The words hung in the silent, devastated plaza, heavier than the gravitational pull of the Behemoth. Cousin.
The term, meant to denote kinship, was delivered like a death sentence, laced with a venomous contempt that was uniquely familial.
Rhys curled his lips, waiting for Kaelen to finish his speech. It was a kind of irony that the son of the man who had cast him out was a demon.
The layered depravity of it all was staggering. The man who had cast him out for being a 'talentless failure' had been hiding a monster in his own house, dressing it up with the name of the very brother whose legacy he claimed to uphold.
The hypocrisy was so thick Rhys felt he could choke on it.
He almost laughed. The warning from the System was a frantic scream in his mind, but the absurdity of the situation almost overshadowed the danger.
"Although my memory can't hold the names of unimportant people," Kaelen continued, his broken-necked head tilting further.
