CHAPTER 301: YOU SHOULD HAVE STAYED DEAD IN MY PAST!

A chill settled over the private booth as Damon’s eyes locked onto the anonymous figure. The casual smirk on his face vanished, replaced by something sharp, something dangerous. His earlier amusement evaporated like mist under fire.

It was him.

He would recognize him anymore. That calm demeanour, that casual look on his face, that innocent smile he wore. One look at him, and a person would feel as if they could trust him.

But Damon knew better. That face, unremarkable, almost forgettable, hid something monstrous underneath. In his past life, that same smile had preceded the guy stabbing him in his back. Literally.

The guy had stood with him through many things, through lows and highs, through humiliation and pain, but in the end, when it mattered the most, when Damon had been so close to achieving what he wanted, he had stabbed him in the back.

Aiden!

Damon’s blood boiled as killing intent flowed freely from his body, rampaging across the entire auction house auditorium. His hands trembled, not with fear, but with fury too great to contain. The calm, calculating predator was gone, replaced by a storm barely leashed by reason.

Aiden.

The man who had once called Damon "brother."

The man who had watched him bleed out with a smile.

The man who had taken everything from him.

Damon could still remember the exact spot where the blade had gone in. The bitter metallic scent of blood, the utter disbelief that had frozen his limbs, the look of pity on Aiden’s face, not regret, not guilt. Pity. As if Damon were a relic of the past, something to be discarded because it was inconvenient.

Damon leaned forward slowly, his eyes never leaving that unremarkable face. He had thought that he had put petty things like revenge behind him and had wanted to live this new life without the shadows of his old one, but the moment he saw the bastard, all reasoning was gone.

Fuck being zen! He wanted his damn revenge!

He wanted that bastard to burn. He wanted to cripple him just like he had crippled him. He wanted him to feel the same pain and betrayal he had felt. He wanted him to beg for death and then deny it to him.

The space around Damon was filled with a murderous aura, with the weight of his emotions. Even the protective wards trembled, reacting to the sheer surge of bloodlust rolling off his body like crashing waves. Across the hall, several top-tier players instinctively turned to look at Damon.

But Damon didn’t care.

All he could see was him.

Aiden, standing there with that same gentle, fake-ass smile. The same blank stare, the same "harmless" posture. No one else knew what kind of devil lived under that skin. A ruthless man, ruthless enough to betray someone whom he called his blood brother.

Aiden had waited until the very end, when Damon was inches from taking the throne, when the soul weapon had already begun to merge with him. And then, like flipping a switch, he had plunged the dagger between Damon’s ribs and watched everything Damon had built come crashing down.

And now he had finally shown up in this life!

"You should have stayed dead in my past!" Damon growled.

He was one second away from throwing all caution to the wind and running to the bastard right then and there and ripping apart his head from his body. His entire being was trembling with rage. His nails dug into his palm, and blood dripped, the toxin in his blood hissing as it hit the auction hall’s floor.

But he somehow managed to settle down and sit back down. Barely. His entire body was shaking with rage, but he forced himself to remain calm.

Damon’s breath came in shallow, razor-edged draws, his chest rising and falling like a beast barely restrained. His crimson eyes locked onto Aiden, glowing faintly beneath the hood’s shadow. Every instinct screamed at him to leap, to tear, to end it all now. But a small part of him knew better.

Not here. Not now.

If he lost his control right here and now and acted hastily, then everything he had worked so hard for would crumble in an instant. He had his family to think about. He had people who mattered to him more than his single bastard. He was not worth it. He was not worth risking everything for.

Damon gritted his teeth. His vision tinged red for a second before he blinked it away. He forced himself to unclench his fists and quell his murderous aura. His lips curved into a smile, nothing like before. This one was dark. Vicious. Icy.

"You don’t even know I’m here, do you?" Damon murmured under his breath, gaze never leaving Aiden.

Then suddenly Damon realized something. He remembered something Aiden had once told him. The guy said that he had joined the game only several weeks in, around the time Damon had joined as well.

When Damon had met the guy for the first time, Aiden was merely a level 5 vampire. So he did not think too much about his words and believed him. The two of them had quickly become friends and started to play more and more together.

However, now things were a bit different. The Aiden in front of him was clearly not a vampire. He was also standing here with a level 49 tag, something that should be impossible if he joined the game only later, as he claimed in his last timeline.

So, which was true?

Damon let out a breath. It was obvious, wasn’t it? This person had lied to him right from the beginning. That was the only possible explanation.

And if he had lied about something so small back then, how many other lies had Damon swallowed without question?

Damon’s fingers curled tightly again, but this time, the tremble wasn’t from fury. It was clarity, cold, cutting clarity that stripped away the last pieces of nostalgia, of brotherhood, of forgiveness.

Aiden had played him like a damn fiddle in his past life, and now Damon saw the strings clearly for what they were.