A Waste of Time

Chapter 23: Heavy Halo

“Let’s go, Ru.”

Daemon knelt to tighten the straps on his shoes, dusting the forest grit off his knees before standing and slipping back into his shirt. With a flick of his wrist, he brushed aside the tent’s flap and stepped out into the crisp bite of dawn air under the Myriad-Beasts canopy.

“Time to hunt something before Ippo starves me half to death.”

Behind him, Jia’s voice floated out of the tent, calm but edged with worry. “Be careful out there. Even if you’re strong now—this place is alive in ways you can’t trust.”

Daemon flashed her a lopsided grin over his shoulder but didn’t slow. “I know, I know. Your young master’s a delicate flower—I’ll watch my step.”

Ru fell in beside him, boots crunching in rhythm through the forest loam. “I still don’t understand why we’re still here. This forest—this restriction—why linger when you’re so clearly ready to break the chain?”

Daemon paused mid-step to glance back at him, a smirk flickering over his lips. “Can’t we just say we haven’t had our epic showdown with the local bully’s family yet?”

Ru’s eyes narrowed—flint behind the calm mask. “I’m serious.”

“And you’re no fun.” Daemon dropped his gaze, hands folding behind his head as he tilted his face up to watch dappled sunlight scatter through the canopy. “Only a fool thinks I’m free just because I’m stronger now. You think that old geezer can’t snap his fingers and choke the leash tight if I stray too far? He laid that restriction the second I landed here—why wouldn’t he watch for cracks?”

Ru grunted. “So what’s your move then?”

Daemon slowed his stride. Thought flickered behind his eyes, hard and cold. “Bide my time. Wait. Grow. This isn’t about running away—this is about ripping out the chain’s root when I’m ready.”

A memory tugged at Ru then—Ippo’s words, half-mocking, half-awe: “He might seize the true body if he’s insane enough.” The Swordsman’s mouth felt dry. “And you think that plan will work?”

Daemon shrugged, brushing a branch out of his way as they stepped deeper into the tangled green. “Who knows? Future’s not written yet. But right now? I’m the mold in the walls—he can’t see me, can’t hear me. I’m dark. They’re light. You assassins love that balance, don’t you?” He tossed Ru a grin over his shoulder. “But the old geezer’s a blind spot. He’s not playing the same board game as the rest. That’s fine. I’m still young. More than enough room to get meaner.”

A ghost of hell’s rot touched his memory then—violet thorns, shrieking bodies, pus-dripping fruit. A chill ran down his spine. He forced it down with a shake of his head. “Maybe I gave him a shock though—maybe he didn’t expect I’d push the Asura Path so far so fast. Almost croaked for it too.”

Ru grimaced. Curiosity gnawed at him until it slipped out unbidden. “What was

that? What made you look… like that? Skin yellow, lips blue, hair turning grey—you were rotting from the inside out.”Daemon’s eyes met his—flat and haunted. “That,” he said softly, “was hell. Smelled worse than it looked. Don’t know how I’m keeping breakfast down, honestly.” He made a face, then flicked the memory away like a speck of dirt.

Ru wisely shut up, falling silent as they wove deeper between ancient trunks and tangled roots. Leaves whispered overhead. Shadows shifted like watching eyes.

Daemon’s inner monologue, however, was far from quiet:

‘Hehehe… In your face, Ippo. Not the only one who can spin bullshit out of thin air. Smoke and mirrors, baby. This game’s mine.’

Ippo’s voice cut through his skull like a tickle of static. “Stop boasting. An upstart waving sparklers before a fireworks master. Try harder.”

Daemon’s lips twitched. ‘So you admit you’re fighting with words now ‘cause you can’t swing a stick worth a damn anymore, eh scholar?’

“Careful,” Ippo hissed, feigning wounded pride. “I don’t get why you get all the perks from this fancy ‘System’ while I—its glorious architect—eat table scraps! Your Yellow-Scale Fruit payout hit me just fine, but everything else? Blank ledger!”

‘Got a theory you won’t like.’

“Same here. My condolences in advance—when you kick the bucket, I’m babysitting that ‘System’ for you. Long live me. Muahahaha!”

Daemon rolled his eyes so hard his brain rattled. ‘Rude bastard. A true scholar indeed—no brawn, all mouth.’

“Keep pushing, I’ll drag you through seven hours of max heart-rate drills until your new Hulk mode weeps blood!”

‘Keep pushing, I’ll Second-Gear your ass into oblivion. I own you.’

A tense silence coiled between them. Then—

“Truce?”

Daemon snorted. ‘You’ll switch sides the second someone waves a shiny knife at my throat.’

“Please. I’m reserving front-row seats for the seven-hour cinematic masterpiece of you throwing trees at your enemies. Pity there’s no popcorn.”

Daemon ground his teeth. ‘Talking to you was a mistake. You need therapy. Lots of it.’

“Check below the belt instead. Doesn’t work now—but just wait till it does. Sponsored by my dear Owner. Wink wink.”

Daemon’s jaw tightened. His Killing Intent seeped out like a poison mist—tiny creatures rustled away, predators slunk deeper into the brush.

Ru stiffened beside him. He laid a steadying hand on Daemon’s shoulder, voice low and soothing. “Calm down. There’s no rush. We come back later if we must.” He crouched, leveling his gaze to the boy’s. Worry flickered in his eyes. ‘Did my question push him too far?’

Daemon’s chest rose and fell. He drew in a breath like a blade scraping its scabbard. “Not you. It’s just my sweet little brother being a delightful piece of trash, that’s all. He’ll get his someday.”

Ru dipped his head, accepting the answer. The forest pressed close again, alive with distant animal cries.

Daemon’s eyes narrowed. No more anger. No more talking. He’d vent it the old way—on fur, blood, and antlers.

Thirty minutes deeper into uncharted territory—thicker roots, denser shadows, the faint tang of predator musk in the air—Ru tapped his arm and pointed.

A shape: broad-shouldered, grazing by a sun-dappled clearing. The buff-tailed elk—larger than any mundane cousin, thick antlers crowned in moss and scars, a horse’s tail flicking lazily as it stripped bark from a tree.

Ru whispered, voice barely rustling the leaves: “How do you want to approach this?”

Daemon lifted a finger to his temple—thinking—then flicked his wrist to tell Ru: Wait.

His eyes glinted. Time to hunt.

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