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The Rise Of The God Of Death
*Chapter 5: The Human Kind*
Daimon carefully carried the little girl to the small shop she had pointed out, a place filled with bright colors and strange aromas. He was surprised when the shopkeeper handed over a cold, sweet treat called *ice cream* — something Daimon had never encountered before in his long existence. The girl's face lit up with joy as she took her first bite, her laughter filling the air.
Feeling a rare warmth, she followed him to a nearby garden, where they sat quietly among blooming flowers and gentle sunlight. After finishing her ice cream, the little girl's eyelids grew heavy. Slowly, she curled up and rested her head on Daimon's lap, drifting into peaceful sleep. Daimon stared down at her, confusion swirling inside him. Why was this child showing him kindness? He was the god of death — feared and hated by nearly all.
Suddenly, the silence broke as two figures rushed toward them — a man and a woman, clearly worried. They embraced the little girl tightly and turned to Daimon, their eyes filled with questions.
"Where did you find her? What happened?" the woman asked urgently.
Daimon recounted the story briefly, and after a long talk, the couple thanked him sincerely. They invited Daimon to join them for dinner. Though he had no desire to involve himself with humans, hunger gnawed at him. He accepted.
At their home, the family treated him with genuine hospitality. They gave him fresh clothes, and the girl, Lucy, kept playing happily around him. Daimon found himself slowly lowering his guard.
Later, the father asked him quietly, "What is your name, sir?"
"I am… uh… Daimon," he replied hesitantly.
The man smiled warmly. "Nice to meet you. I'm Jarul, this is my wife Marley, and our daughter is Lucy."
Daimon was taken aback that they hadn't recognized his name or feared him. For the first time in a long while, he felt a flicker of trust.
The next morning, Daimon visited the family again. As soon as the door opened, Lucy ran toward him and threw her arms around his legs, hugging him tightly.
A small smile touched Daimon's lips. Was it possible that the stories about humans were wrong? Or were these people truly different?
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