Chapter 39 Plans to Learn Politics
(Al’Morthal’s hideout)
In a dimly lit room, dark and red tendrils circled a boy. Beads of sweat formed on his skin, his body absorbing the mana that was being transferred into him. His eyes snapped open, his irises glowed red.
After he had finished absorbing the mana, he stood up, walking towards the two people he had known as his only family since birth.
"Aunty Phoebe, Uncle Rock. I did good, didn’t I?" a smirk formed on his lips.
A sinister smile formed on Phoebe’s lips. "You did exceptionally well. You are really living up to your name as the demon’s reincarnate." She patted his black hair.
"When will I go on my first mission?" he tilted his head.
"Soon," Rock answered. "Now go practice your spells."
Daemien nodded his head before walking out of the room, heading to the spell room.
After he had gone out of sight. Phoebe turned to Rock, a worried frown forming on her face. "Isn’t he strange? It feels like there is something off about him... of course, he is exceptional, he could handle magic that would kill kids his age. But why hasn’t his hair turned snow white yet?"
Rock’s jaws clenched. "Maybe he has to get to a certain age first, or maybe his powers have to grow to a certain stage. I believe he is the demon child. He is too exceptional not to be, but look at the brighter side... we are the only ones who knew the demon child was not born with snow-white hair... so it was easier for us to deceive the mages that they had killed the right child." he paused.
"Daemien can go out freely with no one suspecting that he is the demon child. That is to our advantage," he added with a small smile.