THE GENERAL'S DISGRACED HEIR

The

Eye of Solomon

gleamed ominously in Salomonis's hand, its fractured surface catching the light and refracting it in strange, unnatural patterns. The artifact radiated an aura of mystery and unease, a relic burdened with a dark legacy. Salomonis's expression hardened for a moment as memories of his family's trials flickered across his mind.

The

Eye

was a symbol of both their power and their curse—a weight he bore as the last heir of the great mage Solomon. Still, it was his responsibility to keep the artifact safe, no matter the cost.

With a practised ease, Salomonis slid the orb back into his pocket, his golden gaze meeting David's unyielding sapphire eyes. Suspicion lingered in the young swordsman's expression, sharp and unrelenting. Salomonis broke the silence, his tone measured yet probing. "You've piqued my interest, David. Tell me—how do you know about the

Eye of Solomon

?"

His question hung in the air, laden with curiosity and veiled intent. Salomonis knew that knowledge of the artifact was scarce, restricted to his bloodline and a

select few demons lurking in the shadows of Ternion

. Yet, here stood David, a master-ranked swordsman whose very existence seemed to defy explanation.

David's gaze remained steady, his tone cold. "I have no obligation to answer that."

There was no way David could explain the truth—that he knew of the artifact because Salomonis and his entire lineage were fictional characters in a novel he had read. Not that he was sure of anything anymore. Since his transmigration into this world, the lines between fiction and reality had blurred into an unfathomable tangle. To divulge such information would only deepen the precarious tension between them.

Salomonis tilted his head, observing David with a faint smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. Then, without warning, he straightened, brushing off his crimson cloak with deliberate theatrics. The movement was fluid and graceful, an air of regality in his every action. "If that's the case," Salomonis began, his tone light but edged with finality, "I certainly can't force you to answer."

He turned on his heel, his movements languid yet purposeful, as though dismissing the entire encounter as a minor intrigue. "It was a pleasure meeting you, David. Even with that little... misunderstanding, I must admit, I found our exchange rather enjoyable." His voice carried an undercurrent of amusement, and he glanced back over his shoulder, his smirk enigmatic.

David's eyes narrowed, his thoughts racing. He couldn't let Salomonis leave—not yet. There were too many unanswered questions, too many loose threads that could unravel into something dangerous. When Salomonis took his first step away, David raised his hand. His voice, firm and commanding, cut through the tension. "Wait."

Salomonis froze mid-step, his back still turned. Slowly, he pivoted to face David, his smirk spreading into a grin that was both knowing and mischievous. "Ah," he said, his tone laced with satisfaction. "I thought you might stop me."

There was something about Salomonis that gnawed at David's nerves. Perhaps it was the minister's unnervingly calm demeanour or the way his every action seemed carefully calculated. Whatever it was, it made David uneasy.

Yet, for the time being, he had no choice but to play along—cooperation, however partial, was the best course of action with the Minister of Lysora County.

David activated his skill,

[Point of View]

, hoping to gain some much-needed insight. If he could glimpse Salomonis' stats, abilities, or even a fragment of his background, he might be able to level the playing field. However, the moment his skill took hold, a loud, jarring noise rang out in his mind. His vision blurred, and a system notification abruptly shattered his intent.

"[Point of View has collapsed,]"

the system declared.

David froze, his shock palpable. This had never happened before—not even when he tried to observe beings like the Earl or Elder Noble La Muerte. In those cases, his failure had been due to a clear disparity in their levels of power. But Salomonis was different—David could sense it. Before he could spiral further into confusion, the system chimed in again with an unexpected revelation.

"[Conclusion: Mythical SSR artifact is disrupting the skill: 'Point of View.'] "

David's eyes narrowed as the pieces fell into place. Of course—it had to be

the Eye

. That damned artifact was responsible for interfering with his abilities. Salomonis must have been carrying it all along. The realization sparked a mixture of frustration and unease within David, though he kept his expression neutral. He needed to mask his thoughts until he could figure out how to proceed.

Before he could dwell further on the implications, Salomonis broke the tense silence. "I believe it would be appropriate if you answered my question first," the minister said smoothly, his voice unyielding yet polite, as he gracefully lowered himself into his chair once more.

