"What are you saying?" Kael said.
The old man reached under the counter, pulling out a small, black box bound with silver threads.
He set it down carefully, his one good eye narrowing.
"This," he said, tapping the box with a finger, "is the second time I am giving away my fragments."
Kael frowned. "Second time?"
The old man smiled faintly. "Yes. The second."
"Then…" Kael hesitated, watching him closely. "Who was the first one?"
"The Demon Lord himself," the old man replied quietly.
Kael blinked, trying to process it.
"Wait… The Demon Lord? You mean"
"Yes," said the old man. "Long ago."
"But last time you said he couldn't take it. What are you trying to say?"
The old man chuckled. "Ah, that's what he thought. He believed he couldn't take it. But in truth, no one ever leaves this place empty-handed. The question is not whether you can take it… but whether you can survive taking it."
