News that Simon would be leaving Springwater swept through the villagers like wildfire.

  Most of them had expected him to stay. From their perspective, slaying the Fell Beast and establishing a position of authority was merely the beginning of his grand master plan. If he'd been given longer than a year to work with, perhaps the transmigrator would have used Springwater as a launching pad to something bigger.

  Yet it wasn't meant to be. He had places to go, people to kill. The carriage was already loaded up with whatever supplies he hadn't donated. After Katarina finished saying her goodbyes to Gerold, they would be on their way.

  Wonder if everyone here will be alright, Simon thought, as he walked down the streets to Jonathan's clinic. It was probably an unnecessary concern – before he arrived, Springwater had gone centuries without a Fell Beast incursion. The creatures typically weren't smart enough to invent a strategy like burrowing under the perimeter of Warding Orbs.

  He was far more concerned about Springwater's proximity to Caelryn Cave. When Simon met Kirkelas the Conqueror, the Demon had explained that he periodically sent dreams to people in nearby villages, drawing them to his prison with subconscious promises of riches and glory.

  With the traps in Caelryn Cave all disabled via a steady assembly line of human lives, it would only take one extra would-be adventurer to head down and reach the bottom.

  And Simon couldn't count on that hypothetical adventurer just...leaving. Not before Kirkelas offered a Contract in exchange for his freedom.

  People had made worse deals for less gain.

  The release of the Sealed Demon of Ruination was one of Simon's top guesses for being what kicked off the apocalypse. Either someone intentionally setting Kirkelas free, or his Warding cage reaching the natural end of its lifespan next year. The Warding Orbs' remaining shelf life even lined up with the overall timetable described by Voice-In-The-Sky.

  However, he wasn't sure how that tied into Duke Helmund. According to Kirkelas, Helmund had been the one to imprison him in the first place.

  It seemed unlikely that a nobleman enjoying a reign of unfettered power would turn around and unleash his greatest foe. However, Simon had also received divine confirmation that assassinating Helmund would forestall the apocalypse.

  Does he release Kirkelas inadvertently? Are the Mana Harvesters somehow related? Or am I overthinking this, and Kirkelas isn't involved at all?

  Regardless, Simon wished he had a way to restrict the villagers from venturing to Caelryn Cave. He'd considered commanding them not to go, but his Subjugate Territory orders were only partial compulsion. People with strong desires or willpower could presumably shrug off the effect – and unfortunately, neither of those factors were correlated with intelligence.

  He imagined a scene at the local bar. A group of drunken, rowdy carousers are discussing their demonic savior's odd command. The people start riling each other up, pointing out that the imposing Demon isn't around anymore. They can totally go to Caelryn Cave, how dare he tell them what to do? Bravery is questioned, pride is wounded, and bets are made.

  Then everyone dies because of the most ill-advised 'hold my beer' moment in history.

  Should I return to the cave and see if I can block the entrance? After some brief thought, he decided against that course of action. Kirkelas wouldn't take kindly to the transmigrator screwing him over a second time. Simon didn't want to find out what arcane tricks the Demon had up his sleeve, even while still Sealed.

  Besides, based on the number of skeletons inside Caelryn Cave versus the length of Kirkelas' imprisonment, he'd only managed to draw a new lamb to the slaughter once every decade or so. The prospective timetable was in their favor...supposedly.

  Jonathan's clinic soon came into view. Simon knocked, waited three seconds, then entered. Ignoring the wave of double-takes that his arrival prompted, he strode up to the physician with a casual gait.

  At his approach, Jonathan's body went rigid. "G-Greetings." He wrung his hands, eye flitting towards the front door. "May I help you, Lord Demon?"

  "Not a Lord." Simon tried for a disarming smile. By the way Jonathan flinched, the attempt was a failure, yet he did try. "Where are Katarina and her father? I'm here to speak with them."

  The physician averted his gaze, pointing at a door in the corner. "Private room. Nicest I've got."

  That wasn't particularly fair to the other patients, some of whom were in worse condition than Gerold, but Simon didn't intend to say anything. Katarina would be furious if he denied her this minor bit of nepotism. If she was going to be his ally – not just his subordinate, an ally – then both of them would need to make necessary compromises from time to time.

  And he couldn't begrudge a woman wanting to provide the best care possible for her dying father.

  With a nod, Simon walked over to Gerold's private room. It was in a secluded corner of the clinic, nearly hidden from view. He reached his hand out to the doorknob–

  Then paused. Voices were speaking inside. Katarina and Gerold, both in whispers.

  How can I hear them? Granted, the two weren't speaking that quietly, yet it was quiet enough that they should've been inaudible to someone standing outside. Are my senses heightening as I level up? Didn't really notice that happening, but I haven't tried to eavesdrop before either.

  Eavesdropping. That's what this was. Hardly the way he should be treating his newest ally. Shaking his head, Simon moved to open the door lest he was tempted further.

  Until he heard his name being spoken.

  All semblance of propriety went out the window as he leaned closer, pressing his ear against the door.

  "I can stay if you need me," Katarina professed. Her voice contained a hint of tears, as if she'd recently got done crying. "Don't have to leave. Simon wouldn't protest."

  Gerold let out a low chuckle. "I think he would." His voice sounded weak, yet stable. "You made a vow."

  "He would understand. I shouldn't–"

  "Kat." Gerold's tone swelled with paternal affection. "Where did this come from? You just spent the better part of an hour convincing me that you needed to go. Said you wanted to do right by me, that it was the only way to cure The Ancient's Gift. Which is insignificant compared to your safety, but...it mattered to you. What changed?"

  A fragile quiet stretched onward as Katarina searched for the right words.

