Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The teen raised a hand, catching the poster which flew in the harsh breeze. The paper crumples in his hand, as he gazed down at the words and images which decorated the brown piece of parchment. Brushing his fingers across the name and image the sheet of paper sought to convey, all he could feel was the rough texture of the parchment, which flaked away under his fingers, rendering the words unreadable beneath his fingers as the paper could barely hold itself together.

Despite that, one look is all he needs before he releases the paper, letting the breeze carry it elsewhere, somewhere far away from this place. He casts a forlorn look at the sheet of paper, before he turns back and continues walking the way he needed to be. 

Somewhere far away, a place where he would be forgotten, a shard of history from a broken past, never to be remembered in the passage of time. He pulls the hood of his cloak tighter to himself, the shadow of the brown cloak, one he had salvaged from the remnants of a collapsed home, the aftermath of the greatest war the kingdom had ever seen. 

Even now, as he tread through the broken cobblestone pavements beneath his feet, stepping carefully over each large, jagged piece as he makes his way to the edge of the border, he wonders if he has the right to decide where he should head to next. Passing through the abandoned town, where not even ghosts lingered behind, he feels nothing but a sense of painful guilt, one which he knew he had to carry with him for the rest of his life. 

Casting a gaze at the almost crimson orange setting sun in the sky, he decides that it is for the best if he sought shelter then, before night fell and made his journey much more treacherous and dangerous. The streets are empty, devoid of any life, with nothing but the sound of dead bushes rustling in the dry, heavy wind. The remaining houses around are all abandoned, its inhabitants either dead or long gone, rendered to nothing but dust and ashes, wiped from existence. A hollow empty town, with only silence living within its empty courtyards, shattered pavements, broken roads, and vacant homes. 

It wasn’t that the inhabitants had left the area and moved away. 

He steps up to one of the windows of an empty home, seeing how everything within was still as if a family had still lived in it, a pot of food on its stove though he knew that had gone bad a long time ago. Peering into the kitchen from the still open window, he could see utensils set around the simple varnished wooden dining table, its colour faded from disuse as it had sat there, waiting to be used. A potted plant at the corner of the room had become an overgrown tree, its vines seeping into cracks in the wooden planks in the floor and walls, a large creeping shadow which had taken over the entire corner, bearing flowers which he could not recognise. 

With the exception of that sole living thing, the kitchen is devoid of living beings, even as food set on the table had gone mouldy, rotted into a pile of mush, decomposed into something else unrecognisable. A set of family photos hung on the wall, and he cannot bear to look at them, or take a closer look at them. 

The whole area was simultaneously frozen in time, yet time itself has passed beyond an extent which he could not understand. 

He peeks his head through the window, pushing open the wooden frame slowly as the hinges creaked. Scaling his way over the window’s edge was easy, due to his smaller lighter frame of his younger self, and yet as he swings himself over the ledge and into the kitchen on the first floor, his hands touch nothing but layers of accumulated dust and grime, even as he hauls himself over the kitchen countertop. 

As he slides off and drops down onto the kitchen floor, he dusts his hands on his cloak, as he steps around the overgrown potted plant, making his way into the stairwell of the house, as he tests his weight on the floorboards before deciding that it was good enough to hold his weight. 

The first room he finds on the second level belongs to a child.  

The wooden name plate hung on the door held in it a name, as he opened the light pastel pink door which gave way without a single problem. 

Peeking into the room, he finds that it is clean, airy with an open window letting in a gentle breeze which stirs the pale patterned flower curtain hanging at the edges of the window across the door, to which a crib sits beneath the window. A set of pictures and photo frames line the wall, the images of a family and their newborn daughter decorating the walls of the room, as a set of toys lined the edges of the crib.

He takes a step forward, into the room, only to knock into something at his feet. 

It is the skeletal, decomposing corpse of an elderly woman, preserved forever within the stasis of time. Her hands are deformed, as one still held onto what seemed to be a toy teddy bear, its soft baby blue fur now caked in a layer of dust so thick it dyed it grey. She had died crying, a wail on her lips as she had struggled in her death, simply even to reach the door, with her hands reaching out to where he now stood. 

He stands, unmoving, unable to tear his eyes away from the corpse as he is frozen where he stood. 

She had been a child. 

She had been a child when her time had been taken from her. 

She had her time taken from her because of him. 

It was all his fault.

How many lives had he extinguished? How many had he taken? From their own homes, from where they stood. From the midst of their lives, from where they once lived, from their promised futures, how many had he killed?

How many villages, towns, cities, had he brought to ruin, inviting the hollow silence, the haunting desolation to inhabit, the deaths of so many precious lives left without a reminder of their existence? 

And that was why he needed to disappear.

To be long gone from the face of the world, buried deep beneath the edge or lost out in the void that was the sea. To be erased from existence, purged from reality, to be unable to do more hurt to others he had once sworn to protect. He must bear the burden of his sins, until he knows he can simply cease to be. 

It was a mistake to enter this home.

To choose the path through this village, because now he knew he would never be rid of the guilt, the swirling, drowning pool of regret which clouded his thoughts, filing every single coherent thought he had with nothing but dread and a suffocating grief which hung around his throat. And with it came the questions. The endless, numerous questions he asked himself, questions which left him hopeless, uncentered, lost and faithless. 

He should be numb to this.

And yet it hurts all the same.

All these people had died for him, because of him, because he had failed to save them from himself. The conquering, hidden madness that had lurked within his soul, a demon which had waited so patiently in the furthest depths of his spirit, only to emerge when the time had come. 

The weight of Lucius Zogratis’ actions would forever haunt him.

It was only so long before the insanity of the same monster caught up with him. 

Even from beyond the grave, the dead man haunted him, his presence everywhere he went, carving out destruction with a meticulous scalpel, only killing what had used to be his people and left behind only the ashes and decomposing forms of their corpses. It was why this whole village was caked in dust, a layer so invisible yet so heavy, and now the room he was in felt so small. 

It was a mistake to come here.

He steps away from the corpse, his limbs struggling to obey him as he stumbles over the outstretched hand on the floor, and he clings onto the doorway for support, the urge to run, so far, far away from what was before him pushing him to move down the stairs. 

Everywhere he went, he would only see traces of destruction and loss of life he had caused to the Clover Kingdom.

Even as he opens the door and staggers across and over to the cracked pavement, the light of the glowing sun nothing more but a faint hint of orange dyeing the skies in a crimson, dying light. He steps out into the cold, lonely road, one that stretches far out into the growing darkness of the night, a pitch black void which would descend over the dead town. 

Julius Novachrono runs from destruction he has wrought. 

With him, he carried the blood of a hundred thousand lives on his hands, the ghost of a dead man who had torn his world asunder, having slain the lives of his own trusted confidants and companions, and the burden of knowing he had caused it all. 

Run, run away from it all, he wishes to himself as he fled into the darkness of the approaching night, and he knows he can never forget the look of betrayal on William and Yami, the other Magic Knights, the corpses of the nobles who had stood in Lucius’ way, and his heart tears itself apart. He chokes on the grief of his own actions, mourning the loss of his control, the lack of his own memories, the void which was his identity. 

He was but a nameless being, an artificial soul, a false facade of a madman, nothing much and nothing more. 

Wandering off into the starless sky, the shadow of the night merely gazes over him apathetically, drowning all light out and leaving not a single sign in the skies. Still, he cannot do anything but walk, away into the endless night, the cold sky which mocks him from where it looms over him. 

The fields around him are endless, overgrown wheat, a sea of dark, writhing masses, swaying waves in the descending violet hues of the dying light, before he knows it will fizzle out and disappear. The rocks beneath him disappear as the path ends, and he is left facing a trailless crossroad which laid itself before him. 

Where the trails ended, what laid beyond was an endless, rolling hills of land, shadows of rocks cast onto the dead, drying grass as he hesitates. 

There is no true way forward.

There is no correct path he should take.

And so he steps and wanders, for he was already lost. 

-

In his dreams, a pair of hands, his own (not his) , snaps the neck of an ever growing pile of corpses. A layer of dust coats his fingers, his palms, seeping in between his fingers, collecting beneath his nails, the edge of insanity in a laughter that resounds in an everlasting echo. 

Three hanged bodies, dripping blood, siblings he did not recognise. (But he did)

A circle of devils, dancing around blackened flames of a fire, sparkling wildly as a corpse was burnt at stake. 

Everlasting, eternal, immortality. 

The blood of sin drips into a chalice, mixed with the ashes of an ever burning corpse, surrounded by the madness of a thousand, if not, a hundred thousand devils. An inverted tree which grew from the pile of corpses, growing inverted into the depths of the ground until it reached hell.

Two great doors which parted for him. 

He drinks from the chalice, and welcomes what lies beyond. 

-

Sleep does not come to him.

Rather, he wakes himself from his slumber, heart racing and pounding furiously as he clutches at his chest. It is hard to breathe, not with the tendrils of panic still clinging around his heart, suffocating his lungs as it is a reminder of the uneasy sensation he had felt all the way back then when things went so, so wrong. It was his mind’s way of warning him of the demon which resided in his own soul, one he had not paid enough attention to until it was too late, and he swung himself off of the branch of the tree he had chosen to rest in. 

Time to move on.

The eerie stillness of the forest merely exacerbates the already growing pool of anxiety in his chest, as the irrational fear of the dark, the unknown depths of the forest begins to seep into his mind. He did not sense anything in the dark, he tells himself.

But since when were his instincts ever right?

The quiet silence was deafening as he made his way to the edge of the forest where he had come from. He couldn't afford to be lost, lest he damn himself to a new eternity and hell of wandering around in the dark forested maze, unable to tell which tree was what as he stumbled through the pitch black darkness.

It simply only brings back more horrible, bad memories, and he feels a sharp pain from his arm as he walks into a low hanging branch. 

He bites down on a yelp, as he takes a few steps back, clutching onto where his shoulder had hit the branch, his arm hurting at the slightest of motions as he massages it. It hurts in a way that is bruised deep enough that a single touch sends waves of pain down his arm, and he cradles his left arm closer to himself as he reaches out to find where the tree was, feeling the rough bark of the wood and searching for where the branch extended out to.

Look at what he was doing now.

Blind in the dark, lost in the forest and stumbling blindly with an injured arm.

He can barely see his hands a few feet in front of him, and even then his first instinct is to use magic he does not have. 

Julius figured that that was what would happen if he was killed using the anti-magic sword.

And he had been right.

At least he was here now, lost in the dead woods, rather than locked away in a prison cell within the dungeons of the Clover Kingdom, awaiting execution whilst all of his previous companions, allies, students, and people waited for him to rot away in the depths of his madness.  

Was this any better?

Dying out in the wild, his corpse eaten and preyed on by wild animals.

Perhaps he would be mauled to death, if he didn’t accidentally walk over the edge of a cliff in this darkness.

He does not know.

He takes a few steps forward, slowly, one at a time as he feels for obstacles in front of him. 

The first hint of smoke is confusing, but it was a good sign. 

Even with a guide, he struggles to follow the hint of a campfire, as he struggles through the darkness, one that fades away after he stumbles all over the forest floor, leaves rustling beneath his boots as he draws closer to the distant, hazy light in the distance. 

The flickering warmth illuminates the light, as he peeks out and finds a group of merchants, with wagons covered and draped over with black tarp, sitting around a bustling camp fire. It is tantalising, to ask if he could join them by the campfire and bask in its warmth, to take away the chill that had long since seeped into his bones and to ask for directions on where to go. 

He counts seven members, each dressed in travelling clothes, cloaks, hoods, hiking boots, as they had already set up their bedrolls around the warm fire, at which a large pot of stew was boiling over the roaring fire. They chattered to each other amicably, some passing each other grilled sticks of meat, jugs of water as cups were passed around.

A woman sits by the side of one of the wagons, of which there were two of them in total. With long raven hair, she seems to lean her head into one of the wagons as the others around the campfire laugh at her actions. He wonders if he is dreaming when he hears the edge of mockery in the tones of their laughter. 

“Hey kid! You seem cold out there!” 

One of the men shouts, and he whips his head to the sound of the man’s voice, who walks towards him from his left. The man was dressed in a pale grey woollen vest, the edges of a thick heavy black cloak trailing behind him as his deceptively light footsteps made his way towards him. 

The travelling merchant has long brown hair tied up into a bun, as grey eyes look at him with a strange warmth, holding a hand out to him as he gestures towards the campfire.

“Would you like to join us?”  

He wants to join them. He should. As he looks at the warmth of the dancing orange flame, flickering beneath the heated metal of the pot of soup boiling over it, he cannot help but feel his hunger return. 

And so he nods.

The man smiles at him, and he gets a strange feeling, but moves to join the band of travellers regardless. With a mixture of men and women, some younger while the others seemed to be middle aged, the eldest had to be an elderly man with a white side burn and greying goatee, yet he looked as fit and sturdy as ever as he passed bowls of stew around the fire. 

“I’m Larx,” The first man introduces himself, the one with the woollen vest of which a strange necklace hung around his neck. It was a circular metal sigil which was carved in a series of lines and curves, which only curved around the right half of the pendent as a curved arrow emerged from the right half and pointed to the left. Larx seemingly sensed his gaze on the pendent, and he tucks it into the folds of his shirt.

“That is Emelia,” He pointed to the woman who sat by the carts, a redhead with her hair tied down into a single long braid down her back, as she too wore the same black cloak as Larx did, dressed in long sleeves and a pair of hunting boots. She looks at him with a look of surprise, one that is quickly schooled into neutrality. But he notices it. 

“Rutherford.” The old man grunts in acknowledgement. He dusts his hands on the apron like overall he wore, as he slips it off, revealing what seemed to be a hunter’s garb beneath his clothes as he sets the apron aside.

“Natasha,” Another woman, this time with long black hair that covered the left half of her face, snaps her gaze up to meet his own, and he can see the hint of what had to be heavy scarring on the hidden half of her face. Her steely blue eye stares into his own, and he takes it as a sign to back off and away. Larx seemingly chuckles, amused by their interaction.

“Yren and Wren,” Two males turned to look at him, having short black hair each, their hands pulled away from what seemed like the messy work of skinning down a piece of deer hide they had set over the edge of a large flat piece of rock. The two men stared at him eerily, and Julius noticed that the both of them had a strange marking beneath their left and right eye respectively, resembling a scarred tear drop which was inked onto their skin. 

“They might look intimidating but they are just a bunch of quiet fellows,” Larz reassures him.

“And lastly, our final man of the hour!” Larx calls out to a silhouette in the darkness between the wagons. 

A man steps out, silvery white hair hanging from his shoulders as he steps out into the glow of the campfire. The new individual was tall, and he clearly had a lot of strength despite his apparent leanness, as he dragged behind him what seemed to be a large, black coloured sack which was slung over his shoulder. The man’s eyes flickered over to him, and they were coloured a spectral hollow yellow, akin to that of a cat’s eyes in the pitch black darkness of the night. 

He dumps the sack by one of the wagons, as the redhead, Emeilia, picks it up and hefts it over her shoulders, before bringing it into one of the wagons. The sack twitches for a moment, and Julius pretends he did not simply focus all of his attention on that one thing.

“This is Halrich. He’s basically our main man,” Halrich looks at Larx with a scrutinising gaze, as the man walks over to where the circle of them were seated around the fire. It was only then did Julius notice how the tips of his hair were dyed red, giving the man a strange appearance, in contrast to his pale skin paired with black coloured clothes. He too wore the strange pendant, one that he knew was exactly the same as the one Larx wore. 

“What’s your name?” Halrich asks him, and his voice is thick with an accent he cannot recognise, a deep tone that takes him a split second to decipher as the man peers at him expectantly. 

His name is on the tip of his tongue, about to be spoken aloud and never taken back, before he catches himself and decides to change it up.

“I..I don’t quite remember it,” He hadn’t thought up a cover story yet. His words seem to catch everyone’s attention, as they all stare at him strangely. Great. He didn’t mean to make things so awkward. Still, perhaps the amnesiac route was faster and easier. He could claim that he had woken up outside the ruins of an abandoned village without a memory of who he was, with only the clothes on his back, and he set out to wander and find out what to do next with his life. 

“You an amnesiac or something?” The old man, Rutherford, asks him as he hands the bowl of stew out to him. He accepts it gratefully, as he nods in response. The wooden bowl is hot in the palm of his cold hands, the stark temperature difference warming his skin and hands up, as he watched the older man continue passing out the bowls amongst the others. 

“Do you…want to find out about what happened to you?” Halrich prods him with his question, and Julius is left to wonder what he should say in response. Frankly, he didn’t have much to say.

“Not really. I woke up in the ruins of a dead town. I was probably left for dead there if I was ever with some others,” He takes the spoon, stirring around the warm bowl of stew, to which he recognise chunks of mutton in the light brown coloured broth, accompanied with diced potatoes and carrots as well as the translucent slices of onions that had grown soft in the high heat of the peppery broth.

“What are all of you doing out here though? Are you…traders?” Julius asked, as he looked at the strange group of individuals. Larx laughs, a hearty one that almost has the edge of a strain to it.

“We’re…collectors of sorts. Out here to collect strange artefacts and things we can get our hands on. Since you’ve got nothing going for you, would you like to join us? We don’t mind having another hand with us in our duties,” Larx responded, as he takes the bowl of stew from Rutherford, who seems to sigh at his words.

“Another stray? Sure.” Natasha speaks up from where she was hunched over, peering at the cover of her own grimoire, a lime green one with the cover of different flowers stitched into the material itself. Her black hair sways, and for a moment he caught a glimpse of how badly marred her face was by what seemed to be a burn. 

“You know what they say….the more the merrier,” The twins, Yren and Wren look up from their bowls of stew, and their eyes pierce into his soul. The atmosphere of this group was frankly…just extremely strange. 

“That’s gonna be the last one, right?” Emelia steps out from behind the wagon. Her lips are pursed into a thin line, and she looked displeased at his presence. 

Halrich nods.

“I suppose…if you won’t mind…” It’s an impulsive decision, Julius knew that, but he knows he cannot stay any longer by himself in the wild. Lest he get even more injured, walk off a cliff in the sheer blind dark, or mauled to death by a magical beast. With the lack of magic, his own grimoire, (which had ever truly been his own), he was defenceless in the wilderness. But he was tired, hungry, sleep deprived, and running on the dregs of adrenaline from his nightmare, and he decided that it was better to be amongst this company than alone with his own thoughts. 

“That’s great! Welcome to the gang!” Larx congratulates him with a hearty slap on his left shoulder, and the wave of pain that comes with it nearly causes him to drop his bowl of stew, but he catches it and sets it on the floor before he touches his injured shoulder. 

“Are you hurt?” The strange, but almost low gentleness in Halrich’s voice surprises him, as the white haired male offers his hand up to him. 

“Oh..it’s alright. It’s just a small accident…” 

“It must hurt badly for you to flinch that way. Let me help you,” The man whom he had initially found the most intimidating offers up a palm, his grimoire, one coloured white and rimmed with black curled edges, floats to his command. 

He decides to let Halrich help him, even though it was really quite unnecessary and he knew the bruises would go away naturally, he simply felt tired from everything that had happened during the day. It was…nice to let someone in to help him. Even though he knew he didn’t deserve any of the aid for what he had done, and what he had unleashed upon the world. 

Halrich casts a spell on him, a white coloured glow which manifests a spectral hand that sets itself over his injured shoulder. The cool, refreshing sensation seeps through his clothes and into his skin, and he finds himself almost relaxing from the touch alone, as Larx chuckles next to him. 

A wave of calmness settles over his mind, his body and his soul, lulling him with a soft lullaby that sang and calmed the tumultuous waves of his emotions, drawing them to a peaceful quiet stillness over his heart and mind that he never thought would be possible after all he had done. It was like the warm caress of a lover, the soft gentle touch on his mind so unearthly soft and kind, the soothing tenderness of the action easing his pain and the edge of his mind.

“Relax. You are safe here.”

A hand cups his cheek, as Halrich tilts his head to look into his eyes. 

“Are you a runaway?”

“Yes.” The words slip from his tongue without consideration.

“Will there be others searching for you?”

“...No.” There it was again. The strange reluctance and hesitation to speak.

His answers and truths are pulled from his tongue, like water spilling so freely from a jug across a floor, and he remembers. The lulling voice in his mind, the melody which enchanted him, ensnared him, the manic laughter that occupied his head, the parting words of Lucius Zogratis as he had forced him into an endless dream, filled with false, poisonous reassurances. 

He chokes as the spectral hand grips onto his throat.

Clawing at the spell, he struggles to get up, to back away from the company of travellers, only for Larx to pull on his left arm hard enough to send him to the ground, as the man easily pinned him down with his weight. 

“He struggled much more than the others!”

“Nearly broke out of my spell,”

A cloth is set over his mouth and nose as the sickly sweet scent of what he knew had to be a knockout drug was forced onto him.

“Don’t bother playing unconscious, boy. It’s seven of us to one of you.” The spectral hand chokes him, forcing him to breathe in and inhale the drug soaked cloth as he suffocates beneath the weight of the man who held him down. 

“With this, we’re set.”

“Our wishes will finally be granted?”

“All 7 are collected.”

“Enough to summon-”

He blacks out.

-

“Hey…over here…” His head pounds as he opens his eyes. 

Adrenaline courses through his veins, as Julius recalled what had happened before he had been knocked out, and he lifts his head up, finding only darkness greeting him as he struggles against tightly bound ropes around his wrist and ankles. 

He is jerked back down, choked by the collar around his neck as he could only see the black coloured cloth tied over his eyes, and he lacked sufficient mobility to bend his neck down or move his hands up to pry the blindfold down from where it was tied around his eyes. 

Moving his fingers was a pain as well, as they refused to listen to him, the numbing sensation of the loss of blood circulation leaving them tingly, yet unfeeling. Of all the situations he had to get into, a kidnapping was one of the worst ones. 

And he had barely gotten out alive from the final fight.

He stifles a hiss of pain as he feels the ground beneath him jerk, and it causes the chains around his hand to tighten suddenly, pulling on his injured shoulder, because surprise, they did not heal it as they had said they would. The hazy compliance of what had occurred back then, it sent shivers down his spine, a reminder that he was so easily manipulated and malleable to the will of others. Recalling the shimmering spectral hand, the feelings it had invoked within him…he curses himself for giving in so easily. 

“You awake?” The soft muffled voice comes from behind him, the hint of a girl’s voice, soft and hushed, and he can feel a tug on the end of his chains. 

“Did they capture you too?” The girl continues to ask, and this time he knows that she was in the same position as him. They were both kidnapees, likely gone for good if they did not find a way out as soon as possible. Their captors, those…merchants, no..collectors, they needed seven individuals. 

“Yes, unfortunately,” He responded in an equally quiet, if not softer tone. On his right, he hears the sound of shifting tarp, footsteps and voices as the girl behind him tugged at her chains. 

“Pretend to be unconscious. That way they won’t bother you,” She advised him, and he quickly settled back down on the floor of the wooden carriage, the rhythmic sway of their cage having been brought to a halt. Feigning unconsciousness, the footsteps, light and nimble, make their way towards him as he can feel the presence of someone stop by right in his face. 

The individual seems to inspect the chains, fiddling around with them and tightening them even further, and shortening the length of the available chain he had to work with, as he felt his arms being forced back and behind him. This caused a painful strain on his shoulder, and he bites down an involuntary hiss before it could be heard. 

After he feels the pair of hands on the collar around his wrist and ankles leave, he waits patiently for the footsteps to disappear, if not stop completely. He had to make sure the tarp was opened too, and that the residual footsteps could be heard from outside the tarp. Otherwise, he would just wait until the carriage started moving again before he started speaking to his fellow captive. The fact that their captors had chosen to blindfold them, bind their wrists and ankles so tightly as well as collar them and chain them to the floor of the carriage itself meant that they really were doing a lot to keep them captive. It vastly limited their escape options, since they could not even scrutinise their surroundings, and their range of mobility was so heavily restricted he couldn't even lift his head any higher than a small tilt without the collar constricting around his throat. 

The tarp to the wagon is set back down. 

There is a pregnant silence, the expectation of words to be spoken, yet as he waits for the girl to continue with her line of inquiry, she does not say anything. He was likely the newest captive, which meant that the girl he was chained in front of had greater experience dealing with the captors, and he decides that it is best to follow her lead. 

As the feeling of pins and needles begins to flow into his limbs, he bears with it despite how much it hurt. 

In the silence of the wagon, it is quiet enough to hear the breathing of numerous other captives, jangles of chains as another begins sniffling.

“Stop your miserable crying!” The voice of one of the women, Natasha, curses at one of the captives towards his far left, and he can feel his heart beat freeze for a moment, having not realised that they were not alone in this wagon. The sound of a slap can be heard throughout the wagon, as it begins to get up from where it had stopped and continues moving. The sniffling stops immediately. The chain tugs, as he hears shifting movement from behind him. And as the chain tugged, his own hands were dragged back and tied to the chain. 

This…this was impossible to get out of. 

Without his grimoire, without his ability to move around, without his ability to even see without getting caught and how he couldn't be quiet enough to exchange a few words with the girl behind him, the one who knew what to do in this scenario. He was absolutely powerless.

The wagon jerks again, and he hears the sound of chains sliding, as he tugs at his hands, finding that he now had more chains to work with than previously. With this precious amount of extra chain left, Julius worked on his ability to pull the blindfold over his eyes down, making sure to face away from where he knew Natasha was seated at his far left, curling himself up as he inched his chained hand closer and closer to the blindfold. 

The wagon jerks again, as it seems to roll over a dead branch.

“Make it quick.” The hushed whisper of the girl reached his ears, her presence now so much closer to him than he imagined, as he could feel her hair touch the side of his waist. 

She chokes as he dips his head inwards, using a finger to hook onto the blindfold and pull it down. 

“Sorry!” He hides his words behind the sound of rocks and gravel beneath the wheels of the wagon. 

He leans his head and neck back to where the girl was chained up behind him, as she takes in a sharp inhale of air. 

Their chains were connected. Which meant that they could not escape individually, but they had to do it as pairs. 

Damn.

Still, he blinks, the fabric of the blindfold at the edges of his eyes irritating his skin, as he looks down warily at where they were in. The tarp around the wagon was black, a small glowing lamp hanging from the ceiling of the wagon which gave a small light that illuminated the entire wagon well. The wooden floor beneath him was lacquered, clearly well made and polished and sturdy enough to have chains bolted down to the floor itself. The wooden floor wasn’t even made of planks, which meant it was so much harder to pull out the bolts from the floor since it was one smooth piece of floor. Brute force was not going to work. Not that he even had enough strength to pull out chains from the floor, which was an area Yami would definitely have excelled in. 

Thinking about his student sent a pang of bittersweetness echoing in the depths of his heart, and he forces himself to focus on the situation at hand. 

As he faced the entrance to the wagon, he looked at how there was…a lock on the door of the wagon, chaining the thick tarp to the frame of the wagon. Great. More things to tackle. His lockpicking skills were…beginner level at best.

William had taught him how to do it all those years back, something he hadn’t expected him to know, but he did because of how his parents had locked him away to starve in closets and he had to pick his way out. 

He needs to stop thinking about the two of them.

The chains shift again, as the wagon seems to make a bend. 

He feels his hand being drawn to where the girl was, his fingers outstretched as he wondered what she would do now. Let her have a hairpin or something he could work with, he thought. If she did, he could potentially pick his way out of the cuffs. 

“Keep quiet,” She warns him, as he feels her take his hands in her own, an action he hadn’t been expecting as her touch warmed the numb fingers of his own hands. She shifted her hands up to his wrist, as she held his hands gently but firmly, and he mourned the fact that he couldn't see what she was doing to him, except for the movement of the chains around his wrist. There was the sound of something being shoved into a lock, and he realised that she was picking the lock around his wrist for him. 

The wagon shifts beneath their feet, as he hears the sound of his cuffs come free with a click, and yet the girl holds them together, now in its loosened state.

Natasha’s footsteps drew close, as he could hear the woman stand up from where she had been seated at the front of the wagon. He plants his face on the wooden floor in order to conceal the fact that his blindfold was loose, as he tucks his ‘cuffed’ hands beneath the folds of his clothes. 

The wagon draws to a halt. 

Natasha leaves the tarp, as he hears the inner lock being undone, as the woman exited the wagon. 

The girl behind him exhales, a deep sigh of relief. 

“Neige, Rebecca, are the two of you alright?” Julius turned back to look at the girl who had freed him from his restraints, a girl who looked as old as his current body was now, with long black hair tied up in a long braid that had since then become extremely tangled, with loose strands of hair hanging from the braid itself. She works at his collar next, with grey eyes the colour of marble before she looked down at her wrists, which were bruised and slightly raw from being chafed against the metal cuffs. For someone as young as her, she was doing a great job at staying calm, as Julius found a way to sit himself up with the length of chain he had on hand. 

The other two victims in the wagon looked worse for wear as well, one girl with red hair the shade of sun dried maroon after it had lost its vivid concentrated colour, with teal eyes and freckles on her face as she stared intently at the chains on her hands, as if wishing they would fall apart and set her free. The last individual was a boy with snow white hair with the slightest hint of blue, a blue scarf messily draped and curled around his neck, which had been partially tugged away to secure the same collar each of them wore around their necks. 

His eyes looked raw and red, as he wiped away at them by dipping his head to hide behind the folds of the deep blue fabric of his scarf. 

“Do you know where your grimoires are?” Julius asked them in a hushed tone, as the girl next to him simply grimaced, and the girl she had called Rebecca seemed to glare a hole at the entrance of the wagon. 

“...No…” The quiet, sniffling boy, Neige, spoke, as he tugged at his chains, which were connected to that of Rebecca, and the girl huffs in annoyance.

“Stop tugging at the chains!” She snaps at the boy, who hangs his head guiltily. 

Neige…he looked familiar. 

“I still haven’t forgiven you for kidnapping all the children in my village. Even if Asta did forgive you or what not.” Rebecca continued her anger, heating up the tension in the room as the white haired boy simply shrinks away from her. 

Oh…she knew who Asta was.

“Can we set aside past grudges and work on getting out of here?” He steers the conversation away from the mention of Asta, as he pointed at the inner lock of the wagon, which was currently open, hanging loose as they could easily remove it. However, the question was if their captors would be waiting outside for them, since he was certain they would not simply leave them unattended nor give them an opportunity to escape. 

“It can’t be that simple,” The girl behind him mutters, as she frees her hands from her cuffs, before working on her ankles. Rebecca eyes the girl’s actions with surprise, as she too begins to inch her way closer to her on her feet, hoping to have her unlock her chains. 

“There’s seven of them. If we can find where your grimoires are, we can potentially make a break for it,” He supplies, as Neige shakes his head.

“There’s three others chained up in the other wagon…” He seems to stare out into the black tarp of the cart, whilst Rebecca stares at the sole lamp hanging over them. 

“What’s your name?” Julius turned to ask the girl behind him. 

“Anastasia. Pleased to be at your service,” The girl chuckles, and Julius can't help but smile involuntarily. It seemed like they had not given up hope just yet. With this group of people…he could work with it. 

“Do you know what they need us for? Seven of us…is such an oddly specific number,” Rebecca raised her question, as Anastasia helps her to pick the lock on her wrists. The young girl skillfully manipulated her hair pin, bending it into the desired shape she required as she listened out for the clicks and felt out the specific sections of the lock she needed to fill in before she twists and unlocks the cuffs. 

He…recalls the pendant Larx had worn. Halrich had worn the same pendant, and he couldn't help but draw connections between what tied them together. They had to belong to the same group, and having a pendant of the same design worn by each of the members was something…a cult would do. 

A cult.

He had been the last one they needed. If there were seven of them, and seven of the cultists in total…then they were in danger. 

There were several possibilities, but he knew without a doubt, that they were to act as some sort of sacrifice in a ritual. Why else would Halrich have asked him if anyone was coming after him? Their lives were going to end soon, based on the way he had asked his questions. 

Speaking of which, they had stopped by for an uncomfortably long amount of time. 

It meant that they were either making a pit stop, or that they had reached their destination. 

“We are sacrifices.”

He turns to look at the three others in the wagon, as Rebecca seems to curse while Neige begins trembling. Anastasia seems to look back at him, before her gaze flickered to the lamp overhead.

“Sacrifices?...Like…like what happened when the Devils came into the world?” Neige supplies, bringing up the topic and possibility to the rest of them. And he himself remembers. Yami and William being used as sacrifices to open up the gate to the Qlipoth to usher in Lucifero’s defeat…only for Lucius to claim the heart of the king of Devils and ascend to the level of a transcendental being. At the cost of the lives of a hundred thousand sacrifices.

“But…they’re dead and gone, aren’t they? After Asta and the remaining Magic Knight Captains killed off the final Devil…” Rebecca continues, as Anastasia stood up from where she was, kicking off the chains as she tiptoed up to where the lamp was hanging from the ceiling. 

If he was still here, were Lucius and Astaroth truly defeated?

If he was still alive…then there must have been a chance that both of the other two had lived. 

This…this was horrifying.

As he recalled the amount of dust on his hands, the rotting, decomposing corpse of a child within the walls of an empty home, the quiet silence of a dead ghost town, haunted by quiet dread and an incomplete answer to the fate of its people…and how all of it could happen again. 

“Then we’ll just have to get out of here before they can use us in whatever they want to use us in, don’t we?” Anastasia supplies, as she clutched the lamp in her hand. Julius was surprised to see that it was fuelled by fire instead of magic, as the girl offered it to him, before she continued working on picking the locks of Neige’s restraints. 

“We need to get the others out too. Both to save them and because if the three of them are used in whatever ritual they need, it could still allow it to come to fruition.” 

“You mean…come true, right? Is that what fruition means?” Anastasia looks at him, her question being odd in the circumstances, but he nods. That’s when he remembers that she was still a thirteen year old girl, and her vocabulary wasn’t as extensive as his own. She was probably the youngest out of all of them present, since Neige looked like he was seventeen, and Rebecca looked like she was around sixteen years old. 

“For us to escape, we’ll need a distraction. Are any of you able to use magic without your grimoire? It doesn’t have to be a complex spell, just something simple to lure the attention of our captors away from us,” He suggested, as he looked over at Neige and Rebecca, since they seemed to be the older ones, at least physically so, to be able to use some of their magic without their grimoire. Neige’s mana reserve was…quite sizable too, something he would not expect of a commoner. 

Neige rubs his raw wrists, as he tries to peer through the black coloured tarp behind him. Anastasia supplies her hairpin, using the sharp end to pierce a hoel through the fabric to create a hole for them to peek through it. 

