Chapter 46: Ashes and Answers
Fractured Promises
The girl's hand snapped back as if burned.
Ash pooled at their feet, thick and accusing.
"How fortuitous," the High Pontiff crooned, breaking the silence. "A replacement Archdemon for Region Three—and no sacrifices required."
Nathaniel's smile held frost. "We depart at once."
"We?" The Pontiff's gaze sharpened. "No preparations?"
"While Serd still nests there." The demon turned to the silent king, mischief glinting. "Care to witness history, Your Majesty?"
The Pontiff stifled a gasp. For decades he'd yearned to drag this coddled monarch into the muck of reality. Now this silver-tongued demon dared what no mortal could.
King Ignatius smoothed immaculate robes. "Reynolds… let us observe."
Let these ruins teach him what gilt halls never could.
Thresholds Crossed
In their dormitory, steam curled from a washbasin. Nathaniel draped winter woolens over a chair, the ritual achingly domestic.
"How long?" Tasiya eyed the packed satchel.
"Days, perhaps." He scribbled instructions for Sigrid. "The border mission—"
"I don't care about missions." The towel hit the floor.
She stood half-bared, scars mapping wars he hadn't shielded her from. "I'm selfish now. Only Vincent matters. Only you."
The demon's throat tightened. Through their bond surged her fear—not of battle, but of his erosion. How many centuries had he leeched poisons from this blighted earth?
"Dress." His voice cracked. "We'll talk clothed."
Her laugh held knives. "Still squeamish?"
When she emerged, dawn-touched and vulnerable, he crushed her to his chest. "I love you." The confession burned like swallowed sunlight. "Enough to want better worlds than this."
Beneath the Caldera
Region Three's gates yawned like a corpse's mouth.
No sentries. No smoke from chimneys. Only blood-blackened walls humming with corrupted energy. Nathaniel shattered the defensive barrier with a flick—too easily.
"Odd." His wings tensed. "He should've—"
A guttural cry split the silence.
Commander Thales crawled from rubble, lips cracked with thirst. "Demons… turned." He gagged on the revelation. "The traitor… in the volcano's heart."
Deep below, Serd paced his molten labyrinth. "He's here." The Archdemon's claws scored obsidian. "Sidney betrayed us."
His lieutenant quailed. "We retreat?"
"No." Serd bared fangs. "Let the king see what his 'savior' truly is."
Revelations in Magma
Ignatius studied the silver-haired demon bearing his granddaughter through sulfurous winds.
Royal archives whispered of Nathaniel's agelessness—how he'd outlived seven dynasties, sustained by stolen divinity. Yet here he cradled Tasiya like she held his leash.
The king's breath hitched. What if the stories inverted? What if this demon groomed saints as one might prune bonsai?
As they breached the caldera, molten light revealed the truth:
Nathaniel's wings weren't shadow, but roots—thrumming filaments connecting to every rock, every poisoned stream. The land screamed through him.
"You feel it now?" Serd's voice boomed from the magma. "The weight of playing god?"
Tasiya gripped her demon's collar. "What's he—"
"Hush." Nathaniel pressed her palm to the shuddering earth.
Memories flooded her—centuries of his essence filtering toxins, mending fissures, sustaining life through agony. The cost of every verdant field, every safe road.
Her tears sizzled on basalt. "You never told…"
"You weren't meant to bear this." His smile bled despair. "But now you'll see why kings fear me."
Serd's laughter shook the mountain. "Show them, 'savior'! Show your saint the rot you've hidden!"
The ground ruptured.
From the abyss crawled things that had never been human—soldiers fused with demonic biomass, their chests pulsing with stolen hearts.
Ignatius retched. "My… my regiments…"
"Not yours." Nathaniel's voice turned glacial. "Ours."
Tasiya's blade cleared its sheath. "Explain. Now."
"The Cardiac Auction." He stared at the monstrosities. "Not a market… a factory."
