Belonging to the Demon King
A couple of females took notice, glancing over at him and whispering to each other.
"Who's that?" a small witch murmured with slight interest.
"A demon," another female whispered. "He must be a berserker, to be that big. Why is he demonic? Is he looking to start a fight?"
"Never had a berserker before," the small one purred.
"Don't even think about it," yet a different witch warned. "He's the cursed king. The demon within controls that one. He'd rip you to pieces."
They shook their heads, their expressions a mixture of pity and fear. The back of his neck heated beneath the hood of his cloak. He gritted his teeth, clenching his fists until his claws bit into his palms.