The journey back took three days at the column's slower pace. They moved through demon territory with heavy security, but no attacks materialized. Whatever intelligence commanded the demons was apparently content to let them retreat.
Or was planning something larger.
Damien used the time productively, analyzing the group dynamics and planning his next moves.
[CORRUPTION PROGRESS: 4.8%]
[STATUS: Stable (no power usage = minimal increase)]
[RECOMMENDATION: Establish cover story for abilities before capital arrival]
The System's advice was sound. He needed a plausible explanation for his powers before facing interrogation from Church authorities or his father.
The "family secrets" line would work for casual observers, but serious investigation would reveal House Valcrest had no documented shadow magic traditions. He needed something more sophisticated.
An idea formed.
On the second evening of travel, as the column made camp, Damien arranged to speak with Commander Helena privately.
She received him in her command tent with professional courtesy and obvious suspicion. "Lord Valcrest. What can I do for you?"
"I wanted to address the obvious questions before we reach the capital." Damien settled into a camp chair uninvited, legs crossed in confidence. "You're wondering about my combat abilities. Where they came from. Whether they represent a threat."
"Among other concerns, yes." Helena's expression gave nothing away. "Shadow magic isn't typically associated with noble houses. Or with anything holy."
"No, it's not." Damien leaned back, projecting casual boldness. "My mother's family – before she married into House Valcrest – came from the eastern provinces. Minor nobility, but with access to unusual magical traditions. Combat techniques that worked with shadow and darkness."
It was a complete fabrication, but one that would be difficult to disprove. His mother had indeed come from minor eastern nobility before her death. Records from those provinces were spotty at best.
"Eastern shadow techniques." Helena's tone was carefully neutral. "I'm not familiar with such traditions."
"Most aren't. They're not widely practiced – partially because they look unsettling to those unfamiliar with them, partially because the eastern provinces prefer to keep their advantages private." He met her eyes directly. "My mother taught me the basics before she died. I've been developing them privately ever since. The Valcrest family doesn't advertise it because, well – " He gestured vaguely. " – people tend to associate shadow magic with demons. Creates unfortunate implications."
"Indeed it does."
"But the results speak for themselves. I killed three dozen demons with those techniques. If the magic were demonic in origin, why would demons flee from it?"
It was solid logic, even if built on lies.
Demons had fled because his demonic core made him register as a threat, not because his magic was anti-demonic. But Helena didn't know that.
"The Saintess vouches for you," Helena said finally. "That carries significant weight. But Lord Valcrest, understand that if your power proves dangerous or corrupted, her protection will only extend so far."
"I wouldn't expect otherwise." Damien stood. "I'm simply asking for fair assessment based on actions, not appearance. I saved lives. That should count for something."
"It does. Which is why you're riding freely rather than in shackles." Her smile was cold. "Don't mistake gratitude for trust, my lord."
"I wouldn't dream of it, Commander."
He left the tent feeling satisfied.
The cover story was established, plausible enough to deflect casual investigation. Anyone digging deeper would find his mother's eastern heritage confirmed, even if the shadow magic tradition was fictitious.
[DECEPTION SUCCESSFUL: Cover Story Established]
[Reputation: Mysterious but Potentially Legitimate]
[Suspicion: Moderate (reduced from High)]
That evening, he managed to catch Elara away from Sister Catherine's watchful eyes. She was checking on the wounded in the medical tent, her healing magic working to speed their recovery.
"You're exhausting yourself again," Damien observed.
"They need help." Elara's hands glowed with soft golden light as she worked. "Besides, it's good to feel useful. Three days of maintaining barriers was defensive. This is actually healing people."
He watched her work for a moment, impressed by the genuine compassion in every gesture. This wasn't performance or duty – she actually cared about these soldiers' wellbeing.
"You told Commander Helena about my powers," he said quietly.
"I told her you saved our lives and that your methods, while unusual, were effective." Elara finished with the current patient and moved to the next. "Was I wrong to?"
"No. I appreciate the protection."
"I'm not protecting you out of naive trust, Damien." She glanced at him, her expression serious. "I'm protecting you because despite my questions and concerns, I believe you're fundamentally good. But you need to give me more than deflections and partial truths. I can't keep defending someone I don't fully understand."
Fair point. She was asking for information he couldn't provide, but refusing entirely would damage the trust he'd worked to build.
"What do you want to know?" he asked.
"The shadow magic. Is it dangerous? To you, I mean. Using it."
Honest answer: Yes, extremely, it's actively corrupting my personality and will eventually turn me into a monster without sufficient emotional anchors.
Strategic answer: "All power is dangerous if misused. I'm careful with it."
She sighed, "That's a deflection."
"It's also true." He moved closer, lowering his voice. "Elara, I can't give you complete transparency. Some secrets exist for good reasons. But I can promise that I'm not working with demons, I'm not planning to hurt anyone you care about, and my interest in your wellbeing is genuine. Can that be enough for now?"
She studied his face, those perceptive blue eyes searching for deception. "You're asking me to trust you on faith."
"Yes."
"That's ironic, coming from someone who encouraged me to question my own faith."
"I never said I wasn't a hypocrite." He smiled slightly. "Just that I was honest about my complexity."
