Temple of the Demon Lord of Wishes

Chapter 47 A Son's Reliability

The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, before he finally spoke, his voice sharp, each word a measured strike.

"When?" His gaze pinned Reves in place, unwavering. "Where? And how?"

The last word came out colder than ice, laced with a barely controlled anger that crackled beneath the surface. Reves swallowed hard, a bead of sweat forming on his brow.

"Father," Reves said, his voice trembling, "d-don't worry. The Reality Master I serve... he's not like the others. He's—he's good."

Nathan's lips pressed into a thin line, his expression unreadable.

"Good?" The word fell from his lips with a bitter edge, as if it were something foreign, something that could never belong in the same sentence as 'Reality Master.'

His fists clenched at his sides, the muscles in his arms taut with restraint.

"Reves, a Reality Master doesn't follow morality. They don't care about right or wrong. They exist to shape reality to their will, no matter the cost."

He stepped forward, closing the gap between them.

"Now answer me," he said, his voice low but filled with raw intensity. "When? Where? And how did you become a Walker?"

Reves opened his mouth to speak, but before the words could escape, his father's hand shot out, covering his mouth.

Nathan's eyes scanned the surroundings, his body tense, every sense alert.

In that instant, a transparent whip, like a glimmer of glass, lashed out from the shadows toward them.

Nathan reacted without hesitation. He pushed Reves back with one arm, the motion swift but controlled.

His skin hardened into a metallic sheen, the smooth, cold surface of his [Metallic Skin] skill forming instantly.

His breath hitched, but his movements didn't falter.

He drove his spear into the ground. The motion sent a shockwave of jagged, metallic shards rippling through the air like a burst of shrapnel.

The shards tore toward the enemies, disrupting their control over the battlefield.

One of the shards grazed the edge of the whip-user's hand, forcing them to step back. Another tore through the faint glow surrounding the mirror, dimming its power for a precious moment.

Nathan seized the opening. His body shot forward in a blur of sharp angles and flashing silver, a dance of fluid motion. His metallic arm extended with deadly precision, morphing mid-swing into a long, serrated blade.

With a wide, cutting arc, he forced the trio back, pushing them further into the shadows, the air around him crackling with intensity.

But the whip user wasn't fazed. Their eyes narrowed briefly, calculating, and with a sudden shift, they whipped their arm to the side, sending another lash slicing through the air.

This time, however, the target was not Nathan—it was Reves.

Nathan's eyes flashed with panic as the whip sailed toward his son, a blur of lethal force. His heart skipped a beat, and for the briefest moment, his usual calm faltered. He thrust his arms outward, trying to pull it into a shield to protect his son.

The whip user had stretched their arms again, trapping him, his movements completely restricted. His limbs felt heavy, as if the weight of the world was pressing down on him.

Fear flared in his chest, his mind scrambling as he realized Reves was in danger, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Panic surged inside Nathan's chest. He was trapped. Reves was—

But before fear could take hold, Reves launched himself into the air, higher than he should have been able to leap, his body defying the limits of his height. The whip struck nothing but air as Reves soared past it.

Reves landed lightly on his feet, barely winded, and looked back at his father with a grin. "Dad, don't worry about me! I got this! I can dodge anything!"

His words were confident, but Nathan could hear the faint tremor beneath them—the anxiety hidden in his son's voice.