“I…I think I can do it. Though I’ll need to get my grimoire back to sustain it if the spell needs to last much longer and further,” 

“Then you’ll have to make up a spell that mimics four different mana sources, and make them run away from where we are. Make sure that the spells are hidden by the cover of the wagon, because we’ll likely be setting fire to this wagon itself.”

“Are you crazy?” Rebecca exclaims, though in a hushed tone. 

“We’ll need to find a way to get down beneath this flooring, and crawl out from beneath and head to the other wagon, which should be set quite close to this wagon. At least, that’s how our captors parked the two wagons together when I first encountered them. Then we’ll have to make our way into the next wagon and free the others inside them and get your grimoires back.”

Rebecca stares at him. 

“Won’t they kill us if we try to escape?”

“Unlikely, since they need us alive for whatever they captured us for. To kill us is to undo their work, and set them back by a long time,” Julius supplied, as he took his turn to peer through the hole made in the tarp.

The lands beyond them were rocky, steep sharp cliffs beyond which was a sharp drop into a chasm beneath them. He recognised this terrain, the shape of the sheer mountain sides and cliffs which he himself had to traverse all those years back.

It was Diamond Kingdom territory. 

Now this made escape harder to happen, since they could easily die out here due to the harsh terrain and surprisingly steep, sudden drops of the land which could easily leave them with no place to run. 

“Look over here,” Anastasia motions for the three of them, as they scoot over to where she had poked a hole in the opposite side of the wagon, through the black tarp. Julius looked through the hole, the small pin prick of light as his eyes fell onto the silhouette of a manor situated at the top of a mountain, steep cathedral towers built into the slopes in its gothic, hallowed glory, a monument that stood out from the barren, steep slopes around it. 

“That’s.. Where they are going to sacrifice us in?” Neige whispers, as he shifts around uneasily. The once ruler wonders where and how he had even gotten into this situation in the first place, since Neige had been on their trial program for rehabilitation of ex-convicts and set in the care of the Magic Knights and had fought in the raid against the Spade Kingdom back then, and it begins to dawn on him on how truly broken he had left the Clover Kingdom.

Everywhere, he could only see his mistakes.

What were the others doing now? How long had it even been since he had been defeated, Astaroth and Lucius hopefully slain, since the captains would have had to recuperate their losses and find out who they had lost and who had died?

Marx, William, Yami, Fuegoleon, Nozel, Dorothy, Jack, Marx, Asta, Owen, Yuno, and so many other magic knights and captains… Was Damnatio still alive? Who was left alive after the massacre he had brought into the heart of the Clover Kingdom?

A hand nudges him.

“Shall we go with the plan? We don’t stand to lose much either way,” Anastasia’s voice cuts through his thoughts, as he turns to look at the three of them. Rebecca, though hesitant, reaffirms her determination as she pumped her fists in the air. Neige, though looking a little pale still, nods his head as well. 

“Let’s do it.”

Chapter Text

They did not realise that the other three victims were unconscious. Nor the fact that Larx had been waiting inside the wagon with them, and that man…that man was vicious. One of the members had easily simply let the burning wagon roll down the cliff, having taken a gamble that the four of them were in an escape attempt, and they had been so close.

Neige had gotten back his grimoire, and he was a skilled spell caster. 

Never would he had thought that snow magic would have had such flexible and adaptable uses, but when it boiled down to the fact that their captors had simply threatened the lives of the other three in the other wagon, the one they had failed to break into because of Larx,  and Julius was left standing in the middle of the hostage situation. 

Anastasia’s grimoire was in her grasp too, only for it to be violently snatched and sealed shut by a group of thick, poisonous purple and black vines, of which one had lashed out at the young girl and she had been too stunned to react, resulting in her getting struck by it.

Rebecca had run forward to help the girl, trying to drag her out of the way, only for a set of wires to trap and bind her down as she was thrown to the side.

Neige had tried his best to rectify the situation, and that was when he knew that they were not getting their escape. Not this time.

“You pesky little things, stop causing so much trouble for us!” Natasha had screeched at them, as her vines bound themselves around Anatasia, forming a noose around her neck as it lifted her up from the ground. 

“Oh come on, Natasha, lighten up! It was great entertainment!” Larx points at him. 

“Uh…what should we do?” Neige asks him, as the boy shakes. The pages of his grimoire flutters uneasily, as the snow magic around them seems to dissipate somewhat. 

He had made too many assumptions. 

As he looked at the amount of hostages there were, he knew that he cannot let them stay behind. So he looks at the boy behind him, and smiles. 

“You need to run away as fast as you can.”

“But-”

“That’s an order.” 

This was for the best. Even at the cost of some of them getting hurt, but so long as none of them died, and that the cultists lacked sufficient individuals to sacrifice, and thus could not carry out the ritual in full, they would be safe. Safe until they found another replacement. 

“Go!”

The snow magic shrouds the entire area, as Natasha screeches. 

Neige turns his back and runs off and into the gorge behind them. 

Now all he needed to do was to make sure he got out alive.

It was easy to see how all of their targets had shifted to Neige, and Julius silently apologised for making the boy the bait, but at least he knew where they were going to launch their spells at. So long as the boy fell into the gorge, he could and he would survive the fall down due to the nature of his magic. 

His senses pick up the mana which ripples through the air, as he runs towards the direction of the spell launched at Neige’s direction, taking the hit for the white haired boy who could not even turn back even as he fell down into the deep, dark chasm below. 

The spell sends an excruciating agony down his limbs, as barbed wire coils around and digs into his wrists, his neck, sinking itself into his skin and rooting themselves deeply in his flesh. The maliciousness of this spell, meant to inflict more pain rather than to bind down its victim, seeps into his body, a suffocating strangulation that pierced the flesh and buried itself deep to form a complex, irremovable trap, was simply a manifestation of the malevolence Larx displayed in that very moment. 

Yet, he cannot help but chuckle, as Larx curses, his eyes narrowing in a fit of rage, whilst Natasha runs over to him.

“Let me snap his neck!” Natasha shrieks as the woman kicks him in the ribs, causing the barbed wire to dig in deeper into his waist, and he willingly takes on the pain of her anger. After all, pain was nothing new to him. Rather, he was concerned for what they would do to the others. 

Were he to consider the way they thought about the whole escape plan, he knew he had to get as much blame shifted to him as possible. 

He braces himself for another hit, as Larx buries his heel in his injured shoulder, and he cannot help but whimper in pain for that unexpected, yet agonising blow. 

Better him than the others, he thinks as the other members of the cult rush out from the manor, the red haired and elderly man looking into the gorge behind him, as Larx digs his fingers into the barbed wire around his neck and pulls him across the rocky floor. Even as the rocks dig into his back, shred through his clothes, and the barbed wire gets embedded into his skin, Julius gazes up at his captors, defiant and eyes filled with a burning hope that they had managed to buy enough time for themselves. 

“I will skin him! Cut off his limbs before they are needed for the ritual!” Natasha shrieks, as she dragged with her a now unconscious Anastasia, her grimoire thickly bound in black and violet vines and the book was tossed over to Emelia, who opens up a pouch and shoves the bag inside it. 

“It’s you. I’m so sure it’s because of you that you planted the idea of escape into the minds of all of them,” Larx comments as he waves a hand over the trapped Rebecca, who had been knocked out by the elderly man using a strange sort of incense he had held over her mouth and nose, before she too was taken and dragged up the hill. 

Julius merely stays silent. 

“You’re lucky Halrich found another spare.” Larx laughs, as the silhouette of the white haired man appeared over the rocky outcrop, the unconscious body of a young, teen girl slung over his shoulder. In the man’s gloved hand, he could see the colour of a green pointed hat, a sign that he had managed to capture and steal away a witch from the Witch's forest.

No.

No.

It was not supposed to be like this. 

Fate loved to fuck him over. 

“Halrich! Let’s begin the ritual now before more of them try to escape!” Larx exclaimed with far too much glee, as Julius was dragged behind him, the pain becoming too much to bear, and yet he still tried his best to hold on, even when every breath he took caused a sharp pain to spike in his lungs. Being fairly certain Natasha had broken his ribs, he could only hope they would not pierce through his lungs and cause him to suffocate from the fluid, especially with how each jolt against the ground made things worse. 

Conserving his energy now was more important, he told himself, and hopefully during the ritual later on there would be another opportunity to escape. 

He missed his ability to use magic. 

A drowsiness mixes with the throbbing sensation of his broken ribs, which made every breath he took feel like a drawn out agony, on top of the barbed wires that dug into his flesh, skin and bone. The injured shoulder aches with a fierce wave of pain, and when he realised he could not move the joint of his shoulder, as he tried to slip out and loosen his bindings, he was faced with the new fact that it was likely to be dislocated as well.

The haze which seeps into his mind mixes with the now fading adrenaline that began to slowly rid itself from his system. Which meant that the pain came back in greater waves, the numb, pure mania and desperation unable to hold off the reality that he was badly hurt. 

The rocks beneath his back dig into his back, as the barbed wire he was bound it gets snagged on the edge of a protruding rock, and Larx forcibly pulls at it, causing a large deep gash to form along the side of his right arm to his right shoulder. 

Were he in his older form, the pain would still be bearable.

But for a child, as he was, each and every sensation of pain was heightened and sharpened, amplified due to the youth of this body which even his own mental fortitude could not overcome the physical limits of this body, and he whimpered involuntarily. 

Larx’s laughter sounds out, as the man picks him up, using his barbed wire magic to suspend and hold him in the air, which hurts in its own way as well, causing the wire to pierce and sink more deeply into his body due to his own weight. 

“Enough.”

Halrich catches up to the two of them, his black coloured cloak swinging in the high winds that had begun to pick up behind them. The man’s crimson tipped white hair sways, as he uses his magic to summon a spectral pair of hands that hover over to him. They glow a pale translucent white, glittering with a ghostly, inhuman glow, with fingers he now saw were far too long to be that of a human. 

“ Calm. ”

Forced peacefulness washes over him. It is the same hazy, drugged up feeling he had experienced the first time, one that eroded at the already weakened mental barriers of his mind, of which was worn down by having to handle and deal with the pain his younger body was in. The hands urge him to dissociate himself from the pain, to lay to rest what he could not control, the soft hum of a lullaby buried deep within the tender touch that caressed his wounds, of which causes the pain to sink down into a bottomless abyss, away and out of his sight, out of his mind.

He does not deny the aid that his captor gives him. 

A way, a method to allow the pain to abate, albeit temporarily, at the cost of his own mental faculties and freedom of will. The intent behind his magic was different, but only slightly. After all, his captor was doing what he needed to sedate a sacrifice to offer up to a ritual, and if he was taking away his pain to make it more comfortable for him to relax, even when he shouldn’t be…

Stop.

Stop falling for this.

The heavy lids of his eyes droop, as he struggles to keep his concentration and focus.

No matter how comfortable it was, it was only an illusion. To keep him pliant, satisfied and happy. To trap him in a never ending dream where all was good and well, an unseen misery hidden behind the depths of his falsified happiness, and he remembers how Lucius Zogratis had chuckled at his pathetic state. 

All he can do is watch, if he could not give in. 

And so he watches.

As the seven of them are carried and escorted up to the entrance of the grand manor, with its sprawling, darkened, blackened dusty walls. The spires which touch the sky, begging to be struck by the heavens as they cast a gloom over the entire area. The perpetual shadow which never seemed to lift from the mano grounds, as they entered the courtyard beneath a half collapsed archway, stone bricks and tiles broken and shattered across the long unused pathways.

Overgrown bushes, roses and thorns which blanketed entire areas, concealing behind their black and white petals, rows and rows of endless blackened thorns, charred light grey with an unnatural touch of abnormal magic. 

The whole area was cast, doused, drowning in a magic that pricked at even his numb, dulled senses, the hint of madness personified, an otherworldly insanity that carried across dimensions, touching and tainting the land, defiling it with the blight of hollowed, tarnished souls. It gnaws at his skin, a thousand hungry mouths that sought to devour him, sought to claw at his flesh and feed on him, and for a moment he sees a blackened, inverted sun where the star once was, the slightest flicker of a life he had never truly ever lived. 

The presence of a devil. 

The resonance he felt, in contact with the poison of a being he had been the vessel for, a host of an impossible magic, magic he now lost forever upon death, awakened by a familiar call for home, a longing to let himself be consumed by what the devils lived for. 

A grand door opens with a hefty swing. 

“Let us prepare the sacrifices to begin the summoning of Asmodeus, Devil of Rage and Lust.”

-

The two girls kick and scream against their captors, Rebecca screaming her lungs off even as she was gagged and levitated into the ritual room, and Anastasia shrieks, with choking suffocated gasps, as she could not move her limbs nor make a single muscle twitch or move. The other victims rouse from their slumber, the witch raising her head as she fumbles from her restraints, voice muffled by Emelia who silenced her voice with a spell. The three other children, a boy with short dirty blonde hair with brown eyes, the age of ten begins to struggle with his bindings, whilst there were a pair of twins, one a boy and one a girl, both with light blue hair the colour of faded sapphire, who looked at each other as they roused from their induced slumber. 

Julius finds the haze cleared from his mind, the pain from his wounds, specifically, where he had been kicked in the ribs and given a set of broken ribs, was no longer hurting, a spectral hand seemingly touching the deep bruise he knew he had been given. Breathing was no longer an agonising chore, as he sucked in a deep breath, whilst another spectral hand rested itself on his injured shoulder. 

“The ritual requires untouched sacrifices. Heal the children before we cast them in.” The old man spoke, announcing to the hall as each of the members seemingly took their places behind each of their chosen sacrifices. 

Larx stood by him, as Halrich stood behind one of the other younger boys, the twins took their place by the twins, and Natasha and Emelia by Anastasia and Rebecca respectively. The old man looks down at the boy with dirty blond brown hair and blue eyes, but nevertheless pulls the young child into where he needs to be.

Julius looks at the marking on the floor, etchings carved into the black marble beneath their feet, lined with white chalk to fill in the carvings, as an inverted tree was set into the black, glossy marble of the floor. An inverted qliphoth tree is what the lines form, and the feeling of dread, of all consuming mania, returns to him in a flood, his eyes beholding the reality before him once more. 

Larx loosens his grip on the barbed wire, tucking the barbs and making them face outwards such that they did not stab into his flesh any longer, as the gash along his arm to his shoulder was healed by Halrich’s magic, and he looks down at the ground, the image of the qliphoth burned so vividly in his mind. The insanity of what these seven individuals were about to attempt, to bring back the devils from the world beyond, even though the gates should have already been sealed after the final fight he had against his allies…

Unless…the gates were not fully sealed. 

He had no knowledge to confirm that fact, having died before he could witness the gates being closed fully, and all he had known was that he needed to buy them time, even if it was a split second, to tear away at Lucius’s concentration to allow the final blow to hit its mark. 

“Stop. You don’t know what you are dealing with.” He looked at Larx, who stared back down at him, his eyes glinting with a cold, detached malice, as the man shoved him forward and into the qliphoth tree. 

“We will get what we wish for. Now hush child,” The old man warns him from across where he stood, as the seven individuals dragged their respective sacrifices into the qliphoth tree, using magical restraints to hold them in place at the branches of the tree they were to stand at. 

“You…want another advent of the Underworld? To bring about the end of the world? To cause the death of so many others?” He can’t help but choke as he refuses to move, but Larx kicks him in the back, and he growls in response. Did they not know the madness that came with summoning a devil? Much less recreating the advent of the Qlipoth though on a smaller scale…

“It won’t be an advent of the Qlipoth. Not like what the Magic Knights failed to prevent from happening all those weeks back. We simply require a request from each of us to be granted.” Halrich responds, as he pulls the pendant around his neck out of where it was tucked into his shirt, having it hang out in the open, as the others did the same. 

“Each of us lost something that day.”

“And in exchange nothing of this world can bring it back.”

The twins chime, as they pour vials of liquid down into the etched carvings on the floor of the space, letting a silver, mercurial liquid pour and flow down the stream. From it, he felt malicious mana condensed within its shimmering form, as it slowly made its way down the carved Qliphoth. 

“Natasha lost her lover.”

“Emelia lost her mentor.”

“Rutherford lost his daughter.”

“I lost my purpose.” Halrich spoke, voice strangely calm, as if he were explaining facts to a child. The man seemed saddened, as he looked and dipped his head down in condolences to each of his compatriots.

“And I am here to fulfil the final requirement needed to summon forth our target.” Larx chuckles darkly. The man’s behaviour, the sadistic glee in his voice, a contemptuous, prideful hubris which showed in every action, every word he spoke, bled through to him.

Larx reminded him of Lucius Zogratis.

“But we are not here to bring back what we lost. We are here to take vengeance on who made us lose them, for we know that what is lost to the afterlife can never be brought back. It is now the punishment of the sins that were committed which we seek to serve, our own brand of justice for the failures, the incompetence, the cruelty of those who had abandoned us and our loved ones in our time of need, leaving them to perish, to wither away, to die and be lost to us forever.”

Halrish looks at him, his strange eyes bearing a hole through his mind. 

Once again, it boiled down to what happened when Lucius Zogratis had taken over him and brought kingdoms to ruin. It seemed like everything did. The reason why the seven of them were captured was because these seven individuals had lost something precious to them when the mad eldest sibling had called forth the end of times onto the face of earth. Because they had experienced such a loss, they wanted vengeance against that who had caused the loss. And it was him, for being too much of a fool to have not known the madman had resided in the depths of his soul, a puppet master hidden in the shadows that had slowly accumulated knowledge and power under the guise of a forged facade that everyone believed in.

And when the veil was torn apart…

He had been forced into dormancy, to watch helplessly as he was trapped within the depths of his despair, forced to confront the truth which he had never wanted to be true. The deaths of the nobles who had stood in his way, the people who had thrown their lives away for him because they had believed and trusted in him, only for his betrayal to shake them to their core as they struggled to flee before they were rendered to dust, final words cut off in stifled screams, chokes or gasps.

“Let us begin.”

The seven of them were bound to pillars at which they had to stand at each branch of the Qliphoth, and Julius tries to pry his hands out of his restraints, even as the seven cultists stood back, waiting at seven designated spots of the ritual circle which enclosed the Qliphoth tree. 

They poured their magic into the circle, as the runes on the ritual circle on the floor came alight with a deep, violet glow, a beckoning darkness which approached. The candles which lit up the entire hall, which had lined the walls and pillars to illuminate the entire area in a dim orange light, now flickered crimson red, dousing the room in red light that spread over all.

Blood pours from the candle wax, dripping down the walls and leaving behind deep maroon trails in the thick pale wallpaper of the walls, as even the light itself bleeds. The cultists are steadfast, calm, as they hold both hands out in the formation of a prayer, their heads bent down towards the direction of the qliphoth. 

Julius watches, even as he cuts himself on the barbed wire which binds him to the pillar, freeing one of his hands from behind his back, even as he can feel his blood dribble down the length of the barbed wire in a downwards spiral along the length of where he had been bound. 

Mana in the air grows dense, sinking down and towards the qliphoth in the centre of where they stood. It creates a vacuum, a loss of natural magic where there once used to be, as Julius looked hastily around at the others, who fell unconscious one by one beneath the weight of the new mana that began to permeate the air. 

It is a thick crimson haze, the scent of blood, the hint of tantalising pleasure which leeched on, trailing behind with the contented sigh of a sadist, as the blood coalesces at the roots of the qliphoth, which was at the furthest point from him. A gratification found in the cloud of anger, the viciousness of rage, of vengeance, a cruel, enlightening satisfaction of blood on one’s hands. The suffering of another, weakness forcibly brought upon, prying open and preying on the vulnerability of another. Tainted purity, lustful corruption, manic, obsessive anger. The refusal to let go, the persistence, to cling onto and never let go. 

He feels nauseous, almost wanting to throw up then and there. 

Amongst the dancing madness of the flickering red light, he could only see the haze of bloodied mist which filled the room, dripping from the candles, vaporising from candle wax and silver liquid, the sound of inhuman chanting growing louder in volume. From the quietest sound of whispers spun to reality, the drone of repetitive words, paired with mocking laughter, perverted chatter, fiendish singing.

Sounds which touch the depths of his mind, a familiar reunion of a place where he had once belonged. The Underworld called out to him, as the gates between reality and the hell which the devils lived in opened up, a distant voice from a forgotten dream which sings to him. 

He was not Astaroth.

The voice swells, a horrifying crescendo signifying the breaking of the barriers between reality as a million whispers accompany the haunting lullaby of the call of the abyss which demanded he return to them. 

A drop of his blood lands on the Qliphoth.

It sizzles, as he watches the miasma part for it.

The whispers quiet down in the vacuum of silence which follows, and an ashen black feather falls from the space which was left behind, the feather falling to the ground, as he frees his hand from the restraints, at the cost of cutting into his own forearm and palm. 

Blood pools and drips down his hand, as his eyes are glued to the falling feather. 

Before he knows it, he has caught the piece of an otherworldly element, holding it in his bleeding hands, the warmth of his own blood coating the cold, stained feather. It was cold, lifeless, holding in it a dread which formed a heavy weight in the palm of his hand, as he found himself standing stiff and frozen, the feather in hand and yet he could not move a single muscle.

The air thickens with hazy, muddled pleasure and rage, and against the wave of emotions which sweep past and across him, causing the other cultists to fall from where they stood, overcome by the darkness of the miasma that was brought out from the Underworld. Mania, thick, sweet, dripping from the maws of an unseen being, laughs as it emerges forth from the fog.

He feels a grip around his wrist, as he looks up at the devil that had been called forth.

With long silver hair, the entity steps forth, two large feathered wings dyed with the colour of burnt ashes which trail the floor, limbs that seemed to leech life and colour from the surroundings around it. It had two horns, one curved like that of a rams set atop a mask in the colour of Sangria, its eyes hidden behind gold lined eye holes, three feathers trailing from it on the left side of its head. The right half of the devil was clothed in a velvet black coloured cloak, lined with silver coat tails trailing beneath the shadows of its ashen wings, a steep contrast to its left half.

Both of its hands touch and hold his hand in its palms, the right hand gloved in softest silk, as its left hand wore a blackened obsidian gauntlet, ending in wicked claws. His eyes trailed from the left hand of the demon to its left half, to where the true nature of the devil had made itself known so pridefully, with stained, grimy scaled skin covering its body. Scars visibly pulse in between the thin plates of darkened obsidian that rest across the left half of its body, the devil’s long silver hair a wild mess, yet writhing in the miasma of the fog. The other horn on his left it straightened, facing up as its eye, a glowing crimson tinted silver, glints with a lustful gaze.

“I have not met one as unique as you.” 

Asmodeus smiles.

Its words drip from ruby red lips, of which behind hid a silver tongue, as it cradles his hand with disconcerting gentleness. And as Julius can only stand still, his mind trapped in a haze of growing nauseous shock, confusion, and disorientation, the devil brings his hand up and kisses it. 

His eyes widen, as he chokes out of fear, for the malice that emanated from the devil was nothing purely evil as Lucifero, the other devils had been. The malignance that it held was concealed so well, by the gentle touch it had, the respectful greeting, as it bows its head down to him whilst it presses its lips to his skin. An illusion constructed from a facade of false impressions, and yet…it gave him more respect than any of his captors had ever done.

The cultists are all silent, even as they retake their place outside the ritual circle, which glows faintly with protective sealing magic. Yet Julius knew their efforts were futile, for the devil they had summoned was so much more than an ordinary, low levelled being whom they could have sought their requests to be granted. 

Each eye of the devil before him glittered with an uncanny cunning, despite the aura of calming wisdom which it exuded. While his senses told him one thing, his mind spoke of the opposite. The polarising nature of this devil was throwing off his senses, smothering his instinct over layers and layers of calming, intoxicating content, yet his mind was warning him that any wrong move he made now could and would result in his immediate death. The disconnect between mind and body was overwhelmingly great, as he struggled to catch his breath, exhaling a shaky, stifled sigh as he looked into the eyes of the devil before him.

“Will you grant my request?” He musters up as much confidence as he can…as the hazy mist around them thickens, and yet he can see the unconscious bodies of the six other sacrifices lying limp around them. The devil looks at him, blinking as a small smile returns to his lips.

“Our lord Asmodeus! Please, will you grant us, your summoners, our request above that of the sacrifice?” Halrich calls out in a respectful manner, as the devil slowly and lazily turns his head towards the silver haired man. 

“Quiet.” The devil released his hand, as it raised a single clawed, crooked finger to its lips and shushed the cultist. There is a burst of magic, one that weaves itself around the man himself, as Julius catches shimmers of webs of unending strands of blackened lines wrapped around the cultist.  

Halrich collapses to the ground, clutching at his throat as he coughed up blood. The other cultists freeze, as they shoot panicked looks at each other. All put their hands forth on the protection granted by the ritual circle, hoping to banish the devil back into where it came from, with even Larx scrambling to do the same.

“Your ritual failed from the start. Did you really think the rest of it would work out?” 

Julius blinks, for that miniscule moment in time.

It is all it takes for Asmodeus to return with the heads of the twins in his hands, a long, scaly tail pierced through the head of Emelia, as Natasha, Halrich, Larx and Rutherford were all that remained standing.

“Those that remain are the only ones qualified to host the summoning, for you hold the most affinity for magic from the Underworld. Such a simple requirement to embody either rage or lust, and yet you could not even fulfil it.” 

Natasha bites down on her curse towards the Devil, who merely chuckles as it throws the head of one of the twins over to her. She stands firm as the bloodied appendage flies past her head, leaving a splashing trail of blood and bits of bone splattered all across her clothes and skin.

This…this was an unexpected turn of events.

“And you, unwilling sacrifice. I sense the taint of the Underworld on you. Satisfy my curiosity and answer my queries.”

Even now, as Julius looked up into the eyes of another devil, was he aware of what he truly was. His past, dug forth and brought to the light of the world, would always haunt him wherever he went, following him like a vengeful ghost that clung to his shoulders, clawed at his throat. He had to satiate the devil, if only to buy enough time for the cultists to secure it back into the ring…if they even could. 

The ritual had been perfect, that he knew. That meant that the nature of their sacrifices was inherently wrong, for he knew that offering too many sacrifices was never a cause for problem. Even with the decrease in their numbers, so long as a majority of seven remained, they could still banish the devil back to where it came from. 

“I…was a host for another devil.”

Those words perk the interest of Asmodeus, who leans in close, so much closer as its wings flared out with excitement, interest, a morbid curiosity. It chuckles, a vibrant shimmer of noise which stains the air around it, roots and buries itself in his mind. 

“Beautiful. Unholy. Tarnished. You ruined being. Impure, despairing tragedy.”  

It looks at him, unconcealed lust in its eyes. Desire, obsessive and destructive, blossoms in the eyes of the devil, its malice inverted into a corrupted, tainted craving, as it easily touches and cups his cheek in its palms.

“Nothing else they can offer will satisfy me, but you.”

Asmodeus chuckles, its hands tightening its grip which shifts to his throat.

Think. Think. He needs to find a way to break free from this contract. Before he would be trapped in another, and he would not find himself back again. The situation is bleak, that he knows so well. There are no arcane stage mages in sight, none with the ability to merge with an elemental spirit to use Saint Stage to purify the malice from the heart of this devil, nor any anti-magic. It comes to dawn on him that he would only have his wits to stay alive, to force a contract with the devil itself whilst buying himself and the others time to escape, get out, or to close the summoning circle.

“Now speak of what requests you have.”

The devil laughs, a rich horrible madness as the still surviving cultists scramble forth, Natasha, opening her mouth to speak, to answer to the lush, desire drenched insanity which dripped from the tongue of the devil who held him in the palm of his hand.

“Kill my lover!”

Halrich chokes on his own blood, as he struggles to speak, only doing so with gasping, wet noises.

“Burn the House of Silva down to the ground.” Rutherford, despite his shaking hands, looks up at the eyes of the devil.

“Give me endless ecstasy.” Larx is breathless, as the man looks at the devil with something akin to fear shrouded in adoration, admiration, a craving in his heart which reflects the depths of his obsessive desire to fill the hole in his heart with something that would take the place of a dream.

The devil whips its tail with a single motion, as it takes off Natasha's head and spears through Rutherford’s chest. Halrich silences himself as he finally falls to the floor with a thud, the blood loss too much for him to bear, as he loses his consciousness. 

Now, only Larx is left.

This…this was impossible.

As he looks at the corpses of the cultists, who hadn’t even had a chance to cast their magic, to fight back against this otherworldly entity, who could not close the summoning circle in order to return this Devil back to the Underworld, he knows that he only has a single option left.

But why had it slain its summoners?

“When was I speaking to the rest of you?” The devil easily steps over and across the lines of the summoning circle, a trail of hazy red violet miasma trailing the tips of its wings as it steps over towards the man. Days, weeks, possible months he knew that had been spent on preparing the qliphoth carved into the ground, as well as the materials required in this summoning were all for naught. 

If it was not speaking to them…then it was-

Asmodeus releases its hold on him.

“Tell me what you desire, little puppet.” 

It kneels down on one knee, cradling his hand in its palm as it raises it up to its lips to kiss the wounds on his hand. Its touch is filled with a familiar, yet all too strange sensation of whispering, lingering corruption, containing sinful wishes, an almost inhuman patience as the devil greeted him as if he were his bride to be. 

At that point, things were all far too surreal and yet something he had experienced once before, the fleeting image of a dark haired man who had offered him what he desired but only took all he had away from him when time ran out. The same trap, the same offer, the same outcome and consequences which would follow. 

Despite all that, he looks into the eyes of the devil.

“Release all of us unharmed in any way shape or form, and you shall return back to where you came from, the depths of the Underworld, without causing any form of harm or damage to the very fabric of this reality.”

His words had to be absolute. Leaving no space for a single loophole, and he had to be thorough. Lest he had a repeat of what happened to him, and…Astaroth. The pang of betrayal, the endless, drowning regret of making such a careless, foolish mistake then gnaws at his heart, as he watches the slitted eyes of Asmodeus, who stands from where it had knelt down for him. 

“So much grief in your heart. The fear, the trauma of betrayal, the self-destructive spiral which consumes you. The ghost of your past, of which you had harboured for so long and still do, why not allow me to lift it instead? I can grant you something so much better than petty, simple physical freedom, and that is emotional freedom.”

His breath hitches. 

A part of him longs to be free of the burdens he had created. It is a small thought, but one that held weight nonetheless, as the devil released him. 

“Gift me your pain, your burden, the scars you carry on your soul, the haunted misery which plagues you. I can will it into a new shape, a new form, a blissful peace of mind, contentment and emotions that are so much more valuable than what weighs you down now.”

The honeyed words slip from its tongue, flowing like an endless fountain of forbidden, unattainable liquid ambrosia, of which Julius knew he was lying, for a devil could never be trusted, as Larx steps into the ritual circle, chasing after the devil with a desperate madness.

The man falls to the ground, kneeling to the devil who looked at the man. 

“Let me serve you! Let me be your host! I…wish to give my all to you!” Larx begs of the devil, an almost pleading, needy whine which stuns the once ruler, shaken by how quickly this man had decided to throw and risk his life in this foolish endeavour. Could he blame him? Even he himself was tempted by what Asmodeus had to offer.

“My, my, what a pesky thing.” The devil looks down at the man, as it raises its clothed left half and rests a glimmering, gold and ruby encrusted armoured boot and steps on the man, resting its foot on the back of the man’s skull.

“You pitiful being, I shall grant you what you wish.”

The devil sweeps its wings wide and open, engulfing the kneeling man in a wave of silver coated, ashen feathers, before even those limbs return to henceforth where they came, and nothing was left of Larx.

“Am I not a patient being?” It steps forth, the sharpened end of its tail tapping on the marble granite floor in a rhythmic sequence of sounds, as it walks over to him. The hazy miasma abated slightly from the cult circle, the devil’s aura no longer contained nor concentrated in such a small area as the miasma dispersed outwards.

It merely reveals the unconscious figures of the six other children, ties to their posts, limp bodies hanging from their ropes and bindings.

“Ah. I see!” It claps its hands together.

“Perhaps I was not clear enough. I can only grant your wish should you give yourself over to me. In body, in soul, in its entirety. Only then shall I release your six other companions, safe unharmed, and delivered straight to the doorsteps of their homes…” Asmodeus raised a clawed finger and tapped at its lips.

“Though…not all of them have homes and families to return to. But that can be easily remedied.”

One soul for the lives of six. 

Julius clenched his fists, as he realised how the end he had foreseen was now inevitable. Ever since the devil had been the first to approach him, and then it had slain so many of the cultists in a single movement…every possibility, and every outcome he knew had slowly been whittled down and away to a single one.

His mind, soul and body for the lives of the six others.

One for six.

It was an easy choice to make. The current him now, lacked a grimoire. He doubted that he would be entitled to another, and that would limit the actions of the devil should it decide to possess him as his host. As the Dark Triad had done with their own devils, should he be able to break through the control it exerted over him, there was a slim, almost slight chance that he could contain the devil. Just as he had gained the slightest control back from Lucius Zogratis, he…had to do it again. 

At least contain it enough that he could be slain once more. 

Were he to not do this, to sacrifice himself to this entity, it would run wild and amok. Or it would choose another of the seven of them present to possess, and he knew that none of them had any chance or experience at keeping their own individuality intact amidst the corruption that the devil sought to bring. The state of its manifestation was unknown to him, despite all the time he had spent around devils, and there were so many things he could not account for. 

What type of magic this devil possessed, what its motives were, what it would wish to accomplish if it possessed a host, and whether or not it was fully manifested into this world itself. 

What was clear was that it was unpredictable, and he lacked any capabilities to kill it or return it to the Underworld. 

He glances over the six other kidnapees, the witch coming to his mind as he begins to formulate a plan. One that would not fail like the previous one had. 

“Let us begin discussing the details of this contract.”

Chapter Text

Of course, with all things surrounding the fact he was making a deal with the devil, there were some demands he was in no position to refuse. He could not question the devil why he had chosen to allow him to forge a contract with him, lest Asmodeus changed its mind and forced a contract onto one of the other six unconscious victims, which he knew it was very much able to do if it wanted to. 

That meant some slight changes to his plan here and there, and he knew he had to capitalise on the fact that it was greatly interested in him. Draw all of its attention and pin it on him, in order to allow the others to be released without any suspicion or hesitation. After all, it was already hyper focused on him. The only use the others had for it was for them to be its hostages. 

“In the span of six nights, I will release one of these six poor captives until the last night. They shall be released unharmed, in any way shape or form, and you shall offer me a part of yourself which I desire, or fulfil a task on my behalf, while remaining in my presence for the entire duration of which this contract is in effect.” The devil speaks, their discussion in its final stages.

