Demonic Holy Land; Betrayal

"So, you really plan on going?" Within a spacious hall of a large sect, Damon stood in silence, methodically fastening a blade at his waist. The air around him crackled faintly with black lightning, betraying the turmoil in his heart.

"Jillian, I have to," he exhaled, carefully sliding healing pills into his spatial ring. "I can't shake the feeling that Sect Leader Olmi died because of me."

Jillian's expression wavered between worry and guilt. "Then let me come with you!" She practically pleaded, stepping closer. "I was the reason you rushed in that day, wasn't I?"

Damon turned, meeting her eyes with a long, regretful look. He wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pressing his forehead gently against hers. The moment felt heavy, charged by unspoken feelings.

"My little love…" he said softly, "I pulled you out of harm once—do you really think I'd put you back into it?" Though his tone was warm, his face remained etched with pain.