Damien did not look back at the village as he made his way toward his actual destination.
He never did.
Once the smoke of cooking fires faded into the distance and the plains stretched empty before him again, the world returned to what it had always been—wide, hostile, and indifferent.
The villagers would live. That was enough. Heroes would've stayed. Travelers would've moved on.
He was the latter in a sense but he was so an adventurer who couldn't afford to be tied down to this village. Not even Delwig could keep him tied after all.
Damien was very much still traveling and he intended to keep it that way until the very end. The end where he put a perms stop to the existence of demons.
Fenrir strolled beside him as it always loved to, steady and silent, white fur marked with faint stains that had not yet faded.
