Chapter 527: Chapter 528: A Vagrants Kindness He followed Seta through the village, passing by familiar and unfamiliar places as they walked. It felt like he was somewhere entirely different, yet still stitched with pieces of the place he once knew. He had a feeling of déjà vu. Seta stopped in front of a wooden building—larger than he remembered. "This is the village head’s house," she whispered softly Damon didn’t expect him to be inside. The old man preferred being behind the house, sitting beneath the oak tree, wasting time with a board game and a few other elders. Sure enough, when Seta knocked, no one answered. She groaned. "He’s at the back again..." Some things just don’t change. Damon took the lead, walking around the house. It didn’t take long to spot the wide, familiar shadow of the oak tree. Beneath it sat five elderly men, hunched around a game board. Damon approached with unhurried steps. His presence was quiet, but deliberate. Seta caught up just as he reached the group. "Interesting game you’re playing, Village Head," Damon said, voice calm but sharp. "But clearly Old Man Ron is cheating." The village head raised a hand and smacked the shoulder of the man furthest from him. "You always do this, Ronny. Don’t you have any shame?" Ron stood up, frowning. "I’m not cheating. He’s lying." His eyes narrowed as he stared at Damon. "Who are you? Outsiders shouldn’t interfere in village affairs." Damon shook his head slowly, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "But I’m not an outsider. Don’t you recognize me?" They all stared, faces blank with confusion. Seta bit her lip. "Village Head... It’s Damon. Damon Grey." The village head stiffened. The board game instantly lost its audience. All five men turned their full attention toward the young man before them. "Damon... Grey," the old man whispered. Damon lifted his chin. "Let’s skip the whole ’we thought you were dead’ speech. I’m alive. Very much so." The village head trembled slightly. Before he could speak, Damon added— "I mean you no harm." For now, he thought. He sat beneath the tree, legs crossed. Seta followed, hesitantly taking a seat beside him. The silence stretched awkwardly, so she filled it. She explained to the elders what Damon had told her—his life on the streets, Luna’s illness and death, the collapse of the gang he once ran with, and how he was now being hunted. She exaggerated the darker truths, painting him weak and pitiful. When she finished, the village head’s expression had changed. His eyes were cold, sharp. "This is no longer your home," he said flatly. "Leave." Damon chuckled softly, not expecting the boldness—but not surprised either. Weakness always gave cowards courage. He stared at the old man’s grey hairs and smiled. "Very well. I will... but with some conditions." The village head looked at him, surprised. "What could you possibly want?" he asked with disdain. "I want my father’s broken sword." The old man recoiled, his face wrinkling in disgust. "You really are without morals. You want to desecrate your father’s grave—for a piece of junk?" Damon shook his head. "If I must, I will. But I don’t need to. I want you to lead the village in performing his last rites again. We’ll bury something else. I’ll take the sword." The village head’s voice grew harsher. "You’re mad. Where would you even find something that belonged to Noctis?" Damon didn’t answer directly. His eyes drifted toward the edge of the village, to the place where his old house stood. The old man followed his gaze. "There’s nothing left of your father’s things there," he said. Damon looked back at him. "And why is that? Because you people stole it?" The village head glared. "We stole nothing. The only thief here is you. You stole from the village and ran." Damon’s smile sharpened. "I took what was mine. The real thieves are sitting right here." Seta raised her hand, trying to step in. She hadn’t expected the village head to be this openly hostile. Damon stopped her with a gesture. She wasn’t truly on his side—just another watcher, a leash meant to keep him from acting out. That was her role. "I’ll be here a few days," Damon said. "Gather the villagers. Perform the rites. What you’ve taken already—consider it payment for the trouble." The village head stood, fury shaking his hands. The other elders stayed silent, watching. "Get out. Get out of my sight. If you don’t leave this village, I’ll have you arrested for theft—you dirty vagrant!" Damon didn’t flinch. "Arrested? By whom? You and what army?" He took a step forward. "I’ll say it again—accept my offer and let bygones be bygones. Or there will be consequences." The village head sneered. "I choose consequences. What will you do? You don’t even have a place to stay. You’re on the run. Your presence puts this entire village in danger. Leave while I’m still being generous." His voice rose, spittle flying from his mouth. "If it weren’t for your father, I’d have had you beaten to death already!" Damon remained calm. This was expected. This was the village he grew up in. Seta stepped between them quickly, pulling Damon back. She expected him to explode. Instead, he was quiet. He must be quite weak if he was this meek. His eyes didn’t flicker. First chance, wasted. "I see," Damon said cooly. "So be it. I’ll return tomorrow. Whatever happens next... just remember, I gave you a chance." "Kindness is reciprocal." The village head scoffed. "I don’t need a vagrant’s kindness!" Damon turned away as the old man launched into a flurry of insults. He didn’t react. His goal remained the same: retrieve the sword buried with his father. But he wouldn’t disrespect Noctis. Not like that. He needed someone to perform the rites—and something to replace what he would take. Seta walked beside him, silent for a moment. "I’ll show you the inn... It’s best if you leave in the morning." Damon looked at her, his voice calm, but cutting. "No. I want to see what you’re all really capable of."