The Assassin's Seven Principles of Manipulation

Chapter 347: Chapter 342 — Why

As the darkness faded, Zephyrion found himself standing near the edge of a familiar cliff, the same place where he’d first met Demorian.

The only difference was that the ancestor was now standing before him with a grin stretched so wide across his face that he looked like an excited child struggling to keep a secret.

”Protege, prepare yourself. What you’re about to see might be too much for your little heart.”

Zephyrion frowned. ”Stop wasting time and show me.”

”Brood all you want, but you are not ruining this moment for me! Do you have any idea how long I’ve been waiting to see that frozen face of yours crack?” Demorian scoffed before gesturing grandly behind himself. ”Besides, I said I’d show you, didn’t I? Well? Go and fucking look!”

Zephyrion followed his gesture towards the space beyond the cliff. For a moment, he hesitated, running through the possibilities in his mind, but after quickly realizing there was no point trying to predict whatever madness Demorian had prepared, he finally walked forward to see for himself.

Even as Zephyrion walked towards the edge, Demorian maintained that ridiculous grin. Then he reached the cliff, looked down, and... froze.

A gigantic silver serpent lay curled below like massive spiraling cords, his body larger than most mountains Zephyrion had ever seen. Long white whiskers flowed from his jaws, swaying gently with each faint breath, while two curved metallic horns jutted from his head like jagged crowns.

His scales were far dimmer than Zephyrion remembered, with deep cracks running across them in several places, and despite their proximity, his eyes remained firmly shut as he slumbered, his breathing slow and frighteningly weak.

Zephyrion’s eyes gradually widened.

”Ferravry...”

”Haha! There it is!” Demorian puffed out his chest proudly, his grin widening until his teeth practically gleamed. ”That face alone made the entire year worth it. Now say it, protege. Who’s the greatest ancestor to ever live?”

’So I was right.’

Considering the rod’s sudden need for calamity metal, Zephyrion had already suspected that Ferravry was somehow involved, but he’d expected a message, a remnant of consciousness, or something along those lines. He’d never imagined that the entire Metal Calamity had somehow ended up inside the rod.

After taking a moment to process the sight, Zephyrion finally turned towards Demorian.

”...how is he alive?

The attack had been so devastating that it had blown both him and Seris, a Herald of the Whitesteel Guard, away despite them being kilometers from the impact. Even worse, the attack had come directly from Frost himself.

How could Ferravry possibly have survived it?

Demorian’s proud expression immediately crumpled, and he began grumbling under his breath about how Zephyrion never knew how to appreciate anything. Zephyrion patiently waited for the ancestor to finish his nonsense, and eventually, Demorian sighed.

”You know, a simple ’thank you, great ancestor, you’re amazing’ would’ve been nice. But fine. Honestly, I don’t completely understand it myself. After the blast, once we got close enough, I suddenly felt this strange but familiar connection trying to enter the rod. The moment I realized it was Ferravry, I let him in. Crazy bastard somehow gathered what little consciousness he had left into runes and sent them over.”

The amusement gradually disappeared from Demorian’s face, his expression turning grim.

”He was fucked, protege. Completely fucked. Barely hanging on, and I doubt he would’ve lasted another second. So I started feeding him the rod’s energy, and that’s basically where I’ve been for the past year, keeping this giant bastard alive.”

Demorian glanced towards the enormous serpent below.

”Fortunately, he found something much tastier to eat, so I’m finally free.”

That something was clearly the calamity metal he’d taken from Arcturus. It made sense that Ferravry would respond to calamity metal better than almost anything else.

Still, it was the implications of Ferravry’s presence that truly occupied Zephyrion’s mind.

What did this mean? Had he suddenly gained another ally? Demorian certainly seemed to think so, but things were never that simple. Especially when...

’He knows...’

During his first and only meeting with Ferravry, the beast had seen the Mark of Frost within his mindscape. Zephyrion would be lucky if Ferravry didn’t attack him the moment he woke up.

Then, an even darker thought entered his mind.

’Shit... he can tell Demorian.’

The ancestor still knew nothing about his Mark of Frost. Zephyrion could still remember the intense hatred he’d seen in Demorian’s eyes whenever he spoke about Frost, and those certainly hadn’t been the eyes of someone capable of thinking rationally on the matter.

Back when Zephyrion had been planning to meet Ferravry, he’d intended to leverage his bond with Demorian to ensure the beast cooperated, but that was when he expected to have control over the situation and could make sure nothing slipped.

Now, Ferravry was literally inside the same rod, sharing the same space as Demorian.

If Ferravry revealed the existence of his mark... there was simply no telling what would happen.

”...Protege...”

’What do I do?’

Telling Demorian the truth seemed like the safest option, but after everything that had just happened with Ingrid, Zephyrion wasn’t nearly as certain about the virtues of honesty anymore.

”Protege!”

Zephyrion snapped out of his thoughts and turned towards Demorian, only to find the ancestor staring at him with narrowed eyes.

’Shit. Did he hear that?’

He quickly checked his thoughts before quietly breathing a sigh of relief.

’No. I buried it.’

A moment later, he cleared his throat. ”...what?”

”What? What do you mean, what?” Demorian threw his hands out in disbelief. ”I reveal a fucking Calamity to you and you immediately disappear into that ridiculous head of yours! Not even a gasp. Not even a ’wow.’ You haven’t praised me once!”

”...I’m standing right here.”

”Your body is standing here. You fucked off somewhere else entirely.” Demorian narrowed his eyes suspiciously. ”I’ve known you long enough to recognize that face, protege. That’s your ’I’m thinking about seventeen things and probably plotting someone’s death’ face. So, what is it? What’s going on in there?”