Chapter 47: Crumbling Gods
Flames in the Dark
Stone walls bled smoke. Pockets of fire clawed upward from student dormitories, their wooden beams collapsing like brittle bones. Tasiya gripped Nathaniel's arm as they soared above the capital—a constellation of flames blooming where none should be.
Too coordinated. The arsonists had spared granaries and armories, as if this were a performance rather than annihilation.
"Put me down," she ordered. Nathaniel obeyed, his wings scattering embers as she landed barefoot on cobblestones. The heat bit her soles; she tore strips from her cloak to bind them.
Demons swarmed the smoke-choked streets, their inhuman resilience turning them into living shields. Students coughed and stumbled, some giggling hysterically as demonic rescuers swept them into bridal carries.
"Tasiya!" Mayra emerged from the haze, her face smudged with soot. Without hesitation, she kicked off her boots. "Take these. You're hauling twice the buckets I can."
The girls swapped footwear in seconds. Around them, alchemy students hurled experimental powders at the flames—frost-blue chemicals hissing against stone.
Nathaniel watched from rooftops, tallying burn patterns. Nine ignition points. All near… His gaze snapped to the palace spires.
Smoke and Mirrors
By midnight, the fires died—not from water, but exhaustion. Students slumped against blackened walls, trading jokes about which demon smelled like burnt cinnamon.
Tasiya leaned into Nathaniel's chest, playing the smitten apprentice. "My room's ashes now," she whispered. "Take me… east."
He laughed too brightly, nuzzling her hair for the crowd. Then they were airborne, the charred dorm shrinking beneath them.
"The smoke," Tasiya hissed as wind whipped her face. "Thick enough to hide troop movements. Or—"
"—poison." Nathaniel's claws flexed. "Sigrid's defection left the Church scrambling. Perfect time to strike the Mother Pool."
Throne Room Gambit
Ignatius didn't flinch when they materialized in his sanctum. Royal guards lay slumped by the door, sleeping draughts steaming from overturned goblets.
"So." The king eyed Nathaniel's soot-streaked wings. "The watchdog finally bites."
Tasiya stepped forward, barefoot and glorious. "Your Majesty's reforms stall while demons carve your kingdom. We offer clarity." She tossed a charred ledger at his feet—records of vanished garrison troops.
Ignatius traced a singed page. Leyline patrols halved. Grain stores pilfered. His laugh curdled. "You think I don't know? Every 'loyal' duke owns a demon consultant now. Even if I purge the court…"
Nathaniel's tail flicked a dagger from the wall. It embedded itself between the king's fingers. "Purge smarter."
Theater of the Absurd
Sulfur choked the air as Nathaniel surveyed the volcano. "Bit cramped for spectators, don't you think?"
Before Tasiya could protest, he plunged clawed hands into bedrock. The mountain screamed.
Rivers of magma hardened mid-flow. Boulders disintegrated like sugar cubes. When the dust cleared, the volcano lay flattened—a dinner plate smashed by petulant divinity.
From the ruins, Serd emerged coughing pink ash. His lava-forged armor hung in tatters. "You… reshaped a tectonic plate to avoid stairs?!"
Nathaniel shrugged. "Efficiency."
Carnival of Flesh
West of the carnage, Sydeny adjusted his cuffs atop a gore-slick cliff. Below, his homunculus Ludo stacked demon hearts like macabre grapes.
"The blend's still bitter," Ludo whined, squeezing a ventricle. "Needs more despair."
"Patience." Sydeny's gaze burned toward the battlefield. "Let our silver fool feast on Serd's power first. Then…" He crushed a heart in his fist. "We'll season his downfall."
Dance of Blades
The pink-haired imp darted like a wasp, her poisoned tail seeking hearts. Tasiya's chain lashed out—not at the demon, but at her shadow.
Clang.
Abi shrieked as light seared her wings. "Cheater! You're supposed to swing the big thing!"
"Adapt." Tasiya pivoted, using the cross's weight to fling the chain in a deadly arc. The next strike severed the imp's stinger mid-lunge.