“May I request to fulfil the tasks first, before I begin to lose my humanity to you?” He phrases his words and tones in that of a naive child’s fitting for his physical stature for he was not looking to fight against this devil. Julius could only hope that his guess of the devil’s prideful, self-satisfied nature would take pity on him and underestimate this request.

The devil chuckles.

“Of course. Such a simple request, how could I not agree?”

With that, he had bought himself an additional…three to four days of time? Still, he needed to know what the devil planned to do with him. After all, this devil…was very different from Astaroth, Lucifero and the others in nature and in abilities. The fact it was willing to hold such a long conversation with him instead of instantaneously asserting its dominance and authority over the entire area despite having shown it could do so..meant that it was playing around with him. Either that or he was facing up against a highly manipulative, calculating and sly devil, which were devils that Lucifero, Beelzelbub and Astaroth were not. 

“...What would these requests entail?” 

“That is for you to find out.”

Asmodeus ruffles its wings, as it strides up to him, its tall stature utterly dominating over him, as it leans down and stares him down with slitted eyes. The long, silver hair, paired with those obsidian horns gleam in the dim misted lighting of the hall, as it offered its hand to him.

“Now let us seal this contract.”

“I have more queries-” The devil snatched his hand, its sharp claws digging into the bleeding wounds of his palm, tearing open the wounds even further as it forced more blood to drip and dribble down the length of his forearm. 

“This contract…shall be sealed.” It hissed.

A warning. Julius simply dips his head down in a quiet nod of acceptance, knowing that he lacked the power in this situation. The situation sinks in even further, as he sees the devil’s contract form along the length of his right arm, the sigil of winding, snaking threads engulfing his arm and marring his skin. In the centre of his palm, laid a circular infinity sign, formed by the twisted threads that seemed to devour each other. 

He had no doubt this represented the self destructive nature of the aspects Asmodeus represented, that of rage and lust. The former he was fairly certain he could handle, but the latter…he had no idea what to expect of it. So many things could happen, and many of which he knew…would scar him permanently.

The devil’s magic seeps into his soul, now at an earlier stage, it merely reaches out for his own mind, a distant calling song that he could now hear in the most absolute of silences. It would get worse over time, he knew, until he could no longer hear his own thoughts, nor separate his own individuality from that of the devil’s. 

Until then…he had time. 

“Rest and select your first kidnapee to release. The contract comes into effect from this very moment onwards.”

The devil vanished in a hail of feathers, and yet the red hazy misama still lingered. 

Julius clutched at his hand, as he moved to wake the unconscious witch.

He wakes the girl, one Samantha Kravitz, as her grimoire returns to her from the corpses of the cultists who had captured them. She roused with alarm, as he calmed her down and informed her of the situation, and told her to leave and return back to where she came from with the chance he had gotten for her. With the red mist still in the air, he could not risk updating her of any plans, and he had not gotten a chance to write a note of instructions to her, so he hoped she would understand what she needed to do.

If all else failed, he still had Anastasia, whom he knew would seek help when she could get the chance to do so. Which was why he planned to release her the next night. The girl was sharp, but she was…a Diamond Kingdom citizen. They were not the most well prepared in tackling devils, which was why he had only thought of releasing her as a second option in comparison to the witch who lived in the Witch's Forest.

The Witch Queen…would aid in bringing this threat to a halt. 

After all, she had been instrumental in bringing about his death. She had been a traitor who had turned against Lucius Zogratis, going against his plan at the very last moment, having healed him once before. And with that she had manipulated his blood in one of the last few stages of the fight, but also sustaining a major injury at that, one which blinded one of her eyes. 

He’s certain she would not mind killing him once more.

As he bids the girl farewell from the manor doors which had opened themselves for her and only her, he takes a moment to catch a breath, even as he looks at the unconscious bodies of the remaining five other captives.

The devil’s presence fills the air, faint but present, as even it thrums on the surface of his skin, having marked him down to be its property as he made his way over to the other unconscious captives.

No matter how hard he tried, he could not wake them from their slumber.

He collapses to the ground, utterly exhausted as he realised that Asmodeus would not allow them to wake before their release.

This left him utterly alone against the devil.

He closed his eyes as he leaned against one of the pillars of the room, clutching and pulling the edges of his cloak closer to himself, feeling the chill from the cold black marble floor seeping into his body. Twelve hours. He had lost that much time since he had been captured. Barely three days since he had been given a second chance at life.

He needed to stick with the plan. Collect more information about the devil, including its ranking, its abilities and vulnerabilities and weaknesses or strengths through talking with it, for he knew it would entertain him as its prey. Six days. Likely lesser than that. Five and a few hours left before he would be lost again. 

So much for having a second chance at life.

He wouldn’t be able to see any of the others, William, Yami, Nozel, Fuegoleon, Marx, Asta and the rest of the captains. Perhaps he’d see them once more when he died. Perhaps his soul would have been lost by then. To think his last moments on the edge of death had been to hold off Lucius’s control over time and shatter his concentration, only to glimpse at the final blow dealt to him. He pulls the flimsy material closer to himself, suppressing a shiver.

It had hurt.

But he was glad then. Relieved. Satisfied that his life had been put to an end.

It was about time he started looking forward to it again.

He rests.

Sleep does not come to him.

-

“What are you still doing on the floor?” 

The voice of the devil, painted over with the thinnest veneer of concern, buried beneath layers of contempt, rouses him from his dazed hibernation. Julius opens his eyes, combing down the strands of his hair out and away from his face as he finds himself facing the devil itself.

It wore a black coloured coat, lined with gold and silver thread which was patterned and embroidered with infinity signs. The fabric is velvet, which brushes against his skin as the devil seems to kneel down to him and offer to him a gloved hand. Under this guise, this illusion of a normal being, where even its horns were not present, with glittering silver hair that was of spun silk, concealed behind the opera mask which concealed the top half of its face beneath a rose gold image…

Asmodeus smiles at him with the likeness of a human, devoid of the malice of the underworld, ruby red lips glittering beneath the light of the chandelier of the hall, now bustling with warm and lively dancing flames. 

His eyes widen as he looks at the interior of the hall, the marble floor beneath his feet replaced with carpeted fur beneath his hands, and he glances around at the hall. 

It had changed completely.

Moonlight flickers off of the gleaming bannisters of the hall, mirroring stairs which wrap around the centre of the hall and down to the first floor. A navy blue carpet lies between the floor and lines the steps with a deep colour, matching the silver railings which snake down from the large window at the top of the stairs.

“Get up. Have a meal with me.” Asmodeus beckoned him, as Julius looked around, his awareness and senses sharpening the moment he realised the other children were now gone. The ritual circle had been removed, the corpses of the cultists cleared, as if the entire manor was reliving its glory days, renovated and revived with an ethereal touch, almost like an illusion.

He gets up, following behind the devil who simply walks up the grand stairs, its shadow strangely missing even on the dark coloured material of the carpet, a reflectionless being that could not be cast upon the silver of the bannisters.

“Where are the others?”

“Safe and sound. Resting in the various quarters of this house. Rest assured, my soon to be host. The contract which binds you also binds me.” The devil’s silver hair glimmers in the light of the full moon outside, casting the man in an almost angelic glow beneath the refracted moonlight of the window.  

Julius cannot help but feel the distortion between what he knows about this demon and what he was seeing, what he was experiencing. Being led down into a dining hall, he can see that everything about the place was equally grand, bleeding a magnificence he had only seen when he had once lived in the Clover Kingdom’s royal palace, during all those numerous parties, celebrations and balls…and all it does is bring back even more regret and remorse. 

There was a rectangular table, neither too long in width nor too short in length, which sat in the centre of the hall by a burning fireplace with the warmth of the fire radiating out into the room. The crackling flames are muted amongst the tight, tense atmosphere, and he is not at ease despite the soft velvet colours of the room, deep violet paired with pale purple and magenta shades which dye the walls and fabric of the room.

Portraits of soft flowers, orchids, roses, carnations, paired with vast impossible flower fields growing from strange, distorted angles hang the walls, beside windows and lit torches with lights that glow a pale sky blue. 

The long table is adorned with plates and plates of food, roasted chicken, a spitted whole pig, shrimp cocktails, steak, venison, sliced fish, charcuterie boards overflowing with rare cheeses, sliced aged ham, the ripest and most plump green and purple grapes still attached to living vines. Bottles of wine kept in buckets of ice on push carts which were stationed at the ends of the table, an assortment of drinks which were stacked on those crystal clear towers of glasses.

Everything about the room, the setting, an invitation which bled magnificence and opulence, the grand luxurious set up which sought to awe, to seek and demand and fulfil, to meet and exceed his expectations, only unnerved him greatly.

The power of a devil…Asmodeus beckons him to take a seat at the end of the table. 

He begins to wonder, as he takes the sight all in. This devil either had a high level of reality manipulation magic…an ability to bring forth into this world so readily as Zagred, the word devil had in manifesting his weapons and entities…or it was something else. The dissonance between his senses, his mind, the strange feeling of mana in the air, one which clung and coated his skin trying to seep into each and every pore, orifice of his body was uncomfortable. 

He gives the food on the table a glance.

He knew better than to consume anything a devil offered him. 

The scent of food entices him still, and he moves slowly, so as to buy time as he considers what options he has. The first thing he must do is figure out what the devil’s magic attribute was, and whether or not he could use it due to the devil contract which was forged between the two of them. Once he had gained sufficient mastery over the devil’s magic attribute, he could find a way to break the others out of this manor and set them free. 

Once that was done, all that was left was to seal himself in the depths of this manor, to seal the devil with him and himself away from the world.

Should the Witch Queen arrive with reinforcements or possibly with the aid of the Clover Knights by then, then he could be slain without much problem.

The seat is soft, as he adjusts the chair and sits down. Asmodeus does the same, taking its seat across him. The way in which the food was arranged provides a clear line of sight between the two of them, as bottles of wine pour itself into glasses, one of which was offered to him and the other to the devil which sat before him. 

All in all, this was setting up to be an extremely civil exchange with a devil. 

Therein laid the problem.

The more civil, the more highly intelligent the devil was.

Asmodeus waved his hand out to him, offering the glass which is set down in front of him.

“You…must be much older than you look. The scent of your soul, it is so achingly familiar.” The devil draws out, with an almost longing sigh, as he watches the devil carefully. Did it know that he was Astaroth? Rather…a part of Astaroth? The ruby tinted liquid hovers in front of him, as he instinctively averts his gaze from the demon and down to the glass.

He hadn’t considered the fact that other devils could sense his presence. 

He picks up the glass, swirling the liquid in it.

“You mentioned a meal. This shall be my meal.” He lifts the glass to his lips, as he takes the smallest of sips from the glass.

The devil across him chuckles.

“Unfortunately, you don’t get to set the definitions of what constitutes a meal.” The white haired devil waves a hand across all of the food on the table. 

“My request, my definition.”

The wine is sickeningly sweet. It is a sticky type of sweetness, which clings to his throat, coats his lips and tongue with a syrup like texture, a permeating sweetness that requires much of another liquid to wash the taste out. He sets the glass down. Upon swallowing the sip, the burn of the alcohol follows, something vicious, which only belonged to that of hard liquor, and not something as tame as a glass of wine. It kills his appetite.

“I hardly have the appetite to stomach all of this. And I doubt you would wish to force me full of food to a point in which I regurgitate everything.”

Knowing that this was a devil, he hopes it will not force him to such ends.

It smiles.

It is a smile which drips with a patient, contented sadism, a self satisfied look as it drums its fingers on the satin silk of the cream coloured table cloth. 

“I’m sure you can finish what is on your plate.”

He does not miss the double meaning. 

Julius looks down at the plate, food having been served for him.

It is a piece of a beating heart.

With blackened veins, pulsating and writhing on the white porcelain of his plate, covered in a thin film of membrane, the violet piece of meat, a part of a heart, he knew so instinctively from the way it beat. Drenched beneath a dark coloured sauce, garnished with crimson red petals of an unknown flower, it only took up a small portion of the plate. 

The piece of a devil’s beating heart.

The how…how was it alive? He looks up at Asmodeus, who smiles knowingly. 

“I have my ways.”

Julius merely remains quiet.

In his mind, all he knows is that he had consumed Lucifero’s devil heart then. Lucius Zogratis had cut into it as if it had been the finest cut of steak he had ever eaten, bitten down on it and savoured the luxurious taste of the heart of a supreme devil, all whilst he had wanted to throw up.  He doesn’t notice how much his hands are shaking, even as he sets them onto his lap, hiding them beneath the long table cloth.

The taste of a devil’s heart is imprinted onto his memory, the bitter sweet taste of tar, the blood of a devil freshly slaughtered, which was thick and oily, and coated the entirety of his throat and left him unable to taste anything else. It was a sickening taint, a despair which had seeped into his body, tarnished his very being, as Lucius had forced him to watch from his own eyes as the man so close to a devil had savoured each and every bite of it. 

In the mind of the fourth Zogratis sibling, it had tasted heavenly.

He gags.

Asmodeus was onto him in the next instant.

The devil crossed the space between them in the blink of an eye, his sudden presence alarming his senses, even as he struggled to reconcile with the reality which laid before him. 

“Will you eat it, or will you not?” It hissed at him.

The devil was desperate for him to consume it. From the way it had moved so swiftly, so instinctively, as Julius chose to pick up the steak knife available to him out of self defence, despite the fact he knew that he was powerless against the devil. 

“No. I will not allow you to anchor yourself to this world.” 

That was the point of consuming, or obtaining the heart of a devil. When Lucius had consumed the heart of the supreme devil Lucifero, he had consumed the core essence of the devil, the ability to wield the dominating gravity magic, which he used to freeze the entire kingdom in place.

The heart of a devil was an anchor, one which enabled them to revive themselves as many times as they needed to. And that was what the eldest sibling had done, bringing and reviving Lucifero back under his command as a puppet soldier, sent off to fight and decimate their forces. After all, Lucifero could not turn against the being who held his heart.

Asmodeus disarms him with the flick of his wrist.

The devil picks up the plate, as he grabs him by the throat, forcing his head against the back of the chair with a rough shove. 

But this…the devil knew what it was doing. 

He coughs, choking against the sudden motion as the devil forces his mouth open, picking up the glass of wine and pouring it down his lips.

Julius gags, drowning under the sudden rush of liquid, the sticky, clinging sweetness which tasted so bitter, with a rotten aftertaste which trailed the initial scent and taste of it. His breath is robbed from him, as the devil forced the liquid down his throat, and he fights, kicking against the devil who simply slams him against the wood backed chair. 

“It seems like you know so much more than you let on.” 

The liquid fills his mouth, spilling from his lips as he gasps for air.

The glass is never ending, as only more and more tainted wine flows from the cup.

He is forced to swallow, to drink the liquid in order not to drown, as it pours down his face, and as he reached out to tear the devil’s hand away from the cup, to push it out of line of his sight, the wine turns to tar beneath his fingers, warm, living, hot, as it drips down his skin. 

The devil laughs.

“Drink your fill. Have a taste of me.”

He gags, once he realises what the wine was.

Blood like tar drips from his lips, staining his clothes, dying the table and cloth an oily pool of black, as he drowns in it.

He struggles even more. His nails dig into the hand of the devil, only to slip from the tar which now coated every inch of his skin, seeping into his nails, into every pore, past his lips, into his mouth, down his throat, as the liquid pours and slips into his eyes, which even he cannot blink away.

It is by instinct which he calls upon his magic. Time magic, which was never even his own magic, and magic he no longer had. Nothing answers the husk of an empty shell, even as his panic is drowned out by a never ending flow of tar and oil. He wants to render this devil into nothingness.

To erase it from the face of reality, as his time magic had always done. 

It slams his head against the chair, and the pain from the impact is enough to bring spots to his vision. Pain flares, and in his oxygen deprived brain, all he can think of is to breathe. To breathe before he suffocates to death beneath this mass of horrible, tangible corruption which would take over him.

Something is shoved in his mouth, a tight hand placed over his lips as the tar continues spilling across his face. 

“Eat.”

He has no choice but to do so.

The taste of the devil’s heart is an overwhelming high. 

It releases him, as he doubles over, falling from the chair as he kneels on the ground, clutching at his throat and clawing away at the sticky tar which clings to his skin, unwilling to leave no matter how much he rubbed at it, as he forces himself to choke and gag.

“It would have been so much easier if you had just cooperated.”

Julius has nothing left to say to it.

As he takes in a shaky breath, all he can taste, all he can feel is the oiliness of the blood of a devil, the lingering taste of the heart of a devil, a drug amplifying the sweetness of the blood wine, built upon the sickening sweet taste of blood. He is temporarily blinded by the liquid which had entered his eyes, now dripping down his skin, as he pulls at the table cloth and uses it as a towel, trying to regain his vision. 

“I shall see you once again when the moon hangs upon the night sky.”

The devil chuckles.

His ears are ringing still, as the devil’s laughter only resonates and echoes around him, the madness dripping from its voice which only gets louder and louder. 

Once his vision clears, he sees the room.

There was no fire, only the ashes of a long dead flame, covered in dust, peeling wall papers, broken and shattered windows, rotted, decaying food set across the tables, so much like the corpse he had seen all those days before. Broken glass scatters to mouldy carpets beneath his feet, caked with gunk, carcasses of dead insects, as the scent of decay hits his senses.

It had all been an illusion.

The cold wind cuts through the room, as rotted, broken curtains whip around, shaking the entire window frame as the old portraits fall to the ground, landing with heavy thuds on old rotting floorboards. The plates and rotting food on the table were only slightly disturbed by the wind, rotting maggots, flies, spiders, centipedes, worms and cockroaches swarming across its surface, and Julius promptly threw up by the side of the table.

In fact, he forces himself to gag even more, trying to throw up the piece of a devil’s heart which he had consumed against his will. Bile and the blood of the devil mix and stain his lips, and in that moment, as he kneels over on the floor, all he knows is that he is damned once more. 

-

Dream and reality become one and the same.

A silver dagger is presented to him, beside a spilled chalice once filled with black tar, and drops of fresh crimson blood that dot the surface of a plain white handkerchief.

A coverless grimoire, rendered to ash in the pyre of a funeral.

The pages burn away to ashes, as a blackened hand holds onto the very last page.

Corpses which hung from trees, blood and tar mixing to form a stream which pooled into a pond at his feet. 

Rattling chains, echoing from the lowest levels of hell.

Tar which dripped onto his face, slid down his cheek and onto his clothes.

Broken, decaying bodies of six children, where rats feasted on their flesh, nibbling at fingers and eyeballs, chewing on tongues as maggots laid eggs in the warmth of their mouths.

The ashes of a dead fireplace. Now there no longer was a dancing fire flickering with madness.

His hands, coated with blackened tar and human blood.

He reached for the last page.

-

Julius jolts awake on the remnants of what had used to be a blanket, breathing heavily as he takes in his surroundings. The spare room he had found and chosen to reside in was empty with an old mattress that was falling apart, as well as a single desk and chair, but the large window facing the direction of the sunrise made up for all of its sparse emptiness. 

He made his way out of the room, stumbling out through one of the side doors which swung open into a small courtyard, filled with those blackened, overgrown thorns and rose bushes that surrounded an old well. It was a miracle the mechanism still worked, as he looked down into the darkness below, hoping he could still draw water up as he cranked on the rusty handle. 

And it does.

As he twists and winds the handle, the rope coiling itself as it pulls up a bucket of…clean water, which he inspects as he pours some of it into his own hands to wash off the dirt and tar that he could not rub or wipe off the night before. 

The remaining water, he decides to bring back to boil before he would take a drink from it. 

Getting to work, he finds the old kitchen, where a dusty stove sat and manages to coax a fire from it. As he pushes the old pieces of firewood around in the stove, he thanks Yami for teaching him how to start a campfire from scratch, as he holds his hands out to savour the warmth which radiates from the small, but growing embers.

He truly was an awfully sentimental person.

Waiting for the water to boil, he takes the time to look around for edible food in the manor, before realising that he could potentially head out to find where the others were located. There were far too many things for him to do alone, and too little time for him to do so. 
The first would be to salvage what he could from the cultists, perhaps find the grimoires of the other kidnapees, though he knew they would be slaughtered if they ever went up against the devil. From his estimates, Asmodeus was… a mid ranking to a high ranking devil. In terms of its physical abilities, at least. About its magical abilities…it had to be based around illusion, the mind or perhaps the senses. However, its intelligence was much higher than even high ranking devils. Perhaps it was scheming as Zagred had, after he had heard the entire story about how the word devil had fooled the leader of the elves and manipulated Patri into committing all those atrocities for the sake of a shot at reincarnation. 

There was Adrammalech, Lucifero, Megicula, Lucifugus…Lilith and Nahamah…

His head hurts at the thought of those devils.

Astaroth…

The old kettle whistles.

He takes it off the stove, closing the door to the stove as he pours himself a glass of hot water, before leaving it to cool as he ventures out into the manor’s grounds. He had sufficient faith that Asmodeus would draw his leash back if it deemed him to be going against the contract, but he would not die.

Being a potential…ongoing devil host for Asmodeus…he would be able to use whatever its magic had been. Which is the next thing he needed to figure out and master. 

How had he even used Astaroth’s time magic in the first place? 

…Much less managed to fight off Lucius's soul magic sufficiently to break free from the shackles placed on his soul to regain control, even for the briefest of moments. 

Did he even have his own magic attribute?

After all, he was simply a split psyche of Astaroth, an imposter who lived as a human yet never knew what his own origin truly was. Lucius had made that so clear when he had him trapped inside the confines of his own body, mind shackled and locked away as he was forced to watch the horrors the man had wrought. 

A part of him resented Astaroth for being foolish enough to forge a contract with that sadistic being. 

That part of him…the more he thought about it, the more he hated it. The two of them were one and the same.

He walks down to the wagons, which still remained where they stood previously.

He climbs in, rummaging through the different bags and shelves, ignoring and stepping over the chains which had previously kept them captive and locked inside. The grimoires of the others…he needed to allow them easy access to it. 

The devil could not take their grimoires for it was not a four leaf clover, as he finds what seems to be a strange journal.

Flipping open the dusty black cover, he realises it is a treasure trove. 

Pages and pages filled with detailed explanations of devils, drawings of ritual circles, runes needed in summoning rituals, the attributes of said devils and what items were required as sacrifices. This innocent, slim looking tome, which did not even have a hard cover to protect the integrity of its pages, merely had a simple title.

The Guide to the Lesser Key of Solomon.

He wants to set this book on fire. 

Even as he flips to the dog eared page of where Asmodeus’s ritual was located at…he cannot help but know that this book…was the sole cause of why he was in this situation in the first place. Pair several power hungry and vengeful individuals together with this book, and the consequences were left for him to suffer.

It might be a treasure trove, but as he sees how finely and meticulously it details the ritual as requiring seven young virgin sacrifices as offerings for Asmodeus to claim, for the devil to defile and feast upon, to tarnish their souls by first taking away their virginity and then consuming their flesh in a banquet…he seethes.

Rage comes to him so much more easily than it usually did, as he tears out the pages detailing Asmodeus’s attributes, characteristics, and abilities. This was supposed to be their fate. The seven of them, the six children, even those who were barely on the cusp of adulthood, were meant to be subjected to this. 

Now he was glad all of the cultists had died.

He was glad that the devil had desecrated their corpses, strewn them all across the walls, and he had hoped it had tossed their bodies out over the edge of the cliffs to be eaten by scavenging animals. 

The paper crumples beneath his hands, in his fists, as he sits on the floor of the carriage.

This anger, this fierce, boiling madness simmers beneath his skin, poisonous and tempting as he takes in a deep breath. Looking at the page in his hand, he gleaned the fact that Asmodeus was the devil of rage and lust. Devils…and their devil hosts share characteristics. It was only a matter of time before he too would be lost to those two emotions, those two evils, just as how the Zogratis Siblings, with the exception of the eldest, had become the dark triad. 

Narcissism, Machiavellianism, and psychopathy.

Lucius had sufficient sadism as a human.

He wished he had taken care of those three siblings before they had to execute the raid on the Spade kingdom then. Had he chosen to play his cards right so much earlier, he could have easily fucked up Lucius’s plans for the future. 

All his mistakes and he could not even do that right.

He exhales.

“Get a hold of yourself.” 

He uncrumples the pages, as he begins reading.

Information reveals itself to him in vague summaries, as he reads the words of ‘Illusion Magic’ from the torn paper, and even he himself does not know what to make of it. He would have expected Asmodeus to hold two different magic attributes due to its two different natures, knowing how otherworldly beings such as Devils could bend the rules of magic, but it appeared not.

The effects of the underworld merging, or overlapping with the human world had made the existences of Devils…much more common. 

Still, as he walks out of the wagon, stepping down onto the dry, withering grass beneath his feet, he pauses as he decides to pluck a dead blade of grass. 

Illusion magic.

Julius struggles to grasp the feeling of magic, which he now knew had to flow through him, having consumed a piece of the devil’s heart so unwillingly. He sits on the dried, cracked earth, holding the blade of grass in the palm of his hand as he crosses his legs and concentrates. 

It takes some time to give up the temporary calm in his mind and let poisonous thoughts seep through his mind and imprint itself in his psyche, as he willingly submerges himself in the malice of the devil’s flesh and blood which were now merged with him. There is no calming his mind, instead, he lets it run rampant with the beginnings of frustration, of rage, of anger, of regret, of so much repressed despair and forgotten dreams. 

To be the host of a foreign magic attribute, to understand and invoke its source, to coax it into following his will, to forcibly ignite the spark of madness which tints the new attribute he knew he now possessed. He simply needed to force himself into a mental state in which he required it, and the idea behind illusion was simple.

To escape, to flee from a reality which he did not want to be true, to rewrite and live in an unending fantasy, to ignore and forget the state of the world around him, the situation he had been forced into, to live a peaceful life still retaining his place amongst his magic knights, amongst his captains, to have a place where he could belong and explore to his heart’s contents.

A distant dream which he wanted to be true.

To lose his soul, his mind, his existence to a forgotten, forbidden dream.

Maroon streaks of magic the colour of dried blood, paints the blade of grass a new coat of life.

He looks at the blade of grass, before he buries his head in his hands. 

Negative emotions, he found, were always the fastest at evoking new magic. This was especially so when he was not in any state to be using any positive emotions to inspire the creation of new spells.

Still, it did not negate the toll on his mind, to slowly draw himself back from the sea of overwhelming thoughts, ideas, dreams, reminiscent of a past he had longed to live, and a growing resentment which simmered beneath his skin. The magic coils itself around his skin, soft, velvet, as it inhabits his flesh, waiting so soothingly, cooling as it seems to placate him. 

It was funny how his longing for the past allowed him to master this. 

He stands up from the ground, releasing the blade of grass which flutters away into the wind. 

He decides to let the spell be nameless.

After all, he had no grimoire to collect any of them. 

-

The rest of the day is spent ransacking the corpses of the cultists, as he finds the grimoire of the other captives, their spellbooks dormant yet humming with quiet power, signifying that they were still alive, simply unable to use their magic. He gathers the books, some three leaf clovers, other diamonds as he brushes his hands through the covers, withdrawing them from the bag of infinite holding. 

As much as he was curious to see what sort of magic they had, he had no time to inspect or read through their available spells. He decides that it would be safer to leave them inside the bag of holding after he has accounted for all of them, leaving them at the front door of the manor, hanging on the handles of the large tall door as he makes his way through the manor. This is followed by running through the corridors of the manor, locating where all of the captives were, being set onto beds in separate quarters in different rooms, which he knew he could not wake.

After accounting for all of their presences, he continues to think about what his next course of action should be. With a hint of a new possible escape route available to him, in the form of the very magic of the devil itself, he consolidates his options. First, would be to hold out until reinforcements arrived, and for him to seal the devil away or impede it in some way. Second…possibly help the other children wake up from their sleep and replace them and himself with illusions strong enough to fool the devil’s senses. 

In six days. 

He needs to start practising with his new magic.

As he sits down on one of the old stools in the kitchen, he downs his glass of water before he returns to the stove, where the fire had managed to die out in the time he had spent outside. He had lost all of his appetite after what had happened the night before, but thirst was still something he had to satisfy. 

He opens up the stove, revealing the still warm ashes of the fireplace as he looks down at the remnants of his efforts at starting a fire. Holding his bare hands out over the warm firewood, the waves of heat soak into his hand, as he brings it closer to the burning coals, close enough that the warmth was beginning to sting and burn the skin of his hands, and his instincts were forced close to pulling them away from the sharp heat. 

Fire burned. With its deceiving warmth, covetous brightness and flame, it was a good servant but a poor master. Flickering flames which danced, sparks which ignited a tad bit too close to his own fingers, the dry air which fed into the form of the fire, he wanted a fire. He longed for its warmth, no matter how much it would hurt even if the ashes flared to life then and there, and it would burn his fingers, devouring and sizzling his flesh. 

The sparks dance as a fire roars to life. 

He burns his hands.

He muffles his curse as he cradles his hands, dunking them into the pail of water next to him as the pain flares up on his skin. 

Still, as he looks at the roaring fire in the stove, he smiles.

He draws his hands out of the water, only to find them unblemished and unharmed. There is a disconnect between what he was seeing and what he was feeling, the lick of a flame which scorched his skin, yet his hands trembled without the sign of a single burn. Putting them and dipping them into the water eases the pain only slightly, but the effects of the burn are only felt by his nerves, his senses, yet he was not suffering from it physically. 

The true nature of this magic dawns on him.

To inflict pain without inflicting injury.

The devil’s illusion magic is simply content. 

Which meant that there were so many more psychological barriers he had to overcome in order to break through this illusion. Whatever the devil imposed on him, was all but purely an illusion, one that did not injure, but the pain was enough to shut his body down if it ever came down to it. 

With a greater understanding of the magic he now commanded at his fingertips, it was as if a new sense was opened up to him. Being more in tune with this illusion magic, it allowed him to sense what around him was built on the desire to see it built, yet it had not truly been built or constructed around him. 

The thin veil which existed all around him, which masked and coated every inch of this estate, as he walked through where a wall should have been, but there had not been a wall there in the first place. Simply an empty gap where it no longer was, as he watches the image of a wall flicker out of existence, parting for him. 

The number of things he could accomplish…

As he begins walking, before striding and even running down to the edge of the manor’s estate, he holds his palms together cupping them as he willed for a messenger bird to form itself, to come to life, to flutter and flap its wings in between the cage of his fingers. He longed for the distant dream of escape, and he imbues it into this small messenger crow, with raven feathers slick and shiny, its beady eyes and beak poking out from between the gap between his thumbs. 

He releases the bird, constructing a message which is tied around its leg, as he wishes for it to soar off into the distant sky. 

He prays the Witch Queen will receive it.

-

Night comes, the fall of a blanket of darkness so black it blots out the moon and even the stars of the sky. He stands at the door of the manor, sensing the pulsating, living, writhing illusion magic which coats the doors, pouring from every inch of its surface and mingling with the nature of reality around him. Raising a hand out, he touches the door, pushing it open as the illusion invites him in. 

“Mastered it so quickly, did you?”

His eyes dart to the figure who waits for him at the top of the stairs. 

Asmodeus laughs, a deceivingly pleasant sound of rich pride and hidden contempt. It brings its palms together, cupping them into a ball as he pulls them apart, revealing the crow he thought he had released then. 

The devil holds onto the bird tightly, even as it screeches and wails under its suffocating and crushing grip, screaming as the devil squeezes it to death. 

The sound of crunching bone and flesh echoes throughout the entire hall. 

The corpse of the bird is dropped to the floor, as the roll of parchment is unveiled. 

“For the Witch Queen of the forest of witches, I humbly request for your aid in killing me once more.” The devil incinerates it with fire of make believe. 

“I did not violate any details of the contract.” 

Julius stands his ground, even as his eyes sweep past the corpse of the dead crow. 

“You did not, but neither do I expect you to be this disobedient.” Asmodeus struts down the stairs, silver hair dancing in the flickering candle light. His crimson coat is almost maroon against the bright orange flames of the torches which hang along the walls, as it bears its teeth towards him with a cruel smile. 

 “As I said, I did not violate any terms of the contract. You cannot give me any punishment.” He looks at the devil in the eye, the illusion magic pouring around him as he senses the large alterations to the reality he was sensing around him. 

He now had the means to defend himself. The contract had not contained any agreements about self defence. Which meant he could retaliate if he chose to without any repercussions from the contract. 

“Punishment? Who am I to dole out such an unpleasant feeling?” The devil leans its head down to him, his height towering over him to such a massive extent that Julius was completely engulfed in his shadow. Asmodeus gives him a soft, yet vicious smile, one which revealed glinting fangs which showed even in the darkness of his shadow. 

“Now select your next child to release.” The devil pulls away as it raises a hand, holding in it the images of the five other comatose children, and Julius immediately points to Anastasia. The devil nods, as it closes its palm. 

“You shall feed me.”

It lunges for his neck, even as the illusion magic Julius possessed lashed out in response. It manifests itself as a glass sphere, one resembling the time spheres he had previously used, but even he could not replicate it down to such a fine degree. Instead, Asmodeus shifts and simply punches a hand through the magic, shattering it into nothingness as it grabs for him. 

Julius ducks beneath the hand, backing away into where the front door was, only for the door to shift into chains which strap and chain him to the surface of the old lacquered wood, binding and immobilising his limbs. He wishes for the chains to break, to shatter the illusion as adrenaline races through his veins, and he struggles against the thick, heavy metal, which part of him knew was not real, and yet it was. 

Devil Illusion Magic: Unending Nightmare

The chains break, and yet the ground disappears beneath his feet and Julius falls down a large, unending pit, where the walls of a wall close in all around him, damp, slippery chipped walls of brick which sank deep into the earth itself. A large metal rod sticking out from one of the walls cuts into his shoulder, even as he plunged even further down a bottomless depth. 

Pain flares from his shoulder, wenching from him his concentration as he reaches out for the walls, no matter how much it hurts his fingers, cutting himself on the sharp chipped edges of the broken tiles and bricks, in order to stop himself from falling any further. Weightlessness, coupled with the natural human instinct programmed within him to fear falling from a height, sends his brain into overdrive as he scrambles to find purchase in the walls.

The tips of his fingers bleed, being bruised and bloodied as he sees the water at the bottom of the well. 

He closes his eyes when he hits the bottom of the well.

-

Pain.

Everything hurt.

Julius opens his eyes, finding himself lying on what seemed to be the soft material of a blanket on a bed, Asmodeus leaning over him, as he leaned his head down, silver hair tracing his skin.

He could not move a single limb, could not move a single muscle, could not even breathe.

The devil merely chuckles. 

“If only you had obeyed.”

