594 Alama's Helplessness

Alama had enjoyed a rare bit of free time lately.

It was not that there was nothing to do, but compared with the past decade-plus, when he had been forced to sit year-round at High Keep Fortress and face the Demon Race's advancing blades, the situation now was already different.

High Keep Fortress had changed hands, and the human armies had withdrawn to a defensive line farther in the rear, leaving a vast buffer zone between the two sides.

The lengthening of the front and the change in the form of confrontation had, unexpectedly, given the duke some time he could dispose of freely.

Only then could he leave the front line for the moment, come to Mushroom Capital, and see the daughter who was always bringing her "surprises."

"Is this that Binding Ring?" Alama's attention was quickly drawn to the ring on Inanna's hand, its design ancient and simple, runic light faintly flickering over it. "Why are there two?"

As he spoke, he reached out a finger with some curiosity, wanting to touch the ring and examine it more closely.

"Keep your filthy hands off me, human!"

A jet of flame suddenly surged up from the ring, sweeping across the cloth at Alama's chest that had just been dampened by melted ice. In an instant, it steamed the fabric dry, even singeing the ends of his black-and-white hair until they curled slightly.

"Little Fire! He's my father!" Inanna snapped at the ring, somewhat angry.

"Of course I know that!" A voice like muffled thunder came from inside the ring, clearly displeased. "Otherwise he'd already be a medium-well roast by now! And I'm not called 'Little Fire'!"

"I'm not talking to you today!" Then Inanna came to Alama's side and asked with concern, "Old man, you didn't get burned, right?