CHAPTER 102: YOUR NAME

Orihime’s face grew odd, giving out a forced smile.

Her Aether output from the body significantly increased in a single moment, and instantly, the thick white liquid started glowing like the sun—blinding everyone standing in the area, startling the Daimon burning alive in the pit.

Johan’s eyes widened as he found himself feeling warmth and comfort—the complete opposite of the situation in the dungeon.

’She is seriously overpowered...’ Johan shook his head. He had underestimated Orihime’s capabilities before.

He looked around. It was a luxurious dining hall with low-hanging golden chandeliers, bright golden walls with intricate patterns, and tall silver pillars supporting it all—it all extended indefinitely, with no end in sight.

He was sitting on one of the chairs at a six-seat dining table. Two turkeys, fried noodles, and three bottles of wine were placed on it.

What was even weirder was that he was wearing a neatly fitted black suit over a collared white shirt and black pants—a formal attire to attend a special occasion in nobility.

Before he even had time to think, four more lights flashed beside him—and immediately, Sebastian, Orihime, Olivia, and... the Daimon appeared on the rest of the chairs.

It became even more strange as Sebastian and the Daimon were both wearing similar black suits. The Daimon’s armor had also disappeared, leaving only his helmet still covering his face.

Olivia and Orihime also looked stunning—with Olivia wearing a black short skirt barely reaching the end of her thighs, revealing her beautiful, thick, pale white legs. It matched the tight black crop top that covered nothing but her big breasts, her entire back exposed as it was tied only with a single thread.

She looked extremely embarrassed by her dress, trying to cover the upper part of her breasts that were threatening to escape out due to the tight fit of the crop top.

’Nice.’

Johan thought before turning to Orihime, who was wearing a long, white flowy dress with red floral patterns. Her long black hair, reaching the curve of the white dress, wasn’t tied by anything, flowing gently in the air.

Her eyes scanned everyone in the room—everyone seemed calm, besides the Daimon desperately trying to get off the chair, definitely intending to tear her body to shreds.

Orihime’s lips curled up in a warm smile, making the Daimon’s body tremble with rage. "Shall we eat?" she asked gently, to which Johan, Sebastian, and Olivia nodded with smiles of their own.

Orihime had set up a law that moving or fighting in this area wasn’t possible for anyone, and created this entire dream-like place—where everyone, including herself, was bound not to get up from their chair, only able to talk and perform the basic movements they could make from it.

This wasn’t a law she forced directly on the Daimon—she transferred the entire area into her spell’s dream-like world of imagination. That meant she wasn’t affecting the Daimon directly, but indirectly. This saved some of her energy—but would still be immensely taxing due to the scale of control.

But that was for future her to worry about. She just wanted to enjoy the perfect warmth, and the perfect cooling, now.

With that thought, she immediately cut out a giant piece of turkey and started munching on it, with a glass filled to the brim with red wine.

Johan and the others didn’t hesitate either—Johan grabbing the fried noodles, while Olivia took the whole turkey. She had missed food dearly—first locked in the dungeon, then sealed, and then constantly fighting.

Sebastian calmly sipped the wine directly from the bottle, letting the liquid flow down his throat, tasting every bit of it deeply.

The Daimon didn’t eat—just stared at everyone enjoying themselves, with not a single care for him.

No one looked at him like he was disgusting or ugly—just enjoying themselves while giving him the chance to do the same.

A few minutes passed in the spell zone—which were probably not even milliseconds in the real world—as Orihime had full control over time as well.

The food was infinite, with even more dishes like steak, salad, pancakes, coffee, and cookies appearing. The food didn’t fill

their stomachs, so they kept eating and enjoying the taste of the delicacies.

Even though he still hadn’t eaten anything, the hate in the Daimon’s eyes had entirely disappeared—just looking a bit grumpy.

His pupils finally shrank as he saw a croissant—thick cream leaking from it. His body trembled, leaning in on instinct, but still trying his hardest to suppress the urge.

But then, Johan’s hand reached for it. The Daimon’s eyes dimmed, as if suppressing tears, but—

Johan placed it in front of him, his face wearing a genuine smile.

"You can live too, you know..." he said passively, before getting back to the fried chicken on his plate.

The Daimon’s face lost all color for a second.

But the comfort of this moment felt better—way better—than the pain he was feeling. The emotions he carried, the hatred—he missed this feeling of not needing to worry about anything.

He slowly removed the knight helmet, revealing a black slab of flesh with a mouth that looked like a bear trap.

His eyes narrowed—yet not a single person at the table looked at him like he wasn’t one of them.

He, without hesitation, took a big bite of the croissant. The soft bread melted on his lips, with the sweetness of thick cream flooding his senses.

He felt his body’s gathered hatred lessen—but he couldn’t care less—taking another, then another bite, hastily.

The croissant instantly appeared again, prompting him to repeat the action eight more times, before finally turning to look at the entire group staring at him.

He couldn’t sense any hatred from them—besides Orihime.

But he understood the reason for it after remembering what he had put her through.

Johan’s soft voice finally caught his full attention. "What was your name?" It was a question that he had never been asked—ever.

A.N.: This book barely earned anything while I was premium. But you know what? I’m gonna use it to unleash my creativity. I’m going to pour out my wildest, deepest ideas—the kind no one else dares to try. I’m not writing this to make money. I’m writing it for passion, for experience, and for the few fans who stayed. I’ll prep my other book for the market. But this one... I love it more than you know. Even if it earns pennies, I’m not dropping it like some of my writer friends suggested.