damien had clawed his way to strength. He’d bled for it, nearly died for it, again and again. And here he was.
He didn’t tell Lyone that, though. He didn’t want the boy to even know about his origins. At least not yet.
The boy didn’t need to hear how cruel the world could be.
Lyone studied him, lips parting as though he wanted to push further. But then he stopped, shaking his head. If Damien called it luck, then perhaps he’d leave it at that. For now.
The gates drew closer.
The moment they crossed the threshold, the atmosphere shifted. Soldiers at the gate stiffened, bowing slightly as Apnoch stepped forward. His face was unreadable, though the tightness in his jaw betrayed his displeasure.
But before he could speak, Arielle was there.
“Damien.”
Her tone was sharp, sharper than Lyone had ever heard it. She strode up to him, her usual calmness cracking into open frustration.
“Do you have any idea—” Her eyes darted to Lyone, catching the bruises mottling his skin, the exhaustion written on his face. “Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been? First you vanish. Then Lyone. And then the entire city shakes like the earth itself is splitting open!”
Lyone opened his mouth to defend Damien, but Damien raised a hand lightly, stopping him. His lips curved into that faint, infuriating smile.
“I’m back, aren’t I?”
“That’s not the point!” Arielle snapped. Her hands clenched at her sides. “You—” She broke off, exhaling sharply, shaking her head. “You don’t get to just walk back in like nothing happened.”
Damien tilted his head. “Yet here I am.”
For a moment, Arielle’s glare burned. Then, with a huff, she turned away, muttering under her breath. Lyone caught the words anyway: reckless bastard.
So did Damien with his heightened senses but he didn’t think much of it.
Apnoch finally stepped forward. His tone was steadier, but no less firm. “You’ve made a mess.”
Damien arched a brow. “Destroyed one, actually. There was nothing left worth saving.”
Apnoch’s lips pressed thin. “General Ivaan will want to hear that directly.”
“Then let’s not waste time.” Damien brushed past him, striding toward the command center. Lyone shot Arielle an apologetic look before hurrying after him.
Inside the war room, General Ivaan stood over a sprawling map of Delwig and its surrounding lands. His presence filled the chamber, not through sheer essence but through command. When Damien entered, Ivaan looked up, his sharp gaze pinning him instantly.
“You caused quite the tremor,” the General said flatly.
Damien didn’t flinch. “The base was empty. Thoroughly cleaned. There was nothing to be gained by leaving it intact.”
“You collapsed half a mile of tunnels.”
“And ensured they can’t reuse them.”
A long silence stretched. Then Ivaan leaned back slightly, folding his arms. His lips curved—not quite into a smile, but something like it.
“At least you’re honest.”
Damien inclined his head, neither defensive nor apologetic.
Ivaan turned to Apnoch. “Report.”
The Captain delivered a concise summary of how Damien had cleared the tunnels, how Lyone had accompanied him, how the destruction had been total. When he finished, the General exhaled slowly, fingers drumming against the table.
“And the captured guards?” Damien asked suddenly, cutting into the pause.
Ivaan’s eyes narrowed. “What of them?”
Damien’s tone was cool. “The ones who allegedly let the attackers sneak in before the barrier was raised. What’s their status?”
Apnoch glanced at the General, who answered after a beat.
“They’ve been contained. Interrogation has yet to begin in earnest.”
Damien’s lips curved faintly. “Then perhaps you’ll learn something useful before the next nest appears beneath your feet.”
A ripple of silence followed. Lyone shifted uncomfortably, Arielle’s eyes flicking between Damien and the General.
Ivaan, however, only chuckled softly. “Sharp tongue. I see why Apnoch respects you, boy. Still—don’t presume you’re the only one playing this game.”
Damien dipped his chin in acknowledgment, though inwardly, he was already turning gears. If the guards had betrayed Delwig once, it meant infiltration was deeper than anyone wanted to admit.
The meeting stretched into strategy talk, but the air never lost its edge.
When Damien finally stepped out, the torchlight painted long shadows across the courtyard. Arielle trailed after him, still simmering, while Lyone stayed quiet at his side.
The city felt heavy tonight. Watchfires blazed along the walls, and the unease in the streets hadn’t lifted since the tremors.
Damien exhaled, his expression unreadable. “Am I that reckless?” He asked himself, thinking back to how Arielle has addressed him.