The only surprise was the color of the flames—pitch black, spreading in a way that was too eerie.
However, considering this world's setup for demon kings, Ronan quickly accepted it. After all, he had already become part of a villainous race, so it was probably normal for his techniques to look a bit strange.
He didn't dare go down to the town at the foot of the hill, afraid someone might notice something. The papers he had taken from the old man's drawer recorded not only experimental data but also the channels used to acquire the test subjects and the duration of their use. Ronan saw the codes marked on each child—every one of them had numbers carved into their chests. Some were bought from human traffickers, some were orphans the old man had kidnapped, and shockingly, a few of them had been sold by their own parents. Even Ronan's own body was among them.
Ronan didn't know if those parents had any idea what would happen to their children, but to abandon their own flesh and blood like that, they probably didn't care, did they?
Before burning down the house, Ronan had thought about finding some clues. Since he was using this child's body, he had considered bringing it back to its parents. Now, without any leads, he had no choice but to head into the wilderness. He had expected to see another village soon, but after walking for most of the day, there wasn't a soul in sight.
Ronan was exhausted, hungry, and cold. From his experience as a demon dog and demon snake, he knew his current physical state was greatly limited by the original body. He was, after all, in the body of a seven or eight-year-old child, and the fact that he had walked this far was purely due to his willpower.
When he was a demonic creature, most of his negative feelings came from hunger. Now, however, it was different. His legs were stiff, his feet felt like they were splitting open, and his clothes were wet. Every gust of wind made him shiver.
"Achoo!" Ronan wiped his nose and squatted down, rubbing his hands on the grass.
The human body was so fragile. He had started to feel lightheaded earlier, and now, Ronan simply sat down. If he kept walking, he was afraid he might pass out by the roadside.
If he didn't keep walking… Well, in this desolate wilderness, by midnight it would probably be even colder. And who knew what kind of wild beasts might appear.
Ronan wasn't sure if he could stay conscious for much longer. Even sitting for just a moment had left him feeling groggy and drowsy.
He had only planned to rest for a short while, leaning against a tree by the roadside with his eyes closed. At first, he was merely dozing, but soon enough, he drifted into a deep sleep. In his half-conscious state, he felt like something was watching him.
Ronan snapped awake, startled, thinking it was a wild animal. But when he opened his eyes, he was greeted by an enlarged human face.
Seeing him awake, the man smiled and straightened up.
Ronan, still groggy, blinked and blinked again.
He looked at the man standing before him. The man was broad-shouldered, with a long face covered in a scruffy beard. He wore a coarse wool coat and pointed cloth shoes.
"Kid," the man smiled warmly, showing a row of white teeth. In a friendly tone, he asked, "Why are you sleeping here all by yourself?"
Ronan blinked again, slowly getting to his feet that was as dirty as he was.
The man looked down at him, his smile widening as he glanced around. "There's no village or houses nearby. Where are your mom and dad?"
"..." That smile was too big, and though the man's tone was warm, his eyes darted around shiftily, clearly up to no good.
Ronan stayed silent.
But the man mistook his silence for fear. He shifted the large knife hanging from his waist to his back, crouching down to meet Ronan's eyes. In a coaxing tone, he asked, "Little one, what's your name?"
The act was way too obvious, like a wolf in sheep's clothing. Ronan remained silent.
But the man wasn't about to give up. Still smiling, he tried to persuade him, "Come on now, it's not safe to be out here alone. Monsters like to come out at night to eat people, you know."
"..."
"Aren't you scared? If you tell me where your parents are, I can help you find them. How about that?"
Ronan pressed his lips together, as if about to speak but hesitating, looking like he was unsure.
The man reached out and patted his head.
Ronan tilted his head up, obediently leaning into the man's palm.
The man's eyes squinted in satisfaction, pulling Ronan closer to him as he guessed, "Did you get separated from your mom and dad?"
No normal child would be dressed like this. Ronan's upper body was covered by only a thin jacket, while his pants were so torn they barely hung around his knees. His shoes were in tatters, exposing blackened toes, with dirt packed under his nails. The man examined Ronan's face more closely. Despite his dirty appearance, the child had striking features—large, dark eyes framed by long lashes that fluttered like butterfly wings, a small nose underneath, and lips pale in color but full and shapely.
Only his ears—although the wound had already scabbed over, it seemed like something had injured his earlobe.
"Mm." Ronan finally spoke timidly.
The man's hand, which had been patting his head, moved down to squeeze his clothes. Surprised, he asked, "Why are you all wet? Did you just climb out of a river?"
Ronan remained silent, his eyes full of unease.
The man glanced around, appearing concerned but in reality testing the waters cautiously. "How did you get separated from your parents? Were you being naughty? Do you even know where they are?"
Watching the man's performance, Ronan formed a plan.