Temple of the Demon Lord of Wishes

"I bumped into him twice before without even looking..."

Ivaim muttered, his voice low against the crackling of the campfire.

He tossed a twig into the flames, watching sparks flicker and die.

"Now I can't even find a trace of him?"

The night was still, save for the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant chirp of crickets.

The emptiness pressed on him — a sharp contrast to the bustling towns he'd scoured over the past month and a half.

'Shouldn't he be representing some region since he's competing in the Coliseum of Chosens?'

Ivaim grumbled under his breath. He rubbed the back of his neck in frustration.

'Where the hell is that guy...'

The realization hit him like a spark from the fire. His hand froze mid-motion.

'Hm...'

He hummed, narrowing his eyes at the dancing flames.

'Perhaps I'm overthinking too much, maybe he's back to where I previously found him?'

He had only one thought left.

Grandma Neli.

Darian's grandmother was one of the few anchors in his unpredictable life.

If Darian had gone anywhere after disappearing, it would be back to Fendral — to her.

Ivaim exhaled slowly, feeling both relief and renewed purpose.

'There's still about two weeks before we head to the Coliseum.'

He mused aloud.

'Plenty of time to make the trip back to Fendral.'

The idea was solid, and his gut told him it was the right move.

With a decisive nod, Ivaim stood, dusting off his travel-worn coat.

"Guess it's time to pay Grandma Neli a visit."

The words hung in the cool night air, laced with determination as he doused the fire and prepared to set out at first light.

...

Ivaim's journey back to Fendral was long but steady.

The roads were quiet, and his thoughts were consumed by the idea of finding Darian.

His mind wandered as he passed through towns, stopping only briefly at the local markets.

He needed food, money, and perhaps a little luck.

Strolling through the stalls, Ivaim noticed a few familiar faces, but none he cared to interact with.

His eyes scanned the various trinkets and wares—everything from worn-out clothes to fresh produce.

A small grin tugged at the corner of his mouth.

He might not have been wealthy, but he knew how to play the odds.

Ivaim found a small game set up near a corner, a few men betting coins on dice rolls.

He stood for a moment, considering the risks before stepping forward. H

is fingers brushed his coin pouch as he activated his [Coin of Fortune].

A sense of warmth spread through him, the familiar sensation of luck on his side.

He exchanged a few coins, placed his bets, and before long, the winnings began to pile up.

"Another round?"

One of the men called, but Ivaim shook his head.

"That's enough for today."

He said, pocketing the coins with a casual ease.

He didn't need too much.

With the extra coin, he bought some bread and cheese, enough for a decent meal.

As the sun began to set, he found a quiet spot to sit, enjoying his simple dinner. Discover more stories at My Virtual Library Empire

The bread was crusty, and the cheese sharp—it wasn't much, but it tasted like luxury after the journey.

Just as he took a bite, his gaze wandered across the square.

And there, standing near a small group of homeless people, was Darian.

His posture was tight, like a bowstring pulled too taut, but his movements were deliberate, almost gentle.

His droopy eyes, shadowed by a heavy brow, gave him a look of tiredness, of indifference, but there was something else in his expression—a softness he hadn't seen before.

Darian was handing out bread, his smile kind and genuine as he offered a piece to an elderly woman.

The smile didn't match the usual disinterested look he wore, and for a moment, Ivaim wondered if he was seeing things.

The contrast between Darian's hardened exterior and the warmth he showed to the homeless people was striking.

It was like seeing the layers peel away from the person Ivaim thought he knew.

Ivaim stood slowly, his hand resting on the table as he observed from a distance.

"Found you..."

He muttered to himself before making his way toward Darian.

He kept his footsteps quiet, careful not to draw attention as he closed the gap.

There was no rush.

When he was close enough, he stopped, unsure if Darian would even recognize him.

It had been a while since they last met, and they hadn't exactly parted on the best terms.

He waited for Darian to finish handing out the bread, then cleared his throat quietly.

"Darian..."

The sound of his name seemed to pull Darian out of his quiet focus.

His head turned slowly, and when his eyes met Ivaim's, a slight furrow appeared in his brow.

"Ivaim."

Darian said flatly, his voice still heavy with the same disinterest, but there was a glimmer of recognition.

"Didn't expect to see you here."

Ivaim smirked, leaning against a nearby post.

"Funny. I could say the same about you."

'Seriously, how come I find you at moments where I'm barely even trying to look...'

He quietly thought.

Darian's lips quirked slightly, the hint of a smile flashing before he turned his attention back to the small group of people he'd helped.

They were still lingering around the square, each person holding a piece of bread, their expressions a mix of gratitude and quiet relief.

Ivaim watched him for a moment, then broke the silence.

"Feeding bread to the homeless, huh?"

Ivaim said with a slight grin.

"You and your mother are quite alike."

Darian didn't respond at first.

He handed out the last few pieces of bread, his movements slow and deliberate.

The beggars took them with murmurs of thanks before turning to leave, their faces brightening as they walked away.

But Darian, once again, didn't seem to notice.

Ivaim wasn't bothered by the lack of response.

He had never expected Darian to engage right away.

Instead, he continued, his tone more reflective now.

"You know, I was homeless once."

Ivaim said in a softer and somewhat more empathetic tone.

"It was your mother who gave me bread... took me in."

He paused, watching Darian's stoic face, but there was no sign of a reaction.

"She's quite kind."

Ivaim added, his words carrying a weight of appreciation that hadn't been there before.

Darian stopped moving, his hand frozen mid-air as he prepared to hand the last piece of bread to an old man.

The words hung between them for a moment, and for a brief second, Ivaim could see something flicker in Darian's eyes.

But then it was gone, replaced by the same indifference.

Darian let the last piece of bread fall into the old man's hands before turning slowly to face Ivaim.

"You know nothing about my mother..."