By the supply tents, Ignatius muttered to his bodyguard: "Remind me to increase her stipend."
Echoes of Betrayal
Terence watched hollow-eyed as Nathaniel toyed with Serd. No trace of his own demon remained—not even a scorch mark where their bond once burned.
You promised eternity, he thought, fingering the faded sigil. Around him, rescued soldiers cheered the silver demon's theatrics. None noticed their captain slipping a vial from his belt.
The liquid inside glowed like forgotten moonlight.
Chapter 48: The Price of Devotion
A Demon's Weakness
A demon's tail, Tasiya learned, was not merely decorative.
The pink-haired captive wailed, clutching the bleeding stump where her tail once balanced her flight. "You monster! Just stab my heart next time!"
Tasiya wiped her blade on the hem of her cloak. "Will it grow back?"
"Only if you feed me a priest!" the demon, Abi, hissed, though her bravado crumbled under Tasiya's glacial stare. "Or… maybe not. Please don't cut the rest."
Memories flickered in Abi's eyes—secrets Nathaniel would soon pry loose. For now, Tasiya turned to the trembling priest, Terrence, whose grief erupted like a geyser. "Where are our demons? What did you do to them?!"
Abi shrugged, chains clinking. "Some exploded. Too weak to handle Lord Serath's gifts."
Terrence collapsed, clutching his chest as if the words had torn out his heart. King Ignatius observed the scene with detached curiosity. "Do you mourn your demon this deeply, Reynard?"
The High Confessor adjusted his monocle. "Your Majesty, if you perished, I'd weep so fiercely my tears could drown a nation."
Ignatius sighed. "So you do plan to outlive me."
Collapse of a Titan
The volcano's corpse smoldered below, its crater now a stage for giants.
Serath's true form loomed—a mountain of scales and spite. Yet Nathaniel stood unfazed, his human guise absurdly small against the abyss.
"You," the behemoth rumbled, magma dripping from fangs. "You don't even remember crushing me like a roach, do you?"
Nathaniel tilted his head. "Should I?"
Rage detonated. Serath's roar shook the earth. "I'll make you remember! I'll—"
Abi's scream pierced the chaos. "Run! He's going to—"
Light swallowed the horizon.
Serath's body erupted, a supernova of demonic energy meant to obliterate kingdoms. Tasiya froze, crossbow slipping from her grip.
Then—
A shadow blotted the sun.
Nathaniel's true form unfolded, vast enough to stitch sky to earth. Ribs like cathedral arches. Wings spanning valleys. His body absorbed the blast, flesh tearing under apocalyptic force.
Tasiya ran.
Fractured Divinity
When the light died, she found him broken.
Blood pooled in craters where his ribs had shielded the land. One eye remained human—amethyst, guilty—while the other glowed molten gold, leaking ichor down his cheek.
"Don't… look," he rasped, claws curling to hide a chest cavity large enough to house a village. "I'm… not meant to be seen like this."
Tasiya climbed his trembling hand, boots slipping on blood-slick scales. "Idiot. Arrogant idiot." Her voice cracked. "You promised not to leave."
A ruined chuckle vibrated beneath her. "Still here, little saint. Just… need a nap."
She pressed her forehead to a scale hotter than fever. "How much did this cost you?"
No answer.
Abi's earlier taunt echoed: Demons don't heal. We replace.
Tasiya's nails dug into his flesh. "Listen. You don't get to fade. Not after making me care. Not after—"
A tremor.
His human eye dimmed.
Echoes of the Fallen
Dawn crept over the battlefield.
Ignatius stared at Nathaniel's dormant form, a god reduced to ruins. "So this is the truth of demons."
Reynard pocketed a shard of blackened scale. "The truth, sire, is that we've let children fight our wars."
Terrence knelt beside a smoking fissure, whispering rites for a demon whose ashes mingled with soil. Abi watched, tail-stump twitching.
"Pathetic," she muttered, though her gaze lingered on Tasiya—a girl clinging to a monster, refusing to let death win.