The Demon Lord Is An Angel-Chapter 502: Owyn

In the middle of a forest, a group of giants was gathered around a fire. Under normal circumstances, their uproarious celebration scaring away the nearby fauna would have been cause for concern, but they had bigger prey and grander ambitions.

At a smaller fire, one giant amongst them accepted a cup of liquor from an older compatriot. He knew he wasn’t supposed to have any hard alcohol until he was officially an adult, but tonight was the night he came of age, along with the other youths of his clan, the Titan Hunters of Taengard. He could share a first drink with his friends... if he had any.

The craic wasn’t for him, even if part of it should have been, so he found himself staring into the fire and humming some old, half-remembered songs with the occasional word or two.

A slap on the back from nearly sent Owyn stumbling as he was nearly pushed into the campfire.

"Are you ready to become a man?" The giant who’d approached from behind turned the slap into a shoulder grab, shaking Owyn.

"Hey now, Galen, don’t burn his eyes! Owyn’s nearsighted enough as is!" A guffaw sounded from the giant who’d poured Owyn’s drink, Jederic.

"I can see just fine," Owyn half-grimaced. "You just spilled half my sura."

"Ah, here, take some of mine," Galen poured generously from his cup into Owyn’s, narrowly avoiding a spill before he raised his mug to his lips and downed the rest. "You should be grateful! For my ceremony, all I got to kill was a bear!"

"Back when we had to do things on our own, yeah, yeah..." Owyn sniffed at the mug before risking a sip. It burned fiercely, and he suppressed a cough. "Guess you could say this is a second adulthood for you, then?" Owyn grinned. He might not have the bulk or height of his peers, but he made up for it with wit and humor.

That and a certain air of the exotic when it came to his appearance. While he shared the dark tan skin of the clan, his hair was stark white in contrast to the browns and blacks of his clan. His eyes were a deep shade of green flecked with gold. Growing up, he’d never been made fun of for his appearance, just the other ways he seemed to be lacking. He was athletic but not particularly strong for a giant. He was as well learned as one could be in the regular clan, but lacked the pull to learn directly from the Chief, especially since he was a foundling and not born to the Titan Hunters.

"He’s got you there," Jederic laughed, his face ruddy from having more than his fair share of sura.

"Watch your tongue," Galen rounded on his old friend. "You’ve had so much sura it’s going faster than your brain."

The distillation of fruit and herbs was said to grant speed and strength to those who drank enough of it. Owyn wondered a bit why they were drinking it the night before their hunt and not right before, but then again, it wasn’t like the alcohol was a proper potion with magic ingredients. The cities where such things existed were far, far away from this wild land.

Jederic waved Galen off. "Go find someone else to bother. Or better yet, keep the Chief’s son entertained before he squanders his luck."

As Galen took his senior’s command, Owyn stared down into his cup.

"Drink’s not going anywhere," Jederic said, jumping Owyn out of his thoughts. "What’s eating you?"

"Nothing. Just... wondering what comes after," Owyn admitted. Supposedly, once he was a man, he’d be sent out on monster hunts. He’d trained on spears and was a decent brawler, but he was always the last to be picked for hunting teams because, at barely three and a half measures, he was about a head shorter than most giants. And with the slight point of his ears and strange hair, he knew that people assumed he was elf or orc-blooded somewhere back in his heritage. Even if no one ever said anything about his appearance, they always found something at fault with him.

That would not have been an issue if the Chief didn’t value strength as proof of purity...

Jederic shrugged. "That’s for you to decide, no? I could always use a hand with supplies, and unlike my son, you can count past ten!"

"Your son is five," Owyn rolled his eyes. "I appreciate the offer, but..."

"Kids these days," Jederic interrupted, "Don’t know a good deal when it slaps them in the face. Go on, back to the rest. I’m sure Aban has prepared a pretty little speech."

"He is his father’s son," Owyn shrugged.

"And old-born, to boot. I can respect the unknown, but mark my words, that Lad will be a terror when he becomes Chief."

"Hopefully for someone else." Owyn made his way over to the main fire, which blazed as high as the spirits of the dozen or so youths and ten adult giants gathered for the ceremony.

A couple of youths looked his way with neutral stares. Not hostile, but borderline indifferent. He’d barely asked a dark-haired youth named Bren after what happened while he was away when Aban clanked one of his metal bracers against his cup for everyone’s attention. And he got it, because he was the reason this coming-of-age ceremony was a titan hunt.