It leans down to his neck, its presence far…far too suffocating for him, as it nuzzles his neck. 

He needs to bear with it.

Bear with it, like he could bear with the pain of falling into the bottom of a well. 

Bear with it, like he knew he had eaten the heart of the devil who was now going to feast on him.

Bear with it, with the mistakes he had made.

Bear with it, with the burden of his sins. 

Bear with it.

Bear.

He chokes when the devil sinks its fangs into his neck.

Bear with it. 

It drinks his blood, and he is left paralysed, unable to fight back nor resist. 

As Asmodeus feasts on him, all he can think about is the agony of falling and hitting the ground, the agony of how he was losing more of himself, of how he was never going to be allowed to be free. Of how he could not escape, of how he would remain trapped to be a plaything of this devil, to be a slave, a host, a mindless puppet once more. Of how it would use him to kill, to torture others, to entertain itself. 

He wants to forget everything. 

He wants to erase his own existence from this world, so that he could simply cease to be. 

But he cannot.

Because Asmodeus tenderly strokes his skin, even as he draws his lifeblood from him. 

The devil anchors him to the physical reality he was trapped in, giving him ecstasy found from agony, and turns pain into pleasure, soft sweet and all encompassing. The devil bestows him sinful pleasure, contentment of being consumed, of being devoured, an unholy matrimony of pain and pleasure, intertwined into one singular concept. 

Pain and Pleasure.

Agony and Ecstasy.

Torment and Rapture.

The sound of a stifled gasp.

He turns his head, as he finds Anastasia looking at him, an incomprehensible shock in her eyes, stiffened limbs which refused to move, trapping her in a position of morbid curiosity and wondrous horror as she had a single hand in the bag of infinite holding. 

He is voiceless, as Asmodeus stifles his voice with a hand. 

“Run along, little girl. Lest you end up like him.”

Asmodeus releases him, licking at the blood which dripped from its lips, as it points towards a direction out of his sight. 

Anastasia flees.

Julius is tired. 

The devil laps at the wound at his neck.

“You will be mine. Eternally mine.” It strokes his skin, as it presses something burning hot against the wound on his neck. 

He simply wants to let go.

-

A corpse filled with countless stab wounds. 

A silver dagger in his hand. 

An empty well.

Dripping tar.

The beat of a crow’s wings.

-

A knock on the window. 

He opens his eyes to the setting sun in sight. 

Beyond the thick glass pane, stood a massive large black crow, which pecked at the glass. 

He opens the window, pushing aside the heavy pane as something heavy is dropped onto his lap. 

The crow vanishes into a wisp of smoke. 

Julius picks up the silver dagger, as his weariness subsides, replaced by nothing but razor sharp focus as he held the weapon in his hand. 

His gaze sharpens, as he hefts the slim weapon in the palm of his hands. With a handle made of what seemed to be of black wood, bound in a rough leather dyed grey, a simple sharp pointed blade as long as the length of his palm. Its silver blade glints in the light of the setting sun, and he steels himself.

The Witch Queen had received her subject. That woman must have known what had transpired down in this manor after the witch had fled back to her home. Thinking back, it had been a gamble on whether or not the girl would have known what to tell the queen, or if she had even made it back safely. There was also Neige…but it had only been two days. The Clover Kingdom was still quite a long way from wherever this place was, which was somewhere near the outskirts of the Diamond Kingdom. With that being said, at least one of the two plans to call for backup had worked out. It also meant that the Witch’s Forest was much closer to here than he had thought, since he had assumed it would have taken much longer than a day to receive a response so quickly. 

Hefting the blade in his hand, he can sense something strange, almost warped with the object itself, imbued with exceptional enchantments to reinforce the strength and durability of the blade…but nothing more than that. It was a hollow weapon, as he feels the edge of the blade, pricking the tip of his finger on the sharpest edge in hopes that his blood would activate any hidden enchantment. After all, blood magic was the Witch Queen’s specialty. 

The confusion he faced when he realised nothing was happening was quite something, as he stemmed the flow of blood from where he had pricked his finger. Holding this dagger felt like he was holding a wand that had been purposed into a dagger. Was that her intent? She wasn't even aware of the exact circumstances he was trapped in, and that likely contributed to the creation of this weapon. 

Place yourself in her position. 

The Witch Queen knew about Lucius’s magic attribute, the manipulation of the soul. His shared origin, a split soul / persona from the time devil Astaroth. His shared magical attribute being time. Lucius could use both soul and time magic…and perhaps she still expected him to be able to do the same? Still, the young witch he had released should have described his features to her, and she must have known of how he was in a state where he could not use most of his magic. Was she operating under the assumption that he still possessed time magic? 

A door creaks, as he hides the dagger beneath the sheets. 

As far as he was aware, he did not possess time magic any longer. He was uncertain of what his current, natural magic attribute even was, if he even had one. After all, he could still sense magic and mana before he became Asmodeus’s anchor, which meant he had some innate magic left in him. He simply…had not tried hard enough to summon it or had not been in the right headspace to do so.  

But he could not rely on whatever magic that was. The odds of him being an arcane stage were close to zero, which meant that he could only use what he had on hand. To lay a trap for the devil, and use its own magic against it.

For that to happen, he must play the part of a defeated slave. To lower the guard of the devil even further, especially since what had happened the night before had so nearly done that. Perhaps it had, as he struggles to still the tremble in his hands. He knew that devils could kill each other, consuming and destroying the heart of another. With the devil’s illusion magic, he could stand a chance at killing it…especially what he had been shown the night before. 

However, a piece of the devil’s heart now resided in his own chest. 

In the worst case scenario, he could turn the blade on himself. 

The devil waits for him in the doorway.

“Have you had time to inspect your new brand?” 

Julius instinctively turns to the voice, his hand raised to touch where his neck was, specifically, where the devil had drunk his blood. His fingers graze the tender skin, which stings and burns as he traces the figure of an infinity sign that had been cut into his skin. 

It fills him with immeasurable revulsion, disgust, and a gut reaction to claw at his skin. 

The events of the past night are not lost to him, as he looks at the devil, the perfect, human facade having been torn down and away, long cast away into the wind as it crouches and forces itself through the doorway. 

It is barely a humanoid figure, being made from a large, writhing mass of tendons and strands of black coloured muscle, its feathered wings unfolding as Asmodeus crossed the threshold of the room. With a large, monstrous and beastly figure, it stands tall, tilting its head down to him, four curved horns coming close to piercing through the ceiling of the room he laid in. 

With a face filled with two pairs of glowing red eyes, it opened its fiendish lips and a long silver tongue emerged. 

Get yourself together. 

Julius steels himself mentally, even as his body betrays his fear, the primal, base instinct to run and flee, to surrender if he was destined to be caught and trapped as the hunter’s prey. As Astaroth…he had seen worse. He had dealt with worse. He had witnessed the corpses of a hundred thousand men, women and children, field strung up with bodies of wild, feral devils that could not be tamed. 

He had been fed on by this very devil. Pinned to the floor, paralysed and unable to fight, only forced to accept that he was no longer his own being. He had lost himself to Lucius Zogratis, lost himself to this devil, for he was never himself in the first place. What more else could happen? 

He had already experienced the worst.

Even if this devil were to defile him…had it not already tainted him with its corruption and madness?

The devil leaned over him, even as his own body was frozen in fear. His mind… was resigned. 

“Pick your child.”

He does not remember which child he chooses to free, for it was only a distant memory, an action he did not remember, a choice he cannot seem to recall making. 

“Now give yourself over to me.”

A long time ago, he remembered what it had been like to see the human world for the first time. 

Then he had lost his freedom, bound by the law of a contract, the true nature of his soul repressed and splintered as the new him had been born.

The soul, as he had been shown by the eldest Zogratis sibling, was a beautiful thing. Something filled with endless, resonating incandescent flame, an otherworldly hue, a brightness shimmering with the light of a million glittering stars. The man had spoken about the value of the soul. The consciousness born from the smallest, almost non-existent possibilities intertwined in the disorder and chance born from the chaos of reality. 

And he, Julius Novachrono, not Astaroth, not Lucius Zogratis, did not have his own soul.

Everything he had done, from learning and discovering new magic, finding Yami, William, ascending to the throne of the Wizard King, protecting the kingdom, saving the people, being thanked by the people, sacrificing his life to save his people, finding out that he was the traitor all along.

Being the devil himself….

Dying to his own students.

None of it was him.

Who was he?

He was no one.

He had nothing, no memories, no life, no self, no identity.

This devil wanted something he already did not have. 

It wanted something he had thought he had owned, something he thought he could call his own.

It wanted who he was, even when he was nothing. 

It wanted something that had been rightfully his. 

He bares his neck for the devil.

Asmodeus laughs, accepting his surrender.

He would not let anyone else take what was meant to be his. 

He sinks the dagger into the devil’s chest. 

He would kill it. 

He would kill it for trying to take from him.

Devil Illusion Magic: Imitation Dark Magic

He would make it suffer the agony he had, the pain, the regret of betrayal, knowing he needed to let himself die, so that those whom he had come to love and know could live for another day. The pain of being cut by dark magic, a devouring magic which shattered the barriers of reality, which tore down into his soul, warped his senses, consumed his consciousness, drowning him in the blackened sea of the void. 

To let himself fall into the abyss, to close his eyes on the world.

To die.

The Devil’s illusion magic is devoured by the darkness he had summoned, a black hole which forms from the point where he had pushed the dagger in so deep into the devil’s chest, dragging the blade upwards to its throat as he wills himself to be filled with rage and a madness, a jealousy so deep that reality and illusion become one and the same. 

He wills for the darkness to cut through and consume, to swallow the corruption of this devil, to break and shatter every illusion it dared to put up, to break the world around him and render it powerless. With the silver dagger radiating dark magic, he wills for its wings to break, for its feathers to be torn, crushed, for its wings to be cut from its back, to slaughter the devil.

In this cruel, bleak world, hope and faith was not going to save him.

His hands stab at the devil’s corpse, even as the dark magic swallows its entire being, with its wings, every trace of the illusion magic it had attempted to use to counter against him. 

He willed for it to die.

It was because he had died that he knew how to make the devil feel like it was dying, and in turn, kill it. 

Tar drips down the blade, coating his hands and skin as the devil struggles, trying to pull away from the blade, but Julius had hooked his hand around its neck, clinging to it with a death grip as he forced the devil closer along the length of the dagger.

That was what it would get. 

“You…Astaroth…”

“Don’t call me that.” 

He twists the blade, so light and weightless now in the palms of his hand, as he drives the weapon up its throat, watching the dark magic cleanly cut through its flesh. The devil’s heart resonates with the one which dwelled within him, as Julius jerked the blade out and pinpointed its location, before he stabbed it with a singular thrusting motion. 

Asmodeus merely laughs as tar like blood bubbles from its lips.

With a hand, it traces his cheek, before it disintegrates into nothingness. 

What remains is merely a puddle of violet black tar, which sinks into the old wooden planks of the ground beneath him. 

He breathes heavily, as the brand on his neck begins to burn. Dropping the dagger, he wipes his hands clean and free of the tar, as the illusion of the mansion tears itself down, its caster no longer present. The dagger glows, humming and seeping the dark magic he knew Yami had once used to kill him, as he looks down at his own hands.

It was done.

He…hadn’t expected to be able to make it this far.

The illusion magic still writhes at the tips of his fingers, dancing along his skin with the wild sparks of an erratic flame, flickering in and out of existence in deep, crimson violet strands of magic. It pools in the palms of his hand, and he looks in the reflection of the glistening pool of mana, one which reeked with a sad despair that he knew he was the source of. 

He lets out a shaky breath.

He parts his hands, letting the magic dissipate and fade away into the surroundings, but it did not. Instead, it clings to his hands, seeping and dripping down his forearm akin to blood from a bleeding wound, and he knew he was not far from it. Exhaustion beckons him to collapse on the bed, to lie back down, take the old ratty blanket and cover himself with it, as the throbbing pain from the brand on his neck increases in intensity. 

Chapter Text

Time passes, he’s unsure of how long, but as the moon hangs itself up in the sky, he is absolutely drained, mentally and physically, unable to find even the slightest bit of energy to think or command his limbs to move. Fatigue weighs him down, coupled together with the strange hollowness in his heart, his thoughts strangely quiet for once, even after the entire tirade of venomous, poisonous ill will and malice had gifted him the strength he needed to slay the devil.

He wants to sleep, but he cannot.

He should get up to check on the other children, but for a moment he tells himself that they can probably wait. Perhaps they had even woken up and managed to find their grimoires. They should just leave him there. 

After all, he had no place to be, no place to head home to.

The aimlessness of his situation returned to him. 

It was why he had been wandering in the first place.

In his chest…he could still feel the heart of the devil beating. 

Its magic still remained firmly in his grasp, in his arsenal, even as he had turned it against its master. Asmodeus was not dead, merely temporarily banished back into the Underworld. Who was to say that it had not made similar contracts with other humans? Forced them to ingest a piece of its heart to contain and anchor it to the world whenever it wished to visit the human realm, especially when the barrier between the Underworld and human realm was so heavily weakened by what Lucius had done. 

He closed his eyes. 

With no plans for the future, all he could do now was live in the present. 

If his body and mind shut down on him, he too would go along with it. 

He was tired. 

-

A hand touches his shoulder.

It shakes his arm, as he simply chose to ignore it, wishing to return to the blank oblivion which was the realm of sleep, the dreamless emptiness of the void, the silence and quiet it offered. 

“Hey…can you wake up?”

Anastasia.

She does not receive a response, even as she sets her hand on his forehead. 

He forced himself to open his eyes. 

Her skin was so cold on his own. 

“Oh! You’re awake! The others also woke up…we should get out of here soon,” The girl looks around the room, as she knelt down on the floor to pick up the silver dagger. Her eyes flickered back and forth from the brand on his neck, to the pile of tar, the dusted feathers on the room, and him. 

He opens his mouth to speak, but no words come out. 

So he nods instead.

With that came an agonising pain, a heavy weight which shot a streak of pain down his head as he closed his eyes and winced.  

“You’re feverish…” The girl mutters.

Oh. Fantastic.

“Let me get you something to drink.” The girl sets the dagger next to him on the bed, before she leaves him. He’s unsure how long she was gone for, as he stares at the large mouldy patches of ceiling above his head, realising that it was now day again. The focus he had was fleeting, his thoughts so scattered and scrambled he could not put two and two together. 

A glass of water is pressed to his lips, and the first sip of the liquid sends him choking, as he instinctively shoves it away. All he can remember is the thick sweet taste of honey, bloodied wine, and having the liquid being forced down his throat. His chest tightens, as his hand moves to his throat. 

“It’s me, Anastasia,” The glass is set aside, and Julius takes a while, his senses foggy and mind distant, as his head turns to face the girl who spoke to him. Her black hair is messy, as if she had woken up from a long sleep, as she looks at him, eyes filled with nothing but worried concern as she gently takes his hands and pulls them away from his throat. 

“I think you're sick. You need water. Can you drink?” She softly sets the half filled glass of water into his palms, as he gazes down at the clear liquid. 

It was just water.

He lifts it up to take a sip.

The cool taste touches his tongue, a transparent soothing liquid which quenches his parched throat, as he drinks, albeit slowly, both with a mix of uncertainty and partial confusion as to why he felt so afraid of drinking a glass of water. His body felt warm, a headache growing in the back of his mind which was developing into a full blown migraine, one that hurt like his skull was being crushed and closing in on his brain itself. 

“...Thank you…I’m sorry…” He mutters, in a strange attempt to reconcile his appreciation and apology. 

Another figure appears at the door, a red head who walks cautiously into the room, avoiding the cracked planks. 

She mutters a few words, as Julius struggles to comprehend what they were saying.

All he knew was that he was exhausted beyond what should be normal. Anastasia has said he was sick. He knew he was. Side effects from killing the devil whom he hosted a piece of in his own body…he supposed. Or maybe blood loss? The brand on his neck? The effects of using magic from the underworld? Maybe all of them. He closed his eyes, as he pushed the empty glass onto the bedside table.

He tunes out the conversation next to him as he falls back to sleep.

-

The next time he comes to, he finds himself in the back of a wagon. 

Rattling chains grate on his hearing, and he remembers being trapped and chained down to be used for the devil summoning ritual. 

He jolts awake, mind still hazy and head pounding, as he is nearly flung back by the inertia of the cart, only to be caught by a pair of arms as he hears the voices of other children around him. 

The hands set him down carefully, as the wagon comes to a halt.

The Witch Queen.

He needs to find her. 

As he scratches at the brand on his neck, his skin raw, red and tender where it was, the silver dagger set away in an open crate set alongside the walls of the wagon, he knows he needs her knowledge. Her knowledge and her expertise, in order to track down the devil. Should she be unable to do so, it was only a matter of time before the Clover Kingdom’s Magic Knights would track him down and kill him. 

“The…Witch's Forest.” He manages to mumble, even in his feverish state, where he could barely even sit himself upright with his own two hands. Still, he forces himself to dig through one of the crates inside the wagon, where he knew this was the only one left after the other had rolled off the cliff. The image of a map flashed in his mind, as he recalled a passing glimpse of one when he had found The Guide to the Lesser Key of Solomon.

Two children help him pull the crate out, the twins whom he remembered seeing. They look at him expectantly, as they sieve through the contents of the box.

“Map…” He mutters. They nod, as they fish through the random assortment of papers, parchment, the strange guide itself, which Anastasia took from their hands and cast it into the crate alongside where the silver dagger had been also set aside. 

A thick roll of paper is pulled from the box, the crate shoved aside as it is rolled out across the floor of the wagon. 

“We’re…in Diamond Kingdom territory?” Rebecca exclaims, as she feels for their position on the map. A thin felt square seemed to move along the map, as it jumps from what was labelled as home base to another random spot on the map. A marker, then. That was helpful. 

Julius leaned over the map, skipping over the Heart, Spade and Grand magic regions and pinpointed to a patch of forest, shaded a lush forest green tinted with hues of red streaks. 

“We…I need to head here.” He looks over the rest of the children. 

“The rest of you…” He lets out a heavy breath. “You need to return to your homes in Clover or Diamond.” He points at the two kingdoms respectively. Diplomatic relations between the two of them…were fine. After they had banded together to kill him. 

“Either kingdom should be fine, especially since all the kingdoms are on good terms now,” Anastasia chips in. The last child, a boy with dirty blonde hair, also nods alongside her. His grimoire glows, its pages flipping around as he seems to call out to the front of the wagon. 

Rebecca looks down at the map.

“Then let’s head to the Witch’s Forest and then to the Diamond Kingdom. It says one of the security checkpoints is along this point,” She points at the map. They were currently already approaching the direction of the Witch’s Forest, and he wonders if that was by luck or coincidence. They were headed North, upwards to the Witches Forest while the Clover and Diamond Kingdom capitals were at their west and east respectively. The Diamond Kingdom outpost was marked with a cross and a circle around it, being closer to them from their current angle as compared to any of the Clover outposts, none of which were marked on the map. 

“Isn’t the Witch’s Forest foreign territory though? My father told me that after the Diamond Kingdom invaded it once, it became hostile to all bearing Diamond Kingdom grimoires…” Anastasia brings up. Julius blinks wearily. 

Right. That had happened. When the Eye of the Midnight Sun had still been active then…but they had since then retreated to Elysia in one of the grand magic zones near the Heart Kingdom, and were only known as the elves now. 

“Samantha was a witch. She..she should pardon us…” He speaks. 

“Samantha?”

“The last to replace Neige when he had managed to escape.” Anastasia supplies. Rebecca looks around, ascertaining the situation. They were all hungry, tired, exhausted, drained from their ordeal, and one of their own was sick, borderline feverish, and they had no idea how long this journey home would possibly take. 

The flap to the entrance of the wagon bursts open, as a crow flies inside the wagon. This gives one of the twins a fright as the other tries to shoo it away, whilst Rebecca flinches from the scare, and Anastasia merely opens up the flap, poking her head out to where the last member of their group was at.

The crow stops in front of him. 

Julius stares down at its red eyes, as he holds his open palm out to it. This magic…the crow opens its beak and caws at him, as it climbs up his arm and onto his shoulder. The sharp pain of it pecking at the brand on his neck jolts him further out of the hazy exhaustion, the pain shooting a flare up his shoulder. 

He bites down on his tongue to stifle a cry. 

It leaps from his shoulders and down to the map.

Tapping its beak repeatedly at where the Witch’s Forest was, everyone in the wagon knew what it was trying to tell them. 

“Witch’s Forest it is.” Rebecca confirms for the rest of them, as Julius dips his head in agreement. The crow looks at him, a dead eyed look, with crimson orbs that seemed to be empty windows for another being to watch him through. 

Must be her familiar, then.

He closed his eyes, dipping away into the rhythmic motion of the wagon as it began to move once more. 

-

He rouses every now and then, for water to be offered to him from a canister, as the others made sure he was as comfortable as possible. Glimpses of Anastasia, Rebecca or one of the twins placing a cool cloth around his neck or over his forehead to cool him down even as he was barely conscious of it…which he feels grateful for. 

Despite resting so much, the exhaustion had not abated. 

The brand was a curse, that much he knew. 

Perhaps it made him reliant and only able to function in the presence of the devil itself, or cursed him for turning against his master, and in the process, breaking the contract. He looked down at his arm, finding that the tattoo of the snake had vanished completely. 

Megicula was good with curses. 

Astaroth’s memories bleed with his own, as he remembers how the father of all curses had spun runes of curses and cast them on its devil underlings in countless, endless tests even within the bowels of the Underworld. Suffering, screaming devils that the Time devil had to react stoically towards such a sight, no matter how much it hated such pointless suffering. 

Astaroth had been a devil who had compassion in its heart. 

The same compassion which Lucius had taken advantage of. 

Or perhaps the Time devil had merely been naive.

He touches the brand on his neck. 

It stung. As it always seemed to do. 

There had been those strange dreams as well. Premonition? Foresight? The last time he had thought his instincts and subconsciousness had given him answers, it had only been Lucius pulling the strings from the background. He ignores those dreams, because if they were back, it meant that Lucius had returned with him. Dreamless sleep, despite having such poor rest, was a relief. 

At least he would have his own mind to himself. 

The wagon comes to a halt.

“We’re here!”

Anastasia opens up the front flap of the wagon, as they exit the wagon and get out. Rebecca helps him get out, as he could barely drag himself up and much less out of the wagon. The group of them face the entrance of what seemed to be a pair of large black coal coloured doors, made from the blackened wood, amidst a brick wall made of pale yellow bricks. 

“She had blood magic. Be careful should she mean us harm.” Julius adds on as an afterthought as they make a move towards the door.

Before the others can react, the doors fling themselves open as a flock of crows lunge towards them. He feels the beat of wings, the rush of air, the beaks and claws of the birds which strike out against him. The children scream in surprise, before even they were silenced and gone.

As he opens his eyes, he finds himself in the throne room, standing before the Witch Queen who sat upon her throne. With her pale pink hair tied up beneath her pointed witch’s hat adorned with black feathers, she raised a hand to the scar over where her right eye used to be, before she pointed at him. 

“The audacity you must have to resurrect yourself…” She looks down at him, icy blue eyes converting her hate and contempt for his presence as much as the presence of her mana was beginning to make the room suffocate. Bringing her point across, as she steps off of her throne, walking down the steps and towards him, the scent of blood in the air merely thickens, a miasma which manifests red mist all around him, and all he is reminded of is Asmodeus. 

He had lived through this.

He would live through this once more. 

A sharp pain struck through his skull, as he took a step forward, only to stumble under the weight of the fever, pain and exhaustion he had to bear. At least the others were not here with him, which meant she would likely spare them.

“I gifted you the dagger to kill yourself, seeing how you wished to have the means to do so.”

She raised a hand, as strands of blood spun themselves from the hazy miasma and pulled him to the ground.  

“And what do you do? Bring another devil to my doorstep!”

She kicks him in the side, as the ropes of blood hold him down to her carpet. He remains quiet, because he knows that he did indeed bring another devil to her kingdom. After all, Lucius had brought war to her doorstep, slain many of her daughters and witches, and she had been forced to side with him, only to buy enough time to betray him in the end. 

He coughs, as he tastes blood on his lips. 

“M-My apologies.” 

She picks him up by his collar.

“Which one are you now? The devil? The eldest Zogratis sibling?” He does not know.

“Julius.”

That is all he can offer her, and she is not pleased with the response, as she throws him back and down onto the carpet. 

“I…” He coughs, as he pushes himself up from the ground.

“I banished…the main body of…” He wipes the blood from his lips. “Asmodeus…back to the Underworld…” He knows he is in no power to make a bargain or a contract, or anything which means he has a share of control over. 

He tilts his head down to the ground.

“I…would like to request-that you ensure the others with me return back to their homes safely.”

“You’d have to kneel for me to even begin thinking about entertaining that request.”

He kneels.

Julius knows he…has no power here. He is sick, feverish, weakened, but he can likely draw upon the devil’s illusion magic even in this state. However, he does not want to give the Witch Queen reason to kill him then and there, nor to put the others in a position to be a hostage should he defend himself against her. 

After all that has transpired since Lucius made himself known, he easily sets his pride aside and fulfils the request of the Witch Queen, as the brand burns on his neck, a slow seeping hot sensation which sears his skin. 

The Witch Queen binds him down to the floor in that position, refusing to let him move. 

“I lost my right eye due to you. The lives of so many of my daughters, the sanctity of this forest, and the protection and security of the realm which is now tarnished by the presence of demonic beings.”

“My life was yours to take.” He collects himself, maintaining his position since he could not move out of it in any way shape or form. The range of his vision was only limited to the bloodied carpet on the floor, stained with his blood as he blinked away the light headedness that began to form. He admits that he did cause all of the losses she had mentioned. 

“One life does not compare to the sixty three daughters I have lost. You who threatened the lives of my people, who took them as you saw fit, to fuel your arcane plan to merge the realm of the devils and humans together. “

In the end, he and Lucius were still one and the same. 

It would always haunt him. Wherever he went, at every moment in time. 

The cultists who suffered from the reaping that Lucius had begun, Asmodeus who could easily manifest within the physical realm, even without the use of an artefact for the barriers between the two worlds were so weakened it was paper thin. The reason why Asmodeus had chosen him to be his devil host and for him to consume a portion of his devil heart to make him an anchor to the physical realm. It was why the Witch Queen treated him with so much hostility, her intent to kill him so openly displayed. 

“I know their lives cannot be brought back.” He speaks, voice low and soft. 

He needs to atone for his sins. 

“I have done my best to prevent any further death of your daughters. Samantha Kravitz…did she return safely?” 

He can feel the Witch Queen’s glare on him.

“Sixty two other lives that remain unaccounted for. And you were the source of all of this devil summoning problems, aren’t you? How does saving the life of my fellow daughter from a situation you contributed to lift your debt? Her life was never supposed to be in danger in the first place.” 

He cannot argue with her reasoning. 

“You wish to atone for your mistakes, do you not? Nothing apart from bringing back the lives of my daughters will absolve you of your sins. If you cannot do so, then I have little reason to keep you alive.” Her words are cold, callous and infinitely distant from him, and he flinches from the lack of mercy. She turns her back on him, as she begins to walk back to where her throne was.

Perhaps…it was for the best. There were no other possible options in sight, as he ponders, half feverish and light headed, on what he could do to earn her forgiveness. At least enough for her to return the other captives to their home kingdoms. Had the Witch’s Forest been the wrong choice? 

If she could kill him, and seal away the shard of the devil’s heart which was within him, and he knew full well she would be able to do so with her vast knowledge of curses and spells, it was also a decent outcome to the short new life he was gifted. 

He coughs up blood into his hand. 

Looking at the glistening liquid, his senses intoxicated by the metallic scent of the liquid, the thought strikes him. Were he his past self, he would have never made this choice. He would never have even considered this offer, this one sided contract.

“I give you my blood.”

The Witch Queen stops in her tracks.

“I’m bound to the devil of rage and lust. My body was a host for a devil. I can perform forbidden magic without suffering from weg. I will offer you all that I can give, so long as you release the other children.” He offers himself up. 

He was certain she would turn him into a puppet. 

After what he heard from Asta and his squad's report, where the queen had manipulated the blood in the teen’s body and had him turn his blade on his own comrades, only for Vanessa to be able to change the course of events by manifesting the red thread of fate itself. Him? He had nothing of that sort. Though he had been on the receiving end of the strange cat, Rogue. 

“You have fallen so far, Wizard King.” He knows he has. He was never up in the clouds in the first place, only a marionette manipulated by the mastermind who had orchestrated his rise to the position of the ruler, and brought him so far down. Julius knows that him now, was a far cry from whoever he had been then. 

He was only glad that all he was facing now was the Witch Queen, and not anyone else from the Clover Kingdom. He would have no face to be in their presence, much less even face them without feeling the shame of having been played like a fiddle fueling the guilt which was always so close to drowning him. 

Anger was an emotion he could take. He would much rather suffer through the wrath, the vengeance others held for him instead of facing their disappointment…the hurt, the pain of betrayal, the depths of their despair. He would rather be hated by those who the past him had raised instead of having to face them. 

“Since you so graciously offered, then you can consider it done.”

The bindings release him, as he barely manages to catch himself, having been held in the same position for so long his limbs were numb with pins and needles. After all he had gone through, he was going to be a puppet again. 

Was that all he would ever be? Simply a tool, a weapon for others to use, to not have his own sense of self, to constantly fight against his own instincts, his own mind, his own body, unsure of what was truly his own will, what was his own thoughts, and what was his own identity?

He can’t help but laugh.

A dry, sardonic sound which is caught between a wet gargle and a choke, as he looks down at his bloody hands. 

In the feverish haze which follows, he knows it is unwise to lose his composure in front of an enemy, but he could not bring himself to care enough. Perhaps now was when he would lose his sanity. To lose all control, to give it all up once again, to force himself to willingly accept his circumstances, just like Lucius, just like Asmodeus, and now, once more. 

“Silence your chatter.”

The Witch Queen commands him. He stifles his laughter, falling silent as he looks up at her, from where she sat upon her throne of vines, thorns and feathers. 

“I have no need for a broken tool. Either collect yourself or see yourself out of my throne room.” She pours scorn onto him, her sharp words, fierce intent and displeasure evident. Holding her palm out, the strands of blood around him envelop him, and he sensed how her blood magic was able to heal him of his injuries. 

Breathing no longer hurt, and the pounding in his head ceased, or at least diminished enough for him to pull coherent thoughts together. 

“I do not want you to linger on the grounds of my territory. The presence of a devil is never welcome. Your mental state is so poor you risk using forbidden magic on instinct.” The Witch Queen directed at him. A crow lands on her open palm, as it seems to communicate a message to her. 

His eyes widen. 

“However, your blood is valuable. You will participate in blood letting once a month. Whatever else you do in between is not of my concern, so long as you do not bring more filthy devils to my door. Get your affairs in order, for I will not let you leave until you have given me the volume of blood sixty two individuals would have had had they lived.”

Julius bows his head in obedience.

“The brand on your neck. You should know what it means.”

She shifts the topic of discussion, as he instinctively touches the brand itself. Does he really know what it means? In his past with the other devils, the most he knew was that such markings were contract markings, symbols of the contract that had been forged between devil and host. The one which throbs on his neck even now, though dull, was a persistent ache on his collar. 

“Does it not simply mean that I am its host and can draw upon its power?” He asks curiously, though more out of the desperation where he wished it represented something else. 

“Tch. It is not limited to simply that. The signature of the devil Asmodeus is far more intricate than such an elementary use. That brand, combined with your presence, is a beacon. It draws the presence of the devil itself to you, and will also announce to all of the other devils that you are his host.” 

He quietly takes in her words. 

“Expect to be hunted down like prey.” 

So it seemed that fate had gifted him a purpose and pushed him down an uncertain path.  If he were to be hunted, then he would have to find ways to kill these devils that chased after him. On top of that, he would need to lure Asmodeus into a trap where he could slay the devil, permanently. It had taken Larx in alive, so it was likely he was not the only host it would have occupied. 

“May I ask, what the devils can do with my blood?” He needs to account for every loose end.

The Witch Queen gives him an unamused look. 

“Just about anything. Were you a normal human, a high level devil who is intelligent enough to work out the uses of your lifeblood can manipulate you from afar, delve into your memories, place an irremovable tracker onto your body, haunt your thoughts, mind and dreams.” She leans back on her throne. 

“But you are not a normal human. Instead, you are more of a devil than you ever were a human. With that, the devils can do so much more.”

“...What else would they be able to do?”

“Force a manifestation upon you. Link you to the Underworld. Possess your body. Draw upon your own magic, though I doubt you have that left for you.” That much he knew. Astaroth's time magic was never his. 

“If I…drank the devil’s blood and consumed their heart?”

The Witch Queen eyes him warily.

“You are cursed beyond comprehension. An extremely fascinating case study, however.” She drums her fingers on the arm rest of her throne. 

“Only you alone know what it is like to consume the heart of another devil.”

She waves a hand, as a doorway made from blood pulls itself up from the bloodied carpet. Made with dripping edges, it swings open for him as it beckons him to enter.

“Clean yourself up. We will speak once more.”

-

Julius is led to a large round bath house, with an arching ceiling resembling a dome, of which patterned glass lined with golden steel wiring formed the ceiling, allowing the light of the sun to shine in through the frosted glass and down inside, casting the central bath in a pale, warm glow. 

The room is round, with pillars lining up to the high ceiling, the sound of water flowing around the central bath in cascading pools into the drains surrounding it a relaxing echo which resonated off of the granite walls of the bath house. He walked over to a bench next to the pool, which had steps leading down into the vast circular body of water, of which water spilled over its edges into terraced drains that cascaded down into a dark depth he could not make out. The water within the pool was a milky white, almost cloudy, pale and glowing with a strange light that he did not understand. 

Looking around, he changes into the bathrobe that was folded and set on the bench for him, stripping himself of the dirty, tar-stained clothes as he removes his shoes, stepping on the cold, smooth stone tiles beneath his feet. The liquid in the bath seems to emanate a certain chill, as he steps closer to the edge of it, as the water seems to pour out and sweep up to his feet. 

Upon feeling it for the first time, he senses the magic imbued in this bath. 

A pure, forgiving yet harsh chill which permeated throughout the liquid, as he steps inside, barely making out the black tiles from the milky liquid, made of a white so bright that it was on the edge of blinding his own vision. The purifying nature of the bath makes itself known to him, as it heals his pain, soothes the aches in his bones, the weariness from the past few days spent in what had to be a version of hell, as he takes another step, and another deeper into the water. 

