Duarno, dressed in the garbs of a rookie knight, followed three guards who were headed towards the place where the refugees were sheltered.

Sure enough, changing into these clothes made things far more convenient for him. He finally felt blended enough for everyone to mind their own business.

“This thing is quite comfortable to wear – more so than the things I wear every day.” He said as he fixed the loosely fitted shoulder plate.

“We would be there in a bit, your highness.” One of the guards nervously fiddled as he guided Duarno to the farmer’s district located at the edge of Et’thun.

The horde of makeshift tents at fields, that were supposed to be plowed for planting new harvest but were now home to tens of thousands of devils, took Duarno by surprise. He expected it but still felt alarmed at how his kin was being stuffed in these suffocating tents. It wasn’t the beautiful and cheery Et’thun that had greeted him yesterday.

And there was a huge line of malnourished-looking devils outside those fully packed fields, all desperately wanting to enter the only place that accepted them.

“Name? Family? Trade?” A weedy-looking devil monotonously repeated these questions as he jotted down whatever reply he heard in return, while a child beside him stamped a numbered insignia on their wrists before letting them know which area they were being assigned to.

“Name?”

“Damien.”

“Family?”

“None.”

“Trade?”

“Duchess’ personal knight.” The nerdy devil finally raised his head up in curiosity when he heard an unexpected reply.

“I am here on the orders of Lady Vilvosa to invigilate the procedures going on here.” Duarno flashed a medallion on the top he was currently wearing.

“Ah, Sir Damien. I have heard a lot of your valiant deeds. Welcome. Hey, Loid! Go bring out a chair for sir knight.” He flatteringly greeted Duarno before ordering the child near him.

‘Yes, of course. You surely would have heard of ‘Damien the knight’ who didn’t even exist until now.’ Duarno wasn’t at all impressed by the lies that were thrown at him but he couldn’t care less.

“No need. I am here for official work. Now if you pardon me…” Duarno said as he made his way through the gate after he gave a head pat to the kid that was seated there, “And no need to have someone accompany me. It’s invigilation for a reason.”

** **

It was a complete mess in there. Men and women capable of work were being segregated and sent somewhere. The elderly and the crippled were being dumped in tents. Newcomers and brawny men fought over and grabbed whatever little food soldiers brought. It was an unorganized havoc. A mess that will kill quite a lot if not fixed as quickly as possible.

Duarno tried to make his way through the crowd without hurting anyone.

A crowd that was on the brink of turning the situation into a stampede. No wonder he miserably failed and swayed around wherever the crowd wanted him to. He realized that he needed a breather so he got into whatever tent was closest to him but stumbled down as soon as he entered that place.

A weird smell danced around his nose as his eyes landed upon what obstructed him - a shriveled dead body of an old man lying near his feet.

Wait.

He wasn’t dead yet. Almost dead would be the right word.

The old man didn’t bat an eye as he nonchalantly cursed at Duarno and started crawling towards another old man who was laying beside him and started shaking him up.

The ninth prince could not detect any sign of life in him and neither could he in twenty percent of those laying in that tent. It was as if the bunch of them were left there to die.

Duarno squatted down near the old man, “He is dead.”

“I know.” A phlegm-filled weak voice left that old man’s lips as he finally found what he was looking for.

It was a roughly rolled half crumbled cigar that he scourged out of the dead man’s clothing. With quaking hands, he recited a prayer to send off his soul peacefully to the goddess of destruction before taking out another cigar from his own jacket.

He ignored the bulky soldier who was squatting near him as he held the cigars between his dried-out lips and started searching for something to light them up.

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Duarno was not shocked by the dead bodies as much as an average person would be, he had practically danced with death since childhood, so he was curious at best as to why he was trying to smoke when he should have gone mad of hunger.

Plus the guilt he felt for those that died here, people who came to them with hopes of surviving but were met with a pitiful end, made him offer some food to the old man.

He ignored the piece of bread that was offered to him as his hands slowly lost their strength and flailed down.

“[Flame]?” The old man coughed violently as he inquired the soldier who was still waving a piece of bread to him.

