Three days felt like three years.
Damien had returned from the battle to the Valcrest estate and promptly isolated himself in his quarters. Not out of injury or exhaustion – the demonic regeneration had handled the minor wounds he'd sustained.
It was the corruption.
7.1% didn't sound like much. A small number. Barely noticeable on paper.
But he could feel it in every thought, every automatic assessment, every interaction where people registered as resources first and humans second.
The soldiers who'd fought beside him? Tactical assets with acceptable casualty rates.
The merchants seeking estate business? Revenue sources to be optimized.
His father's staff? Functional tools requiring maintenance.
Even Cornelius, during their brief meeting to debrief the battle, had registered primarily as political ally rather than parent.
Everything and everyone reduced to utility and strategic value.
Except Elara.
She remained vivid. Real. Important beyond any calculation.