The devil’s presence within him lashed out at the liquid, a pain which he feels, the conflicting natures of two diametrically opposed concepts at odds with each other, one seeking to conquer, and the other wished to dominate over the other. Even as his skin, his bones are set alight with the flame of a mismatch of mana, the clashing of antagonistic elements, he closed his eyes, held his breath and walked deeper into the bath. 

The types of pain he had come to endure made this seem like nothing much in comparison. In fact, it was similar to when he came to clash with Lucius, within the depths of their shared mind, the strange zone of joint consciousness they occupied. As he walks into the pool, he can feel his heart pounding, his blood being set aflame as he feels his tainted flesh scream in agony, but he simply ignores it and steps deeper and deeper.

Pain…he had come to share a strange relationship with it. After all, it was something he could get used to, desensitised to, as he takes the last step and submerges himself in the waters.

A frosty, cold chill encompasses him, soothing and dampening the fiery agony which danced on his skin, reducing it to a slow crawl, present but now quieter, less active, as the water freezes his pain. The brand on his neck slows down to a dull throb, being so much lesser than what it had been previously.

It calms his thoughts, cools the fever down as he soaks it in. 

A moment of calm, to recollect his thoughts, before he gets up to shower and dress himself in fresh clothes. 

-

The other children met him, the rest of them having been allowed to change into a fresh set of clothes, as they sat around a table filled with food. 

“You’re back!”

Anastasia calls to him, as Rebecca waves to him from where she had helped serve the other children food from the round table which they sat around. 

“Are you better now?” One of the twins walked up to him, offering him a glass of orange juice which he took gratefully. 

“I am. Thank you for the glass,” He chuckles, as he reached out almost instinctively to rest his hand on the younger child, like he had done to Yami and William in the past- the memory fades away as soon as the pang of guilt comes, and he withdraws his hand hastily. 

The twin looked at him oddly, before she turned away and returned to the table. 

“Did you speak with the Witch Queen?” Rebecca asks him, as she sets a plate of food down on the table.

He nods.

“I did. She has agreed to aid us in returning back to our respective kingdoms.” Except…he had no idea where he was supposed to head to. The ruler did not want him to be in her hands, but he had to stay alive to fulfil his end of the deal…

“That’s a relief.” Rebecca sighs, as she turns to look at the other children. One of them, the boy with dirty blonde hair, pets what seems to be a large black wolfdog who eagerly eats strips of bacon from his fingers, as the boy had his grimoire open, the pages flipping wildly. 

“Andre, can you set your summon aside? The twins don’t like dogs,” Anastasia chides him, as she pulls a chair out for Julius. Andre looks at her sheepishly, as he seems to wave his hand, the dog yawning lazily as it leaps back inside his grimoire. 

“Is that…summoning magic?” He cannot help the natural burst of curiosity which has him speak the words he had at the tip of his tongue, and Andre turns to look at him with a grin. The boy nodded, as he beckoned him over. 

“You…we never did get your name,” Anastasia asks him abruptly. 

“....Ah…I…well, I don’t quite remember what my name is, so just call me Jules,” Right…his cover story. Amnesiac it was. 

“Eh? You don’t remember your name? Did you lose your memories?” Andre asks him as he motions to the empty chair Anastasia had pulled out for him. The black haired girl had served him some food, consisting of warm bread and pumpkin soup, as well as some slices of ham and roasted seasonal vegetables, onto a white plate. Looking at the food, he picks up the spoon and sips at the soup hesitantly. 

“...I did.”

“Wait…then where are you going to go after this? Since…you don’t remember your home and all? Is this going to be a quest to help you find your memories back?” Andre seemed excited upon the prospect of such an idea, as Julius simply smiles warmly. A quest… the words itself were phrased in such a way it was something to look forward to, an idea that could be born only from the minds of those who still held faith, hope, and the innocence of a child. The optimism and courage required to face off against the unknown truths and to weather all that may come, to slay any enemies and find a treasure. 

“It’s alright. I…well…I don’t think there's much of a home left for me to return to.” Everyone around the table falls silent. The twins glance at each other before they look at him, as the younger boy takes his free hand and holds it in his own…as if…trying to comfort him. 

Julius sets the spoon down, as he holds the younger child’s hand in his own. 

He craves the human warmth it brings, which for a moment grounds his thoughts, his mind, his wandering, tarnished soul in the present, and all he can feel is the kindness, the sympathy and empathy from the young child…

A hand rests on his shoulder, as he looks at Rebecca who pats him softly. 

“We’ll be here with you.” Anastasia smiles at him, a kind, welcoming softness in her eyes. 

These children were too good for him. 

It reminds him so much…of all of his past companions, students, his proteges, the young and promising Magic Knights of the Clover kingdom…the people who he had once promised to serve…those who stood by his side, and…it was nice to have their support. 

“Thank you.” 

He was glad. So glad he had made the right decision to bind himself to Asmodeus, because he would not be able to bear any of them suffering the same pain he did. Even if he were to be the Witch Queen’s blood bank, it was worth it. For the lives of these few children, some nearing the age of young adults, the others younger than his own physical body, all of whom would grow up to be good people, with hearts overflowing with compassion and kindness. 

Anastasia and the others seat themselves around him, as they begin to talk about what they would do once they returned home, some talking about their siblings or family members, their pets, or their future plans. While there were lingering doubts of what had happened to them, all of them were eager to return back to their homes, to continue their lives, to move on without a single shred of fear of what happened to them. 

It is then he learns that the Witch Queen had told them that they had been kidnapped victims but were knocked out for unknown purposes, and had left out everything about being used to summon Asmodeus, though he knew.

As he watched Anastasia serve the others mugs of warm milk, he could not help but shudder.

He knew she had seen what it had done to him.

Even so, she treats him with the same warmth, a welcoming enthusiasm as she does not judge him for what had happened to him. 

He sips at the warm milk, with the pleasant addition of two spoonfuls of honey, stirred in by Rebecca who gives him a slice of milk bread to have with the drink. It was a toned down sweetness, as the milk diluted the natural sweetness of the honey, which in turn added on a layer of mild sugary taste to the drink overall. The two things blended in surprisingly well, and paired on with the more passive yet complementing taste of freshly baked milk bread, it made for a comforting snack which roused the hunger he had known he had possessed. 

Though as he takes a bite of the bread and a sip of the honey milk, he does recall that he had not eaten a single item of edible human food for the past few days, with the exception of drinking water. After all, his hunger…had been well and truly stifled during his time in the hands of Asmodeus, but the thought of the devil still gnaws away at his sense of security. 

He needs to decide what to do from this point onwards. 

The first would be to master how to use the devil’s illusion magic. Perhaps a few offensive and defensive spells in order to have a decent arsenal to defend himself against what he believed could possibly be waves and waves of devils hunting after him. 

An isolated safe house or home base away from civilisation, to ensure that the devils coming after him would not turn to find hostages or other civilians as their prey. Which meant he had to finish and settle this alone. 

Were he in his adult body, with the mana reserves and spells he previously possessed, setting up such a safe house and using himself as bait would be a fairly achievable plan…but now, with the restrictions and limitations of his thirteen year old body and the loss of the time magic he used to wield, this would prove to be a tough task. 

Tools then. Magical artefacts, if he could gather them or procure them through various means. Food and shelter would be another issue. 

He considers his options. 

Perhaps he’d go to the Diamond Kingdom and seek Asylum, before…returning to that manor? It did have a well which was a good source of water, though food would be a problem. Perhaps he could start a vegetable garden…or maybe bargain with passing traders for goods. 

Either way, he had a lot to figure out by himself.

Even as he watches how the young witch he had freed first, Samantha, enters the room, looking around as she finds him and seemingly walks over to him.

“You saved me from a cruel fate,” She tells him in a hushed whisper, as she knelt down, casting a glance at the other children who were all occupied with the food or playing games amongst themselves. Julius looked at her, peering into her eyes, and the two of them exchanged a look which conveyed that the other knew of what each spoke of. 

So the Witch Queen had kept her in the loop. 

“Thank you.” She pulls from her sleeves a small, black and golden cube, one that he recognised to be a music box, by the winding handle at the side. One with the pattern of musical bars, filled with countless notes etched in gold against a black lacquered wood. Presenting it to him with a smile, she holds it out for him.

“I can’t…this…this must have been-”

“You saved my life.” Samantha smiles as she gently nudges the music box into his hands. With that, he is obligated to accept the gift, as he holds the box, the size of his palm, which he can feel radiates a strange magic from within. It is a singing echo, a soft melody which welcomes his presence, and the subtle cues and light hints of different notes resonate throughout the entire box in his hands. 

“It will soothe the mind when played.” 

He looks up at her, pleasantly surprised and also being the slightest bit ashamed that even she knew what he would have needed. Nevertheless, a lot of thought was put into this small, but simple gift, and he would keep it with him.

Anastasia comes around to where the two of them were, as she exchanges a few words with the young witch, and also informs him of when they would have to leave. 

Another elder witch enters and tells them to get ready to be sent back to their respective kingdoms, as the children scramble to clear up after their mess and get ready. 

Keeping the music box within the pockets of his new clothes, he too says his goodbyes to Samantha. 

-

“I have no use for it.” 

The Witch Queen raised the sheathed dagger, which hovered in the air with a flick of her finger. Julius recognised the dagger, even as he stood at the entrance to the Witch’s Forest, the ruler herself heading down to personally see them off and send them back to the different kingdoms.  

“No others to gift it to?” He asks tentatively, and the Witch Queen simply stares him down with a cold derisiveness, letting the sheathed dagger drop, as he caught it with his hands. 

“Use it to end your own life if you see it fit to seal away the devil of lust and rage.”

He frowns for a fraction of a moment before he schools his expression into that of a neutral one. 

“Understood.” Her temper was…not volatile, but she was still hostile towards him, though the gift she had handed him would prove to be invaluable in his journey down the line. Whether or not he chose to turn it on himself…or use it to aid him in his fight against the devils that would inevitably chase after him…it was a tool he would definitely put to use. 

The Witch Queen raised her hand, as the other children lined up and got in position after saying their final goodbyes. The twins had hugged him, and so had Rebecca, the three of them having come from the Clover Kingdom. The other two, Anastasia and Andre, wave to him as they beckon him to join them. Along the sidelines, Samantha waved goodbye to them.

“Now begone from my domain.”

The ruler snaps her fingers, as a flock of crows wash over them.

Chapter Text

The dusty air is what first catches his attention, a windy gust which carried with it fine, sandy particles which had him fan the air in front of him, as he blinked and opened his eyes to take a peek at where he now was. 

“Yes! Finally! Home sweet home after getting lost walking by that shady cliffside! I’m never going there again!” Andre’s voice is the first thing he hears, as he looks where they had been deposited a short distance away from the closest town’s main gate. The boy laughs and chuckles as he points at the gate, upon which they could see several guards standing by the entrance of the large sandstone archway.

Anastasia smiles at him, as she waved at him to follow them, Andre having already taken the headstart and started sprinting for the gates. 

And him…he followed behind them. 

He would need to acquire supplies, a map, scout out a location, set up plans and figure out everything he needed. 

The sheathed dagger was still in his hand, as he flips over the leather sheath, finding a slim tome slipped into a separate pouch attached to the side of the sheathe. He slows down to a brisk walk, pulling out what was in it, and he frowns at the sight of The Guide to the Lesser Key of Solomon. 

He keeps the book back in the pouch, attaching the sheath to his belt beneath the cloak the Witch Queen had gifted him with, as he slips the book into the bag he had on hand. 

They were reminders of his time with Asmodeus, but crucial tools he needed to make use of. 

With nothing but devil illusion magic as his own source of magic, he needed to play his cards carefully. 

“Jules! What’s taking you so long!” Andre calls out to him. He quickened his pace as they arrived at the entrance, where a guardhouse was at. Anastasia looks at him curiously, as she too waved at him to hurry. The guards, dressed in what seemed to be familiar sets of Diamond Kingdom soldier gear, consisting of robes in the patterns of blue and white coloured diamonds, called for the three of them to stop at the guard house within the main gate itself.

“Anastasia! Where did you head off to? You had everyone worried sick! What are you three kids doing out there all by yourselves?” The guard calls them, a man with medium length  messy red hair and a stubble, as he seems to pry at the high collars of the robes he was in. 

“Mr Kruger! You wouldn’t believe what happened! Did my parents even know I was missing?” Andre asks the guard, whose gaze sharpens almost instantaneously. Andre’s smile now no longer reached his eyes, and Julius can tell that the teen was disappointed, barely hiding his sadness even as he held up the forced smile on his lips. 

“...There were no reports made…” The red haired man…whom Julius knew he had seen before, be it a passing glance somewhere, sometime back when Lucius had still possessed him. The man was familiar. He was certain he had met this man once, but could not remember precisely when or under what circumstances they met. The man’s gaze sharpens, as he getting up from his seat as he swings the door open and heads out to meet them. 

“I’ll have a talk with your father,” The guard pats Andre’s shoulder, as the teen seems to just slump beneath his touch. Anastasia looks up at the guard, as she flashes a glance at Julius. 

“Anastasia, your dad went out to search for you. I’ll ask the others to fetch him back, since they went out to search for you along with him. Still, the three of you have a hell of a story to explain, especially where you went if you went missing for the past few days,” The black haired girl was clearly glad that her father had went out to search for her, but she casts a glance at Andre, who seems to only sigh in response to hearing what the guard said. 

“Wait…why were no guards sent out to search for them?” Julius speaks without thinking, as he looked at the red haired guard. The man, Mr Kruger, looked down at him, something clicking in his eyes as he eyed where he knew he had kept the silver dagger on him. 

“It’s a good question, but not one I can answer. For Andre’s case, there was no missing person report sent out for him. As for the young lady here, her father did head out to search for her, but there is a…large…opposition against him. To put it simply-” Anastasia stomps on the man’s boot, as the red haired male yelps in pain.

“That means Fana and Mars went out with my dad? To search for me?” She plays coy, as if she had not just stopped the man mid sentence, smiling like a cheshire cat at that. 

“...yeah they did.” The man winces. Fana..Mars…these were all familiar names he had heard in passing. 

“Wait a minute…you’re Lotus Whomalt’s daughter?” Andre’s jaw drops, as his eyes seem to light up with recognition. Anastasia seems to grimace, as she crosses her arms, clearly waiting for something akin to mockery and taunts to come from the young boy, who instead only seems to beam with something akin to adoration. Her body language spoke volumes of how she had interacted with so many people who only had insults to throw at her, as the black haired girl seemed to visibly bristle in anticipation of questions or derisive comments to be directed at her next. Lotus….Lotus of the Abyss? 

The same man who had aided the dark triad in opening up the Qliphoth to the world…only to turn on them once he had realised this was not what he truly wanted for his family…who the Magic Knights of the Clover Kingdom had temporarily pardoned for his crimes since he had, well, aided in helping them gather vital information against Lucius. The man had lost his arm fighting against the devils on the first descent of the Qlipoth, and then figured how to use his smoke magic to form a usable arm, just as Fuegoleon had done with the aid of the Salamander’s flames. 

Lucius had remembered him as a man who placed his own family above all else, a man who was shifty and cowardly in the face of overwhelming threat and danger, who made the smart move of retreating whenever he faced someone he could not beat. Julius however, thought that the man would have been someone interesting to talk to regarding the uses of his magic.  

“That’s so cool! I mean…your dad’s a nice guy. He treated me to a meal once. Plus, his smoke arm’s really awesome!” Andre beams, and Anastasia seems to blink in confusion. It was clear she had not anticipated something like this to come from the younger boy. Mr Kruger? Kruger? Julius was uncertain of how to address him, even in his own mind since he was certain his mental age was older than that of the man’s actual age, but he was in his younger self so it was frankly quite strange to him. The guard smiles, as he gently ruffles the hair of Andre. 

“I’ll probably have to bring the three of you back to headquarters to write a report and hear your stories out. The fact that the three of you went missing might mean that something bigger is underway. And that I don’t like,” The guard looks at Julius, who simply stares back at the man. 

-

“So…it’s your turn now, kiddo. Speaking of, what’s your name?” The guard, the man who had introduced himself as Fanzell Kruger, asked him. When he had heard the man’s full name, he remembered who he was, especially since Yami had his squad write a report on an invasion which took place at the Witch Queen’s forest. The man in front of him, Fanzell Kruger, had been a fugitive from the Diamond Kingdom who had returned to aid Asta in restoring the use of his arms, and gotten involved in defending the Witch’s Forest from invasion by Diamond Kingdom soldiers. Asta was fond of the man, having remembered him for teaching him the basics of sword fighting. 

But the past was almost entirely unrelated to his current predicament now. 

His identity, his name, he had to seize the chance to forge everything anew, to craft and piece together his own life, to buy enough time until he would inevitably face down Asmodeus once more. 

Julius looked down at the paper before him.

He…he was fond of his old name. But Novachrono would be too obvious, and so would Julius also be a dead giveaway to anyone who came searching. It was better to change most of his name, despite how he did like his old name. 

“Jules. You can call me Jules.” 

His previous cover story of being an amnesiac…was viable. After all, he had technically lost his memories, since they were never his in the first place. At least not memories he had wished to make of his own free will. As for his lack of a grimoire, he was well aware that grimoire thieves and dealers still existed, individuals who stole the grimoires of others and sold them off to the highest bidder in the black market. Something he had worked hard to quell and eradicate completely in the Clover Kingdom. 

The pain and the loss of a grimoire, which was meant to be the reflection of the soul of its owner…how poetic. 

“You aren’t from around here, aren’t you?”

Julius shakes his head. 

“I lost my memories after I woke up in the ruins of a village. I…don’t have my grimoire with me either. Not sure what happened to it,” He supplies rather hesitantly. The man scribbles a few things down on his clipboard, before he looks up at him.

“Er..sorry for your loss, kiddo,” The guard scratched his chin with his finger, having struggled to find the words to tell him. Julius merely returns a smile, one which displayed his acceptance of his situation and appreciation for the thought behind his words, despite how awkward the man seemed to be. 

“So…your memories are just a blank slate? Nothing much else to go off of? Not even your own magic?” Julius shook his head. 

“Do you plan on finding out about your past? I’m sure we could assist with that if you would like us to. Mars and Fana would be more than happy to help, as well as my wife.” Fanzell offered, and were Julius truly an actual amnesiac, he would be overcome by the desire to reclaim and rediscover his own identity. But he was not. 

He shakes his head once more. 

The red haired guard raised an eyebrow, but nods as he added a few more words to his clipboard. 

He leads him out of the office, bringing him back to where Anastasia still waited in the main lobby of the office, Andre having left on his own, presumably to return home. 

“Then…where would you stay at in the mean time?” Fanzell directs at him, and its a question he himself had no answers for. He could return back to the manor, provided that he remembered where its location was. Transport would also be a problem, since he needed a place to rest, recuperate and train his arsenal of spells until he could make use of them without suffering an emotional burnout or losing himself to the pool of negativity and despair within his own heart. 

How he wished he could be his old self once more. 

None of the problems he faced now would even be a big challenge or issue for the old him, but now, everything was unaccounted for. He had no funds, no support, with the exception of the Witch Queen, and even then he knew he was disposable, only living now because he had piqued her curiosity about the properties of being a devil host. 

He was well and truly alone in this fight, to slay Asmodeus, and that was excluding the fact he had to find him, find a way to possess arcane magic or seek out a magic user who could access Saint Stage magic, which were all….located in Clover. 

The Clover Kingdom was not an option he wanted to consider. 

Painful memories surfaced at the forefront of his mind, as well as the heavy weight of his sins which he knew would always haunt him. Asmodeus had made that clear, his dreams had made them clear, and the effects of what he had done had only made such deep scars in even the psyche of the people that had suffered at the hands of it. Empty villages, ash coated streets, sorrow and rage from all who had directly or indirectly felt so many losses in their lives…he had no right to step foot in the Clover Kingdom. 

He would kill Asmodeus on his own. He must. He had to. He would find a way, somehow, given enough time to collect resources and expand his knowledge, by himself. This was something he alone had to bear. He would hurt no one else, nor drag them into his mess. It was only right that he finished what he started. 

Even if it meant walking down a treacherous path alone. 

As he sits down on the bench of the lobby of the headquarters, he is struck by how…how lonely this life was going to be. As it should. This was all for the good of those around him. He would only bring them harm if they stood alongside him, or accompanied him in his travels and journey. The devils would hunt him down relentlessly, before Asmodeus would remanifest in the world once more to finally claim what he was owed. 

The amount of time he had…he would give it roughly a year, until the devil of Lust and Rage would once more pierce through the paper-thin barriers between the Underworld and the human world to wreak havoc and destruction upon all humans it could lay its hands on. One year. Perhaps even less, since he had consumed a part of the devil’s heart. That had to result in some sort of consequence which he would have to deal with down the line. 

A suffocating feeling clings to his skin, as he can feel the mark tingle on his neck. 

He would do this alone. 

He had to. 

“Jules!” Anastasia waved her hand in front of his eyes. She looks at him, concerned as she sits herself down on the bench next to him after she finally managed to catch his attention. 

“You’ve got that deep, thoughtful look again. If you don’t have a place to stay for the time being, why not stay with me?” The black haired girl proposed.

His eyes widened in response. 

“No..it’s alright,” He replied, a soft, almost low whisper as he was…he was torn. 

Anastasia looks at him, her black eyes peering into his own, as she set her hand on his shoulder. 

“You know you need a lot of time to rest and recover, right? Even if you do want to set out and find your own path or something, you just returned from…from whatever you did to that monster. You’ve been the one constantly guiding all of us out of danger and taking on the brunt of everything for us, the least I can offer you is a place to rest.” 

A part of him yearns for company, for companions, for friends, for family, a lonely howl in the depths of his heart that he had told himself to silence ever since Lucius Zogratis had shown him what a sham of a person he was. She was right in many ways. He needed a break. Food, rest, a place to sleep and recover his drained magic and test out new uses of his magic. He struggles not to think about what Asmodeus had did to him in the past few nights, and after his time of sleeping in the wilderness, he knew that he could not survive for long out in the wild.

However, the threat of the devils on his tail was only going to bring more death and misfortune to those around him. And that was with them not knowing the threat that he faced. His identity was something he could never reveal to them, not after all of the damage he had done. He was certain that the Diamond Mages and people had suffered casualties at the hands of the insanity of Lucius, as did all of the other kingdoms. The severe weakening of Undine, the deaths of three of the Spirit Guardians and more of their people, the Spade Kingdom’s loss of their most elite and valuable soldiers, and so many more. 

He remembered all the pain and death Lucius caused, be it blinding the Witch Queen in one eye, harvesting the souls of so many innocent civilians, holding the royal family hostage and killing Augustus, destabilising the entire societal structure of Clover while he was at it, and so much more. If the Diamond Kingdom people ever found out who he was, he would not survive. 

He was a traitor, the enemy, the one who brought about the end to so many innocent lives. 

He was undeserving of the kind looks that Anastasia gave him, the support and comfort of all of his fellow kidnapees, the patience Fanzell spoke to him with, and so much more he should not have deserved. 

Not with the amount of blood, the dust which was on his hands. 

This path was his and his to walk alone. 

“Three nights. At least stay until you have regained your strength and magic,” Anastasia tries to persuade him, and while she was actively trying to come to a compromise with him, all he could think about was of how quickly the devils who came after him would take before they arrived and brought with them a trail of tarnished corruption and death. 

“Two nights.” 

Reconsidering his options, he did need time to recover the mana he had used up in the past few days, and if Mars and Fana were present…especially the former, he knew the Diamond Kingdom mage could possibly be able to aid him in his quest. Him as well as Lotus of the Abyss, though it seemed like he was going to address him by something more familiar seeing how he was going to stay with Anastasia over at her home. 

“Two nights it is. I’ll bring you home now, if Mr Kruger is fine with it,” The black haired girl turns to the guard in question, who nods, though he does seem to glance at the door to the headquarters in anticipation. 

The door promptly bursts open with a wide swing, the door stopper shaking as it dampens the impact of the door on the wall as a man seemed to step into the room, smoke curling in thin wisps from one of his arms as he was dressed in a cloak which covered the grey vest he wore beneath. With his long hair tied up in a low ponytail, the man scanned the room until he found his daughter.

“Anastasia!” He rushed towards her as he embraced her in a hug. Anastasia simply opens her arms wide and accepts her father’s hug, returning it with equal amounts of fondness and affection, as she clung to his clothes tightly. 

This…this was the Lotus of the Abyss?

Lotus Whomalt knelt down on one knee to properly embrace his daughter, ruffling her hair as he did so, before he caught sight of him and released his daughter, albeit with much reluctance. 

“Papa, can we let Jules stay over with us? He needs a place to stay for the time being, but he won’t be staying for long,” The girl almost seems sad at how short the length of his stay was, and even Julius himself knew he would miss the company of this quick thinking, yet kind girl. 

Lotus’s gaze on him is something else, as the man seems to scan him with a sharp, almost critical eye, a gaze filled with suspicion despite how relaxed his body seemed to be on the outside. From the past battle with this man, he knew he was cunning, sharp and observant. He needed to play his cards well, avoid any questions that could lead to answers which were too close to the truth. 

“Sure. If Anastasia trusts you, I trust you too.” The man seems to shrug, as he uses his smokey hand to beckon him to follow the two of them to the doorway leading to the outside of the headquarters. Lotus had also exchanged a short but brief hello with Fanzell, and it was clear that things between the two of them were still somewhat awkward. 

That…that was it?

He was left in disbelief as he caught up with the other two. 

-

The Whomalt’s family home was a simple two story cottage located on one of the greener cliffsides, built elevated with strong sturdy concrete stilts along the incline of the cliffside, one which overlooked a small, but flourishing patch of field several metres below it. As they scaled the stone steps leading up to their home, there had been several mountain goats grazing in the grass field, some of which were herded into pans by two other girls, as Lotus waved to them.

This was a far cry from their earlier walk through the main town, where people who caught sight of the man and his daughter had turned away from them, either spitting venomous poison in words spoken behind their backs, others actively going out of their way to avoid them as they walked through the streets lined with sandstone bricks. 

In their home, Julius was introduced to Anastasia’s two younger sisters, as well as Anastasia’s mother, a woman of the same age as Lotus who had light brown hair the colour of perfectly baked bread, and apparently also had exceptional talent in baking and cooking as well. She introduced herself as Laura to him, and he was certain his confusion and social ineptitude had peaked in the moment, where he had no idea how to address her. Thankfully, she said that Laura was fine, so he would go by that. 

Still, it was such a strange situation to be in. 

He had been shown to a guest room on the second floor, invited to make himself feel at home, and that dinner was at sunset. Anastasia had also offered to show him around after dinner. 

After a shower and dinner with the family, where Anastasia had already informed her parents about what she mostly remembered about the kidnapping, though Julius knew she had left out the part with the Devils, the topic shifted to that about the upcoming news of a Clover Kingdom delegate to be visiting the Diamond kingdom in a few months. Hearing that had made him pause altogether, before he resumed eating to maintain the sense of normalcy, but he knew he needed to leave the Diamond Kingdom by then.   

Delegates to neighbouring countries always included the royals, most of the more active and outgoing Magic Knights and captains, as well as the new Wizard king. 

Perhaps Nozel or Fuegoleon had taken up that role. 

Out of all of the captains, it was either the two of them or Yami or William. Charlotte was a good candidate too. Though…Yami and William would likely not take up the role. Because of him. 

Charlotte was also still somewhat inexperienced in the matters of strategising for a full out war, whilst Nozel and Fuegoleon were more willing and level headed in that aspect. Jack was…uninterested, so was Kaiser and Dorothy. Rill was too young to be considered for it. 

“Hopefully they won’t be out to get me,” Lotus seems to chuckle, as the man scratches at his chin whilst peering up in thought. Laura simply rolled her eyes in response to her husband’s comment, as she set down plates for dessert, simple sponge cakes drenched in simple syrup and paired with fresh cream on the side. 

“They pardoned you in the first place. Even if they did go back on their words, I’ll be there to kick their asses for you, you idiot.” Laura replies with surprising snark, as Lotus simply chuckles even more, this time, with a genuine amusement borne from experiencing the affection his wife had for him. 

“I may be an idiot, but I am your idiot.”

“Mom! Dad! We have a guest with us!” Their eldest daughter shushes the two of them up, a girl with the same black hair as their father, who was blushing out of embarrassment on behalf of her parents. Anastasia bursts out laughing, being the youngest of the three sisters, as the middle sibling simply shakes her head and digs into their new dessert. 

“Yes, yes of course,” Lotus mutters as he seems to exaggerate a sigh, before making a show of painfully tearing his gaze from his wife, and begins to poke at the cake despondently. 

“What did the poor cake ever do to you?” Anastasia teases her father, and Julius looks down at the plate offered to him, taking it from the matriarch of the household with a shy thanks as he looks at the cake. Using his fork to take a small part of the cake, soaking it in the surrounding syrup which coated the ceramic base of the plate with a thin layer of sugar, he tastes the sponge cake. The flavour of vanilla envelops his tongue, paired with a soft muted and slightly diluted syrup which dulled the edge of the sweetness, a taste he appreciated. The texture of the cake is soft, moist in a way it had absorbed much of the syrup that had been drizzled over it and yet not overly so, such that he could still clean the bits of cake from his fork easily. 

Adding the fresh cream accentuated the muted sweetness with a layer of slight sweetness that was infused in the whipped cream itself, one which was light and airy compared to the denser heavy syrup soaked sponge base. 

He takes his time quietly enjoying the cake as he listens to the family talk.

“Hey kiddo, Jules was your name, wasn’t it?” Lotus calls on him suddenly, as Julius clears the remnants of the whipped cream and sponge cake from his plate. 

“It is.”

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay for a while longer? It’s dangerous to be travelling out there on your own, ya know? Especially since there are so many…remnants of the Underworld roaming about. Not sure if you’ve heard of them since you lost your memories but-”

“I’m certain. Rest assured, I know how to take care of myself. I also do not wish to further burden your family with my presence. Times now are hard, are they not?” 

Lotus looks at him strangely. 

“Times now may be hard in the aftermath of the Convergence, but that doesn’t mean we should turn away anyone who needs help,” Laura interjects, as she pours him a glass of warm water. 

“The Convergence?” He struggles to process what that event was supposed to be. 

“When the Wizard King of the Clover Kingdom attempted to merge both the Underworld and the human realm together.” Lotus adds on for him. His heart sinks. So it appeared that he was also responsible for the current state of matters in the other kingdoms as well. The repercussions of losing to this man were so great, that it rippled outwards into the entire continent. 

“Aren’t there devils roaming about in the wild? Because of what happened…” Their youngest daughter brings up. 

Dread fills his lungs.

“They roam freely in the human realm?” He asks reflexively. Lotus eyes him with that strange look once more, a piercing gaze which seems to reflect a glint of a knowing suspicion, one which tried to piece together facts that ordinarily would not have been linked together with a keen sharpness. 

“Well..yes. You must have really taken a hit to the head,” Lotus comments, as he reaches for a glass of water and takes a sip from it. Anastasia casts a glance at him, and then back to her father. 

“Isn’t that information you learnt like a day ago? I can’t believe you taught our children something you picked up from the border guards whilst you went about your day, and those are only rumours, no less. Don’t scare our young guest here,” Laura chides her husband, who simply shrugs as he sets the glass down. 

“I trust the border guards. Especially if Mars and his old teacher are the ones doing the patrolling. Plus, it isn’t out of the realm of possibility, isn’t it? I’m pretty sure everyone felt the shift in mana in the air…well everyone except for that anti-magic kid since he doesn’t have magic. Though he did have that peculiar devil with him…” Lotus scratched his chin in contemplation. 

Anastasia finishes her cake, as she keeps her utensils inside the bowl noisily, the metal scraping against the ceramic with sharp scratching noises that grated on his senses.

He had been under the assumption that the devils were not fully manifested into the world. When he died…had it not been enough? When he had dragged Lucius’s soul with him into the abyss, what else had transpired when he had died? Back then, he was certain that the mad man had not yet merged the two realms together, at least not to an extent where it would be irreversible, and even when he had died and brought the eldest Zogratis sibling with him, the Convergence had not yet occurred. 

Then there was only one possibility left. Lucius had a back up plan to continue carrying out the plan even after his death. After all, just because the mastermind was slain, it did not mean for certain that the destruction he would wrought would also come to a halt. Now he knew for certain that his presence was going to be a beacon for all those devils that ran amok in the wild. 

“I did hear news that the Clover Kingdom was going to be putting together a devil extermination squad, to hunt down all the devils that linger and remain in our realm. Mars was considering joining it, especially since he did aid their mission in the final fight against the big boss,” Lotus adds on, as he looks at Julius. 

“Mars? He’s up to fight those corrupted beings again? Didn’t he nearly suffer a fatal wound in the final fight?” The eldest daughter seems to complain. 

“He’s strong enough to choose what he wants to do. Plus, he did get on a level strong enough to be considered a…stage one mage?” Anastasia rebukes. Mars…he remembered flashes of crystal, diamond magic sent hurtling at him. 

“Strange…I heard from the baker that he was being considered to be elected to be one of the folks to be part of the new council now since the royal family wanted to give up their power and let a new group of leaders take over. Something about not wanting what happened in Clover to happen here. Plus the old king was pretty sick because of the traitor that poisoned him.”

Huh. He hadn’t thought that his actions would affect the way the Diamond kingdom was ruled. 

“Jules, you look tired. Do you want to head up and rest first?” Anastasia nudges him with her elbow, as Julius snaps out of his thoughts. 

“That would be nice.” 

The black haired girl informs the rest of the family, as she gently holds his wrist and leads him back up to his room.  

-

For the first time in what had to be months, ever since Lucius took over his mind and body, he gets a good night of sleep, exhaustion washing him and temporarily drowning out all of his other concerns and worries. He supposed having an actual bed for one also helped, as well as how the Witch Queen had helped to heal his injuries, and having two actual meals did wonders for his strength and body. 

-

When he wakes up, he plans. 

He needed to figure out how his accommodations, his course of action, figure out a plan to lure Asmodeus out, or perhaps he needed to go out of his way to find where it lurked. The shard of the devil’s heart which was within him still beat, soft slow dull beats in his chest which were always out of sync with his own actual heartbeat. 

Obtaining weapons or a grimoire was something else he needed. The latter was unfortunately highly likely out of question, since the grimoire he and Astaroth had shared were one and the same, and with Astaroth dead…or perhaps still alive if he was still alive now…regardless, he had no grimoire. 

Asmodeus’s illusion magic did not require a grimoire, just as devils that were fully manifested in the human realm had no need for a grimoire. He, by extension, also enjoyed that advantage, but it was more of a sign that he was cursed. 