David clenched his jaw, forcing back the urge to lash out. His options were limited—he needed more time to uncover the truth about Salomonis and the Eye, and a direct confrontation wouldn't serve him well here. With a resigned sigh, he leaned back slightly, masking his frustration behind a facade of reluctant cooperation.

"Fine," David mused, his tone edged with irritation. "I'll stick to the same explanation as always."

Salomonis arched a brow, his enigmatic smile betraying just a hint of satisfaction as David cleared his throat.

"I am a seer of sorts," David said, his tone steady but casual, as if he were revealing the most mundane of truths.

Salomonis raised a brow, his expression unreadable for a few moments before he broke into a chuckle. "That was humorous," he remarked, leaning back in his chair. "But every intellectual mage knows that only witches possess the power of foresight." His tone carried an air of academic certainty, but David noticed a flicker of doubt in his dark, perceptive eyes.

David held his composure, though inwardly, he was thrown by Salomonis' unexpected statement.

Only witches?

That was new information—and unsettling at that. Salomonis, meanwhile, seemed lost in thought, his fingers stroking his chin as though piecing together a complex puzzle. "Unless…" he began, his gaze narrowing as a theory took shape, "you've entered a contract with the Sovereign of the Enchanted Veil."

The name hung heavily in the air, resonating with an almost tangible weight. David's pulse quickened, though he made sure his face betrayed nothing. Salomonis continued, his voice laced with both awe and skepticism. "But that's impossible. That vile and cunning goddess only extends her hand to women…"

David decided to cut him off before his speculation spiraled out of control. "Believe it or not," he said, his tone sharp but calm, "I can partially see the future of those I meet or come into contact with."

Salomonis stared at him, his confident smirk fading slightly as he studied David's blue eyes with unnerving intensity. There was a flicker of disbelief, but it was quickly overtaken by something else—curiosity mixed with unease. His smile faltered, and his tone lost its edge as he muttered, "You can't be serious…"

"I am," David insisted. He maintained steady eye contact, willing Salomonis to believe the lie. It wasn't just a bluff; it was a tool—a way to keep the minister guessing, off balance, and wary. For a man like Salomonis, uncertainty was more dangerous than any blade.

Salomonis' demeanor shifted as his mind raced. He was no longer chuckling or smirking. Instead, he seemed to be grappling with something far greater than David's words. "What

are

you, David De Gor?" he asked, almost involuntarily, as though the question had escaped him before he could stop it. His voice carried no malice, only an almost reverent curiosity.

David could practically see the cracks forming in Salomonis' carefully constructed reality. His calm, analytical mind was now a whirlwind of doubt and questions. The minister's thoughts were practically painted on his face—he was connecting dots that shouldn't have been connected.

The knowledge of the Eye of Solomon. David's apparent lack of shock when learning about Salomonis' bloodline. The accusations of him being a demon, 'what did that even mean?' It all swirled together, creating a storm of uncertainty in Salomonis' mind. And David was the eye of that storm—calm, unreadable, and terrifyingly enigmatic.

Salomonis' lips parted as if to speak, but he closed them again. His thoughts were spiraling, and David knew it. He could see the man's reality crumbling under the weight of everything David had thrown at him. Finally, Salomonis exhaled sharply, his breath carrying the weight of his mental turmoil.

"Best not to think too much about it," David suggested, his voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge. It was both a warning and a lifeline—a way for Salomonis to steady himself before he unraveled completely.

Salomonis inhaled deeply, his shoulders rising and falling as he tried to regain his composure. For a scholar of magic, this was an existential nightmare. Everything he thought he knew about the world, about magic, was now in question. David had somehow become the pivot point of that doubt.

Finally, Salomonis leaned back in his chair, his gaze still fixed on David but no longer as sharp. He looked like a man who had just survived a storm but was unsure if another was on the horizon.

"Your turn," David said, his tone firm yet composed, as if to remind Salomonis of their arrangement.

The minister blinked, pulled back to the present by David's words. For a moment, he hesitated, but then he straightened, the practiced polish of his demeanor returning—though not as flawlessly as before. It was clear that David's words had left their mark, and the cracks in Salomonis' confidence, while small, were there.