Royal Bastard's Bloodstained Regression-Chapter 102: Justice Is a Knife

They walked together through the back alleys of Velmira, moving past cracked stone walls, crooked signs, and the smell of salt and smoke.

For once, William didn't feel like he was running.

He was following.

After about ten minutes of weaving through back alleys and slipping past guards, the group finally reached a quiet part of Velmira—where the noise of the city faded behind weathered stone and crooked fences.

Ben led them to a small wooden house tucked behind a patch of wild garden. The roof sagged slightly. The windows were dusty. But the door was sturdy, and the place had the rare feel of home.

Daemon looked it over with a curious eye. "You live here alone?"

Ben shook his head. "No. My wife still runs this place. And my son's been here lately too."

"Your son?" Daemon asked.

Ben's smile faded. "Yeah... he's not doing well."

He stepped up to the door, hand lingering on the knob before continuing.

"He used to work as an advisor—some tiny kingdom about two or three hours east of here. Good head on his shoulders. Smart. Sharp. But... two years ago, something changed."

Daemon's eyes narrowed. "What happened?"

"He came home one night with just a satchel of clothes. No warning. Collapsed at the doorstep like he'd seen hell itself. After that... it was like something snapped. He barely speaks. Won't even eat unless my wife begs him."

Ben let out a tired sigh.

"I'd already left the pirate life. Tried to go straight. But we ran out of money, and I needed coin to keep him cared for. So... I picked up a blade again. Didn't last long. That's how I ended up mining in Kama-Shima."

Daemon stopped in his tracks.

A kingdom not far from here... an advisor... two years ago...

He clenched his fist.

No. It can't be.

"Does your son's name happen to be Robert?" he asked slowly.

Ben blinked in surprise. "Yeah. You know him?"

Daemon's mind raced.

Aurelia... I killed every noble. Every advisor. Every strategist. Burned the archives. Dismantled the court.

But one... survived?

"I've met him," Daemon said flatly. "A long time ago."

Ben didn't catch the weight in his voice. "He's not in good shape, but my wife's been keeping him stable. Don't expect conversation though."

Just then, the front door creaked open.

A woman stepped through, setting down a heavy sack of vegetables and herbs. Her back was slightly hunched, her hair streaked with gray, but her eyes lit up the moment she saw Ben.

"I'm home," she said with a warm voice.

Ben smiled and stepped forward—then she gasped and dropped everything as she rushed to hug him.

"You idiot! You had me worried sick!" she said, smacking his shoulder through the hug. "And you brought strangers too?"

Ben chuckled. "It's a long story. I'll explain everything. They're good people."

"Then let me introduce them to you," Ben said with a proud grin. "This here's Daemon, the loud one is Varian, and the small kid's William."

Marian gave them a warm smile. "Nice to meet you all. I'm Marian—Ben's wife and, according to him, the real captain of this house."

Daemon nodded politely, but his eyes shifted past her.

Nyxtriel had arrived.

She stood quietly near the edge of the yard, both Albert and Daniel slung unconscious over her shoulders like sacks of rice. Her gaze was cold, but calm.

Daemon turned to Marian. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Marian. But if you don't mind... could I borrow something?"

"Oh?" Marian blinked, curious. "What kind of something?"

Before Daemon could answer, Varian leaned in, whispering with a raised brow, "Wait... you're not seriously about to kill her and old man Ben, right?"

Daemon shot him a glare. "No. What do you take me for?"

Varian shrugged. "Just checking."

Marian chuckled, apparently unfazed. "Ahh, you want a blade, don't you? Are you chopping or carving? Small or big?"

"Big," Daemon replied simply.

Ben exchanged a concerned look with Marian, who gave a quiet hum and headed into the kitchen. A moment later, she returned with a long, well-maintained kitchen cleaver wrapped in cloth.

"Here. Be careful—it's got more bite than it looks."

Daemon took it carefully. "Thank you."

Then he turned to William. "Come with me."

Varian stayed behind, watching him leave with furrowed brows. "This better not get weird."

Ben crossed his arms. "That boy's got a storm behind his eyes. Whatever he's planning... it's not random."

Outside, just beyond the reach of the house, Nyxtriel stood like a statue, the two unconscious boys laid neatly on the grass in front of her.

Their chests rose and fell—they were alive. Bruised. Silent.

William's steps faltered.

"Is that... them?" His voice cracked. His hands began to tremble as he stared at Albert and Daniel—the two people who had beaten and starved him for years, only to treat him like property when he came crawling back.

Daemon didn't answer right away.

William's voice grew smaller. "What happened to them?"

Daemon stepped forward and simply said:

"Nothing. Not yet."

He held the cleaver loosely in one hand.

Then he looked at William.

"Come."

The walk into the woods was quiet.

Too quiet.

William followed behind Daemon and Nyxtriel, eyes darting between the trees, to the cleaver in Daemon's hand, and back to the two unconscious boys slumped on Nyxtriel's shoulders.

Are they going to kill them?

Bury them? Throw them into a pit?

No one said a word.

And that silence was the scariest part.

When they were deep enough into the forest, Daemon stopped.

"This is far enough," he said. "Tie them."

Nyxtriel stepped forward and silently pulled a length of rope from her belt. With brutal efficiency, she tied Albert and Daniel to the base of two separate trees—tight, immovable.

She stood back. "Done."

Daemon walked over.

SLAP.

Albert's head snapped sideways as he jolted awake, coughing.

SLAP.

Daniel woke next, disoriented.

"What the hell—?" he groaned. "Where are we?!"

Albert blinked at the trees, the ropes, and then—

His eyes locked on Daemon. Then William.

His expression twisted with disgust. "No way. This little bitch ratted us out? You cried to them, didn't you?"

William flinched.

His hands started shaking.

"Say something, you worthless piece of trash!" Albert spat. "You snitched on us to these freaks?!"

"I-I didn't mean—"

"Shut up! You little—"

Daemon stepped forward.

His face was calm, but his eyes were pitch black and burning.

"Look at them, William," he said, his voice low. "These two bastards beat you. Starved you. Used you. Then laughed when you crawled back."

William's eyes widened, lips parting. He trembled, but didn't speak.

Daemon's voice sharpened. "You said you wanted to be like me. You said you'd follow me. But right now?"

He stepped closer.

"You're still being a coward."

"Who the hell does this albino freak think he is?!" Daniel shouted. "Untie me and I'll rip your face off—!"

Daemon ignored him.

He turned to William.

"What do you want me to do?" William whispered, voice cracking.

Daemon took a step back, turned the cleaver in his hand, and placed it softly into William's palm.

Then he pointed.

"Kill them."