Weapons wise, he only owned the silver dagger bestowed upon him by the Witch Queen. He takes it out from its sheath, running his finger along the flat side of the blade, feeling the magic which hummed softly in the blade. If he were to describe it, it was simply hollow. A weapon made to simply channel the magic of others without breaking. 

If he could pull off what he did to Asmodeus, which was to mimic and cast Arcane stage magic as an illusion, and then make it real, he could easily kill the devils. Provided that they were not the high ranking ones. 

Then there was the matter of obtaining allies. The devil extermination squad from the Clover Kingdom…he already knew who was going to be a part of it. Asta, Yami, Noelle, many who played instrumental roles in stopping the Convergence. Though it did seem like they were also inviting and open to members from other kingdoms, if Mars himself seemed eager to join the squad. 

The Witch Queen…was a very, very uneasy ally. After all, he was already bound to her, and there was a certain level of protection she had to offer him as part of being bound to her, but he was unclear of what that level of protection it was, which was why he labels her as an extremely tentative ally. 

He catches a movement from the edge of his vision, as he turns his head to look at the window. As he peers over the wooden frame, looking at his reflection in the glass which reflected the light of the sun into his eyes-

Something crashes right through.

The mysterious object hurtled through his room, scratching his arm as he barely caught whatever had fallen through. 

The object writhes in his hand, screeching as it seems to peck at his hand, as he sets it down on his bed. 

On the pale blue blanket of his bed, was a four winged owl that possessed two pairs of wings, one smaller than the other at located beneath its main flying pair of wings, as it ruffled its feathers in agitation. With a coat of black feathers, Julius was curiously surprised to see a few shiny silver feathers stick out as it arranged its feathers with its beak, preening itself as it tries to flap its left main wing weakly.

It whines in pain, a low screeching that conveyed its frustration and pain as it tries to force itself to fly.  

Julius stares at the owl. 

He had not been expecting that. 

He offers out his hand to it, palm side up as he lets it get accustomed to his presence. It pecks at his fingers with a silver beak, before it settles on gently nibbling on his hand, as it continues to wave and move its injured wing. With a body filled with grey feathers, it seemed to stare at him with a piercing gaze, as he looked down at its black eyes, which seemed to glow with flecks of shimmering gold amongst silver orbs.  

“You’re hurt.” He murmurs to the owl, which had firmly and quickly caught his attention, as he thinks and plans on how to find someone who was able to help bandage and maybe split what seemed to be the broken wing of the owl. It bobs its head with a shriek.

“Let me get you to someone who can help.” Andre had an animal based magic attribute. Perhaps he had knowledge on how to help this owl. Julius pulls a small spare blanket out from one of the cabinets as he bundles the cloth into something comfortable, before setting it on the bed. 

Gently coaxing the owl onto the grey coloured fabric was…challenging, as all it seemed focused on was staring at him, though it seemed to occasionally blink and try to move around on his bed, and Julius wondered why it was so fixated on him. Could it sense the devil’s brand on him?

After some time, he manages to gather it into the fabric as he finds a spare wooden basket on display on one of the shelves of the house, deciding that Anastasia probably would not mind if he used it to help carry the owl with him. 

“Jules!” Just as he was about to leave the house, Anastasia’s voice rang out from behind him. The owl in the basket gives a hoot in response. Her eyes immediately turned to the basket in his hand, as she walked over tentatively.

“An owl flew into my room. It’s hurt and I’m bringing it to Andre to see if he can help it.” Anatsasia peers over the edge of the small wooden basket, looking at where the owl was still fixated on staring at him, as she blinked owlishly at the sight of the owl.  

“It’s a good plan, but do you even know where Andre lives?”

“Well…I was about to ask Mr Kruger about that…”

Perhaps he had been a tad bit too impulsive.

The owl seems to chirp.

For a wild animal that flew into the house, got injured, it was a lot more calm than he would have expected. Likely because it could not tear its gaze away from him, even as it blinked more vigorously and tried to snuggle itself into the shade of the blanket away from the sunlight that was streaming in through the open door. Julius closes one of the basket’s flaps to provide it with some shade and darkness.

“I’ll bring you to Andre.” The girl offered. 

He takes her up on that offer. 

-

A while later, they arrive at Andre’s hideout, which was a place away from his home, where the teen usually dwelled at between his jobs that he did to help bring in income for his family. The teen did a few odd jobs here and there, and they caught him at a good time, since he was still at his hideout, which was a small shack seemingly constructed from planks and logs of wood to form a square shed along the rocky mountain path. 

The boy was quick at helping to craft a splint from a few available pieces of wood he had in his hideout, which also doubled as a workshop where he tested a few things here and there. They were mainly mechanisms, it seemed, as Julius inspected a prototype one way lock for what seemed to be an animal fence, as well as a series of gears and cogs that turned to wind up a mechanical clock. 

“I’m pretty sure that’s not an owl native to this area. In fact, I’ve never seen an owl of this species around here. Ever. Jules, you and Anastasia are going to have to take care of it until it heals. Especially you Jules. It seems to have imprinted on you.” The teen strokes the feathers of the owl, who still had its gaze fixed on him. 

That definitely threw a wrench into his plans. 

Funny how of all things, it was an owl that flew into his room that would be the cause. 

Though…he would admit, it was hard for him to hunt devils in his current state. Much less find and lure Asmodeus out and kill it. Resources wise, he had no money, no yuls or whichever type of currency the Diamond Kingdom used. He reaches out and strokes the breast of the owl with the crook of his finger. 

It playfully nibbles on his hand.

This reminded him of the time he took care of a boar with Yuno and his wind spirit.

He smiles at that fond memory, as the owl preens itself from where he had stroked its feather. 

“You’re a pet parent now! It’s a sign you should stay with us for a while longer, Jules,” Anatsasia teases him as Julius simply chuckles. 

Well…He supposed he did need more time to at least collect information on the current state of affairs of the area. Including what remained of the Clover, Spade and Heart Kingdoms, as well as to start working and earning some money for his travels. He would need time to train and develop the illusion magic he had on hand, to explore its uses and increase its versatility. 

However, the fact that he was a beacon for any possible devils gnawed at him.

What was the extent of danger he would be putting the people around him in? If only he could find a way to either block off the strange signature the brand had to be emanating and drawing other devils over…

Perhaps he could. 

After all, did he not possess illusion magic?

That would be his plan. At least for the time being. 

The owl nibbles on his finger warmly, as it nuzzles his hand. 

“Do you know what it eats? As well as if there’s any other tips and tricks I need to know about taking care of the owl,” He asks Andre, who seems to pull a journal from one of the small shelves behind him, flipping it open to a page. 

“Raw meat of any kind should be fine, since most owls are carnivores. It should be old enough to hunt by itself, but since it's injured it won’t be doing that anytime soon. As for the split, come by every three days and I’ll check up on the recovery progress of its wing. You can also make a temporary nest for it in your room, and the basket and blanket are pretty decent starting points. Give it a roost somewhere high from the ground yet not too high in case it decides to leave the nest and make sure it's not directly facing the window or the light.” Andre summarises from what seemed to be his own set of notes, speaking with experience as he tweaked the information here and there to suit the owl in his hand.

“You forgot something important, Andre!” The teen in question seems confused by what Anastasia brought up.

“A name! You can’t just keep calling it owl…” She looked thoroughly disappointed in the two of them. 

“A name? Jules, you can have the honours, since it is going to be yours to take care of.” Andre shrugs, as he returns the book where he took it from. 

As the owl licks his fingers, Julius could only think about how owls were symbolically known for being wise, knowledgeable, and yet also representing the flow of time as well as the phases of transition. Foresight and vision. The traits and characteristics he was supposed to embody as a Wizard King. 

“Is it a male or a female?”

“Female.”

“...Eos.”

Anastasia seems to chuckle.

“Dawn? I like it.” Julius is surprised when she makes her comment. What he had named the owl was from an ancient language, one he had studied from reading the ancient texts in his free time during his time as the Wizard King, with the combination of Astaroth’s vast encyclopaedic knowledge of the past and the forgotten.  

“Seriously? Another person who can read all the gibberish in those old ancient texts? The two of you really match up to each other. Now shoo from my workshop before Ms Code barges in-”

The door to the workshop slams open, as Julius sticks his foot out to stop the wooden door from slamming and hitting the wall. A woman with orange hair tied up into a bun hidden beneath a small blue hat strides into the workshop, excitement radiating from her presence.

“Andre! Did you have any progress lately-”

Everyone in the room stares at her sudden entrance. 

“Oh! My apologies!” Eos chirps as she finds the basket Julius had brought her in, tips it over with its claws as it walks into the dark comfort of the light wooden material. Julius takes the blanket he brought it in and gently sets it inside the basket as well, setting it upright as he carries it in his arm. He gives a polite greeting to the new woman who entered the room, who looked at him with curious amethyst eyes.

“We were just about to leave. Sorry if we took up your time, Andre,” Anastasia apologised to the teen who only nods as he faced his mentor, who watched the two of them leave the shack hurriedly. 

“Oh! Anastasia! Fana and Mars have missed you! Do drop by for dinner when you are free~ You can bring your friend over too! As well as your sisters. Need to give your parents some free time by themselves, ya know~” Dominate Code chuckles, as Anastasia merely sighs.

“Yes of course. I guess I’ll see you when that happens,” The girl sounds resigned, as she huffs with exasperation. Ms Code merely laughs, as she strode across the room, walking past them and to the table with Andre.

So it seemed that Anastasia, Mars and Fana were close. He should have pieced that together when he overheard Fanzell talking about how the other two had gone out to search for her when she was kidnapped, but her connection to them opened up more possibilities to him.

It was now possible for him to become allies with Mars. Especially since he had fought against him in the final battle, which meant he was proficient enough to hold his own against devils.  

First however, he needed to find the library.

-

After convincing Anastasia to lead him to the library, as well as the two of them hatching a plan to smuggle Eos into the library since they were not allowed to bring pets or animals in, but decided that it was better for her to stay with him for the time being and also because he gave Anastasia the excuse that he was finding out more about what species Eos was…

The two of them were now seated at the corner of one of the tables scattered around the large ceiling high shelves, Anastasia finding a suitable spot to place the basket without arousing suspicion as Julius reached for the newspaper racks set beneath the large rectangular windows of the library. 

He had a lot to catch up on, as he spies the first few headlines of the paper in his hand. 

“Rejoice for the Defeat of the Wizard King of Clover Kingdom!”  

“Diplomatic ties extended to the Diamond Kingdom! An offer or a trap?”

“Eyewitnesses say the presence of devils remains! True or false?”

“Fatalities from the Convergence total up to a hundred thousand all across the continent!”

“Formation of the High Council to replace the monarchy! A progressive change or a sign of weakness?”

“Heads up that not all of those are accurate. Some are written by more…conservative parties,” Anastasia comments, as she brings a stack of books back from where she had gone to look for some. 

Julius nods. 

However, the headlines did nothing to assuage his fears. He looks at the date. He had lost around a week since he was revived. Perhaps resurrected was more accurate. A week including being kidnapped and made Asmodeus’s host. The final battle for the Convergence happened a week ago as well. Which meant he had been revived and resurrected in the time frame of a few hours since his death. 

Now there were more questions.

The most pressing one?

How had he been resurrected?

Why had he been resurrected?

He sighs. 

Shuffling through the newspapers, he spies images and pictures of the victors of the final battle, including most of the magic knight captains, though many of them were heavily injured, scarred in some way or form, but they stood proud on the rubble of the Clover Castle. With the exception of Yami and William. Even Asta was not as enthusiastic as he would have been normally. 

Under the image was a list of names who had perished in the battle. 

He cannot bear to look at it, but he forces himself to do so nonetheless. 

After all, it is his burden to bear.

As he scans through the namelist, he finds many names of the magic knights from various squads being listed down, though none were from the Black Bulls, but many others were from the other squads. Names he recognised, having awarded them stars or their new ranks personally, and the length of the list strikes a deep hollow numbness in his heart. 

So many souls once filled with life, having perished, would never live again. If only they had been resurrected instead of him. All of these noble, valiant knights who defended their kingdom against him down to their dying breath, who protected the civilians from the rampaging slaughtering devils that he had allowed Lucius to open the gates to, who guarded the sanctity of human life and laid down their lives for.  

He did not deserve forgiveness. Not for letting the madman execute his selfish desires, and not for being so weak, so ignorant, so oblivious, so foolish to result in the Convergence. 

Closing the papers, he sets them aside as he begins to look out the window, though he does not focus on anything in particular. Rather, he simply lets the dazed, horrifying nausea wash over him, feeling the guilt weighing on his shoulders, even as the brand on his collarbone seems to sting and burn. It seems to feed, lazing around in his misery, content and satiated, as he instinctively touched where the brand on his arm used to be. 

Except it was not there. Instead, he feels the wetness of blood dripping from his skin, thin trails of blood dripping down to his fingers, along the length of his elbow pooling in his palm with a hungry warmth. 

The touch on his shoulder startles him from his daze.

“You’ve been quiet for the past hour. That’s kind of scary,” Anastasia comments, as she sets the remaining books down on the table. Julius moved to wipe and smear the blood on the inner linings of his cloak, hoping it was not visible, and yet his skin was unmarked and untainted. 

He blinks hard, looking at his hand before he takes one of the books from the table and flips them open. 

“-Sorry,” He murmurs much too quickly, as he trips and stumbles over the word. 

Anastasia looks as if she has more questions to ask, but she decides against it and continues to help looking through the stacks of books instead. 

The two of them resume their research.

Chapter Text

“Are you certain that this is the location?” The figure, dressed in black, stands over the entrance to what seemed to be an ancient manor. With long black hair tied up into a ponytail, the strands sweep across the back of his cloak as he steps into the threshold of the grounds. Beside him, a boy with white hair shivers, taking in the atmosphere of the area.

“I…I’m sure this was what the kidnappers were headed for! There was nothing else out here but this. The others…there were six others,” Neige explained to the black haired man, whose turquoise eyes scanned the haunted mist of the mansion. 

Nacht Faust steps onto the shattered cobblestone beneath his boot, walking across the courtyard as his three devils hovered around him. The loss of Gimodelo during the fight during the Convergence was a great one, with even the loss of its company grating on his normally calm nerves. 

The other three devils are quiet, as he gives them free access to roam about in the surrounding area. With the heavy scent of forbidden magic in the air, it was obvious that something sinister had taken place here, the faint hint of blood, decay, and the rotting taint of the Underworld clinging to the roots and the walls of the manor. 

However, Nacht knew he could handle whatever would come, having emerged a survivor from the fight against Lucius Zogratis, the puppetmaster who had everyone within the palm of his hand the entire time. Perhaps a decade or two. The thought of that sadistic being smiling with glee as he wiped away the existence of the people with a simple flick of his wrist, chuckling with delight as he stepped down from his throne and tore open the gates between the Underworld and the human realm to fulfil his twisted vision of an immortal paradise….

He pushed the doors open.

Death greets him. 

The strewn corpses of 6 individuals, a dismembered head, lost limbs, decapitated corpses littered the symbol of the Qlippoth carved into black marble. 

Neige turns pale, as he immediately turns away and backs out the door, breathing heavily as the snow haired teen struggles not to throw up at the sight. Nacht spies the corpses, in stages of decomposition, as the devils hover around the carving of the tree of qliphoth. 

“Master Nacht, a devil was here.” Plumede watched over the carvings on the ground. 

Indeed. 

The forbidden magic associated with a devil was so dense and heavy in the air, the remnants of a mid to high ranking devil which had left its presence behind. The stain of such heavy tarnish and corruption which lingered even in the walls of the buildings, the air and the environment itself, leaving behind only dismembered corpses in its wake. Decay and rot permeated through the air, sinking into the walls, staining the windows with dried blood amidst dust coated railings, burnt out candles and shattered porcelain. 

Shadow Magic: Heaven's Shadow Second Sight

Plumede lends his power to him, as Nacht scanned the entirety of the manor from the dark crevices, peeking doors, shadows in the corners of the wall, the shadows which lurked behind every object, and every single nook and cranny where darkness hid. The shadows offered him vision, sight and knowledge as Nacht quickly identified areas where there had been recent signs of life. 

Eight rooms, five of which had been lived in, the main dining hall, a strange room, the kitchen on which a bucket of water had been set by a stool. It was half full. The stove which had recently ashes of half burned firewood. 

None of the other children Neige had mentioned were here. 

Neither were their corpses.

He knew that devils did not consume human corpses. Seeing how the other corpses had been strewn across the failed summoning circle, he could only assume that the devil had broken free and was now running wild. 

He wraps himself into the dining hall, finding traces of blood on the floor, the tar-like substance staining the mouldy carpet beneath his boot. 

The blood of a devil…

Had those children which were taken captive, to be used as sacrifices, managed to harm a devil?

“Are any of you three able to identify which devil it is based on the blood?” Nacht knelt down on one knee, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe up some of the blood, coagulated streaks of black which clung to the white fabric of the cloth he knew he was going to burn after this ended. 

Walgner, Plumede and Slotos looked at each other. 

“Asmodeus. Devil of Greed and Lust.” 

The three spoke simultaneously. 

“Which tier would it belong to?”

“Mid-rank.” Walgner responded.

“It should be mid-rank.”

Plumede simply frowns disapprovingly at the response of his two other fellow devils.

“High rank. It simply chose not to ascend to the higher ranks.” The devil wearing the cat mask spoke, as it looked at the stained handkerchief.

“You can’t possibly know that,” Walgner questioned, not trusting in the words of his fellow devil. 

“Plumede is probably right,” Slotos yawned.

Plumede merely grins, the smile of a cheshire cat once it realised that it won the support of one of the other devils. 

“Asmodeus is a dangerous one. A sly, patient devil who seeks to only feed into its own desires. It knows very well what it wants, not just power, but for ripe opportunities to fall into its grasp. The power vacuum that resulted from the death of the highest ranked devils would invite it to take up a position as one of them.” Plumede elaborates. 

“With the additional problem of how devils can run wild in the human realm with so much ease? What a pain…” Nacht comments, since he had been the first who had noticed the fragility of the barrier separating the Underworld and the human realm. In fact, it had been his idea to found the Devil Extermination Squad, which he knew he would have to handpick members capable enough to slay and hunt the devils down. 

While Asta had argued that not all devils were inherently evil, such as the case with Liebe, most of them still were and needed to be killed. Banishment back to the Underworld was a possibility that required more research, but he knew for sure this Asmodeus needed to be slain. 

“The trail of its presence ends in one of the rooms above us.” Walgner offered.

The shadows lengthen beneath their feet as the room above shifts into the one which they are now in. 

Nacht inspects the area. 

Wisps of dark magic lingers in the air. 

The black haired male raised a hand, touching upon that singular strand of magic, the faint hint of something potent carried within it, which dissipated on his touch. 

“Walgner. Plumede. Slotos.” The three hovering devils respond to his call.

“There is something much deeper than what can be seen. This investigation must continue on. For now it is imperative that we return to the Clover Kingdom to report our findings to the new Wizard King.” Nacht scans the room one last time, his shadows drinking in the taste of dark magic, an imitation good enough to be something real, as he picks up a cloth stained with blood. 

-

The silver haired teen swings his sword at the devil, cleaving it into half as he materialises another sword from his grimoire and flings it at another low ranked devil. Anti-magic resonates from the blades, halting the devil’s mid attack as it pierced through its torso and severed it into a clean half. 

“Asta! Behind you!” 

Water Magic: Sea Dragon’s Roar

The silver haired girl joined her partner on the battlefield, as a serpent formed from raging torrents of water cleaves through the next hoard of devils approaching the young teen. Asta ducks out of the way, his blades returning to his hand as he finishes up on the last few devils in the area. 

“Don’t tell me you’ve been getting sloppy over the past week,” The shadows warp around them, forming hands to envelop and leech onto a flying devil, one of which was dragged into the ground and mauled by the darkness itself. 

“Nacht-senpai!” Asta and Noelle Silva chime out, as they greet their vice captain with surprise and eagerness. 

Nacht steps out from the shadows on the ground, cleaning his hands as if he had been the one handling the dirty work directly. Neige steps out from next to him, still shivering as the white haired teen stares at the fading corpses of the devils around them. 

“Neige? It’s good to see you! It’s been about a week since we last saw you!” Asta waved to the teen, who returned a meek wave in response. It was clear he still had not recovered from the sights he had witnessed in the manor. 

“I’m looking for Vanessa, and I will also need to brief the two of you on an upcoming investigation. I’d rather not repeat myself more than once, so I’ll bring along the three of you with me to the briefing.”

“Eh? What is it ab-”

“A warning would be-”

The shadows yawn, swallowing the four of them. 

And it spits them out in a meeting room. 

“Nice….”

“Out?”

The new Wizard King looks up from his seat and at the new arrivals to the room. 

“Eh? I was called in too?” A pink haired witch yawned as she was ushered into the room by an advisor. 

“Greetings to the new Wizard King. Fuegoleon,” Nacht greets the man. The man in question dips his head in acknowledgement. He was tired as well, weary from the weight of taking up the throne in such trying times. To have to rally the people and the remaining knights together in the wake of the destruction left behind by the devils, Nacht had been pleasantly surprised by his aptitude in organisation.

However, the title of Wizard King was but a temporary one. Plans were in place to change the status quo, to erase or lift the heavy trauma associated with the previous Wizard King, who had ravaged the world and left so little for them to salvage. The head of house Vermillion set his hand on the table, specifically the one made of flames and fire, to which he had dampened down into a warm burning glow. 

“Please, take a seat. I was informed that there were updates on the fallout of the Convergence.” 

“Yes of course!” Asta chimes as he pulls himself off from the floor and walks over to one of the chairs around the rectangular meeting table, as Nacht approaches the other end, where a board was mounted to the wall. 

“I’ll do my best to keep things short.” Nacht spoke to the five individuals seated in front of him. 

The board inscribes itself with words, as the black haired male manipulates his shadows to form words, numbers, sigils and to screen a scene from his own memories. 

“I have reason to believe that a high ranking devil is on the loose.” The tree of qlipoth which had been engraved into the marble floor is shown to them. Along with the corpses of all of the cultists who had died in the process of the ritual, one which failed horribly enough to result in the devil breaking free.

Fuegoleon kept his gaze focussed on the vision shown to them. He knew all too well what the symbol of the tree of qliphoth meant, and what it could do given the right resources and materials. 

“My devils have informed me that it goes with the name and title of Asmodeus, Devil of Greed and Lust. Neige here was involved in a kidnapping by the cultists who sought to summon this devil, but thankfully he managed to escape. Neige, would you like to take over?” Nacht offered the white haired teen, who nodded, albeit hesitantly. 

He stood up, walking to stand in front of the board as he began to recite his version of events.

“I remember being on patrol one night at the outskirts of the forbidden realm, around Hage,” Asta perks up at the name of his hometown. 

“I saw a group of individuals lugging two large wagons with them as they crossed the village, and I felt that something was off about them when I heard a cry or two coming from one of the wagons. So I…uh…went to check it out…” The boy admitted sheepishly, as he seemed to wring his hands together out of nervousness. 

“You should have called for backup,” Noelle interjected. 

“...It slipped my mind then…” The white haired teen apologised, as Nacht waved a hand for him to continue. 

“I found inside the wagon children who were chained up, a pair of twins and another younger boy, and when I was halfway through freeing them, the kidnappers came around and caught me.”

“I don’t remember what happened after they caught me, but I woke up sometime later chained up to the wagon as well, and there were more children with me. There was a girl who tried to think up a plan to escape, but we were all too scared to go through with it. There were seven kidnappers and we were few in number as well. Until…the last child? Was caught.” Neige fidgets with his hands anxiously. 

“To be honest, he didn’t seem like a child at all. He thought of a plan to help us escape the kidnappers, as well as with the girl…Anastasia? That was her name. We managed to pick the locks, but the kidnappers took our grimoires so we could not overpower them. The escape plan failed, since I was the only one who managed to escape. That kid…the one who thought of the plan…he sacrificed himself to buy an opportunity for me to escape.”

Neige looked around the room, expecting judgemental looks but found none. 

“How did you manage to get back?” The Wizard King asked.

“I…fell off a cliff? There was a river down below in the ravine and I managed to save myself since I got back my grimoire. The water swept me down all the way and I remember being fished out at one of the villages…”

Fuegoleon speaks.

“You’ve went through alot. Get some rest after this.” The current Wizard King tells the young teen, who dips his head in shy acknowledgement. 

“...Thank you,” 

Nacht looks at the Vermillion, a keen glint in his eye as he watches the man’s behaviour. It was good that someone like him had taken over the role of the Wizard King. Someone who cared for their subordinates and their wellbeing, and made himself available to listen to the needs of his Knights and people. 

“So, vice captain, you must have called me in for a reason, right?” Vanessa fiddles with the hem of her cloak, as Rouge leaps from her shoulder and onto the meeting table. 

Nacht smiles.

“I was wondering if you would be able to arrange a meeting with the Witch Queen of the forest. Seeing how the site of the manor where the devil summoning took place was relatively close by to the forest itself, I believe she would have sensed something occurring, and perhaps even interfered.” The black haired male brings up a map and spreads it across the table.

Plumede sets a marker down on where the manor was on the map, as Walgner sets another piece down on where the Witch's Forest was. 

“Following the common characteristics of devils, which would be their bloodlust and taste for destruction, it would only make sense for them to spread outwards in search of human prey, since we seem to be their favourite,” Nacht uses a compass to draw a circle on the map, dictating the area where he believed the devil could be found or located in. 

Within the boundaries of the circle lay a portion of the Diamond Kingdom, the Witch’s Forest as well as the outskirts of the Forbidden realm of the Clover Kingdom. 

Vanessa frowns.

“I’m still on bad terms with the queen, but I’ll do it for the sake of the other witches. It’s hard to forget how she sided with the eldest Zogratis sibling but she did help us end him….” The pink haired witch muttered. Her thread magic had aided immensely in the final battle, a law even Lucius struggled to overcome despite time being on his side. 

“That would be preferable. Thank you, Vanessa. I know it must be hard, especially since the Forest does not have any reason to welcome our presence nor become our ally. Truth be told, Dorothy has drafted several papers for negotiation on a possible alliance or to open trade routes between our kingdoms. Anything to ease the tensions between us and them,” Fuegoleon mentions, as he looks at the witch.

Vanessa looked almost pleasantly surprised at that, and it was clear that she was definitely more on board with the idea of talking with the founder of the forest.  

“Good luck with overcoming her stubbornness, though. One can only hope,” The witch commented with a chuckle. 

“What about the Diamond Kingdom village? I know Mars is staying there with Fana as well as Mr Kruger and his family.” Asta brings up with growing excitement. 

“Oh? That’s an amusing coincidence. We would have to get in contact with them as well, in that case. Asta, Noelle, would the two of you be up to it?” Nacht smiles. Fuegoleon had to admit, the vice-captain of the Black Bulls had already set this meeting up with every detail, individuals and manpower required to make his plan come to fruition. A terrifying man indeed. 

All that he needed was his approval.

“You may proceed with the mission. Should the high ranking devil Asmodeus make an appearance anywhere, update headquarters as soon as possible for backup. Aim to find the other missing children as well. I will have the other Knights track and follow-up on any missing persons reports especially for the villages in the outskirts, as well as to tighten patrols around the area and raise the alert for any possible sightings of that devil.”

“Yes sir!” The three Black Bulls salute as they stand at their seats. 

“Should we engage in a battle against the devil if we see it?” Noelle asks, as she seems to look at the map once more. The youngest Silva had inherited a portion of Undine’s spirit magic, having merged and resonated with the literal force of nature during the Convergence. With the Saint Stage magic bestowed to her, she herself was a force for devils to be reckoned with. 

“Do not engage. Ensure that at least four arcane stage mages are on hand for the fight. I suspect we will need dark magic in order to properly end this being, as well as Nero’s sealing magic.”

“We will need the Captain? But…” Vanessa trails off.

“I will convince him to participate in the fight.” The Black Bulls vice-captain interjected.

Fuegoleon nodded.

“With this, I shall entrust this task to all of you.”  

-

The click of a lighter cuts through the silence of the area. 

Rough calloused hands hold the lighter close to the end of the cigarette, as the black cloak of the figure sways gently in the soft, quiet wind. The ground is cracked beneath his boots, as the figure walks towards where a cross had been erected in the ground. The lone grave in an area dead and devoid of all life, stood out as the sole structure in the barren, decimated land around them. 

The crater sloped inwards, water from the recent few bouts of rain having seeped into the cracks and washed in ash, mud and gravel into the centre. Where the remnants of the ash stained water had left streaks on the whitened ground, one incinerated by great power and bleached such an unnatural colour, the figure steps on it without a second thought. 

“Only you could ever make me feel this sentimental,” Yami Sukehiro exhales, a cloud of smoke emerging from his lips and into the air around him. The sound of his footsteps is followed by that of his sword sheath clicking against his belt, with every footstep he took deeper and towards the cross.

“You know the first time I watched you die because of the homicidal elf, that hurt.” The captain stops in front of the gravestone marker.

“Then you came back in the body of a child…I still don’t know how the hell you managed to pull that off, and I don't think I ever will.” 

He stands over by makeshift gravestone marker, dust at his feet swept away by the gentle breeze as he takes a long drag from his cigarette. 

“Ya know, when you showed the other side of yourself, or that split personality or whatever, the devil which inhabited your body, as well as that evil man who seemed to possess you, I was lost. Who were you supposed to be? Which one of them was the Julius I knew who took me in all those years back, took in Vangeance and raised us in the Grey Deer Squad?” 

Timeless memories were not something he usually thought about, but before the grave of his mentor, the only Wizard King he had ever known, and the only one to have brought the world so close to the brink of extinction, it was all he could think about. 

Time spent fishing in rivers, learning how to read and write, helping him find a blacksmith to forge his katana, to have eaten and had so many meals, and conversations with the man himself… 

The presence of another individual catches his attention. 

“You.”

Yami stares at Nacht, who smiles at his captain.

“Figured I’d have found you here.” The black haired man strides over to the grave, looking over the simple gravestone marker as he peered into the beyond. Shadows cling to his feet, yawning and waning as they fade into his own shadow, merging into a simple, clean mass folded into the darkness the man himself held in his control. 

Yami exhales. 

“What is it? Did the redhead summon me? Last I heard, he gave me time off to go and settle my dues,” The foreigner asks with mild annoyance. Nacht merely smirks. 

“If only.” The black haired man turns to look at him. 

“There’s been more trouble. A mid to high ranking devil on the loose. The other captains are busy settling civilian disputes in the wake of the Convergence. If you have a free hand to offer help, it would be great.”

“Tch. Another one of those pesky things. How powerful are we talking about? Enough for me to slaughter it alone?”

The time the captain of the Black Bulls had spent training and recovering after the fight against Lucifero followed by the Convergence had helped him surpass his limits once more, enough so to harness the remnants of the otherworldly nature of the dark magic he wielded. In addition to the countless time loops that had been forced upon them in the final fight, something he couldn't quite understand either during the final battle itself, since Lucius would have wanted them dead, but somehow to some extent it seemed that time itself was trying to work against him. It had been a tortuous hell, but one he and many others managed to pull through with their will and spirit intact. 

“I was considering bringing in the elves to aid in tracking the devil down. According to my sources, it is both sly and powerful. Two traits which do not go well together. Currently, we are still on the hunt for it.”

Yami glares at the man.

“Then why’d ya call me? If it ain’t even found, I’ve got nothing to swing my blade at. Tell me when you catch sight of it or something. Only then do I really need to be there.” Nacht sighs.

“You’re a pain to work with. Feel free to continue doing whatever you want then,” Nacht walks away, leaving the man behind in his shadow. 

Yami watches the man with a steely gaze, as he simply slipped away into the shadows. 

Chapter Text

William steps away from the cheering and festivities of his squad members as he slips out from the Golden Dawn base unnoticed, with their members being so few after all that had happened recently, it made them all greatly cherish what and who they had around. Another year where their numbers shrank exponentially smaller, after Zenon Zogratis had brutally slaughtered half of their members…

Painful memories those were. 

“You’re late.” Yami looked at him, a broom settled on the bench next to him, as the black haired man stood up from where he had sat on the bench to stub and extinguish his cigarette in what was meant to be a decorative ceremonial bird water bath. The water had long since dried up since their base went under reconstruction and renovation, which left the ashes to pile inside it. 

“It was hard to tear myself away from the celebrations. After all, such joy from starting a new year is one we have scarcely had the time to appreciate after all that happened,” William removes his mask, tucking it inside a satchel he had seen fit to bring along with him. The precious memento fits snugly in the pale beige bag, as he summons forth a broom with his hand. Yami kicks his broom up from the bench as he leapt on it.

“Can’t deny the truth in your words. After all the shit that went down, everyone deserves a nice break.” The two of them leave the base, heading off to some place unknown. 

The two men fly in silence in the calm wind, the sound of lit fireworks reaching them from behind them, celebrations of a new year in the air, a new year where the Clover Kingdom has stood strong against all threats which it had faced so far. 

In a way, William remarks, it was a testament to the sacrifices and efforts of all the people who had allowed this future, this possibility of a new year to come to pass. To the people who had died so that others could live and forge a new future, forward, people such as…his mentor, the late Wizard King.

The two of them arrive at the lone, unmarked grave.

It did not stand alone in the centre of the crater, where instead, it was decorated in flowers. Forget-me-nots, William recognised the blue, five petalled small flowers which had been bundled up neatly and laid at the foot of the cross. 

Yami walks up to the grave, with a bag of his own, as he sets out a stone tablet at the foot of the cross. 

“Looks like Mushroom head beat us to it,” Yami remarked, in a soft tone, one which William had rarely ever heard of. Marx and forget-me-not flowers….how incredibly fitting, for a man with memory magic. 

“Sir Julius will always be remembered. Even if most of the people blame him for all that has transpired, there will always be some who remembered him for all the good changes he has brought about to the kingdom, as well as the sacrifice he made in the final battle.” William responds, as he pulls out three shot glasses from his satchel. The two of them make themselves comfortable on the ground. 

Yami pulls out a bottle of whisky, as he pours the amber liquid into all three glasses.

“....Sir Julius leaves me incredibly conflicted.” William takes the glass of alcohol offered to him, as Yami pours a glass for himself and another third final glass, which he sets at the foot of the gravemarker.

“Because two souls inhabited his body? Or because you feared that his actions towards you were not sincere?” William raises this to him.

The black haired man looks at him with a serious gaze.

“Both. But mainly the latter. After all, didn’t you also have two souls in you?” 

