I Died and Became a Noble's Heir-Chapter 307: Troubled Memories

He released the table, leaning back in his chair. His gaze drifted distant, as if witnessing something from decades past, a haunted expression flickering across his face.

"When I was younger, barely older than you are now, my brother and I accompanied our father to the Prosperity Kingdoms. King Venus, the previous king before Eric, had requested aid. Demons were spilling through weak points in the kingdom, threatening entire cities. My father took us as part of our training to show us what real combat looked like."

Lady Genevieve’s hand found Alaric’s, squeezing gently. He didn’t seem to notice.

"We encountered a demon unlike any we’d faced before," Alaric continued. "Powerful. Intelligent. Cruel in ways that would break most men like twigs. We fought it in the ruins of a town it had destroyed. Bodies everywhere. Children’s bodies."

His voice had gone flat, emotionless.

"My brother died first. The demon tore him apart while I watched. While our father fought to reach him. I tried to help, tried to do something, but I was too weak. I watched my brother die screaming, and I couldn’t save him."

Annabelle made a slight sound of distress. Octavia’s face had gone pale. Celeste’s hands were shaking.

"I was wounded badly," Alaric said. "Father got me out, but the fight took everything he had. The toll of watching his son die, of nearly losing another... it broke something in him. He was never the same after that day. He never recovered fully. He died five years later, and I’ve always believed that demon killed him just as surely as it killed my brother."

His eyes refocused, finding Jack’s face. "And do you know what made it worse? The elves we’d come to help, the ones who’d called for aid from our king, abandoned us when the fight turned bad. They retreated, left us to die, saved their own people, and left us bleeding in the ruins."

His shadows expanded, darkness pressing against S’s barrier. "That’s why I hate demons. That’s why I hate elves. Because demons killed my family, and elves left us to die. Because I learned that day that trust is a luxury we can’t afford, and weakness gets the people you love torn apart."

The dining hall was absolutely silent.

Jack held his father’s gaze, processing the story, understanding for the first time the depth of trauma that shaped Alaric’s worldview.

"I’m sorry," Jack said quietly. "For what happened to you. For what you lost."

Alaric’s expression softened fractionally. "It was a long time ago."

"But it still matters," Jack replied. "Pain like that doesn’t just disappear because years pass."

Jack straightened in his seat, his hands unfolding on the table. "There’s more you need to know. About what happened in Tartarus Spire. About what I had to do to survive."

Lady Genevieve’s hand tightened around Alaric’s. Octavia leaned forward slightly, her analytical mind already preparing to process whatever came next.

"The tower doesn’t provide food," Jack said quietly. "You either find sustenance on each floor, or you starve. And on most floors, the only thing available to eat is..."

He paused, letting them connect the dots.

Celeste’s face went pale. "No. Jack, you didn’t..."

"Demons," Jack finished. "I had to eat demons to survive. Their flesh. Their blood. Whatever parts of them could provide enough energy to keep moving forward."

Annabelle made a slight sound of distress. Lady Genevieve’s composure cracked further, her free hand pressing against her mouth.

"At first, it was just survival," Jack continued, his voice steady despite the horror he was describing. "Kill or be killed. Eat or starve. But after weeks of it, after months... my body started to change."

Alaric’s shadows stilled completely. His expression remained perfectly neutral, but his golden eyes tracked every movement Jack made with predatory focus.

Jack raised his right hand, holding it palm-up in the center of the table where everyone could see clearly.

"I can show you," he said. "But it’s not pleasant to watch."

"Show us," Octavia said, her voice firm despite the tremor underneath. "We need to see."

Jack nodded once. Then he activated Demon Hand.

The transformation started at his fingertips. Black scales erupted from his skin like armor growing from within, spreading rapidly up his fingers, across his palm, racing toward his wrist.

His fingers elongated slightly, joints popping as bones restructured themselves. Claws pushed through where fingernails had been.

The black scales continued their march up his forearm, consuming pale skin beneath obsidian plates that drank the morning light. His arm no longer looked human; it was demonic.

The transformation halted at his shoulder, leaving a sharp divide between the demonic corruption and his human flesh.

Jack flexed his transformed hand. The claws caught light, gleaming with edges sharp enough to part steel. "This is what’s happening to me. Slowly. The more I use demonic power, the more I consume demonic essence, the more my body changes to accommodate it."

He looked up, meeting each family member’s eyes in turn. "I’m slowly turning into a demon."

The words fell like stones into still water. Everything became loud and oppressive.

Lady Genevieve’s breath caught in her throat. Her hand released Alaric’s, both palms pressing flat against the table as if she needed the stability to keep from collapsing.

Celeste stared at Jack’s transformed arm with horror written across her features. Her usual lightness had vanished completely, replaced by naked fear for her brother.

Octavia’s analytical mind was clearly racing through implications, calculating what this meant politically. Her face had gone sheet-white, but her eyes never left Jack’s demonic hand.

Annabelle didn’t understand all the implications, but she understood enough. Her brother, the one who’d saved her, who’d promised everything would be fine, was becoming the very thing their family had been taught to fear and hate.

Alaric remained absolutely still. His shadows didn’t ripple. His expression didn’t change. He watched Jack’s transformed arm with eyes that revealed nothing of what he was thinking.

"Jack..." Lady Genevieve’s voice came out barely above a whisper. "Is there a way to stop it? To reverse what’s happening?"

Jack let the transformation recede. The scales sank back into his skin, disappearing as if they’d never existed. His fingers shortened, claws retracted, leaving normal human flesh behind. Within seconds, his arm looked completely ordinary again.

"I have control," Jack said firmly. "The transformation doesn’t happen without my permission. I’m not letting myself be consumed by it. And I have help."

He paused, letting that sink in before continuing. "The God of Demons has given me trials. Tasks I need to complete. If I can finish them, he’ll grant me complete control over my demon side. I’ll never lose control. Never become something that threatens this family."

"If?" Octavia seized on the word immediately. "What happens if you fail?"

Jack’s expression didn’t change. "Then you have to kill me."

The brutal honesty of the statement hit harder than any careful reassurance could have.

"But I won’t fail," Jack added, his tone carrying absolute conviction. "I didn’t survive five hundred days in Tartarus Spire just to lose myself to corruption. I have control. I will maintain control. And when I complete Dreknar’s trials, this will be a tool I can use rather than a curse I have to manage."

Lady Genevieve found her voice again, stronger this time. "Are you in pain? Does the transformation hurt?"

"No," Jack said. "It feels... natural. Like putting on armor I was always meant to wear. That’s part of what makes it dangerous. It doesn’t feel wrong. It feels right."

Celeste’s hands were shaking. "Jack, this is insane. You’re playing with forces that could destroy you. Why would you risk this?"