Royal Bastard's Bloodstained Regression-Chapter 98: The First Promise

Warmth.

It was the first thing Daemon felt.

Soft. Calm. Like resting on a pillow after a lifetime of war. His body, for once, didn't feel like it was on the brink of collapse.

It's been a long time... since I slept like this.

Then, the dream came.

He was twenty-six again, still a knight of Veryndor. Not yet a fugitive. Not yet a monster. His hair fell over tired eyes, dark circles beneath them, his crimson gaze dulled with guilt and exhaustion. He looked broken. Not angry—just empty.

Behind him, a shadow loomed.

A figure stepped forward.

Himself.

No—not him.

Golden hair. A pristine smile. Eyes like blades.

Gabriel.

His twin. The Hero. The betrayer.

He raised an axe in silence.

Daemon's eyes widened just before it came down.

SHINK.

Daemon gasped and snapped awake.

The moonlight danced on waves, The ocean breeze hit his face. He was lying on something soft warm, steady, breathing.

He blinked, turned his head slightly—

His cheek was resting on Nyxtriel's lap.

She sat with her legs tucked under her, back straight, fingers tangled loosely in his hair. Her white hair shimmered in the moon, and her crimson eyes normally sharp were red-rimmed and gentle.

Daemon sat up slowly, dazed.

"...Nyxtriel?"

She jolted slightly, then looked down at him.

"My lord..." Her voice cracked.

He managed a weak smile. "Hello, Nyxtriel."

She bit her lip—and the moment broke.

Tears welled up in her eyes, and without warning, they fell.

Daemon stared.

He'd never seen her like this.

There was no armor, no command, no cold precision. Just a woman, crying in silence, her expression full of everything he didn't know how to name.

And she was beautiful.

Not the kind of beauty born from magic or bloodlines—but the kind that felt real. The kind that made something stir in his chest he hadn't felt in years.

He didn't know what to say.

And then—

She leaned forward.

Just slightly. Close enough to feel her breath.

Daemon's heart jolted.

He instinctively rolled backward and shot to his feet in one smooth motion.

Nyxtriel blinked, stunned.

Then her expression shifted.

Anger.

Not hatred.

Hurt.

She stood up, slowly, fists trembling. "You idiot..."

He raised an eyebrow.

SLAP.

He dodged.

"Nyxtriel?"

She lunged.

Not with blades or killing intent but with fire in her voice and frustration in her fists.

"You reckless, stubborn, suicidal IDIOT!"

She swung again, and again. Daemon sidestepped each strike quick, effortless.

And he realized something.

I'm faster. Stronger.

The second fragment... it had changed him.

But even more surprising Nyxtriel was crying while hitting him.

"You keep putting yourself on the line! You throw yourself into death without even thinking!" she shouted, voice cracking. "You think I don't care?!"

Daemon caught her wrist gently.

Nyxtriel trembled, her breath uneven. She raised her second hand and lightly struck Daemon's chest—not in anger, but from the ache she couldn't put into words. Her fist lingered there as she slowly leaned in, resting her forehead against him.

Then her voice cracked.

"You fool..."

Daemon stood still.

She was crying—against him.

Her head rested against his chest, her fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt as if grounding herself. It was the first time he'd ever seen her this human. For two years, she had been flawless, composed, cold. A weapon. A shadow. A soul-bonded companion.

But now she was something else.

And it shook him.

"I'm sorry, Nyxtriel," he whispered. "But you have to understand... I need my power back. I need to be ready."

She looked up at him, her eyes red, lips trembling. "But you can't keep throwing yourself into death to get it. You can't leave me—"

She cut herself off.

Daemon stared down at her.

He reached up and gently wiped away her tears with the back of his hand, slower than necessary. Her skin was soft. Warmer than he expected. Fragile in a way that made his chest feel heavier.

He wanted to ask her something.

Do you still see me as Seraphiel? Or... do you see me as me?

But the words didn't come. Because he didn't understand what this was this thing twisting inside his chest.

Daemon Dominick had never been good with emotions. Never been popular with women. And love? It betrayed him once through Gabriel, through the kingdom, through the ones he trusted most. To open that door again now?

It scared him more than any battlefield.

"My lord... Daemon?" she whispered.

He hadn't realized he was silent for so long.

Daemon exhaled and gently pulled her into his arms.

"I'll keep it in mind," he murmured. "I'll take better care of myself."

Nyxtriel looked up at him, startled by the closeness.

Their eyes locked.

And then she leaned in.

Her crimson eyes fluttered shut. Her face drew nearer, lips barely a breath away.

Daemon's heart thudded.

No way... is she—expecting a kiss?

He gave a faint, crooked smile—and lightly bumped her forehead with his own.

Thunk.

"Ow!" She pulled back, rubbing her head. "What was that for?!"

"How innocent," he muttered, smirking.

Nyxtriel turned red and crossed her arms, flustered.

Daemon stepped back, the softness fading from his face.

"This spring," he said, "will be my birthday. I'll be eighteen. So will Gabriel."

Her eyes narrowed.

"The coronation?"

He nodded. "The same day my father dies."

Nyxtriel froze.

Daemon looked toward the horizon, his voice low and cold.

"I said before he died two months after the coronation. That's true—in the past. But this time... I'll be the one to end him. I'll kill my father. My mother. Queen Bianca. And I'll raze Veryndor from within—without anyone realizing it until it's too late."

Then he looked at her again, something like amusement dancing in his crimson eyes.

"So... save that kiss for my birthday, Nyxtriel. On the night I murder my family. That'll be my gift."

Her face flushed crimson.

"K-Kiss?! I-I don't know what you're talking about!"

She spun away from him, arms crossed—but her voice softened as she sighed.

"...But I'll follow you anywhere, my lord."

She looked over her shoulder, eyes locked with his.

"I'll gladly do it with you."