The Rise of the God of Death
Chapter 37: A Hero, A Master and A Lover
After some rest in Artha's house, she sat with everyone, her eyes filled with memories as she began telling the story of how Daimon once saved her life—the very first time they met.
It was six hundred years before the war.
Daimon was in the Divine Sect on a quest given to him by none other than his master, the Supreme Being. That's when he stumbled upon a carriage guarded by five figures. Three Barons, an Overlord, and even a Monarch—yet they kept a low profile.
Curious, Daimon walked closer, sensing something off. Then he saw it… another presence inside. Weak aura capacity but massive potential. With a Divine Art, Daimon's eyes pierced the carriage, and he found a middle-aged girl bound in chains.
"Slave traders," Daimon muttered coldly.
He stepped in front of the carriage.
The Monarch came down with his men, his voice arrogant:
"Move aside, unless you're seeking death."
Daimon smirked. "Why don't you try then?"
Two Barons rushed at him instantly. Daimon didn't move. The moment they came close—bang!—both were slammed into the ground, bones breaking, barely clinging to life. The Monarch snarled and ordered the last Baron forward, but the man fled in terror.
Enraged, the Monarch and the Overlord attacked together. Daimon slipped past the Monarch's strike, slammed him into the dirt, then dragged the Overlord close and crushed his skull with a single blow.
Grabbing the trembling Monarch by the collar, Daimon whispered:
"How stupid…"
The Monarch spat, "What is stupid to you?"
Daimon's scarlet eyes burned.
"Trying to kill the God of Death."
The Monarch froze, shaking violently until he fainted. A black-red pool opened beneath Daimon's feet, and without hesitation, Daimon dropped the Monarch's body into it—swallowed whole by the abyss.
High above, the fleeing Baron reappeared, unleashing a massive fire spell straight down at the carriage. Daimon raised a barrier—his wall of power shattered the flames before they could touch the girl inside. With a flick of his hand, he dragged the Baron out of the sky by his throat.
"Still trying?" Daimon asked coldly.
The Baron choked, but sneered, "You may have blocked my spell… but it's too late!"
Flames erupted inside the carriage—the Baron's backup plan. Daimon's eyes flashed red, lightning bursting around him. He burned the Baron to ashes on the spot before rushing toward the carriage.
Inside, the chained girl had managed to crawl beneath a shelf. The heat scorched her skin, flames devouring the walls. She closed her eyes, ready to die—until darkness claimed her.
Then strong arms pulled her out. Daimon had reached her in time.
Three hours later, she woke. Confused, trembling, wondering how she had survived. Her blurry eyes opened, and she saw him—a middle-aged man with black, messy hair and burning scarlet eyes.
She blushed, whispering, "Did you… save me?"
Daimon simply smirked. "What do you think?"
He gave her food, treated her wounds, and watched over her. She owed him everything. For years, they lived together—thirty long years—while Daimon trained her, taught her, and guided her path. When his quest ended, he left her the lake house, stacked with resources enough to last two thousand years. Yet he always returned—checking her training, watching her growth.
With his guidance, she rose from an Overlord… all the way to the level of Kami.
When Artha finished her story, her eyes were wet, her voice trembling. Then she smiled at Lucy.
"Come outside with me," she said. "Let's spar."
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