[CORRUPTION TECHNIQUE: Selective Vulnerability]
[Admitting flaws to appear more trustworthy]
[Intimacy +6]
Elara shook her head, but she was smiling. "You're impossible."
"I prefer 'charmingly difficult.'"
"No, definitely impossible." She finished with the last patient and stood, swaying slightly from exhaustion. "But I suppose I'm going to trust you anyway. Goddess help me."
"Thank you." He steadied her elbow as she found her balance. "For what it's worth, I don't take that trust lightly."
"You'd better not." She squeezed his hand briefly. "Because if you betray it, Damien Valcrest, demon-slaying powers or not, I will make you regret it."
The threat would have been more intimidating if she wasn't half his height and currently exhausted enough to need support walking. But he believed her completely.
"Noted," he said seriously.
Sister Catherine appeared like a vengeful spirit to reclaim her charge. "Saintess, you should be resting, not – " She noticed their proximity and her expression soured further. " – spending time alone with suspicious nobles."
"Sister Catherine, your concern is appreciated but unnecessary." Elara's voice carried gentle authority. "Lord Damien saved my life. I'm allowed to express gratitude."
"Gratitude doesn't require hand-holding."
"We weren't – " Elara looked down and realized she was indeed still holding Damien's hand from when he'd steadied her. She released it quickly, blushing. "That was for balance."
"Of course it was." Sister Catherine's tone suggested she believed nothing of the sort. "Come. Evening prayers. Now."
She practically dragged Elara away, shooting Damien a look that promised eternal vigilance.
[INTIMACY EVENT: Physical Contact (Casual/Comfortable)]
[Relationship Status: Advancing despite external pressure]
[Warning: Sister Catherine actively working to separate player and subject]
Damien watched them go, then returned to his own tent.
Aldric was waiting there, leaning against a supply crate with arms crossed.
"We need to talk," the hero said.
"Do we? I was rather looking forward to sleep."
"I've been thinking about the demon attack. About why they were so organized." Aldric's expression was troubled. "Demons don't usually coordinate like that. It's like they were specifically targeting our investigation team."
"Probably because they were." Damien began removing his travel-stained coat. "Organized demon activity suggests intelligence behind it. Intelligence would want to stop investigation."
"But how would they know we were coming? We didn't announce the mission publicly."
Damien paused. That was actually a good question. In the original novel, demon attacks had been random at this stage. But now they were targeted and coordinated.
Because the timeline was breaking. Because his interference had accelerated threats.
"Information leaks," he said aloud. "Someone in the capital talked. Or the demons have scouts reporting back."
"Maybe." Aldric didn't sound convinced. "Or maybe something else is going on. Something bigger than random demon incursions."
The hero was more perceptive than Damien had given him credit for. "Such as?"
"I don't know yet. But the pattern feels wrong." Aldric pushed off the crate. "I'm going to investigate when we reach the capital. Figure out what's really happening."
"Good luck with that."
"You could help. If these demons are organized, they're everyone's problem. Even suspicious nobles who use shadow magic."
It was an olive branch, awkwardly extended. The hero asking for alliance despite his distrust.
Damien considered. Having Aldric focused on demon investigation meant he'd be less focused on investigating Damien personally. Strategic benefit aside, the hero wasn't wrong – organized demons were everyone's problem.
"I'll consider it," he said finally. "But I work alone. Don't expect friendly cooperation."
"Wouldn't dream of it." Aldric headed for the tent exit, then paused. "One more thing. The Saintess. She's not a prize to be won. She's a divine vessel of the goddess and deserves respect and honesty."
There it was, the problem – Aldric didn't think she deserves respect and honesty as a person, but as a divine symbol, because that was all they could see her as.
"I'm aware."
"Are you? Because from where I'm standing, you're very good at saying the right things while hiding what you really are." The hero's voice hardened. "I don't care how charming you are or how many demons you kill. If you hurt her, we're done being civil."
"Noted." Damien kept his voice neutral. "Anything else?"
"Yeah. Stay away from her tonight. She's exhausted and Sister Catherine is already suspicious. Give the Church no ammunition."
The hero left before Damien could respond.
[HERO RELATIONSHIP: Suspicion, Brewing Enmity]
[Aldric Brightblade Status: Reluctant Cooperation + Active Monitoring]
[Warning: Hero becoming more competent and perceptive]
Damien lay on his camp bedroll, staring at the tent ceiling.
Two more days to the capital. Then he'd face his father's questions, Church interrogation, and the complex task of managing multiple relationships while hiding his true nature.
The demonic core beat steadily in his chest, corruption percentage stable at 4.8% but ready to rise the moment he used power again.
He thought about Elara's face when she'd said she'd trust him. The weight of that trust. The knowledge that he was actively deceiving her about fundamental truths.
For a moment, he considered telling her everything. The reincarnation, the System, the demonic core, all of it.
Foolish.
The moment passed quickly.
Some truths destroyed what they touched.
Better to carry the weight alone than burden her with knowledge that would shatter her world.
He was becoming the villain to survive the story.
The question was whether anything of the original Damien would remain when survival was secured.
Elara's face flashed in his mind again – her shy smile, her brave determination, her choosing to trust despite doubts.
His anchor. His reminder of why corruption had limits worth maintaining.
He'd hold onto that for as long as he could.
Because he was slightly terrified at what he'd become without it.