“Well, I suppose it's understandable that you would be conflicted. To know who was the person you and I had both trusted and cared for greatly, and who had cared for us.” William raised his glass to the cold moonlight overhead, letting the light refract through the glass and shine through the liquid. 

“When two souls inhabit a body, the thoughts of one bleeds over into the other. Patri’s voice was always by my side, within my mind, and perhaps I had seen some of his thoughts as my own subconscious ones, even if I was aware that he was another person entirely. I believe the same would have occurred to Sir Julius, where he was unaware of how Lucius’s thoughts had bled into his own. Nevertheless, both souls and personalities are separate. One may influence the other, but our mentor’s kindness and care towards us…was sincere. It was Lucius who had twisted his goodwill and used us as stepping stones for a greater purpose, but Julius, he loved us.” 

William turns to look at Yami, purple eyes shimmering in the moonlight. Yami looks up from the drink in his hand and to his fellow friend, as he too raised his glass and clinked it against William’s.

“Can’t forget the old man on New Year,” Yami turns to the lone glass set on the grave, as the two of them clink their glasses against it. 

“Happy New Year, Yami, Sir Julius,”

“Happy New Year to the both of you too.”

-

He watched from the window of his bedroom as the townsfolk launched fireworks into the air, sparkling green, yellow, red, orange and blue lights which filled the night sky with brilliant colours. Eos knocks against the glass of the window with her beak, mesmerised by the colours, as he reaches out to stroke her feathers with a finger. 

Someone knocks at his door.

“Come in.”

The door swings open to reveal…Lotus Whomalt, who was dressed down in casual clothes as he looked and peered around the room who had been offered to the young child by the name of Jules.

“Not in the mood to celebrate the New Year?” The man had asked him, waiting at the threshold of his room despite having given permission to enter. 

The sight of the fireworks had left Julius so strangely melancholic, memories of past celebrations surrounded by magic knights, his fellow captains and friends, all of whom he had now lost after Lucius had brought about the Convergence. The sight of such beautiful lights almost made him feel regretful, of times he had lost and times he could never gain back, as he turned to Lotus.

“...I…I am not a fan of crowds,” It is a weak response, as the man enters the room. 

“Well, we could always head to a more isolated spot and head over there to view the fireworks, but that isn’t the only reason, is it?” The man watched him with a keen gaze, and Julius knew he had to give this man a half truth to get off his back.

He sighs.

“The sight…makes me feel sad for a strange reason.” He murmurs, as he turns away from the man and looks at the window. Eos hobbles into his arm as he nestles her in the crook of his elbow, soaking in the warmth of another living being against him. 

“Ah. Perhaps in the past you had some bad memories associated with this occasion.” Lotus stands by him as the two of them peer out the window. Julius looks at his reflection in the glass pane, unable to even look at his own eyes in the mirror.

“Staying cooped here, in the dark, all alone is gonna make you feel more like shit.” 

Well, Lotus wasn’t wrong.

“Hmm…How about this? Do you want to come out and enjoy the festival with us? Give yourself a fresh take on this new year. Not to say that you should forget your past, but rather, focus on what possibilities the future could bring,” 

Lotus looks at him. 

For a moment, Julius had a moment of familiarity, the words Lotus had said were something William’s gentle, optimistic, empathetic and kind hearted nature would also say, and Yami would absolutely call him out for being a shut in. 

Maybe it was an impulse, maybe it was a quiet longing for a piece of warmth from the past, now brought forward into the future, but he says yes. 

Lotus smiles, telling him to meet them downstairs while he gets ready.

Alone in the room, Julius wished, by the window side.

“Happy New Year, Yami, William.” 

Chapter Text

Holding his hand out, palms directed towards the pile of dried tinder as he sat cross legged on the floor, and willed for the sparks of a flame to catch onto the dry twigs. To bring forth that which was merely an illusion into reality, even illusion magic itself was a form of magic that fed off of desire and motivation to come to fruition. 

Working without a grimoire was strange, since the spells he used had no name, and were something that was almost entirely composed of pure will in itself. The sparks danced across the gaps in the tinder, from the dried blades of grass onto the next as it left behind a trail of living embers from which grey white wisps of smoke fled into the air. 

The warmth of a flame which would grow into a burning fire. 

Tinder flared, as he picked up a branch and threw it into the small but growing fire, from which orange yellow flames traversed the dried peeling barks of the fallen branches and dried leaves he had brought to feed the fire. It flares up, the fire surging as it has new fuel to feed upon. 

The warmth, the heat which radiates from the fire stings his skin, as Julius takes a few steps back and away from the fire he had started.

Closing his eyes, he willed the fire to fade away, to be silenced. 

Eos chirps.

He walks forward, eyes still closed as he closed off his senses, visualising a burnt out pile of nothing but ashes and half consumed sticks, cold and long forgotten as the fire had long since died out before it. 

The heat, the warmth was nothing but a pervasive illusion, but an illusion nonetheless, as he walks through where the fire once was, this time imagining nothing but the deathly cold sensation of a quiet void. 

Quell the flames and silence the warmth. 

He exhales, as he walks through where the makeshift fire pit once was. 

He emerges unscathed. 

Opening his eyes, he sees Eos hobble out of its basket and over to him, chirping and warbling as he walks over to pick it up and carry it in his arms. 

“You’re supposed to rest and stay still,” He murmurs to the owl. It simply nuzzles him. 

This…this was what a pet parent felt like.

He sighs as he brings Eos and puts it back in its basket. Being careful of its injured wing, he flips the basket upright from where it had fallen over in the owl’s successful attempt to escape, as he pets and strokes its head with his fingers before he gently sets it back down in the basket.

It simply chirps in annoyance, as it nibbles at those two fingers. 

Julius pulls back his hand, as he raises his right hand, palm facing outwards as he envisions a small flame in the palm of his hand. A fire to be nestled along his skin, but the only sensation he can remember is being burned by Fuegoleon’s flames, the scorching heat which dug into his skin and charred his flesh down to nothing but bone. It began with an all consuming pain, ending in dead numbness of the flesh and bone as his limb had been incinerated and body cremated.

Only Lucius had easily brought his body back to its original state. 

A fire appears in his palm, but it is not one he can control as he dunks his hand into the bucket of water next to the basket, one he had prepared in case he started an actual fire. Even then, the burn still spreads up his arm and along his skin, a lashing wild agony that traverses even beneath water. 

He grits his teeth, biting down so hard as he resists the pain of this punishing blaze, forcing himself to blank his own mind out, to regain control of the illusion before it turned into reality and truly left a mark on his own hand. 

The pain flares.

“Breathe.” He tells himself in tight whispers, as he forces the illusion to bend to his will, to fade away before it becomes something real and irreversible. 

Eos warbles in concern, as he pulls his hand out from the water. 

His skin is red, as if he had been burned. 

“Mental note: Don’t visualise any spells that are reminiscent of what others have cast at me before. Especially if they are destructive…” Julius murmurs to himself. 

At least until he could figure out how to wield those spells properly. After all, it seemed like they would be the only offensive spells he could manage. As for binding spells, he had a few up his sleeve. 

Thanks to the sadistic Larx. 

However, the most important was to conceal the aura which leaked from him. The maliciousness of magic from the Underworld, the contain it and draw it into himself, rather than let it leak out into the world around him. 

How would he describe it? 

It would be the otherworldliness of the sensation of a second heart beating in his chest, so out of sync of his own heart, radiating a poisonous, parasitic magic which devoured his sanity in exchange for unholy power. The presence of a pair of invisible hands around his neck, the very same pair who would have offered him a release from this guilt ridden existence, a hand that could give or take, but always hovered at his shoulder. 

Beyond that, it was the seething lascivious magic of illusion, the devil’s own attribute which he had been cursed with. Not only was he already a splintered soul of Astaroth, which meant he had no true idea of what humanity was even supposed to be like, what Asmodeus had forced onto him was more corruption and taint from the world beyond their own. One which even Eos could sense and refused to lift its eyes off of him, fixated and pinpointing how out of place he was to be living as a human. 

It was an evil that seeped through the skin and flesh down to the bone, took root and flourished. A madness that would consume the facade he could call his own humanity, and twist, warping him into something incomprehensible and lost. 

Eos hisses at him. 

Focus.

He needed to contain this presence, conceal it beneath layers of unseen innocence, of oblivious denial and calm purity. To erase the presence of the madness which dwelled within him, to embody the meaning of an illusion, a beautifully crafted perfect lie. Instead of a lie meant to destroy, it was one made to protect and forge from it a cover of protection. 

He inhales, unclenching his fists. 

To tap upon the boundless illusory ability within himself, he recalls the will of wishing to live in an untainted dream. One where he was not semi-possessed by Asmodeus, one where he was welcomed entirely into the arms of the Whomalt family, where no suspicion would ever arise from his presence, his name, his existence. Where even devils would overlook him, where the devil’s illusory magic did not hail from the Underworld. 

He desires for a perfect illusion.

Devil Illusion Magic: Flawless Mirage

All is quiet.

Eos turns away from him, seeking to rest its head on the blanket in its basket. 

Julius exhales. There’s a part of him, deep within his soul, the core of his being, that knows that something has pivoted on its axis. A fundamental shift in the nature of his being, displaced yet hidden, something quiet and unseen which alters itself. 

“How did you do that?”

The sheer panic which shoots through him is incomparable, as he whips his head to turn behind him, in the direction of the question directed towards him. His senses had not picked up on anything, as he looked at the black haired girl who stared at him, pointing at the dead ashes of the campfire. 

With pink eyes and glossy short black hair which framed her features, complementing her fair skin as her black coloured fur lined cloak was draped over her shoulders. Her stance was stiff, as if mildly on guard against him, and Julius freezes. Had she sensed what he was? What he had been doing? The invocation of Devil magic?

“Oh. Sorry if I gave you a shock,” The teen tells him. Shock was an understatement. 

Heart attack was a more accurate description of what she would have sent him into. 

“My…Magic?” He responds sheepishly, schooling his features into that emotion as he wraps his shock and fear under layers of other emotions. The teen stares at him, as she looks over at the pile of ashes. 

“I’ve never seen fire magic like that before.” The girl comments, as she seems to walk over to the pile of ashes, bringing her hand down to touch the still warm and heated embers with her bare skin.

“It’s hot!” He dashed after her, warning her instinctively. 

The girl merely shrugs, a chill of ice magic radiating from her figure as she drops the embers back down into the pile. 

“What’s your name?”

“...Jules.”

“I’m Mariella. If you’re training to use your magic, you can join this class Mars, Fana and I are teaching down in the new school right opposite the parade square at the centre of town. It beats accidentally burning and scalding your hands if you lose control of it.” Mariella pointed at the bucket with one hand as she gestured at the ashes with another. 

“...I’ll consider it.” After all, his magic was not the most…orthodox.

“By the way, where’s your grimoire?”

Grimoire.

A grimoire.

Pages burnt in the ashes, the mirror of the soul torn and pulled apart by countless hands, blood dripping from torn pages, turning into tar. 

He did not have a grimoire.

“I lost mine. Wherever it went. I don’t remember who I am, much less whatever happened to my grimoire.”

“Oh. You’re the amnesiac Fanzell was talking about.”

Julius looks at her warily.

“Indeed.”

“Shouldn’t you feel motivated to search for it then? Since a grimoire is so important to us mages. You sound far too apathetic towards your situation.” Mariella is brutally blunt towards him. Mariella…Mariella…that name, Asta must have mentioned it in one of his reports previously. 

“I don’t even remember who I am. Moving on seems like the next best move from here.”

“I can't tell if you're just giving yourself a reason to give up or not.”

A grimoire was only important to a human mage. As a devil, grimoires were important only as an anchor of manifestation to the human realm. He was neither. He was both. He had no real grimoire of his own. 

“It would only be a futile waste of time, energy and effort to find it. I’ll manage until then.”

“Tch. Then you better keep training until you raise your natural aptitude for magic to a point high enough that you can live with it. It’d be a waste if someone like you who has such potential even at their baseline has so much power and control over their own magic. Especially without a grimoire.”

Was that…supposed to be a compliment? Mariella turns away, walking out and away into the tall blades of grass where he realised she had likely entered and watched him from where she had been hidden. 

He’d have to work on his spatial awareness and perception. 

Eos chirps from his basket, as he walks over to pick it up.

The school…sounded like a decent idea. 

-

Convincing Lotus to let him go to school after explaining that he would be staying for a while was barely even a matter of trying to convince the man. Especially with Anastasia by his side, also siding with him on having him stay in the Diamond Kingdom. 

The school itself was small, with a few classrooms and fewer teachers and even fewer students. Mars…and Fana were both teachers at the school, including Mariella who was somehow the teacher involved with magic control for the lot of them. 

Fana, who was identical to the elf Fana with the exception of her human ears and more kind and warm demeanour, taught the more theoretical aspects of magic in class, whilst Mars was the true fighting instructor. The tall male, with his spikey pale hair looked content with his role, having recovered well from what went down during the Convergence. His skill and potential with the dual attributes he had, that of crystal and fire magic, was truly something else. 

Julius knew from flashes of momentary control in Lucius’s body, that Mars was one of the mages who had attained stage one hailing from the Diamond Kingdom. The crystal flames he was able to cast were everlasting flames, able to keep burning endlessly in an almost solid like state, which both froze yet burned his opponents in a heat vastly different from the raw incineration Mereleona and Fuegoleon possessed.

“What’s your magic attribute?”

The stage one male had once asked him, and Julius had hesitated at that question. 

He did not want to limit himself to a single elemental attribute, but simultaneously did not want to reveal too much. As Mariella would teach in some of her extra lessons, never let your enemy know all of the cards in your hand. Have several up in your sleeves. 

“Fire…but I am still unsure.” He had simply shrugged to the Diamond Kingdom Mage, who had looked at him, a calm, patient curiosity in his gaze. The tall male had nodded, as he seemed to acknowledge his answer. 

“Perhaps you could show it to me once you are more certain of it. I know a thing or two about fire, and I would be free to assist you if need be.” Mars had left him with those words, a warm invitation extended to him. 

Julius was left to ponder his options. 

He cups his palms together, looking up at the sky as he releases a sparrow into the blue horizon. The bird soars high into the sky, as he looks at its silhouette, one which disappeared as it flew further and further away. 

It was almost funny how bringing the illusion of life across into reality was easier than bringing forth the illusion of a spell. Perhaps he just had an affinity for animals, he thought, as he looked over at his fellow classmates. 

He had to decide on an attribute. 

“Jules! Look at this!” One of his classmates shouted to him, waving a hand coated in green vines which bloomed into a large sunflower. The young boy runs over to him, leaving behind trails of flower petals and leaves behind him, as he runs past Mars and Fana, of whom the latter seemed to chuckle at the younger boy's antics. Mars cracks a smile upon seeing Fana’s own delight, and Julius looks at the boy with a warm smile. 

“I see it!” He calls out to his fellow classmate. 

“It’s sunflower magic! Isn’t it amazingly gorgeous?” The flowers on his arm blooms into a golden light, leaving behind trails of blooming flowers and plants thriving at his feet, a warm aura which seeps into the world and area around him. The younger boy laughs, a jovial sound which rings through the air, as Julius marvels in the pure joy and contentment the boy radiated from his person. 

For a moment, he himself is lost in a wave of memories of the past, a sweet, pleasant nostalgia and wave of sentimentality paired so intrinsically with his own desire and natural curiosity to seek out new magic. He gazed around, seeing so many others finding out and experimenting with their own magic, finding a piece of themselves, the reflection of their soul and being, an ability gifted to them by the laws of this world itself. 

He is happy for them. For each and everyone of these children, and yet the same happiness put so much distance between him and everyone else. Having been cursed with magic that was forced upon him by a devil, having never had his own magic, he was but a lost soulless being splintered from a not quite inhuman devil.

Nevertheless, he would always be happy for the people around him. 

“Jules, you should join the rest of them. Don’t be anti-social,” Mariella’s voice is a knife cutting through the silence, as she steps out from behind the trees, and Julius himself knew that her ability to hide herself was still throwing his senses off guard. 

The girl bends down to look at him, as if inspecting him from head to toe. Instead however, she only peers deep into his eyes. 

Julius blinks, caught off guard by her intense gaze. 

“It seems like you’ve been through a lot.” Mariella comments, as she stands straight back up, walking to stand by his side as she looks at the field of children and younger teens as he did. 

“I did lose my memories, after all,” He returns, as Mariella casts a glance back down at him. 

“That doesn’t mean you should deny yourself the happiness others here are so willing to share with you.”

The black haired teen walks towards the other children, looking back at him expectantly. 

Was it really his place to accept this kindness, to take up the invitation so graciously given to him, one he was entirely undeserving of, to enjoy the peace and stability that they had worked so hard for? His heart yearned for it, and he wondered how long he would have to lie to himself saying he did not want this, he could not have it, when his very being asked him to envelop himself in the warmth that this new life was giving so reality to him. 

The laughter and giggles ring through the air.

He follows after Mariella. 

-

That afternoon was the most fun he had enjoyed since his time as a Wizard King.

Teaching others how to figure out different ways to use their magic, some of them accidentally casting spells on him out of pure accident when they trained their magic, though harmless spells such as a rain of flower petals, turning the ground beneath his feet into mud, or getting drenched by a small rain cloud over his head. 

Mars, Mariella and Fana watched over them with guidance, and their presence was almost comforting as they patiently taught the foundational basics of magic control to the students. 

It was unfortunate that he knew they would not be able to aid him, at least in the purest form of illusory magic. 

Still, his will and drive to persist in his quest was renewed by that single afternoon of simple times he never thought he would be able to experience again. The joys of age regression, he wonders with a quiet chuckle. 

Perhaps the future would not be as miserable as he believed it to be. With pockets of light, of hope and faith that he could look forward to, things seemed so much more bearable. 

-

That night, he crashes hard on his bed, the weariness from the day having accumulated and worn him down. With the pleasant soft exhaustion of a good day, Eos snuggles up to him on his bed, its soft velvet black feathers pressing against the bare skin of his neck as he pulls the blanket itself and falls into a deep slumber. 

-

A beacon silenced.

The ominous flame which lit the sky and drew in the masses was quietly removed.

Those who had glimpsed its light were now blind, but those who had walked the path to it knew where it led to. 

With their prey found, they move towards the remnants of the shattered light. 

Wake up, my dear host. 

The hungry masses chase for a taste of your soul. 

-

Julius wakes up with blood trickling down his neck, hot, warm and steaming as the brand on his neck seared. Eos cried out for him, worried chirps as he sat up on the bed, a hand on his neck as blood streamed down his neck in a thin, yet steady flow. 

“No.” He swings his legs over the bed and onto the floor, standing up as a sharp pain raced through his head. It was supposed to have work. To have concealed the presence of the devil residing within him, to have concealed and willed out of existence by his own desire. The vast pool of magic within him is still, even as the brand burns, a reminder of his tarnished existence which would never be forgotten. 

“No, no, no…” He stumbles into the bathroom, staunching the flow of blood from his neck as it stains the sleeves of his shirt. In the dim lighting of the hazy moon, he sees his own reflection in the mirror, a shrivelled mess as he looks into his own eyes. 

“It…was it too late?” 

He asks his reflection. 

His blood is black in his reflection, ink which has dyed his skin a permanent darkness, as his reflection merely stares back, with cold eyes and an inhuman smile.

Julius closed his eyes and exhaled. 

He opens his eyes once more. 

His reflection is calm, quiet with the remnants of the anxiety which had woken him from his deep slumber, as he turns on the tap whilst scrutinising his own eyes, his skin, every messy strand of hair which hangs across his eyes. A crawling sensation clung to his skin, even as he stripped himself of the bloodied shirt and changed it for a new one, using a towel to wipe away at the traces of blood as the brand lessened its throbbing agony into a dull pain. 

Eos hoots for him worriedly, as he turns back to look at the four winged owl. Its feathers glowed an iridescent silver under the light of the moonlight which shone through the window into his room, as it ruffles its feathers and preens them. 

He could not jump to conclusions. Not at the slightest hint of a nightmare, of paranoid cautiousness or uncontrolled instinctive fear. A dream was but a dream, and not one which was meant to come true. 

There had been times where the inexplicable sensation of dread had overwhelmed his mind and heart…it had been Lucius. Back when he was still a ruler. 

Perhaps even he could not know for certain if a nightmare was a sign or simply the remnants of lingering trauma from his time spent as both the captives of Lucius and Asmodeus. 

Letting the cold water flow between his fingers, it shakes off the lingering tiredness, replacing it with keen adrenaline fuelled awareness that cut through his exhaustion, albeit only temporarily, before he knew he would crash after it wore off. The illusion magic was still neatly contained, at least enough such that it did not react wildly based on his emotions. Perhaps mild, or minor hallucinations like his reflection in the mirror were an inevitable consequence of possessing a devil’s magic, but beyond that, there was not much he could do. 

He cleans off the blood from his neck, hands and skin, wringing the towel as he watches the dark brown, near black coloured blood run down the sink and into the drain, the darkness of the night cloaking most of his colour vision in hues of black, dark grey and deep blue. Only the pale whiteness of the moon’s glow provided sufficient light to see what he was doing. 

Leaving the bathroom, he sees Eos make her way over to the window sill, a low growl in her throat as she seems to move her wings agitatedly. Realising this was the first time he had ever seen her cautious and wary, Julius came to the conclusion that there was something wrong, as he quickened his pace and moved over to where the window sill was, as flashes of light arc across the glass. 

Peering through the glass, a stray missile lodges itself in the glass, something akin to a rusted metal spike. The glass fractures, but it holds still, and Julius leaps away from the window, using an arm to shield and carry Eos away from it as she squawks in surprise. 

He…he should have sensed the projectile coming. 

Julius tightens his grip around Eos, whom he knew still could not fly as he had not been able to bring her to a healer to see her wing sorted out, and swings the door to his room open. The sound of rushed footsteps echo around the house, as Anastasia shouts to him to head down and meet in the living room. 

“Jules! There’s been an attack! We need to get to a shelter!” The girl, still dressed in her nightgown, snatched a bag from one of the shelves. Her older sister was helping the other sister with her boots, as their mother seemed to grab a few more things before she left the house. 

“Anastasia, you remember what your father taught you?”

“The smoke screen? Of course.” Her grimoire floats up, its pages flipping open as Julius gets ready to leave with them. 

An attack? By…devils? He frowns, even as he watches a cover of smoke form around them. Laura opens up the door and leads the four of them out of the house, and upon stepping out of the door, does the sound of screams, fear and panic reach his ears. It was almost jarring, how he had not heard anything from the confines of the house, as the group of them rush down the steps they had to take to get to their home. 

Where was Lotus?

Julius peered around, through the smoke screen which acted as a one way mirror in the cover of the night, and he could see the trails of smoke and fire which ravaged the terrain around them. Dust, smoke and ashes cloak whatever dim street lights which remained, as Julius’s instinct prickles with an alert wariness, alarm and heightened cautiousness, this time, with good reason. 

Anastasia stands at the front of their group, as Julius quickened his pace to catch up with her and walk by her side. Laura and her two other daughters do the same, staying close as their parent summons her own grimoire, which glows a dim purple hue, almost as if in anticipation of an attack about to take place. 

“We need to get to the school. That’s where the shelter is.” Laura tells them urgently, in a hushed whisper, as Anastasia nods in response. Her youngest sister is scared, as the oldest sister tries her best to calm the younger girl. 

Julius tries to get a grasp on the magic signatures around them, trying to pinpoint where potential enemies could be, as he realises how even at such a close range, he could barely sense both Laura’s and Anastasia’s use of magic. 

Was this….Was this why he could not sense Mariella’s presence?

His own ability to perceive the presence of magic signatures…had been dulled. 

He feels Anastasia grab his wrist and tug him along, even as the terrifying reality of what this meant for him began to sink in. 

Not now. 

He tells himself to get his head back in the game, as he rushes after the black haired girl and her family, as they cut through alleys and small roads to get to the main building where the school was. 

They pass by houses that have been raised to the ground, by hellish violet flames, others ridden with spikes that pierced through walls, roughs and chimneys. The scent of smoke only gets stronger the closer they get to the centre of the town, as Julius frowns at the ashes which seem to rain from the sky in thin, black grey flakes. Things are quiet, almost unnaturally so, and it left one to wonder where all the sound had gone. 

The forced silence was unusual, something his instincts screamed at him to be wary of, and it only amplified the footsteps of their group tenfold, especially on the cracked pavement, where debris littered their path. The youngest daughter tripped every now and then, so much so that Laura decided it would be safer to carry the young girl on her shoulders. 

He needs to sharpen his senses. 

Something lands in front of them. 

Anastasia came to a dead halt, as Laura stifled a scream from her youngest daughter’s mouth, and the oldest daughter had to cover her mouth to maintain the silence. 

The beast which landed in front of them had a pair of bony, leathery wings coated in crimson blood, which ended in sharpened claws at its tips, with four reptilian legs that supported its lean, yet muscular frame. With a pair of horns on its draconian head, it swung its segmented tail tauntingly, as the ridges along its spine seemed to move and vibrate in a strange frequency. 

The most peculiar thing about it was the fact that it had what seemed to be a steel blindfold embedded around its eyes, burnt and soldered into its cracked and scaly skin as it raised its snout into the air and opened its jaw, revealing a mouth full of blackened, teeth angled such that it would trap any prey caught in its grasp. 

“Help! Help! Someone come and help me!” The voice which emanates from the throat of the beast, no, the devil before them is something which throws him off guard. It was the cry of a helpless, terrified girl which emerges from the throat of this inhuman creature, and Laura reflexively reaches out, and Julius catches her hand before she touches her grimoire. 

He looks up at the older woman, shaking his head, as she looks at him with a panicked gaze, and then back at the monster, which seems to cry out, a shrieking noise, followed by a wailing stutter so like that of a child that was suffering the terror of being abandoned to an unknown fate. 

Anastasia holds onto his hand now, her tight grip betraying her fear, as he could see that her knuckles were almost white from how tight she gripped onto him. 

This devil…this was how it lured its prey towards it. 

It taps its claws on the broken pavement, wicked blood stained claws clinking against chunks of broken glass, broken marble, yet all of that was without sound. 

The only crystal clear sound was the cries of the girl which it screamed out to the whole world, as it turned to face the group of them. 

“Help…help me…” The gurgled cries of a girl from within its throat…it did not come from a mimic. 

Anastasia’s older sister cannot help but cry out in shock. 

Because, within the throat of the devil before the, was a girl with mangled limbs, torn skin and broken bones, who weakly moved a blood soaked hand out towards them.

Chapter Text

The beast turns towards them, lunging at them, even through Anastasia’s smoke screen. 

Laura summons forth a protective violet bubble with her magic, but it is easily breached by the beast, who swallows the girl in its throat, as Anastasia is frozen in place, unable to move. 

The only one left to react is Julius, who pushes her out of the way, illusion magic at his fingertips as he summons forth a wall of mercury magic, a large box to trap and enslave this devil. 

“Beacon. Beacon!” 

A chill runs down his spine. 

“Jules!” Anastasia calls out to him, and Julius can only mentally plead for her to keep herself quiet as he wills for the construction of liquid mercury, the metal poison that Nozel had aimed at him in an attempt to kill him by suffocating him in a metal prison. The heavy weight of mercury and its corrosive effects, ones that had burnt and seared his skin as they pressed in on him from all sides, as he enforced his will over the magic in his arsenal. 

Illusion Magic: Imitation Mercury Magic

He pushes his palms out against a wall of mercury, his fingertips dripping the silvery metal, as he wishes for it to corrode and melt the flesh off from the limbs of the devil which had lunged at him. The wall holds, as the devil backs away from the barrier he had set up between them and it, as it howls, an ear splitting screech which tears through the silence with a stunning pain. 

For a moment, his ears ring so intensely by the sound that it breaks and nearly shatters his concentration, the pain from his sense of hearing sending him stumbling as he raises his hands to cover his ears. 

The faint ringing persists, as he looks at how the wall of mercury had fallen apart, and the beast leaps at him, spreading its wings out to in an attempt to pin him and trap him where he was. 

Eos writhes where he had secured the owl to his back, who pecks at him.

Pale tendrils of smoke pull him out of the way, as Anastasia pants, yet Julius hears no sound, only seeing the beast which pounced at the ground where he had once been. The ground trembles beneath the force of the devil, which whips its head to his direction. 

He tells himself to move. 

Pulling Anastasia aside, as the devil lunged once more, the silence a devouring void in its movements. The devil’s magic permeates through the air, and Julius realises that it was what enforced this law of silence, to take away all the colours of the sound and steal one of their senses from them, as he armed himself with the dagger he had on him. 

The devil snarls at him, a wicked sound of crunching bones and torn flesh. 

“Be…a…c…o…n…”

Julius throws every inch of magic he can into the dagger, allowing the enchanted metal to harness the power of illusions, something he was forcing himself to learn how to do so again even though he had only done it once before. Set the metal ablaze with darkness so thick it would cut through the fabric of space itself, tear through the silence with a more vicious emptiness that would shred the devil’s flesh and render it into nothing. 

Illusion Magic: Imitation Dark Magic

He swings the blade at the beast, darkness leaving the edge of its blade it cuts through the air, only for the devil to easily avoid it as it side steps the slow moving projectile. It laughs at him, a taunting cry as it leaps into the air on black wings, the cackle of boundless hunger which mocks him. 

“Cease the struggle. Let me consume you and be reborn.” The startling clarity from the blood starved devil shocks him, as it dives down to him with gaping jaws, and all Julius can hear is a high pitched ringing in his ears, attention split three ways even as he stood in the warpath of the sound devil.

“Get away from him!” Anatasia shrieks at the devil, as she herself casts a spell materialising spectral hands made from smoke to hold the devil back, as Julius dives and ducks out of the way, dagger in his hand heavy with imbued dark magic. 

He pants, trying to calm himself down and think clearly despite the dull ringing in his ears. 

The desire to survive and protect Anastasia and her family surges to the forefront, upon seeing how the younger girl had risked her life for his own. With the devil’s illusion magic, he wills for a perfect mirage. 

Illusion Magic: Seamless Reality

“Come at me, you bastard,” 

The sound of footsteps, heavy breathing, the rustling of clothes and fabric, he visualises and crafts an elaborate image, faultless replicas of himself and Anastasia, as he himself holds his breath where he stood. The illusion steps into life, running across the sound devil who follows after it with its beast-like maw, as Julius watches the scene before him, reinforcing this absolute imitation. 

Desire to fool the devil drowns out all other emotion, his fear, frustration, anger, terror and horror all fuel for his magic, as he weaves an intricate illusion. 

Illusion magic coats the air in a thick, almost hazy mist, as Julius grips tightly onto the dagger in his hand. To let the magic run wild, to blur the lines between reality and illusion such that both became one and the same, he watches his clone run towards the devil, pulling Anastasia with him as the two of them sprint off across into the distance away from their real selves. 

The devil turns its head sharply to face them, even as it scents the air with a forked tongue. 

“You can run but you will never leave me!”

The devil sprints after the illusion, as Julius watches it leave in the distance as he turns to Anastasia, the girl laying on the ground where she had been so nearly cornered, as Laura and her two other daughters emerge from where they had hid. 

The oppressive silence lessens, though only to a small extent as Julius silences his wince of pain when he touches his ears. 

Julius brings a finger up to his lips, signalling for them to maintain the silence even though the danger had parted, as he walks over and helps Anastasia up, as she takes his hand and leans on his shoulder for support. With her free hand, she summoned her grimoire to her, as Julius looked over at their large group and towards the path they had to take to safety. Laura eyes the dagger in his hand, a flickering gaze of surprise, as well as that of concern at his injuries, and Julius instinctively gives a smile of assurance. 

He did not want them to worry for him when they were still deep in a battlefield. 

The group of them walk, sticking to what available cover there was, as Julius crafts a spell with the intent of hiding, protection and concealment in mind. 

So far, he was able to imitate spells that had been cast or inflicted on him, but illusions with a goal in mind were also spells he could execute. He simply needed the right idea and fuel to power the spell. The adrenaline he was running on since he had woken up heightened his senses with sensitive wariness and cautiousness, especially since he now knew his ability to sense magic was reduced, as a result of concealing the devilish natures of his magic. 

Perhaps it was a blessing that a devil’s magic was powered by negative mana, so he did not have to worry about running low on his mana reserves despite casting what appeared to be high levelled spells with the mana reserves of a thirteen year old child. 

He looks at the battlefield, smelling the smoke, blood and scent of charred livestock and corpses, crimson dyed earth and shattered glass, all cloaked in that impenetrable silence. They walked in the wake of a devil’s path, where sound and noise had been stolen from the land, used to bait and lure out survivors into a cruel trap.

Devils which ran amok because of him. 

The sound devil had been on his trail, as he frowned, gripping tightly onto the dagger in his hand. Now, the lives of the people had been stolen, simply because he was presently living in the village. Looking at Laura, Anastasia and her two sisters, he bites down on an apology. 

Stop being an idiot. Prioritise their safety and get them to the school and the shelter before he himself had to leave. He told himself. 

Leave and bring all the devils with him because he was the one who deserved this hell incarnate, not any of these people who had done nothing but treat him kindly, welcomed him into their homes and doorstep and gifted him with the semblance of a peaceful, normal life. 

He could not follow them back to the school, even as it was within their line of sight. All around them, devils ran fuelled by the madness of hunger as they clawed at broken roofs, collapsing walls, and pounded at weakening doors. Crystal fire burned around the perimeter of the school, a three story compound which was defended from all sides, lit by an incandescent flame formed the refraction of diamonds. 

Beyond that inner barrier of protection, spirits of the wind, summoned forth by Fanzell Kruger, covered the skies as the man himself stood atop a large eagle made from turbulent wind, sniping down flying devils who ran up alongside the length of the school's perimeter.

Mariella backstabs devils which stood around waiting for their victims, a prey hunting the predator, as her ice magic freezes them into pure ice which shatters upon impact. The battleground is littered with the corpses of dead civilians and devils alike, strewn and buried amongst the destruction as the town guards, along with Mars, Mariella and Fanzell pick off the devils.

Even still, their efforts are unable to protect everyone from this onslaught, a vicious slaughter he had brought upon all of them by simply living amongst their midst. The blood on his hands was never going to lessen, as he watched the shelter longingly.

“Jules, what are you waiting for? Let’s go!” Now, is the time for Laura to pull at his hand, as she held onto her other daughters tightly as well. Anastasia reaches out to grab his wrist, as Eos leaves her holder and perches herself on Anastasia’s shoulder. She pecked at him, as Julius simply smiled.

