{Chapter: 235: Chat}
> "He didn't ask. He didn't hesitate. But he didn't hurt me. He made me feel like I belonged to the stars, and he was the sky crashing down around me. And when I thought I couldn't take more, he whispered things—dark, gentle things that made me break apart all over again."
And yet, even then, there had been care. Precise, consuming care.
> "He ruined me slowly," Valeera had whispered. "He knew exactly how to pull me apart and put me back together. Every breath I took, he was there, controlling it. I should have been afraid. Maybe I was. But more than anything... I didn't want it to stop."*
Alison had said nothing at the time. There hadn't been words for the way Valeera looked—like someone recalling a beautiful nightmare that still lived under her skin.
> "He gave me everything I craved and nothing I understood," Valeera had finished. "And then when it was over... he just held me. Like I was precious. Like he remembered too late that I could break."
> "The contradiction of him... It's that he makes you feel both hunted and worshipped. Like he's laying claim to you—not because he needs to, but because some primal part of him wants to, and that's more terrifying than any vow."
The contradiction of him, Valeera said, was that he could make you feel worshipped while devouring you.
Now, staring at him, Alison began to understand what Valeera meant.
Dex wasn't a paradox. He was the embodiment of opposing forces. Kindness edged in shadow. Violence wrapped in poise. A soft voice that made even silence afraid. The kind of man who could offer you his coat on a winter night—and bury a blade in someone else's spine if they dared interrupt.
And beneath it all, that sense. That he was wearing a human shape—but something inside him didn't fit the mold. Something chaotic, primal, vast.
> "He's not fire," she'd said, staring into her tea. "He's the spark in a powder keg. And no matter how much you want to be near it... you know one day, it might all go off."
Now, standing in front of Dex, Alison finally understood what she meant.
He was a contradiction made flesh—a beautiful, feral thing pretending to be civilized. There was peace in his stillness, but it was the peace of a loaded crossbow, not a monk. Charm in his eyes, but not rooted in kindness. It was the look of a storm pretending to be a man, the slow gravity of a predator who had already chosen when he'd strike—just not if.
And as her gaze locked with his, Alison felt a flicker of that same pull Valeera had tried to describe. It wasn't an attraction, not exactly. It was recognition.
This was not a man.
This was something else playing the role of one.
---
Alison's Thoughts Solidify
Now, staring at him, Alison began to understand what Valeera meant.
Dex wasn't a paradox. He was the embodiment of opposing forces. Kindness edged in shadow. Violence wrapped in poise. A soft voice that made even silence afraid. The kind of man who could offer you his coat on a winter night—and bury a blade in someone else's spine if they dared interrupt.
And beneath it all, that sense. That he was wearing a human shape—but something inside him didn't fit the mold. Something chaotic, primal, vast.
> "He's not fire. He's the spark in a powder keg," Valeera had once said. "And no matter how much you want to be near it... you know one day, it might all go off."
---
Dex, for his part, had no idea Valeera had analyzed him so thoroughly, much less that she had shared those thoughts with others. He noticed the subtle caution in Alison's gaze but, hearing her explanation and finding no hint of deceit, he didn't press the issue.
Instead, he just smiled faintly, his tone relaxed:
"I see. I thought I somehow stumbled into the spotlight and made a name for myself without realizing."
As if to emphasize his harmlessness, Dex then raised his arm and made a slow, practiced gesture—a customary elven greeting, performed with exact precision. It was a sign of respect rarely offered by outsiders.
Alison blinked, visibly surprised. She hadn't expected a non-elf to perform the gesture so perfectly. As even elven children it takes years to master! After a brief moment of pause, she returned the same greeting.
Very polite, she thought to herself. Doesn't seem like someone prone to random violence...
The tension in her shoulders eased slightly. Her expression softened as she spoke again, her voice touched with a faint note of nostalgia.
"I don't know if you remember, but this isn't actually our first meeting. We briefly encountered each other at the Gorili Line a few years ago."
"Of course I remember," Dex replied with a casual smile. "Though it was a rather hectic situation back then. Not much room for conversation."
We were in the middle of sabotaging the defense and preparing to flee, he silently added to himself. Definitely not the best time for pleasantries.
Alison nodded in agreement. "That's true. It was chaos. Still, people with your kind of strength usually leave an impression. I'm curious—where exactly are you from? I feel like I should've heard of someone like you before."
Rather than fabricating a false history, Dex responded without hesitation. As someone who had nothing to hide—as a honest demon—he spoke with surprising openness:
"I'm an orphan. I never knew my parents or any relatives. My hometown is a place by the Red River Bank—nothing grows there. Just red soil, cracked stone, and wind that howls through dead air."
He paused, eyes briefly clouded with a rare, almost distant expression.
