Royal Bastard's Bloodstained Regression

Daemon glared at Nyxtriel, fury in his eyes.

"Why did you stop me?"

"I apologize, my lord," she said quickly, bowing her head. "I just... didn't want them to punish you for killing him."

Before he could respond, a sharp voice cut through the tension.

"What the hell's going on here?! Who caused that explosion?!"

Captain Timothy stormed in, his boots echoing through the ruined cafeteria. His eyes scanned the destruction, the crumpled wall, the stunned prisoners. He stopped when he saw Daemon.

No one dared point. No one even moved.

Nyxtriel's heart sank. It was too late. They'd seen too much. They would punish her lord.

Then, a voice spoke up from the crowd.

"It was me."

A red-haired man stepped forward, flashing a grin full of sharp, shark-like teeth. A black mark ran across one eye, and a familiar energy hung around him.

Daemon's eyes narrowed.

Him.

The guy from Velmira. On the boat. The one who locked eyes with him like he was testing him.

Daemon had forgotten he was in the prison too. Until now.

The man's nametag glinted: 444.

"We both did it, right... Prisoner 234?" 444 said, throwing a lazy smile Daemon's way.

Daemon didn't answer. He didn't even look at him.

"See?" 444 said with a laugh. "He doesn't deny it. That bastard was annoying us anyway."

Captain Timothy's gaze snapped between them—Daemon, silent and unreadable, and 444, all teeth and arrogance.

The room held its breath.

"It's been two damn days," Captain Timothy growled, "and you bastards are already causing trouble. Fine. You'll both be locked in isolation for the rest of the day. No contact. No food. Not even a shadow of another soul."

"Sir! Prisoner 435 is dead!" a soldier shouted.

Silence.

All eyes turned to Daemon,expressionless, cold, unmoved.

"Tsk. That fool deserved it," Timothy spat. "Stubborn bastard never knew when to back down. As for punishment... you two will be sent to the mines. No food. No sleep. One full week."

He pointed toward a distant path.

"And not just any mine,that place."

Gasps rippled through the soldiers.

Daemon didn't react, but the look Captain Timothy gave him was ice-sharp. The kind that promised this was personal.

444 just grinned as the guards dragged them out of the cafeteria.

They were shoved toward the work zone, where other prisoners resumed chipping away at veins of glowing mana stone deep beneath the prison grounds.

"Poor bastards," one muttered.

"I heard that place breaks people."

"If they die, not our problem."

Daemon eyed the terrain. Whatever "that place" was, it wasn't good.

444 suddenly slung an arm around Daemon's shoulders and leaned in, gripping his neck loosely.

"You're not supposed to be a prisoner, are you?"

Daemon's eyes narrowed. "So you noticed. Not surprising. What do you want?"

"I've been watching you," 444 said, voice low and amused. "That punch back there was brutal. If your companion hadn't stopped it, 435 would've been turned into red mist. Still, that shockwave sent him flying. Good enough. He died like a weakling."

Daemon glanced at him. "Are you analyzing the fight? Or just wasting my time?"

"Neither. I'm just... interested in you."

"Sorry, old man. I'm not into guys."

444 blinked, then laughed. "Hey! I'm not talking about that! And I'm not an old man—I'm sixteen."

Daemon paused, giving him a once-over. "You're taller than me. Broader too. You look thirty."

"I just turned sixteen!" 444 said, indignant.

"Then show some respect. I'm two years older."

444 rolled his eyes. "Great. I'm stuck mining death-rocks with a guy who looks twenty but talks like my dad."

Daemon didn't reply.

The silence lingered until the redhead broke it again.

"By the way, I'm Varian. And you?"

"Daemon."

"Cool name. Fits the attitude."

Before the banter could continue, a soldier barked, "Enough talking. This is the place!"

The guards shoved them forward.

Daemon and Varian stepped into the clearing—and froze.

A massive cave entrance yawned ahead of them like the mouth of a beast. Two griffins—majestic but scarred—stood guard on either side, chained with thick manasteel collars, their glowing eyes locked on the intruders.

