The inner sanctum of the Holy Temple of Elyria was quiet as a grave.
Marble pillars spiraled to a domed ceiling painted with golden stars. Sacred hymns echoed from unseen choirs, too perfect to be human.
Daemon stepped in first, and it hit him like it always did.
The air was thick with divine pressure—like standing beneath the weight of a thousand watching gods. It clung to the skin, made the heart beat louder. Even nobles, draped in wealth and pride, entered in silence, their gazes cast downward.
At the very center of the sanctum was a circle of white stone, and within it... a child.
She lay curled atop a bed of white lilies, pale as snow, unmoving save for the flutter of her golden lashes. Her hair was short and shining like a broken halo. Her eyes—open now—were yellow like a dying sun.
Saintess Lilac.
The supposed "blessed one."
But Daemon knew better. Knew the future.
She's not a saint. She's a curse.
He gritted his teeth, the rage threatening to rise from his stomach and burn through his spine.
This girl had tried to kill him—five times.
Burned cities. Unleashed monsters. Drowned kingdoms.
And yet here she lay, shedding tears of holy light as if mourning the sins of the world.
Drip.
One drop fell from her cheek.
Drip.
Another.
Then, above them, the great Statue of Gaia—a towering woman carved from crystal and ivory—began to weep.
Real tears.
Clear, glowing, and impossibly pure.
The basin beneath the statue began to fill—the Tears of Baptism.
And the moment they did, the room changed.
That gentle silence twisted into tension. Everyone could feel it.
This was the moment of judgment.
"Prince Gabriel, step forth." High Priest Orlan's voice rang out, magnified by holy glyphs.
Gabriel hesitated. Just for a second.
Even he felt it. The dread. The unknown.
He stepped forward slowly, feet echoing against the sacred floor. His golden hair glowed beneath the stained glass as he stood beneath the cascade of divine tears.
And then—they poured over him.
Every eye watched.
Every breath was held.
The moment Gabriel stepped into the cascade of divine tears, something strange happened.
The Statue of Gaia... smiled.
Not figuratively.
The unmoving marble lips curved. Just a fraction. Just enough to make the nobles gasp and drop to their knees in reverence.
Even Daemon felt his skin crawl. The smile wasn't kind. It was too human, too knowing.
"He is the reincarnation of the Hero Michael," Saintess Lilac whispered, her voice like a song carried on wind. "The Child of Radiance... the Sun returned to us."
Light poured from Gabriel's chest like liquid gold. A glowing sigil formed over his heart—a winged sword encircled by flame.
Title granted: Child of Radiance
Skill unlocked: Heaven's Brand – A divine strike that purifies all demonic energy.
A priest fainted from shock.
The crowd erupted in worship.
"Praise the gods!"
"He's the chosen one!"
"Our future king!"
Noblewomen scrambled forward, gently shoving their daughters to the front, each more desperate than the last to catch Gabriel's attention.
Gabriel didn't hide his grin. He stood tall in the light, basking in it—soaking in their love like a star soaking in worship.
King Aleric watched proudly from the throne-like seat raised at the rear. His stern face cracked into a rare smile. Beside him, Queen Bianca wept soft, happy tears, her fingers delicately dabbing beneath her eyes with a silk cloth.
Daemon?
Daemon stood alone. Unacknowledged. Unwanted. An afterthought, just like before.
They didn't even wait for his name to be called.
He walked forward, uninvited.
All eyes froze.
Some gasped. Others sneered. A few chuckled under their breath.
"Why is he...?"
"Isn't it obvious?"
"He's walking behind Gabriel like a shadow."
Fitting, Daemon thought.
But this wasn't the same boy from the past. This time, his mind was twenty-six years old. He knew what was coming. Knew the betrayal, the pointing fingers, the fear. It couldn't break him again.
He stepped beneath the Tears of Baptism.
The divine light rained over him.
And turned black.
Like ink bleeding into clear water, the entire pool around him began to darken.
The air grew cold.
The walls groaned.
A baby began to cry somewhere in the back pews.
Priests clutched their prayer beads. A noblewoman fainted.
The Statue of Gaia began to crack.
Saintess Lilac's eyes widened, her calm shattered. "Impossible..."
Then—she whispered just loud enough for the front rows to hear:
"He... he is the Reincarnation of the Demon King."
The divine tears turned black—thick as oil, clinging to Daemon's skin like sin itself.
A silence fell. One too deep. Too wrong.
Then came the screaming.
"He's cursed!"
"Get him out of there!"
"My daughter is near him, gods help us!"
"That's no prince—it's a devil!"
Noblemen rushed to shield their children. Women pulled veils over their faces like his presence was disease. Priests crossed themselves with shaking hands, stepping back like the sacred ground beneath Daemon might crack open.
Saintess Lilac's voice was barely a whisper, but it echoed through the holy chamber like thunder:
"Daemon Dominick... child of the Eclipse... bears the Mark of the Abyss."
Mark of the Abyss.
A fate worse than death.
One of the priests collapsed, sobbing into the altar. Another threw holy water toward Daemon like it would save them.
"Your Majesty!" A nobleman stood, voice trembling. "Please, we beg of you—for the safety of the kingdom—take him down! Banish him! Strip his title!"
"Kill him," someone whispered.
"Throw him in the dungeon."
"He'll bring ruin to us all."
Daemon stood still. Soaked in black. Eyes hollow.
He didn't cry.
He didn't speak.
He just listened—as the entire room declared him unfit to live.
His twin brother Gabriel hadn't even turned to look at him. The hero. The sun. He stood radiant, basking in praise while his brother was torn apart beside him.
But Daemon... didn't flinch.
Because he'd seen this before.
Exactly like this.
Word for word.
Expression by expression.
He knew what came next.
He turned his gaze slowly to the throne where King Aleric Dominick III sat. The man who hadn't so much as blinked through the chaos. His silver eyes watched Daemon not with fear... but something else.
Calculating. Heavy. Cold.
A king's stare.
Queen Bianca clutched Gabriel's hand, hiding her smirk behind a look of polite horror. But Daemon saw it.
He always saw her.
The chamber waited for the king to speak.
And then... he did.
"He is my son." Aleric's voice rang clear. "He will not be harmed. That is my final word."
The entire room fell into stunned silence.
Even Lilac's eyes darted toward the king. Confused. Angry.
Daemon, still soaked in cursed water, let out the faintest breath of a laugh.
Of course.
His father wasn't defending him. He wasn't protecting him. No—it was guilt. Sentiment. A pathetic, poisoned thing.
Daemon knew the truth: Aleric still loved her.
The maid. The commoner. Daemon's real mother.
The woman Bianca had erased with fire and silence.
And Daemon?
Daemon was the leftover guilt he couldn't get rid of.
Not love. Not favor. Just memory.
The nobles didn't clap. They didn't kneel. They just... sat in frozen, furious silence.
Daemon turned and walked from the water without a word. He didn't bow. He didn't wait.
Let them hate him.
He would burn their gods too.