"Everyone, welcome. Sigreed, Kevid, Laska, Bren..." Aban greeted every one of those who would become men today by name, holding the same smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes, in order of those closest to him, until..."Owyn." He lifted his mug a little, "Let’s toast, before I tell everyone the plan for the morning."

As one, everyone raised their cups and mugs, draining them dry. Owyn tried not to gag as the alcohol burned its way down. In large amounts, it was nothing like the beer everyone was allowed. The herbs gave the drink a strange aftertaste he hadn’t detected from sipping, and left him feeling strangely relaxed.

Aban’s plan was to take charge of the veterans and go for the titan’s head, along with his trusted friends, while the rest of the youths kept the beast focused on the ground. Of course, for this particular type, the head was probably the most dangerous place to be. The older clansmen had scouted the monster with Aban for days and confirmed that it had a tongue lined with razor-sharp bones in a mouth that could swallow most giants whole.

The terrain favored them, since there were a few rises and cliffs nearby that could be used to trip up the titan, if not drive it towards the lake.

"The worst thing that can happen is we drive it into the barrier and it doesn’t come out... I’d be interested in seeing what happens, either way," he chuckled.

Aban was obsessed with the barrier, convinced it held magical secrets. Once, as a young boy, Owyn had followed him out to the barrier with a bunch of lads from the village and watched as he pushed creature after creature, mostly rabbits and chickens, into it. As long as a creature was partly outside and able to move, the barrier could be easily escaped, but nothing that went in completely ever came back out. Aban had even stuck his face in but said he could only see grey-blue shimmers.

"I’d say the worst thing that could happen is getting eaten," Sigreed joked.

"Then kill it from the inside," Aban shot back, drawing a laugh out of everyone. "Make no mistake, everyone, this titan will die tomorrow. And once I have its mana crystal, and we have the money from selling its parts, I’ll show everyone the future we can seize for ourselves!"

A cheer rose up, led by Kevid, which Owyn politely raised his cup to in silence. But Owyn’s eyes were fixed on Aban’s, wondering if the gleam in them was the firelight or the greed the Chief’s son supposedly had for external magic.

Like most people, Owyn knew the chant for fire, and that was it. He could, however, perform internal magic well enough to stand a chance in fights with other giants his age, and he was even a bit better at controlling his mana than most. But compared to Aban...

Owyn looked away, shoving aside his jealousy as Aban told each youth their specific roles. The fact was, Aban had been born lucky, while Owyn was lucky just to survive. He sometimes wondered what it was like to have what Aban had: the Chief as his father, strange knowledge that always somehow turned out to be true, and the charisma to make others go along with crazy plans... But the truth was he didn’t.

He was an orphan and a weakling amongst giants. And worst of all...

"And Owyn will be the bait. You can handle that responsibility, right?" Aban’s words sank into Owyn like a knife to the gut. A reminder that he was one of the most disposable people of the clan; its only foundling.

Why me... he thought, but the answer was obvious. With his white hair, he stood out more than anyone in the camp. It wouldn’t be the first time Owyn had been used as a distraction by the other youths of the clan. Aban had him cornered. He couldn’t refuse without looking like a coward. "Of course," he resisted the urge to sigh. Maybe he should have run off to the Empire... He wanted more than the life he had, but he was too proud to leave when he was on the cusp of carving out his own place.

"Good kid," Aban’s grin widened, and Owyn’s fist clenched a bit tighter around his cup. "Here," he reached into his satchel and pulled out something, tossing it to Owyn.

Owyn caught what seemed to be a rock with one side smoothed and flattened and inscribed with gold inlays. Only as soon as he felt the tingle of mana, he knew it wasn’t just a rock...

"What is this?" he asked.

"It’s half of a mana crystal." Aban held up the other half. "I got them off the peddler last time he came to the village. Put some mana through it, and we can talk as long as we’re nearby, but mostly I just want you to have it on you so I can tell you exactly what to do. You’re going in first, after all. Everyone cheer for Owyn!"

As the youths followed Aban’s lead in acknowledging Owyn for what was probably the first time for many of them, Owyn couldn’t help but think about throwing the rock at Aban’s face.

He just knew Aban wouldn’t care either way if he got killed.