With his spear, Seth pried open the demon's chest, struggling against the stubborn carcass that clung to its prize even in death. The essence stone, a reddish shard laced with dark veins, burned against his palms. He shoved it into his pocket without a glance, indifferent to its unnatural heat.
"It was a Variant demon. Skin it, salvage whatever's useful, and toss the rest with the others."
His voice was too calm. Too even. The soldiers exchanged glances but obeyed. Knives went to work, tearing through the darkened flesh. The stone in Seth's pocket pulsed against his thigh, beating out of sync with his own heart.
Shameless Lackey.
The words echoed in his mind, circling like flies over a battlefield.
A dry, humorless laugh slipped from his lips.
"What's so funny, Captain?"
It was the young soldier — the one who had spotted the demon earlier. His hands were still trembling. His eyes, too clear, still clung to hope.
"I awakened an attribute," Seth said, his gaze distant.