"I grew up in a region known as the Wailing Woods. You can probably guess the mood of the place from the name. As I got older, I mostly kept to myself—aside from occasional hunts, I lived in a city built by strong individuals like me. The surroundings were scenic in their own way, and the people were... well, they were the sort that didn't ask questions and didn't start fights they couldn't finish. A good place, but very remote. I wouldn't be surprised if you've never heard of it."
"I see..." Alison said, nodding slowly. "That's quite far off. No wonder your name hasn't reached my ears until now."
Dex simply shrugged. "I arrived here not long ago through a teleportation array. Figured I'd explore the area. Who knows? Might find something interesting—or at least entertaining."
Alison, using subtle techniques to test the truth of his words, could sense no deception. Everything he said checked out—at least emotionally. This was someone who told you just to be honest, while leaving everything important in the shadows.
"I appreciate your honesty," she said at last, her tone neutral but not unfriendly.
Dex glanced around at the busy street with a faint frown. The crowd, the noise, and the curious glances were beginning to feel a little intrusive.
"This isn't the best place to have a conversation," he said after a moment. "Since you're Valeera's friend, allow me to treat you to a drink. Somewhere quieter."
Alison hesitated briefly, then nodded in agreement. "Thank you for the offer. I'd be happy to."
---
Not long after, in a quiet corner of a local pub.
Dex and Alison sat across from each other in a private booth, the lighting dim and ambient, with the faint scent of herbs and alcohol lingering in the air. The sound of laughter and clinking glasses filtered in from the main hall, but their little space was tucked away, granting them some much-needed privacy.
"Hmm... the taste isn't bad at all," Dex murmured as he raised his glass, swirling the liquid slightly. The drink shimmered with a faint amber hue, releasing a refreshing, floral fragrance. Taking a sip, he nodded in mild approval.
Since he wasn't familiar with the drinks here, Dex had simply asked Alison to order something she liked and requested the same for himself. It had turned out to be a good choice.
Seeing his content expression, Alison smiled softly and asked, "Is this your first time drinking Karna wine?"
Dex glanced at his glass again, amused. "It is. I don't usually pick for myself. Most of the time, I let the innkeeper or barkeep recommend something based on their mood."
Alison chuckled and leaned back in her seat. "That makes sense. Still, Karna wine is quite well-known, even among foreign travelers. It's light but surprisingly potent."
Dex smiled again, his interest shifting. "By the way... why are you here, exactly? Last I heard, weren't you stationed as the garrison commander of that defense line?"
Alison's expression turned more solemn at the mention of it. "A few months ago, during a particularly intense battle, I was fighting a high-ranking demon. While we were clashing, another high-ranking demon ambushed me. The power they used was... unusual. It left lingering effects on my body that normal healing magic couldn't purge."
She paused, taking a slow sip from her own glass before continuing.
"The only way to neutralize it effectively was with a rare medicine compound, and this city happens to have a strategic reserve of it. So, I was temporarily transferred here for treatment and recovery. The reason Valeera brought you up was simply during a casual conversation. She mentioned you when she came to check on me."
"I see," Dex replied, nodding thoughtfully. "So even someone like you was badly wounded. That says a lot about how fierce the situation is over there."
His sharp senses noticed that while Alison still radiated power, there was a subtle instability in her aura—proof that her condition had yet to fully recover. Still, she was stable enough to be out and about, which meant her healing had come a long way.
"A fierce situation is putting it lightly," Alison said with a faint sigh. "After the collapse of the Gorili Line, we were forced to establish a secondary line of defense practically overnight. We poured everything we had into it—resources, manpower, magic reinforcement—but even with all of that, it barely held for half a year. Eventually, it too was overrun by the demonic swarm."
She looked down at her drink, her voice quieting. "After that, without any established line to fall back on, it became total chaos. Constant ambushes, surprise attacks, supply disruptions—it became a nightmare. Every day we lost people. Sometimes entire battalions just... vanished overnight."
Dex sat in silence for a moment, taking it all in. He'd heard of the secondary line of defense collapse, of course, but hearing it from someone who had lived through it gave the story a heavier weight. The battlefield wasn't just about enemies—it was about fractured morale, shifting alliances, and the ugly truths of survival.
He could already picture the inner dysfunctions. In chaotic times like these, not all wounds came from the front. Many came from betrayal, from cowardice, from people choosing self-preservation over unity.
The old, bitter truth of war.
"People share fortune together," Dex murmured in thought, "but they handle hardship very differently."
Alison glanced at him. "Exactly."
Dex leaned back, eyes thoughtful. "Still, I doubt the nations surrounding that front would just watch it all fall apart. They should be offering support, if only to buy themselves more time."