A Waste of Time-Chapter 20: Dim Apparitions

“That’s it for me. Goodnight, everyone.”
Daemon scraped his empty bowl clean, leaned forward, and pressed a quick kiss to Jia’s cheek, murmuring a soft thank-you for the meal. She only blinked, cheeks warming, before he rose and stumbled into the tent. He barely made it to the thin mattress in the center before collapsing. Ten seconds later, he was out—breathing deep, lost to a sleep so heavy it might have crushed lesser men.
The past day—no, the past
two
days—had wrung him out to the marrow. Ippo’s relentless training, the chaos of Battle Frenzy, the Yellow-Scale Fruit churning in his veins, the dumbest brawl in history against a flock of pheasants... Each piece stacked exhaustion upon exhaustion until his very soul shrieked for rest.
Even now, Daemon had no clue that those scratches and wounds—though perfectly healed—had quietly siphoned his lifespan, eating at what little time he’d scraped together. And if he
had
known? He’d probably just grin, spit blood, and call it a fair trade.
Luckily for him, the Yellow-Scale Fruit hadn’t just paid back what the forest and his own recklessness had stolen. It had scrubbed away the deep, hidden cracks from Da Niu’s hard life before Daemon ever came to inhabit this body. A silent restoration—old malnutrition, stunted growth, all undone in a single reckless feast.
What’s more, a secret flickered in the shadows behind Daemon’s brute strength: Grunt’s Summon Buff. If not for that, Ru’s blade would have already claimed Daemon’s throat, true body and all, before his first real day in this world ever dawned.
The irony didn’t stop there. Without that secret edge, even the flock of pheasants might have spelled his doom—a half-starved boy and a foolish monster, bleeding out together in some forgotten thicket of the Myriad-Beasts Forest. What a joke of an end that would have been for the so-called “Asura.”
No. Someone, somewhere—whoever placed that drop of blood in his hand before flinging him here—clearly had bigger plans. Or at least, that’s what Daemon would believe when he finally woke up again.
Outside the tent, Jia and Ru watched him sleep, side by side under the pale moonlight. Daemon’s boyish face looked so calm now—so young, almost innocent. Hard to believe this was the same fiend whose roar could peel skin from bone and leave scars on the soul.
The memory of his outburst, the madness behind his pair of eyes when he snapped... It still lingered behind their eyelids every time they dared blink. But the nightmare had ended—at least for tonight—and both siblings had come out the other side stronger. For that, they felt something close to gratitude... and a tiny seed of fear that would never quite die.
Ippo’s voice broke the silence. He stood a few paces away, twin boulders balanced on his shoulders as he dropped into yet another squat. “Don’t forget—cook another meal. Have it ready by dawn. He’ll wake up ravenous. Other than that, keep your guard up. Switch off when you need rest.”
Jia turned to him, eyes narrowing, a question long held back finally slipping free. She dropped to sit by the fire beside him, chin in hand. “Do you ever get tired? I’ve been watching since the afternoon—you don’t eat, you don’t rest, there’s no Qi in you at all... So
how
do you do it?”
Ippo paused mid-squat, one brow arched as he glanced at Ru in the shadows—eyes open now, snake-like and unblinking, focused entirely on him.
“Heh. Took you long enough to ask.” Ippo’s grin split his face like a cat toying with a pair of mice. “I figured you’d corner me the moment we were alone. But no, you were too busy meditating. Or listening to the tale of how your new little king here butchered half a forest’s worth of poultry and bullied bullies in the village.” He laughed, shifting one stone down and rolling his neck. “I guess the old saying’s true—beauties always fall for the villains.”
Jia’s face flamed bright red, but she refused to look away. Ru only gave an amused snort—this brat’s easy swagger matched perfectly with his fluid, trickling Water Qi. Of course his sister would be drawn to the storm Daemon carried instead: fire, thunder, the promise of a cataclysm to come.
Ippo dropped the second stone with a thud, then leaned forward and planted his hands flat on the dirt, slipping into push-ups as smoothly as if he’d never stopped moving.
“But—since you’re our trusted companions now, no harm in telling you a secret, eh?” He winked at Jia, savoring the flicker of curiosity—and the fear—sparking in her eyes. “All clones of the true body are special. But
I
? I’m one of a kind.”
His grin widened, voice dropping to a conspiratorial hush. “Daemon can block information from the true body—lie to it, even—because he’s the first. If he wanted, he could even overthrow it, crown himself the original. Split his own clones. Make an entire army of himself.”
“And me? Well, lucky you—I’m
immortal.
Truly immortal. I never eat. Never sleep. Never tire. I could stop breathing for a century and wake up just fine. Makes me...
very
good at certain things.” He flashed Jia a wicked, teasing smile, enjoying how she flinched and swatted at him half-heartedly.
Ru’s eyes narrowed, drinking in every word. The possibility danced in his mind like moonlight on water—pupil surpasses master, student becomes king. What an old, seductive story.
Ippo continued, unbothered by their shock. “I’m more than just a bodyguard. I can
elevate
other clones. Improve them. Share what I build. And I chose to help Daemon because I pitied him. Master dropped him here like trash—dumped him in these woods with a restriction so heavy he can’t leave until he masters the Asura Path.”
He clapped his hands together once, the sound sharp in the night. “And you know how hard it is to cultivate a Supreme-Ranked Technique like the Myriad-Fiends Mantra when you’re stuck in the dirt, half-dead and hunted by birds? That boy’s a miracle just for breathing.”
Jia and Ru stared at him, minds caught between awe and disbelief. The tale dripped with secrets, half-truths, and a hundred riddles too deep for them to untangle in one night. But the glimmer in Ippo’s eyes—
that
was real enough.
Ru exhaled slow, resolve hardening like ice in his veins. A teacher, a student—perhaps the roles were not so fixed after all.
Jia’s worry, though, was a softer blade. “But... what does that Asura Path do to him?”
Ippo paused mid-pushup. For a second, something sly flickered behind his smile—then vanished.
How would I know?
he thought, but he only shrugged, voice soft and deadly casual. “Not even master knows. So tell me—how should I?”
Jia paled, hugging her arms to herself. Ru’s frown dug deeper.
Ippo rolled his shoulders and kept talking, weaving half-truths into shadows. “No one’s ever succeeded with the Myriad-Fiends Mantra. Not until the day master found Da Niu—half-starved, beaten bloody for a handful of wild fruit. Something in him answered that Mantra. So master gave him a push. A drop of blood. A chance. And look at him now—he split a clone. Made
me
. Then master left him here with a single rule: survive.”
He didn’t say more. Just let the silence settle around them as his hands rose and fell, rose and fell—stone-heavy and tireless, a machine made flesh.
Jia shivered, hugging her knees tighter. Ru closed his eyes again, the flicker of a grin on his lips now gone, replaced by cold, focused calm.
Above them, the forest whispered secrets to the moon—promising that come dawn, Daemon would rise hungry. Stronger. One step closer to the monster they were helping forge in the dark.
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