The old man turned slowly to face Nyxtriel. "If I wanted him dead, girl, I would've done it already. But I'm a physician, not a butcher. Trust me—I'm here to save him."
Nyxtriel met his gaze for a long second. Her eyes, always sharp and cold, wavered,then softened as she backed down.
The physician sighed and pulled a radiant stone from his satchel. It shimmered with swirling hues—red, blue, gold, violet. A heartbeat of energy pulsed from it.
"What is that?" Nyxtriel's voice was low, but even she couldn't hide the awe. The energy radiating from the gem felt... ancient. Holy. Almost wrong in its purity.
"The Seven-Colored Gem," Samuel replied, reverently. "A relic from the forgotten age. Each color contains a different restorative force. One for bones, one for blood, one for soul... Together, they can restore limbs, purge curses,even drag someone back from death's edge."
He paused. "The king paid dearly for this. He must truly want your prince alive."
Nyxtriel's eyes widened as the physician gently placed the gem on Daemon's bare chest.
The colors lit up—one by one—then all at once.
The light didn't just seep into Daemon.
He devoured it.
The gem dissolved into his skin like water into fire. And then, something unexpected—
His skin regained color. His breathing deepened.
But his hair turned snow-white.
"What...?" Samuel stumbled back. "He absorbed it all? How's that possible? The stone is holy pure light. But his aura is..."
"Demonic," Nyxtriel whispered, stunned. "That shouldn't be possible."
The physician reached forward, pressing a hand lightly against Daemon's abdomen to examine his Astra Core.
In an instant, Daemon's hand snapped up, grabbing his wrist like a vice.
The old man gasped. "You're—!"
Daemon's crimson eyes opened slowly, glowing faintly. His voice was rough.
"Who the hell are you?"
Nyxtriel stepped forward, tense. "Father? It's me. Nyxtriel."
He stared at her in silence. The tension hung like a blade.
Then Daemon blinked, and his grip relaxed.
"...Nyxtriel," he muttered. His lips twitched into a faint smirk. "Right. I remember now. Looks like I'm still breathing."
Nyxtriel exhaled sharply,relief washing over her like a wave.
Samuel took a cautious step back, rubbing his wrist. "Well, I'll be. You really are something else. The name's Samuel. I came from a remote temple—your king summoned me to treat you."
Daemon sat up slowly, flexing his fingers. Power surged beneath his skin—unrefined, volatile, and stronger than ever.
Then he stretched and ran a hand through his now-white hair. "So you're a priest, huh?"
"Something like that," Samuel replied with a shrug. "I just manage a small temple. Nothing grand."
Daemon studied him, eyes narrowing slightly. "You know the temples don't exactly welcome demons especially someone like me, tainted with demonic energy. But when I first saw you, you didn't even flinch. No hostility. That's rare. You've seen things... haven't you?"
Samuel chuckled, his grin crooked. "You're pretty sharp for your age. Yeah—I've seen more than I care to admit. Let's just say I'm not your average priest. I take jobs like this for coin, not salvation."
Daemon blinked, then let out a low laugh. "A corrupt priest who admits it? That's a first."
"If the gods had a problem with me, Gaia would've struck me down by now." Samuel waved it off. "But here I am, still breathing."
Daemon nodded. "Fair enough."
Samuel gathered his things and moved toward the door. "I'll inform the king that you made it. Try not to die again."
"Thanks, old man."
Samuel gave a lazy salute. "Rest up, kid. You've got fire in you and this kingdom's gonna need it."
Then he stepped out, leaving Daemon alone with Nyxtriel and the quiet hum of power lingering in the air.