Royal Bastard’s Bloodstained Regression Chapter 56 56: The King’s Table

The auction hall had emptied. Only polished floors, half-finished wine glasses, and lingering perfu were left behind.

Velrick rose from his seat, motioning to Daemon like an old friend inviting him to share a quiet drink. His guards stood back, respectful but alert.

"Prince Daemon," the king said, voice light, "I must insist you join for a private glass. After all — it's not every day the world's most hunted heir walks into my humble little kingdom."

Nyxtriel shifted slightly behind Daemon, her eyes cold and distant, but Daemon raised a hand — calming her.

"Wine at your table?" Daemon's lips curved into a polite, practiced smile. "I didn't bring a gift. I'd hate to seem rude."

Velrick chuckled, waving away the thought.

"You've already brought the most interesting gift of all, your presence."

They moved into the side chamber, a lavish room draped in deep velvet and gold. Two chairs. A polished blackwood table. A single bottle already waiting. The wine was dark, almost black, and slled old and sharp.

Velrick poured two glasses, sliding one toward Daemon.

"It's tradition, I'm afraid. Guests must drink. Especially ones I've waited years to et."

Daemon stared at the glass for a long mont, then pushed it back — never breaking eye contact.

"Forgive , your majesty. I prefer to keep my mind clear, especially when I'm sitting across from a man like you."

Velrick's brow lifted slightly behind the mask, amused but not insulted.

"Cautious. I expected nothing less from the Demon King's second life."

Nyxtriel, standing silently behind Daemon, muttered under her breath.

"You should've let kill him back at the auction."

Daemon ignored her. His fingers steepled under his chin.

"So," Daemon began, voice cool, "You bought the dragon's heart. What do you plan to do with it? Feed it to your enemies? Or eat it yourself?"

Velrick's smile stretched thin, the curve of a man enjoying a private joke.

"Oh, that's the real question, isn't it? Tell , Daemon — why have you truly co to Aurelian? You've already outgrown your brother's shadow... or did you co hoping I'd join your little rebellion? To seize the throne from Gabriel?"

Daemon let out a quiet, humorless laugh.

"My, my... is that what you see as? A desperate prince squabbling over a dusty, second-rate crown? No. I don't lower myself for scraps."

The king's amber eyes sharpened behind his mask — but it wasn't suspicion that stirred there. It was sothing closer to admiration.

"As expected," Velrick murmured, the smile finally cracking wider. "That's the Demon King I've always wanted to et."

Nyxtriel stood behind Daemon, arms crossed, lips curling with amusent. She didn't speak — but her silence alone said: He's not lying.

Daemon leaned forward, voice turning cold and razor-sharp.

"But I didn't co here to trade words. I'm here for sothing that belongs to . Sothing I'd kill the entire world to reclaim."

Velrick's glass paused halfway to his lips. His gaze flicked to Daemon, suddenly more alert.

"Sothing precious, I assu?"

"The fragnt," Daemon said quietly. "A piece of the Demon King's heart."

Velrick froze for just a second — the mask, the crown, the noble airs — all fell away behind the glint in his eyes.

"So that's it," the king muttered. "You're chasing your fragnts."

Daemon tilted his head, patient and sharp.

"Have you seen it?"

Velrick swirled the wine, stalling. Then, with a dry chuckle, he answered:

"Actually, I have. Months ago, during a summit in The Arcane Dominion of Vaelthar."

Daemon's eyes widened.

The Arcane Dominion of Vaelthar... the so-called "energy kingdom."

Now it made sense.

His father had once warned him about their suspicious movents — border lockdowns, sudden trade shifts, veiled diplomacy. Back then, Daemon hadn't paid it much attention. But now he knew why. They weren't just consolidating power.

They were after his fragnt.

Mages. The natural enemies of aura-born warriors. Where warriors forged strength from within — building their cores through pain, discipline, and raw will — mages siphoned mana from the world like parasites. It wasn't earned. It was taken. Distorted.

Worse, they didn't fight with honor. Magic was trickery. Illusions. Summons. Death by a thousand cursed cuts. And for them, human experintation wasn't forbidden — it was standard practice.

In his past life, it was those sa kingdoms — the mage-run territories — that nearly brought Varyndor to ruin. And when the war reached its peak, Daemon had no choice but to release his full power.

The day the world saw his demonic core...

The day Gabriel turned on him.

"I see," Daemon said, voice low and razor-sharp. "And what did they tell you?"

King Velrick leaned back, casual and calm, as if discussing wine and not world-ending weapons.

"They told the truth. That the fragnt made them stronger. And that they're already hunting for the others."

Daemon didn't move, but his aura flared — subtle, restrained, but furious.

He had died once because of them.

This ti, he'd be ready.

Velrick's gaze sharpened, still studying him.

"Such a young age... and you've already reached the Seventh Star?"

Daemon eased his aura back, his expression returning to calm. Strength was one thing — but information was the real weapon here.

The more important fact wasn't his rank. It was that the mages still didn't have the map. They didn't have the Book of the Demon King. In his past life, the Saintess Lilac had secured it — forcing him to destroy the fragnts before the Dominion could ever reach them.

But this life? The book was his. And the pieces would be his, too.

Velrick raised his glass lazily, voice casual — too casual.

"I think their real target is so scattered piece of rock. An island... what was the na?" He tapped his glass thoughtfully. "Ah — Ka-Shima. A forgotten spit of land, supposedly rich in mana stones and ancient Tiber relics."

Ka-Shima?

Daemon's mind turned cold. That na... ant nothing. Not in his past life.

An island he had never set foot on. An island that had never once been ntioned in all the bloodshed and wars he'd lived through.

So the tiline's already shifting.

A grin edged across his lips.

Good. I was starting to get bored anyway.

If the world thought it could outpace him this ti, it would learn better soon.

Velrick leaned forward then, sliding the wooden box toward him. The faint pulse of the dragon heart inside throbbed against the table.

"Why don't you take it, Daemon?"

Daemon's fingers hovered just above the box, but he didn't open it.

"Why ? And more importantly... why the kindness? What do you really want from , Velrick?"

The king let out a soft, amused sigh.

"You wound ," he chuckled, lifting his hand to his chest like a bad actor. "A king can't be generous without suspicion?"

His smile dropped, voice lowering into sothing sharper.

"But I do have a favor. A simple one."

Daemon's crimson eyes flicked to him, the corner of his mouth twitching.

"I'm listening."

Velrick's gaze darkened, and his next words dropped like a blade.

"I want you to kill my uncle. The Duke."

For a heartbeat, Daemon went silent. Then a slow, cold smile spread across his face. His eyes glinted, the dim light making them burn like embers.

"So that's it." He leaned back in his chair. "You want to play the villain."

Velrick tilted his head, raising his glass for a toast.

"You were born for it, weren't you?"