The old man’s temperament was quite different from most. The very piece of bread that was causing others to become so desperate that they would die for it failed to incite any reaction from him.

Don’t misunderstand. He seemed as if he wanted to die too. Others would die for a chance to live. He was already dead before he could actually die. He felt… done with things.

‘[Flame] is something a magician does, not me. But I know the concept of magic enough from Leona to help you out.’

A very minuscule fire, not big enough to be recognised as a [Flame] by the system appeared on Duarno’s index finger as he helped light up the old man’s two cigars.

The old man’s dead eyes seemed to momentarily spark for a while as he relished the present.

But a sudden bout of cough had him crash into nadir as he started having difficulty breathing and began gasping for air.

Duarno knew that the old man didn’t have much time left so he decided to at least have him depart in peace.

Using [Dominator] to transfer some of his pure mana into the spasming old man, he granted a speck of clarity to his dying mind.

The old man looked back at Duarno in utter shock.

“What’s your highness doing at such a place?” His voice was still weak and feeble, but it now had an indescribable sense of vigor within it. The old man didn’t personally know Duarno but he probably knew the existence of [Dominator] well enough to realize that the one sitting beside him was a royal descendant.

“Don’t waste these precious few minutes you have been granted, by asking such questions.” The ninth prince wanted him to relish every second he could, yet the old man didn’t do that.

The dying devil didn’t know how to respond to that so he agreed to the suggestion he was offered and stayed mum. He shifted his attention to the earlier corpse as his eyes went moist.

“He was my brother.” In a coughing fit, the old man replied. He seemed to have observed the inquisitive gaze Duarno had on his teary-eyed self. How could he not satiate the curiosity of someone trying to grant him salvation?

Plus he probably hoped to share the sorrow he was feeling at that moment so as to reduce the pain it accompanied.

After a few minutes, he let go of his dead brother’s hand as he shifted his focus on the cigar and on Duarno.

“I might not look like it but I have once been a chieftain of the Agni tribe of the northern plains.” The old man started gasping for air once again.

His used his entire strength to pluck out his left horn, which was riddled with various tribal symbols carved out on it. “Show it to someone of my tribe. They will repay you for the favor I am about to ask you.”

Using the last of his energy he had gained from [Dominator] to point out in a direction, “My people are out there. If you have enough to feed others, go there and help.”, he showed the fading symbol on his wrists denoting 1 stamped on it.

“Please save them.” He handed over the horn to Duarno as he finally stopped struggling.

‘He is still not dead yet’ Duarno saw the sparks on his cigar periodically glow when while his head was profusely bleeding. It was slow and painful, and quite frankly even daunting to watch.

Healing was something he didn’t know so he was helpless.

‘[Inspect(unique)]’

Character Screen

Name:

Nomu

Age/Gender:

56/M

Level:

15

Class:

Paladin

Race:

Devil

Title:

1) Agni’s Chief 2) Guardian of the Flamboyant Flame

Alignment

Chaotic Neutral

Status

1) Abyssal Speed 2) Cursed to total oblivion

The status screen was practically crumbling, indicating that even the system gave up on the old man and nothing could help save him from his impending doom.

'Should I just grant him a painless death?' Duarno contemplated for a while but a weak and agitated “Go!'' from the old man made him realize that others like him were waiting to be helped and that he shouldn't waste time here.

Plus the old man seemed unwilling to die until he finished both of the cigars.

‘May the goddess let your soul be in peace.’ Duarno barged out of the tent as he was once again greeted by a desperate and hungry mob.

‘I don’t have food to feed the entire place. I can feed at most a dozen people before I run out of rations.’

“Children” If he had to feed someone, he would choose the kids above anyone else. Being a father himself, he knew that’s what their parents would have wanted too. Plus, if he were to save a soul, he would save one that is free from all the corruption that this world has to offer.

He recalled the direction Nomu pointed in and quickly made his way through.

‘1? Does that mean they are the first group to arrive here?’ Duarno thought about the stamp as he passed through the almost zombie-like(consisting of only skin and bones) horde. However, he was yet to spot a single child amongst them.