"You need a new instructor Ashoc. I'm well-versed in using my fists for fights, not weapons. Evidenced by you nearly beating me in that fight with staffs." Master spoke, lightly coughing as the last sentence came out.
"Anything to avoid admitting I almost beat you fair and square, huh?" I taunted, my tone dripping with mockery. "You do realize that was my first time using anything other than my own body, right? Meanwhile, I'm certain you've wielded weapons at some point in your life."
"That is beside the point," he replied, unfazed by my jibes. "Returning to the matter at hand, I know of someone proficient with swords who also owes me a debt."
"Is there anyone in this kingdom you don't know, old man?" I asked, a hint of anxiety seeping into my voice despite my attempt at levity.
"Are you scared?" he teased, turning to look at me before continuing. "Relax, this individual would sooner harm himself than disobey a request from me."
His reassurance fell flat, as he seemed oblivious to the real reason behind my apprehension. "Isn't it dangerous for him to train me? Won't he notice my horns or the absence of mana at some point?" I pressed, unwilling to expose my true identity as a demon within the human kingdom.
"Of course he would notice," Master replied nonchalantly, shrugging his shoulders. "Unlike you, however, few harbor many prejudices against demons. Most people are more neutral than you think."
His casual dismissal of my fears only reminded me of the very biases he had instilled in me. It was ironic, really, how the one who taught me to fear being discovered now downplayed the risks. The thought of training with someone new, especially a swordsman, filled me with a mix of anticipation and trepidation. I had always relied on my innate abilities, and the prospect of learning to wield a weapon was both thrilling and daunting.
"Hold on a moment. Wasn't it you who insisted I shouldn't let anyone discover a demon was present here?" I questioned, feeling increasingly manipulated and led by the nose.
"Indeed, I did," Master replied, his tone measured. "But my reasoning wasn't rooted in your demonic nature per se. It was about avoiding unwanted attention. Such attention could prove fatal to either of us. If word of a demon's presence were to reach a demon camp or town, and they investigated and discovered it was you, how do you think they would react? Given what you've shared about your past, they would likely try to kill you because of your personality." He explained this while gazing out the window of the inn room we had rented.
"Are you seriously suggesting you thought all of this through before we even arrived here?" I asked, incredulous.
"Of course. Failing to plan ahead in situations like yours would be the most dangerous thing I could do. Unless you'd prefer I risk your life more often than I already do during training?" He inquired, raising an eyebrow as he scrutinized me.
"So you admit my life is in danger during our training!" I retorted, pointing at him indignantly.
"Come on, let's go get that brat to help you out," he said, dismissing my complaint with infuriating nonchalance.
As we exited the inn and walked through the greyish-white stone streets, I couldn't help but notice the bustling market activity around us. People shopped at street booths or strolled by, all engrossed in their conversations, yet sneaking occasional glances at us. Surprisingly, most of those glances were directed at him rather than me or the giant black case on my back that held my new weapons, or the cracking stone beneath my feet. I caught snippets of murmured comments like, "He's back?" and "Is that really him?"
Turning to look at him, I realized how little I actually knew about his past. I was aware he had some obscure connection to the widespread religion, but that was about it. Meanwhile, he knew almost everything about my life, save for the fact that I was responsible for Baomu's untimely demise. How had he ended up in demon territory anyway?
"Master," I began, hesitant but curious, "just how did you end up in demon territory?"
He glanced at me, a rare hint of vulnerability in his eyes before it vanished. "That's a story for another time," he replied curtly, picking up the pace.
The nervous glances and hushed gossip persisted as we moved deeper into the town. Slowly, a building larger than all its surroundings came into view, and it became clear that our trajectory was leading us directly toward it.
"I don't know if you noticed, but we're heading straight for what looks like the chief's residence. Shouldn't we turn at some point?" I asked, my mind flashing back to the village chief's cruelty to Baomu and the elven warrior.
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"Why would we, when that's our destination?" Master retorted, his face expressionless. "Besides, he's not the chief here. The residents call him Lord." His tone remained disinterested, as if the title held no significance.
"So, the human king owes you a debt, and we had to sneak into this town?" I began to suspect he kept certain details hidden just to surprise me later.
"Not quite. He's merely the leader of this town, a position his family inherited due to past events. I saved his father's life years ago, before you were born even, and he promised to repay the favor, regardless of the cost." Master's explanation still left some confusion in its wake.
"But you mentioned that the human king—Hatchell, I think his name was—commands others to address him as 'Lord, Your Majesty, Your Radiance,' and all that grandiose shit. Wouldn't that mean this guy is the king of the kingdom if he's called Lord?" I pressed, growing increasingly anxious about meeting this so-called Lord, especially given his involvement with the chief and Zhou.
