SSS Awakening: Rebirth of the Strongest Vampire God novel Chapter 593

Chapter 593: What do you intend for her future?

Damon shut that thought down immediately. "I am not," he said with a flat voice, "drinking anything that changes my race."

The elder wiped a lingering tear of amusement. "Yes, yes, I know. If such an elixir truly existed, half the continent would be elves by now, though our forests would collapse under the weight of all their romantic expectations." He sighed dramatically. "Mortals are exhausting."

Damon ignored the guy and came straight to the point. "How much longer do you think the trial is going to take?" He talked about Lirae again.

The old elf stopped laughing and looked at Damon with a mysterious glint in his eyes. "Quite the smitten bloodsucker, aren’t you? Only thinking of my granddaughter all the time, hmmm? Say, brat, what are your plans for her after you take her away from me?"

Damon could feel ’the conversation’ coming on, the one that a girl’s father typically had with a boy who dared breathe near his daughter. Except this one wasn’t a father. This was a boulder-armed, tree-blooded, ancient elf who could probably send him flying with a slap.

Damon internally sighed. Wonderful.

The elder leaned forward with that same twinkling, dangerous softness in his eyes, the "I might smile, or I might throw you into a forest" kind of softness. "Well?" the old elf prodded. "My granddaughter. Your... fiancée, apparently. What do you intend for her future?"

Damon casually replied. "Whatever she wants."

The elder blinked. As if he wasn’t sure he heard correctly.

"Whatever... she wants?"

"Yes."

A long silence followed, broken only by the gentle hum of glowing vines and the bubbling of the moonlit pool. The old elf stroked his beard, squinting at Damon like he was examining a rare, misbehaving artifact.

"My, my... look at you," he finally said. "A ruthless, venom-soaked nightmare who just wrung my grandson like a wet towel, yet when it comes to my Lirae, you suddenly grow principles."

Damon snorted. "I don’t suddenly grow anything."

The elder gave him the full grandfather stare. "Brat, you massacred your way through two old orders in the desert kingdom, but the moment the topic turns to my granddaughter’s feelings, you answer like a respectful suitor terrified of upsetting her relatives? Are you a tyrant or a lover?"

Damon choked again. This elf was clearly just pulling his legs. "This conversation is pointless."

"Oh no," the elder said, wagging a finger, "this is a tradition. When a young fool barges into my home declaring intentions to marry my own blood, I have the right to pry."

Damon rolled his eyes. Where was the elven pride? Where was the high-born elegance? Weren’t the elves supposed to be a prideful and aloof race who cared a lot about race, nobility, status and such? Why was this old guy so carefree?

Damon had somehow stumbled into the home of a muscle-bound ancient grandfather who behaved like a mischievous tavern uncle with too much free time. He resisted the urge to rub his face.

The elder’s gaze softened, though the mischief never left his voice. "You care for her." He smiled.

Damon didn’t answer.

"You’re not planning to keep her locked up or clipped like a pet bird."

"No."

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