  "Had a thought," she muttered. "That, that if I fail, these next months will be wasted. That this will be the last time I see you. When I could have stayed by your side instead."

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

  "You'd regret it more if you discarded this chance. I know how your mind works, Kat."

  She groaned in response. "I hate when you're right."

  "Always am," he said, with a verbal grin. "It is the ascendant wisdom granted to all fathers."

  "Such as when you told me we should invest our paltry savings into Mortrand's scheme, only for him to run off and never show his face again?

  "Ah, but wisdom is built on learning from your mistakes. Considering how many times I've erred, I do believe that makes me the smartest in the land."

  There was a faint rustling sound. Likely Katarina leaning down to hug Gerold, embracing him in what may very well be their final day together.

  Just as Simon began to feel uncomfortable, like he was intruding on a personal moment, he heard himself being mentioned once more.

  "About the Demon..." Gerold trailed off. "There is something I must tell you."

  "He isn't what you might think," Katarina interrupted. "Actually seems to care for people – in his own bizarre way."

  "I don't doubt it. You're a good judge of character. Taught you well."

  He paused. "But I'm still better at it. Over the years, I've learned from my mistakes. From the lowliest beggar to the princeliest noble, from honest benefactors to empty-hearted deceivers, I've seen every kind of person there is to see. And while I haven't spoken with this Demon yet...I caught a glimpse of his gaze before I passed out in the carriage."

  "Is this about being wary of people with nothing behind their eyes? You've given me that talk five times, fath–"

  "No."

  Gerold raised his voice, injecting every bit of his meager strength into that one word. A stunned silence permeated the air, the man only continuing once he had his daughter's undivided attention.

  "The Demon doesn't have nothing behind his eyes – he has too much. When I peered into his gaze, I saw a will of intent so vast and churning that I was liable to drown in it. He won't stop. Ever. Not until his all-important purpose is achieved."

  Gerold sighed. "Please take care, Kat. Don't let yourself be engulfed by his ambitions. People like that...sometimes, they don't even do it deliberately. It's merely a consequence of who they are."

  Simon pulled away from the door.

  He spent the next thirty seconds quelling the whirlpool of annoyance raging within.

  You seriously think you got all that from a single glance? Clench fingers. Unclench fingers. Just a peek, and I'm apparently an open book to you?

  No conversations shared between them, yet Simon had already been labeled as someone who endangered the people around him.

  A certain degree of leeway could be afforded to Gerold here. He was simply trying to look out for his daughter, who would soon be traveling with a strange man she'd meet a week prior. Gerold would've given her some sort of talk even if Simon wasn't a Demon.

  Still. It reminded him too much of comments that had been directed towards him in the past. People judging him before they knew him – even coming to similar conclusions as Gerold, albeit phrased differently.

  I know I can get a little intense every now and then, but do they have to take it so far?

  Simon breathed in, then exhaled. It's fine. Katarina has decided to trust me. As I don't intend to betray that trust, there's no need to get worked up over mere supposition from an unduly-concerned parent.

  Gathering himself, he lifted his hand and knocked politely. "It's Simon. May I enter?"

  Seconds later, Katarina opened the door. She wore a tired half-smile on her face, and her eyes were red-rimmed. "Good timing. We were just about finished."

  Simon examined Gerold as he walked inside. The man appeared healthier than before, the deathly pallor of his skin now shaded with a modicum of color. His eyes were alert rather than glassy, staring directly at the transmigrator, cautiously assessing him. "Greetings, Lord Demon," he put forth, in a measured tone.

  "Not a Lord. Call me Simon." He turned to address Katarina. "Mind giving us some privacy? Shouldn't take long."

  She hesitated. With suppressed emotion, Katarina leaned down to hug Gerold again, squeezing as tightly as his health would allow. "I love you, father. Be well."

  "Same to you, Kat. Same to you."

  Their tender embrace dragged on. A spike of envy flared within Simon, impelling him to turn away. He didn't look back until Katarina had exited the room entirely.

  Gerold's piercing gaze was waiting to meet him. "Do you disapprove of familial affection, Demon?"

  Simon's mouth twisted into a wry grin. Perhaps coming to have a talk immediately after hearing their earlier comments was a mistake. You never tread onto a battlefield when mentally compromised – not if it could be avoided.

  "No more than you disapprove of me," he remarked. "And since you didn't bat an eye as Katarina left...I'm assuming you have no objections to her joining my cause?"

  "As if I could prevent her from doing anything." Gerold smirked, his voice tinged with fondness. "A more willful woman I've never known."

  Noted. "If there's something you wish to say, then feel free to speak your thoughts. The day is growing older, and we'll be traveling for some time before we reach our next destination."

  Gerold sat up in his bed. "Then I'll be forthright." He fixed the transmigrator with a confrontational glare. "Whatever words you used to fill my daughter's head with fanciful dreams of a cure – it matters not. It's better if she leaves anyway. This wasting pit of a village is beneath her. Coming here was a fool's errand, even setting aside how it led us to those Ancient-accursed slavers."

  Simon raised an eyebrow. "The cure does exist, and I do intend to obtain it."

  "You'll fail. The nobility would rather eat mud than let the smallest treasure slip from their grabbing palms. Yet in the process of failure, Katarina will have the opportunity to spread her wings, becoming something more than this wretched life I've inflicted her with. To that end, only one thing – one thing – is important."

  He jabbed a finger forward. "Keep her safe. If she comes to harm, then I'll find a way to exact painful retribution, even from beyond the boundaries of death itself."

  Simon shook his head. "I assure you, that won't be necessary."

  Because if Katarina ever perished, it would probably be because they'd both gotten themselves caught in a fatal situation from which there was no escape.

  He'd likely follow her to the grave shortly after.