Lazarak's words brought Damon's actions to a halt.

Honestly, Damon had never really had it in him to give children a special place in his heart just because they were children.

If anything, he had grown up with the cruel ideology of the streets of Valerion.

To him there wasn't much of a difference. He wasn't being cruel to them, but he also wouldn't allow them to lie to him.

In the end, Damon realized that in a way he was becoming exactly what had shaped him.

The thought made him pause.

He released his grip and let the boy fall to the ground. Lyn hit the dirt hard, immediately clutching his throat as he began to cough violently, his breaths sharp and uneven.

His sister rushed to him, kneeling at his side and gripping his shoulders tightly. Her eyes never left Damon's dark silhouette, deep apprehension etched into her face.

Lazarak smiled at them, stepping forward slightly.

"Sorry about my friend," he said lightly. "He has some issues. Don't worry, he's working on them. And when you get to know him, he's actually a good guy. Trust me."

They didn't respond at first.

Lazarak crouched down, his small form lowering to their level. His expression softened further.

"It's okay," he said gently, placing a hand on each of their heads. His voice carried a strange warmth, one that felt ancient and sincere. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to."

The two children relaxed slightly under Lazarak's gentle touch. After a moment, the girl bit her lip.

Her gaze flicked cautiously toward Damon before she spoke.

"…We got separated from our father when we came to this world. We heard rumors that he was one of the more dangerous prisoners and was sent to the imaginary prison. So we wanted to rescue him."

Damon glanced at Lazarak with a frown. Lazarak returned the look briefly, then turned his attention back to the children.

"Oh," he said slowly. "I see. What's your father's name."

"Ilyth," the girl answered almost eagerly, as if clinging to hope. "Our father's name is Ilyth."

Lazarak wasn't familiar with the name.

However—

Damon placed a hand on his chin. Yes. He had heard that name. Or rather, he had found the man. Or what was left of him.

"Ilyth Nova," Damon muttered.

The moment the name left his mouth, Lyn's eyes lit up.

"Yes. That's him," he said urgently. "Have you seen him? Please tell us."

Damon frowned. He had seen that name in the records of the sins of a man in the Trial of Sin.

"Ilyth the Insightful."

When Damon spoke those words, Lazarak froze.

He knew that pattern of naming. He knew exactly what it meant.

It meant their father was gone. Reduced to a book made of human flesh, condemned to suffer forever.

"His sins are many," Damon continued evenly. "He was known to have propagated dangerous magic and ideology, leading to the deaths of many, among other sins."

"That's not true," Lyn shouted suddenly, his voice shaking with anger.

"Our father was a scholar. He taught people magic. He shared his knowledge freely. He didn't hoard it like the lesser gods. He believed the future should be shaped by the will of men, by our own reasoning and power."

Sithara bit her lip, standing close to her brother.

"Our father wanted to change this world and banish ignorance," she said quietly. "He wanted to create a place where anyone could learn. A place for all those who wanted to make the world a little better."

Damon's expression remained calm and unreadable, but something stirred faintly in his chest.

Those words came from children who still believed in their father with absolute faith.

He hesitated.

Lazarak smiled at them.

"Your father sounds like an amazing man," he said softly. "I would have loved to meet him."

Sithara nodded, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes.

"He is," she whispered.

She bowed deeply toward Damon.

"Please. Take us to him."

Her brother bowed as well, desperation written clearly across his face.

Damon exhaled slowly.

Even he felt this was too cruel.

Seeing the two siblings like this almost reminded him of his own childhood. Of his sister.

Luna.

He missed her.

That said, Damon couldn't help them the way they wanted.

"I can't do that," he replied quietly.

At his words, the two sank lower to the ground.

But Damon didn't change his mind.

Lyn stood up, fists clenched.

"If you won't help us, then we'll go there ourselves and find him."

Damon shook his head.

"You'd never make it to Eidolon alive. And even if, by some miracle, you did… you wouldn't find your father there."

He bit his lip.

He hated this.

He had taken some books from the Trial of Sin. Some that looked interesting. He hadn't finished reading them.

One of them was titled Ilyth the Insightful.

That book was their father's tortured form.

The two stared at him.

"We still have to try," Lyn said stubbornly. "We already planned and calculated every outcome. We have magic tools. We gathered mana cores."

Lazarak had already figured it out but hesitated, unsure whether he should step between Damon and the children.

Damon shook his head again.

"The first and most important part of any plan is accepting that it can fail. Horribly," he said calmly. "You will not survive. That is a fact. However, fate has other plans. And while this may be painful, you have the right to know."

He reached into his shadow storage.

Before the children could speak, he pulled out a book made of human flesh.

A small, broken gasp escaped from it.

"In Eidolon's third level, there is a place called the Trial of Sin," Damon said evenly. "This is a record of your father's life and his sins. But more than that… this is all that remains of his tortured form."

The siblings froze, their faces stiff and pale.

Damon handed it to them anyway. There was no point dragging this out or giving them false hope. He wanted to believe they could handle it.

Lyn's hands shook too much to take it.

Sithara reached out instead.

The title was written in blood. Her father's blood.

Ilyth the Insightful.

The faint gasping came from within the pages.

She touched the book. The flesh and skin felt familiar. Even the scent was the same.

"Father…" she whispered.

She raised her head slowly to look at Damon.

"May… may we read it."

Damon nodded.

"It's yours," he said quietly. "Do as you please with it."

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