"Damn," Varian muttered, arms crossed. "I can feel the pressure coming off that place. This ain't just a cave."

Daemon nodded silently. Despite Varian's laid-back tone and brute appearance, he was no idiot. Daemon could sense it—Varian had control over his aura. He was a 7-Star Eclipse user, just one realm below Daemon himself. For someone who claimed to be sixteen, that kind of growth was unnatural. Either he was a prodigy—or something far more dangerous.

But this cave... this wasn't just a punishment zone. It was a dungeon.

Daemon had seen places like this before. Natural rifts in the world, where ancient ley lines had fractured, leaking raw mana into the earth. Over time, the energy condensed, forming mana stones—crystals of pure magical essence. But the more energy a rift bled, the more twisted and hostile the creatures inside became. Dungeons weren't just places to mine. They were living ecosystems, and they didn't like to be disturbed.

Inside the cave, the air was thick and cold. The walls pulsed with veins of glowing blue mana. Flickers of movement danced in the shadows—too fast to track, too quiet to confirm.

Daemon's hand hovered briefly near his side before he remembered—he didn't have a weapon anymore.

"Let's get this over with," he muttered, stepping forward.

A low growl rumbled from the darkness.

Daemon stopped.

Dozens of faint eyes glowed in the shadows, watching.

Behind him, Varian laughed. "Looks like you're not great with animals."

Daemon shot him a glare and turned back to the wall. With nothing else to do, he grabbed the pickaxe from the supply rack and began mining. The metallic clinks echoed through the chamber.

Varian followed, casually swinging his own pickaxe over his shoulder.

Outside, the soldiers stood at attention, watching the entrance like it might eat them alive.

Inside, the cave pulsed—slow and steady—like it was breathing.

As Daemon struck the stone, a chunk of glowing mana crystal cracked loose and hit the ground. The energy within it flickered, alive and unstable.

He picked it up, his fingers tingling from the raw magic.

"These aren't normal stones," he muttered.

"What was that?" Varian asked from a few feet away.

Daemon didn't answer.

Because deep in the cave, something was moving.

And it wasn't friendly.

"Don't you think it's weird?" Varian asked, eyeing the glowing crystal in his hand. "Mana stones are supposed to be blue. Why are these green? And look—" he pointed deeper into the tunnel—"the further we go, the greener it gets."

Daemon glanced ahead. He was right. The walls were changing color. The blue veins were fading, replaced by an eerie green glow, pulsing softly like something alive under the surface.

"Yeah... it's not normal," Daemon muttered.

Before they could say more, a voice snapped from behind.

"Quit slacking, pretty boy. And don't go any deeper unless you're looking to die."

One of the soldiers stepped in front of Daemon, sneering. "You've been getting too cocky ever since you took down 435. Think you're untouchable?"

Daemon sighed. Of course. Peace never lasted in a place like this. There was always someone looking to test him.

The soldier leaned in and tapped Daemon's forehead—once, twice, three times.

"You got nothing to say, huh?" he jeered.

Daemon didn't move. Didn't even blink.

The soldier scoffed and turned to walk away, spitting at the ground. "Try me again and see what happens."

Varian chuckled, crossing his arms. "Man, you've got serious restraint. If that was me, I would've—"

Crack.

Varian froze mid-sentence.

He looked up.

Daemon was no longer beside him.

He was standing behind the soldier.

Thud.

The soldier's body hit the ground with a heavy slap, his neck twisted at an unnatural angle.

Varian's eyes went wide. "No way. You actually killed him."

Daemon didn't answer.

"We need to dump the body—fast—before the other guards show up."

"On it," Varian said, already grabbing the corpse. He flexed, channeling aura into his arms, and launched the soldier's body deep into the dungeon tunnel. It vanished into the darkness.

"There we go." He dusted off his hands and turned to Daemon. "That place is pitch black. Doubt anyone will find him unless they're suicidal."

The eerie green glow pulsed again, stronger this time—like something had just woken up.

Varian glanced into the dark, then back at Daemon.

"So... uh. What are the chances that doesn't come back to bite us?"

Daemon didn't reply.

Because something in that cave had just growled back.