Master sighed. "Titles can be misleading. The human king does use those grand titles, but 'Lord' is also used for local rulers and nobility. This man is merely the lord of this town, not the entire kingdom. His authority is limited to this area, but his influence and the debt he owes me are substantial."
As we approached the imposing building, my anxiety mingled with curiosity. The murmurs of the townspeople grew louder, their eyes fixated on us with a mix of suspicion and intrigue. I couldn't help but wonder what sort of man this Lord was and how he came to be indebted to Master.
"Get ready," Master whispered as we approached the large gate, guarded by two imposing sentinels. Both were tall and muscular, rivaling Master in both respects. Their dull silver armor, form-fitting like Master’s attire, bore numerous scratches, and their weapons were at the ready.
The guard on the left was a man with slicked-back black hair, save for a single bang hanging over his forehead. A massive scar ran diagonally from his forehead to his chin. His eyes, a burning yellow, exuded intensity. His mouth seemed to be locked in a perpetual scowl. At his waist, a sword gleamed brightly, contrasting sharply with his battered armor. His hand rested confidently on the hilt, his posture radiating readiness to defend both himself and the property.
On the right stood a female guard with brown hair tied into two tight buns on either side of her head, not a single strand out of place. Her face, though lacking a large scar, was marked by several smaller ones—a scar across her right eye, another over her nose, and two perpendicular scars on her left cheek. Her deep blue eyes completed her neutral, dispassionate expression. However, her vigilant gaze, tracking our every step, breath, and movement, revealed her readiness to engage at a moment's notice. Her hand motionless, but ready to grab the spear on her back.
"Who are—" the male guard began, but Master interrupted him sharply. "Inform Duke Ainsworth that his benefactor has arrived." His tone was confident, worsening the guard’s scowl. The man opened his mouth to retort but quickly shut it at a glance from his companion. With a reluctant nod, he turned and disappeared through the gate behind them.
We waited in an awkward silence. The female guard’s stare was fixed on me, her suspicion palpable, likely due to the myriad of questionable aspects about me. Her unwavering gaze only added to my unease.
Master, unfazed by the scrutiny, stood patiently, his eyes focused on the gate. The silence was thick, broken only by the distant murmur of the townspeople and the occasional clink of armor. Time seemed to stretch, each second amplifying my anxiety.
The gate swung open abruptly, yet the female guard nimbly dodged its path without a hint of surprise. "It really is you. Hurry and come in before more people see," the newcomer commanded, gesturing for us to follow him. His confident demeanor and authoritative tone told me all I needed to know—this man was the Duke we had come to meet. As we walked past the remaining guard, I felt her gaze burning into my back. Swallowing my nerves, I tried to maintain a confident and unbothered stride.
Inside, the Duke sat opposite Master at a grand table, while I stood to Master's right. His confident gaze shifted between us, his scrutiny palpable. His two large bangs framed his face, with the rest of his hair tied into a ponytail extending slightly below his nape. The Duke's eyes, a similar blue to the guard outside, somehow exuded even more conviction. His blue and white suit was pristine, concealing any indication of an athletic build, if he had one. His hands were covered in black gloves, and studs adorned both ears.
"I can only assume you're here to call in that debt. Why else would someone banished from the human kingdom come here, especially after causing damage to both the town and the Duke's property?" he remarked, his tone sharp. Choosing to focus on the former part of his sentence, I shot a glance at Master, but he ignored my look and continued the conversation.
"Precisely. I need you to train this brat in swordsmanship and possibly staff wielding. Here are the weapons he chose from the smithy," Master said, uncovering the double-sided sword and staff from the black case.
The Duke examined the weapons, nodding. "Checks out. I wondered if the mighty and ever-prideful Greg had switched his combat style, but of course you didn't. Any specifics? Is there a certain level he needs to reach within a set time limit?" he asked, casually swiping his hair aside.
"In a way. I need you to make him as proficient as you can, as quickly as you can," Master answered simply, taking a sip from the white cup placed before him.
"How ominous. Is it related to why you were banished?" the Duke replied, drinking from his own elaborately decorated cup. Pink flowers adorned the blue surface, and the handle appeared to be covered in something soft. Even the edge seemed more rounded than usual. Forget the damn cup! How could training me be related to why he was banished? We hadn’t met prior to his banishment, had we?
"Can you do it?" Master ignored the Duke's question, posing his own.
The Duke smirked, a hint of satisfaction in his expression. "I owe you a debt, so of course. Just don't blame me if the kid isn't smart enough to learn much in the time you give."
Master responded with a stifled chuckle before standing up. "I'll make a scene so that anyone who saw me enter will know I left," he said to the Duke, then turned to me. "I'll be back for you later, brat."
"Before anything else. Level with me kid. You're a demon, aren't you?"