“Just making sure the coast was clear,” He responds, as Anastasia and the rest make their way to the shelter. They are escorted by a few other guards who catch sight of them, rushing them to the shelter as the devils were temporarily fended off.

Illusion Magic: Seamless Reality

He watches them from afar.

After making sure they reached the shelter safely, he turns away and begins making his way out, towards the outskirts and perhaps much further beyond. The devils were his to deal with, as he resolutely marched on and away from the people he would have likened to family. 

A normal life was but an ideal dream, one which he could not have. Lucius had shown that to him all those years back, and he had been a fool to have not listened nor obeyed his wishes. Asmodeus…Asmodeus had cursed him, having been a being who simply perpetuated this hopeless, despair filled insanity that would permanently bind him to the underworld and its devils. 

He begins to run, stepping over shattered walls, broken roofs, streets covered in blood of both devils and humans as he makes his way out and towards the main entrance which leads into this small town. 

His role is that of a sacrificial lamb. A beacon and a lure of false hopes and promises by Asmodeus set to bait out devils foolish enough to move against him. The devil of Rage and Lust had motives beyond which he could not comprehend, despite the blood bound contract which he had unwillingly agreed to. 

Julius looks back at the town, where its residents, the lives of its people, had once given him new faith.

A last glance, to survey the now smoking remnants and ruined architecture, as he closed his eyes. 

The devil’s power comes to him freely. Akin to a glass of crimson wine poured down his throat, it fills him with overwhelming, sinful power containing a vile madness which would bring with it delusional strength at the price of his identity. To cast aside his humanity, to wish upon the devils who hunted him the most cruel agony, to forge his anger into a dual sided blade, cutting into his opponents and himself. 

Now he had with him a voice to call out his opponents, fuelled by a distant, deep rooted regret, a willingness to harm, a way to project his own frustration, his despair, to pull emotions from the numbness he had felt for so long. 

The devils leap at him, screaming his name, his role of a beacon, a lamb to slaughter for great power. 

Julius longed to draw forth from himself something which would incinerate all. 

Devil Illusion Magic: Incendiary Bliss

The taste of flames licking at his skin, scorching his nerves, burning his flesh and charring him down to bone, the agony which he had once experienced first hand, he holds it tightly in his mind. Bright orange crimson flames darted across his skin, in sparks which blossomed into a raging inferno, as he set the world around him alight. 

Heat lashes out from his skin, as the flames touch the first devil which lunges at him, the bright orange spark devouring its pitch black skin with a demonic, violet hue. The nature of devils to corrupt was unavoidable, to taint even the devouring greed of flames itself, in its path to raze the world down to nothingness. 

Julius holds his palms together, holding in his palms liquid molten flames which drip from between his fingers, burning them even as liquid fire flows down his skin and forearms, as he shoves it at an incoming devil. Reaching for the silver dagger in his sheathe, the silver metal turns red hot at the touch of his hand, set ablaze by the anger, the agony and unending frustration and hounding despair of disaster and knowing that it was his fault that he had brought a calamity upon the lives of others. 

If he were to be a sacrificial lamb, a bait, a sacrifice to an unholy cause, he would cremate all who worshipped him. 

In contrast to when he had once used the devil’s magic, now his mind was quiet, seething only with resolute determination, as he ran towards the devils, arms and skin coated in liquid, molten fire which set the path in his wake ablaze. 

There is no pain, as he is hit by a devil’s curse, only for it to evaporate even in the heat of his illusion.

Was it still an illusion if it left this much carnage behind it?

Julius ducks beneath a devil, using the dagger to carve alongside the underside of its belly as he gets up from his previous position, the flames in the air around him roaring for more blood to be spilled, in violet flashes which blinded him. 

The devils screamed in agony, yet could not comprehend the nature of these devouring flames. With the death of Lilith and Nahamah, of which the latter twin wielded the power of devil fire magic, they did not understand the hunger something else other than them could contain. Julius was more than happy to show them, to make them suffer the sensation of being burned alive, to be incinerated to ashes and vanished from the face of earth. 

The madness in the flames dances with that of the devils, with many spells simply fizzling out in the crackling madness of the spreading fire, one which lit up the sky in trails of blinding violet and crimson flames. 

Julius looked up at the night sky, as he reached out to catch the limb of a fleeing devil with his own arm, pulling it back into the wreath of flames which lapped at his feet, alongside wild flames which radiated from his skin and in his presence.  

He would silence all of them here and now. 

For it was his sin to bear. 

The sound of heavy wing beats echo in the sky, ones which challenge the screams of the burning demons and uncontrolled flames. 

“Beacon!” 

The noise has caught his attention, as Julius looks up at the Sound Devil who laughs madly in the face of his flames. It walks through the fire which he had summoned from the depths of his soul, thick, muscular limbs which waded through the flickering fire as it stares him down. 

“I must give you my thanks for eliminating my competitors.” The Sound Devil murmurs voice low and filled with satisfied contentment, as if it were completely unbothered by the flames which licked at its flesh. The feeling of fear was beginning to mingle with the pain he felt from the fiery magic he had called forth at the cost of his own flesh, blood and bone, and Julius raised the silver dagger in a defensive stance. 

The Sound Devil’s mouth splits into a wide grin. 

Devil Sound Magic: Wailing Sadness

Devil Illusion Magic: Imitation Dark Magic

Faster, harder, and stronger. Julius swung the silver dagger at the Devil, who bounds towards him on its four legs, as he wills from the void of darkness to manifest from the silver blade and cleave his opponent into two. 

The flames around him are extinguished by a mournful cry, the sound of crackling flames reduced to the soft crying mournful wail of a grieving parent. The flames die down, the fury behind his magic utterly drowned out by the emotion within the sound he had just heard, a piercing wail which cried for him to stop, to let them all rest, to let them rest in peace. 

Manifest the next swing. 

Julius raised his weapon as the Sound Devil lunged at him, with gaping maws, and Julius swung a diagonal slash across its maw, as it bit down on the dagger, even as dark magic poured from the blade and coated the silver metal. 

He could not cast the spell. 

Julius held on tightly to the dagger with both hands, using it to keep the Sound Devil’s jaw open before it could close its jaw on him and consume his weapon along with his forearms. Despite how close his rational mind was telling him that he was to death, the stench of rotting corpses, dried out blood, decomposing flesh hitting him in a wave as he wrestled with the devil…he could not feel anything but subdued sadness. 

His survival instinct had been shut off completely. 

He wrenches the blade out of its mouth and back, as he tucked and dived for a broken wall as his cover, the ground still hot and steaming from the remnants of the fire spell he had managed to cast earlier. Blood streamed down the burns on his hands, the pain numbed, as was his thoughts and five senses. 

“Come back to me…please…” The Sound Devil mimics the voice of a man begging someone to return to him, their voice cracking into a broken, wracked sob as it seems to wander about his location. 

Julius holds his breath.

The devil was blind after all. 

He picks up a half broken glass bottle and tosses it as far away as he can, as the Sound Devil perks up, swinging its tail in a wide arc which he narrowly avoids getting hit by it as it takes off a chunk of the wall he had been hiding behind. It lunges to where the glass bottle was sent flying off to. 

It had the ability to manipulate his emotions. Through its sound magic, it was able to influence and disconnect him from the source of his well of Devil magic. Julius frowned, as he surveyed where the Sound Devil was located. If he were to strike, he had to strike before it could cast another spell. 

Even then…as he looks at his own bloodied hands, he cannot fully comprehend how its magic alone was enough to silence his anger and subdue the vengeful rage he had used to fuel the devouring inferno as if it were nothing. The pain he felt, as he clenched and unclenched his fingers…was numbed. Toned down so much so that he could continue using his weapon, and he counts it as an unintended win for himself. 

Devil Sound Magic: Desperate Innocence

“Mama, please come out, I’m scared!” 

His body moves almost involuntarily, as the brand on his neck burns and scalds his skin. Julius could only watch on in horror as he sets a hand out onto the edge of the brick wall and pulls himself up and out of his hiding space, and steps out into the open. 

The loss of control…as if it was an instinctive pull, a call to find and help a child who was all alone, lost and in fear somewhere else. The brand sears on his skin, as all he remembers is falling down a deep, dark well, a soft velvet chuckle of a man who had set a hand on his shoulder. Lips which had kissed his palm.

“This is why you will always remain a puppet.” Lucius whispers into his ear. 

Julius turns to his right, finding the visage of the man who had his hand on his shoulder, fingers digging deep into his shoulder. The eldest Zogratis sibling runs another hand along his shoulder, fingers tracing his skin and dragging over his burns, as he taps on the brand seared into his skin. 

“Your ideals were aligned with mine so long ago…but you were too weak to fight for it. Now watch, this is what will happen to you if you are too weak to even save yourself.” Lucius leans down low, as he points at the Sound Devil who stopped right in front of them. 

It opened its jaws and devoured him. 

Sharp teeth which shredded his flesh. Teeth which pierced his lungs, crushed his ribcage, left him suffocating and choking for air, drowning in his own blood, as the pressure grew too unbearable. Gashes, wounds, bleeding from where it had closed its jaws on him, as he stayed alive long enough to see the number of corpses of children it had amassed in its belly. 

Glassy eyes which looked at him. 

And so much blood. 

They reached for him, hands tearing at his skin as they pulled him down to join them. 

“Join us.” A strangled voice asks of him.

No.

He refused. 

The pure fear, the awakened instinct to survive, to protect himself, to withdraw from danger, rouses him from the spell, breaking its hold over him as he snaps out of the haze. The Sound Devil was close to him, as he forced his limbs to move and duck as it snapped its jaws closed at him.

The brand on his skin thrums. 

Lucius laughs in his ear, as Julius raises his blade against the Devil. 

“You have so much power at your fingertips, and yet you do not use it.” The man taunts, and Julius frowns. He still chooses to settle for Dark magic, despite the numerous other types of spells he could cast. Blood drips down and soaks his fingers, forcing him to adjust his grip on the blade as the Sound Devil sweeps its wings out at him. 

Breathe. You only need to live past this night. Do whatever it takes to make it to dawn. 

Devil Illusion Magic: Dark Cloaked Dimension Slash

A clean hit, scores on the devil, who shielded itself with its wings, which were cleaved into messy halves which fell to the ground, blood spurting from its severed limbs as Julius breathed heavily. It screeched at him, and he can feel blood pour from his ears as Lucius turns his back on him. 

Julius swore he would never use the man’s soul magic. 

No matter how fast and clean it would end this fight. 

Devil Sound Magic: Destructive Resonance

A shrill, inhuman noise radiates from the Devil, as waves of magic shred the ground and send him flying back, a sound wave which knocks him so far back that he, with the piling exhaustion from the fight, could not react quickly enough to brace himself for the hit. 

The sharp pain which followed was so immense and overpowering that he wanted to throw up and black out, his vision becoming hazy as he could feel something crack or shift where he had hit the brick wall. 

He coughs up blood, as he tries to get up from where he had been far flung back, the warm liquid seemingly the colour of blackened tar in the dim lighting of dying flames. His ears ring, as he fumbles for the dagger which he had dropped, reaching out for the bloodied weapon as a clawed limb steps on his outstretched forearm. 

There’s a snap.

He cries out. 

It leans down to him, and bites his arm clean off. 

“Be one with me.” 

Behind the wall, Julius stifles his agony, silencing his pain as he tries to keep as quiet as he could. As the Devil indulges in the illusion of his clone, he knew he needed to get up and get away, but he could not. When he had been flung back, something had broken. He was trapped here, unable to move, for even if he did, he knew he would not get far. 

He looked at his arm, which he knew now was no longer bleeding blood, but tar, the brand long seared into his skin which now throbbed with a dull agony, that he was reaching a limit. What sort of limit it was, he did not wish to test it out. 

As he waits behind the small chunk of wall, huddled in on himself, all he can hear is the Sound Devil tearing at flesh and bone, muscle and tendon ripped apart as its jaws clamped down on his throat. The muffled gagging, screaming and gurgling of blood which spilled onto the floor in spurts, he was living the pain of the illusion which he had spun. 

He exhales, a shaky muffled breath as he bites down on cloth to silence his cries. 

His options…no, he only has one choice left. 

To break through the limit, to get up and fight before it discovered his existence. Lucius runs his fingers through his hair. Julius snaps his head up to the unwanted touch, as the man merely looks down and chuckles at him. 

“Get up.” The man reached for his throat and dragged him up by his collar. 

Between hallucination and reality, Julius could no longer tell the difference, as the illusion of the man laughed in a blood drunk madness and forced him out of his hiding spot. 

He refused to use the man’s soul magic.

Instead, as he turned to face the Sound Devil, the illusion of the corpse fell away into nothingness. 

“Liar. LIAR.” It howls at him, and Julius merely grits his teeth as he braces himself for the onslaught. 

Devil Sound Magic: Destructive Resonance

Devil Illusion Magic: Imitation Devil Sound Magic

He casts a reflection of the Devil’s Magic back at it. 

Perhaps this would become the true nature of his magic. To only ever cast spells that have harmed him, marred his flesh, broken his bones, incinerated his very being or cut him into pieces. Sound clashed against sound, as Julius recreated a perfect recreation of the spell, its properties and its abilities and effects, everything which he needed he had experienced down to the very depths of his soul. 

The magic cancelled each other out, creating a void of sound as Julius drew the dagger and lunged at the beast, knowing that he could no longer fight on the defensive any longer. To make his move now, even if he had to drag along his bleeding, immobile limbs along with him, this was his only option.

And he took it. 

He scores a hit against the beast, dark magic coating the blade as it sinks into the devil’s throat, filling it with blood as it gurgles with a blood filled maw. 

Devil Sound Magic: Mother’s Lullaby

A human head emerges from the gaping hole in its throat, a human face puppeted to cast a spell with its voice. 

The wave of drowsiness which consumed him had him trip and stumble on the debris littered floor, as the devil whipped its tail across his waist and coiled around him tightly. 

Exhaustion had long since seeped into his body, as Julius looked at the beast, at the countless mouths, lips, and voices which emerged from the wounds of this devil, of all the victims which had died because he had lured this devil into this town…and he was exhausted. 

Tired of his choices hurting others, and his own inability to save people or make things right. 

He could not defeat this devil. Not with his current ability and power. 

Tar dripped down his skin, staining it black as the devil chuckles. The mouths along its body resonate the same sound, with stolen voices, tainted cries and corrupted innocence. 

Julius looks at it, as the dagger falls from his hand, and he touches the devil’s tail. 

Devil Illusion Magic: Imitation Soul Purification Magic

Lucius places his hand over his, as the Sound Devil shrieks in agony. 

Soft, white glittering light danced from their hands and along the Devil’s appendage, as it tore off its own tail. Julius fell to the ground, coughing and heaving up tar as it coated his tongue and choked him in its heavy scent. 

“Looks like you’ve over expended yourself. A pity,” Lucius stands over him, as the Sound Devil hissed at Julius, who was hunched over on his knees, kneeling on the ground as the once Wizard King held his throat and struggled to breathe.

He was drowning. 

Julius coughed, throwing up and retching out all of the tar which seemed to materialise from nothingness, or perhaps he was the source of it all now, the corrupting madness used in fighting fire with fire. 

He looks away from his hands, stained and coated in tar, for only a moment as he wonders where the Sound Devil had gone. A warm flame surrounds his being, blooming crystal flowers of diamond like glass as he looked up at Mars who held his hand out to shield him from the devil. 

Ah.

He…he looked up at the sight of the full moon overhead, as he let the warm flames envelop himself.

The full moon never looked more stunning.

-

In the depths of a silent dream, Julius wakes up on a throne. 

It is a throne made of silver and gold, drenched in purifying light which radiates outwards like ripples in a sea, a bloody crown thrust upon his head. Tar drips from the bloody crown and onto the throne, turning into gold as it flows down the seat, disturbing the area of which he ruled over. 

All around him, devils writhed and screamed, bathed and drowning in purifying flames, their souls, individuality, power and magic torn away from them and erased. 

A figure walks towards him, stepping on the charred corpses of devils and through the fire. 

“You are a ruler. The Wizard King.” The man spoke to him, cloaked in the light of strung souls, a pair of angel wings from his back. 

“An ascended being.” 

Lucius Zogratis snapped his fingers. 

“Do not forget who you are.”

-

Julius opened his eyes, as his heart pounded. 

He looked up and into pink eyes, the shade of freshly mined amethyst which peers right back at him with concern. Mars pulls away, giving him space as he looks around the room he was in, likely repurposed from one of the spare store rooms in the school which they had sought shelter in. 

Soft sunlight shone in through the small circular window across the bed, as Julius exhaled. 

The dreams were becoming easier to remember. To recall, as he takes notice of the burning, searing pain along his arms and skin. The texture of rough bandages digs into fresh burn wounds, despite the sensation of ointment having been applied to cool and numb the pain. 

“How are you feeling now?” Mars asks him, and Julius noticed that the teen seemed a little exhausted, though his eyes remained sharp and alert despite how his movements seem to be somewhat sluggish. 

“...A little worse for wear.” Julius responded, as he looked down at the bandages which were wound around both of his palms, all the way up to his elbows and shoulders. The burning pain throbbed, growing larger with every second he was awake. 

Mars looked down at his bandaged hands and arms as well.

“I’m sorry, I could not heal those wounds.” Julius turns to look at him, recalling that the youth did have flame recovery magic in his arsenal of spells. It had been quite a potent healing magic spell as well. 

“No worries. I brought this onto myself,” Julius comforts the teen with a small smile, and Mars only looks at him, eyes flickering as the teen seems to piece information together. 

“...You did not. No one asked for the devils to come knocking at our door, and nor should you have had to use magic so wildly, especially at the cost of your ownself.” 

“You…were there?” He had not been aware that Mars had witnessed his illusioned fiery hell. 

“The flames were what led me to you. A…beacon of sorts.”

Beacon. 

He hated that name. That title. Bestowed onto him by the Devil of Lust, cemented by the Sound Devil and the death he had brought onto this village and its people. 

“I was wondering…” Mar’s words snap him out of his thoughts. 

“About your…grimoire?”

Ah. He had no response for that. He visualised the illusion of a floating book, radiating warm magic, dyed the colours of red and the embers of still burning coal, heated by the remnants of a wildfire which had come before. 

The grimoire appeared in his hands, only it was a flickering image of light, which fell through his hands and shattered into glass, scattering across the sheets of the makeshift cot he had been resting on. He brings his hands together, shakily, and sets them on the bed. 

Next to him, Mars blinks. 

“I…don’t have one.” 

Julius pulls the blanket closer to himself. 

It was about time he left. 

“Are you…” Mars seems to ponder, his voice inquisitive, yet he held himself back from asking a question which Julius desperately wanted to ignore yet also wished to hear. Perhaps he had done enough damage trying to run away from his past. A new start was but an impossible dream, the illusion so rudely shattered by smoke flames and the wailing cries of the dead and dying. 

“...A devil contracted?” Mars looks at him, eyes patient, though they were curious. The teen emanated an aura of thoughtful, logical calmness about him, entirely free of judgement as he waited for his answer. 

…That had not been the exact question he had expected, but he was unsure of how much longer he could or wished to keep up this facade of an amnesiac boy. His past as Julius Novachrono would follow him. No matter where he went. He could not hide it beneath make believe, under the guise of a young amnesiac child by the name of Jules, seeking sanctuary in a home which welcomed him but one he did not deserve. 

He nodded. 

Mars’s eyes widened. 

“I see.” After a period of silence, the stoic Mars responded. He seemed to be deep in thought, as if considering, collecting and piecing together information. 

“What happened after I passed out?” Julius asked, as he remembered how he had blacked out on the battlefield. 

“I finished off the rest of the devils. Especially the one which looked like a chimeric beast. The remaining devils who were still alive fled, but we rounded them up in a net of flames and ice. They..really had fixated all of their attention on you. Anastasia told me to go after you, especially since all of the devils stopped attacking the shelter, turning their attention away almost immediately.” Mars explained. 

So they really had attacked this village and its people because of him. 

“Following that, I brought you back to the shelter. Mariella, Fana and I worked to heal you and your wounds.” Mars looked down at his arms, with words at the tip of his tongue, but he held himself back. Julius sighs. 

“My apologies. I believe I have overstayed my welcome here,” Julius turns to face him, eyes conveying the sorrow and regret he had in choosing to follow Anastasia to her home. He had only brought about ruination and devils to their doorstep. 

Mars shakes his head. 

“There is no such thing. I…heard about your past encounter with the other devil. It is the reason why you are in this situation, and it is not your fault.” The teen told him, a gentle firmness in his gaze which sought and hoped to reassure him. Julius knows otherwise. 

“It is my fault for drawing them here. He said I was a beacon. I should have listened to him.” 

“Him?”

“The devil I am contracted with.” Julius wonders how much he should tell this young man. Having been one of the eight shining generals in the past, yet worked with the other Magic Knights of the Clover Kingdom to bring him and Lucius down. If his magic was strong enough to slay the Sound Devil, then he knew this man could hold himself well against the devils which were to come. 

The fight he was to have, the inevitable confrontation against the Devil of rage and lust, was one which he would need allies to fight against. Could he possibly recruit Mars to aid him in his quest? Be it to end the devil, to end him, or to end the both of them…

His gaze held resolve, firm, determination and logical, rational calmness in them all at the same time. He had been patient with him despite the fact that Julius knew he had seen him bleed tar, the ichor of the Underworld, seen the hellfire inferno he had summoned forth from the depths of his memories, unleashing an agony which even burned himself. 

At the same time, was he not taking away the last defence this village had against devils which still roamed about the world? For all the devils which Lucius had managed to purify, he had left so many smaller, minor ones running about, ones which he deemed too unworthy of use. When those weaker devils came together, they became a plague on towns, villages and even cities. He could not possibly ask Mars to leave his post to aid him in his goal to slay Asmodeus. Not after Mars had just undergone an invasion, a siege of his town by the devils themselves. 

“You are too young to have to bear the weight of this burden alone. Especially after the Convergence, many more devil contracts have popped up all across the land. However, you were forcibly contracted against your will. We would aid you in dissolving that contract, because you returned to us people who were close to our hearts.” Mars begins, as he pours him a glass of water from the table next to his cot. 

Julius accepts the glass from him with hands shaking in pain. 

“Anastasia told me what happened at that manor. She explained to me the sacrifices you made to ensure their safety, to bring them back even from the Witches Forest. Consider it a debt repaid, if you would allow us to aid you.”

Julius knew he needed allies. 

But was it fair to have Mars leave his post to aid him in his quest?

He did not wish for the obligation of a debt to be repaid to be the reason for Mars to choose him over his home. That would not be fair, nor ethical of him to do so. However, what the night had taught him, was that he was powerless against the devils alone. He could not carry the burden of his sins. The weight of his mistakes. 

He needed the aid of others to share his burden. 

Between this and the greater good, which was the goal of destroying Asmodeus, a high ranking devil, he knew he needed the help Mars was offering him.

He clenched onto the cup tightly, hands and fingers shaking as water sloshed around in its edges. 

“I-” He loathed to ask for their help, for he was undeserving of it, and because he was the one who orchestrated the series of events which created this situation in the first place. It felt as if he had forced Mars into making a singular choice, and yet he knew, there was no other choice. No other path in which this could turn out. Should he drive himself to the brink of death and madness, it would not result in any hopeful outcome. That was the end if he chose to seek out Asmodeus alone. 

Now, he knew better. He knew how much strength he lacked alone and that he needed allies. 

“I do not wish to impose on you. If I were to ask for your aid, you would have to leave your post guarding this town. The journey would be long, tiring, dangerous, and filled with uncertainty. I cannot guarantee your safety, but I will do my best to ensure it.” He looks into Mars’s eyes, eyes lit ablaze with determination. 

Mars looks at him, whose eyes softened at his words. 

“...You are just a child. You do not have to protect us. Allow me, allow us to protect you.”

If only he knew he was looking at the 28th Wizard King of the Clover kingdom. Julius simply smiled. 

“Where will your journey begin?” The white haired teen asked him, as he pulled out a map from the drawer and set it across the bed. Julius looked down at the map, as he too closed his eyes to ponder and think. 

The journey….it would start and end with him. Devils would always come after him, chasing down the elusive beacon despite his best ability to conceal his presence. Julius opened his eyes, exhaling as he did so, reaching out for the illusion magic at his fingertips. 

It responded with the strength of a flickering flame, a quiet subdued presence which indicated that he had overused it to a point that it was greatly drained. 

“The journey starts…and ends with me. Wherever I go, devils will chase after me, as will the devil who I was contracted with. I am a living bait, a lure, a prize for the devils to obtain. For that, I cannot remain in one area for too long, as the devils will lay siege to where it will be.” 

Mars drums his fingers on his lap. 

“As my teacher once said, there is strength in numbers. Well, more specifically to have allies who greatly outnumber the enemy. Would it not be prudent to move you to a location where more allies are located, as well as being more greatly fortified to withstand a siege?” Mars pointed at a location on the map. 

Julius frowned. 

“I…I do not wish to drag more people into this. It was my fault that I had allowed this to come to pass, and I cannot… I cannot bear to have any more blood on my hands.” 

He sets the glass of water down on the bedside table. 

He would be damned if any more died because of him. 

“The siege on our town was not your fault. The deaths of the people…were not a result of your actions. They were due to the nature of devils. Those sadistic, bloodthirsty beings who have no regard for life, who would slaughter for the fun of it. An incident like last night…was bound to happen. Especially with all of the remaining devils reported to have massacred every last being in their war path, many villages and towns were not spared.” Mars gently set a hand on his shoulder. 

“You were a victim. You never wanted any of this.” 

He…he recalls the times before. 

How Lucius had forcibly dominated his will, his soul and body, how the madman had used his body and used it to carry out his plan. How the cult had kidnapped and sacrificed him to summon forth Asmodeus. How he had been forced to contract with the devil of rage and lust…and how…how he had suffered.

He had not wanted any of this. 

He looks up at Mars.

“I…I never wanted any of this to happen.” Mars nodded, affirming his voice and his words. 

“Let us help you.”

Despite his fear, his worries, and his concern for the future of the people around him, he accepts Mars’s help. 

Chapter Text

Julius had nearly forgotten his sense of time, as the devil attack on the village had taken up most, if not all of his attention. That was, until he was whisked away by a flock of crows when he had opened the small window in his room to let a cool breeze in. 

Eos had chased after him, flying into the flurry of black beating wings as he too was caught by surprise, catching the strange hybrid owl in his arms as he felt space and time bend, warping him over into another location. 

The screeching of crows drown out all noise, until they disperse and he finds himself looking at the feet of the Witch Queen. 

“You’re pathetically late. As to be expected. Be grateful that the purification pooks retain the magic of the full moon well enough to last until now.” The Witch Queen stared down at him, the tip of her pointed boot close enough to his face where he had half collapsed to the ground from the sudden intrusion. 

Julius pushed himself off the ground with a hand, the other arm wrapped around Eos who squawked at the sight of the queen. 

“You brought a pest. How delightful. That thing is far from its home.” She commented, as she walked down and out of the throne room where the both of them were in, and Julius followed behind her. Looking down at Eos who was tucked in his arm, he was slightly worried she would fly away and cause trouble during his stay here, but ultimately decided that she would be well behaved enough to know what to do and what not to do. 

Eos settles herself on his shoulder after he releases his grip on her, as she puffed her chest in annoyance at how she was handled. Her action of doing so elicits a slight chuckle from him, as she nuzzles his cheek with her beak and pecks at the loose stands of his blond hair. 

To him, it seemed strangely surreal that his heart could feel…lighter…after what happened the night before. The reassurance of allies who would support him, the realisation that he…was only a victim in this. Still, he knew he had to settle this matter, as soon as possible. The devil contract which bound him to Asmodeus, as well as the devils which chased after him who lusted for the power. 

“If I may ask, how long would this process take?” 

The queen eyes him, barely hidden contempt in her gaze. 

“Half a day. A day or two if you refuse to cooperate or are unable to do so.” She stopped outside a door, the two of them having walked down the entire length of the corridor of the Witch’s palace. 

The door swung open, as within it were the shimmering white pools of liquid,  revealing the same bathhouse he had been in previously. The Witch Queen led the way, walking over to where a strange new addition and feature had been included in the room, a cushioned seat next to the wall with a tilted backrest, designed to maximise comfort as much as possible. 

Attached to the seat seemed to be a set of objects hidden beneath white cloth, where it seemed like something could be collected in what lay concealed beneath the cloth. The queen raised her hand and pointed to the seat. 

“Call off your pet. Lest I slit its throat for being a nuisance.” The queen opens up a skylight overhead with the snap of her fingers, as Julius turns to Eos, and softly tells her to fly away and wait for him after he is done. She butts him with her head, before taking flight and leaving the room. He disliked the way the queen was so cruel in her threats, even to Eos who had done nothing wrong. Nevertheless, his time as Wizard King had taught him that nobles could be even more petty for things that were smaller. 

“What happens now?”

The Queen pointed at the seat, as Julius walked over to it. 

He sits himself down on the chair, feeling the soft cushion texture, a deep velvet red as he laid down on it. 

“Blood letting.”

She raised a hand, and performs a slice which cuts deep into his neck. 

Blood magic slits his throat. 

A sharp pain which rips through his throat, as he coughed up blood, the liquid which dribbles down his chin and fills his mouth, as he pressed a hand to his neck. 

The Queen stares him down, nothing but apathy in her gaze as he chokes, suffocating and drowning in blood which fills up on his mouth, pours into his throat and into his lungs, drowning him slowly. 

No. She could not possibly mean to kill him then and there. 

The tar which flows from his neck is what his blood has become, warm slick, and reeking of thick viscous corruption which stained his soul. 

“I-I…” He chokes, on the pain and on the blood, the thick tar which fills his mouth and builds a crushing pressure on his windpipe, as he tries his best to stem the flow of blood on his neck. His voice is but a whisper, words formed yet no sound but wet gurgles leave him, the thick liquid pouring in a heavy flow from his body. 

He…he has grown numb to pain, but the sensation of drowning, of suffocation, of tar filling his mouth, it brings up cruel memories. Of being forcibly fed wine, of gasping for air, as he struggles to and fails to take in a breath, and still the Queen watches on silently. 

The blood only flows past his fingers, slipping through his hand as it drips down his elbow and soaks his clothes, his sleeves and more, and the Queen raises a hand towards him. 

She snaps her fingers, as a circular orb of blood appears overhead, a turbulent mass of crimson blood which swirls violently, thick and glistening, as tendrils of blood emerge from it and attach itself to his body. 

“To remove the tainted blood in you.” She leaves no other explanation, and he is silent, for with her blood magic she had severed his vocal cords in order to reach the main artery in his neck. No matter how he tried to vocalise, to speak, there is nothing but choking gasps as he bleeds out on the chair. 

A needle pierced his arm, followed by another in his neck, an instrument thick and hollow, as blood was forcibly transfused into his system at the same rate at which it was being lost. The blood he loses flows down markings carved into the seat, trails of dark, almost black coloured liquid which flows into empty jars half concealed by white cloth. 

The pain…it grew. As the brand throbbed at his neck, the wound at his neck was agonising, a jarring pain which was amplified by the sensation of blood pouring from that wound. To have his throat slit, to silently suffer by choking and drowning, as he coughs up black tar, the copper taste mixed with the faint bitterness of wine, he bears with the pain. 

Pain was still better than pleasure. 

Slowly, he releases his hand from the wound at his neck, realising that adding pressure was only extending the process of bloodletting, and the loss of pressure brings on a new wave of pain. One he has to adapt, to adjust to, resisting the urge to raise his hand once again to stem the flow of blood. His body urges him to save himself, while his mind tells him to let go, to let himself bleed out as he lays on this cushioned seat. The urge to stem the flow of blood, it competes with the last vestiges of his self control, to endure a greater pain to speed up the process, as he digs his nails deep into the arm rests of the seat. 

His breaths came in choked gasps. 

It was agony. 

The Witch Queen takes her leave, one he barely notices as his mind warred with his instinct, trapped in a perpetual agony which flooded his senses. Pain is heightened as his awareness sharpens, the tingling in his fingers down to where the needles and tubes made of solidified blood pierces his body, where the deep slit in his throat pumps out blood. 

He attempts drawing on illusion magic to numb the pain. To act as a painkiller. Yet no magic answered his call, his desire to escape the pain going unanswered in the time he needed it the most. The devil’s illusion magic seemed to be slipping from his grasp, or simply unanswerable or lying dormant as it abandons him to an agonising hell. 

With nothing left, he can only wait it out. 

The pain is overwhelming. Over time, it only worsens, wears down at his psyche as he realised his choice to willingly submit to the Witch Queen now resulted in him being forced to bleed out on this chair, where the tar liquid drips into jars with a slow, sluggish stream. It was only another hell he had chosen. 

Time passes. 

He blinks slowly, eyes shifting across the room, unable to find a clock. 

The skylight is still bright, light shining and filtering through the stained glass and into the room. He cannot see the glass directly, having been placed at such an angle where he had grown weak from blood loss and could not get up, could not tilt his head to face the ceiling. Moving a muscle in his hand required gargantuan effort, one he had no energy to spare as bleeding out had left him exhausted and weakened.  

It took him some time to realise that his blood finally ran a deep vivid crimson. The blood orb overhead had shrunk visibly in size, barely a small orb which fit his palm as his gaze widened. 

So it worked. Cleared the devil’s corruption from his veins, in the very least, removed what he had believed to be an irreversible consequence from overusing the devil’s illusion magic to his advantage. 

As the orb shrank smaller, he realised he was still bleeding out, with no end in sight. Despite his blood being as red as that of a humans, where he had believed that the blood letting, or rather, blood transfusion had come to an end, he was still bleeding out. 

The queen showed no signs of returning. 

Had she miscalculated? Or was she truly planning on letting him die? 

He dragged his hand upwards to his throat, willing muscle strands to move and flex, for sinews and tendons to tense, as he brought his hand up to apply pressure on the slit in his throat. His eyes landed on the moonlight pools at the foot of the chair, as he realised that was where he needed to head to. 

The weakness which had taken hold of his body was undeniable. 

As he willed, forced his limbs to get up, to claw his way out of the seat as the orb of blood had finished transfusing all the blood it could to him, he choked. Coughed up blood on himself, as he curled his fingers around the arm rest. The void of strength in his body had seeped so deep into his limbs, willed him to give up and give in, to close his eyes and to rest. 

Yet he knew, the moment he did so, he would bleed out for real. 

The skylight overhead shatters. 

Shards of glass fall overhead and down across the room, as something swoops in. 

The sudden noise gives him a burst of adrenaline, a shock to something he had not expected, as Eos swooped into the room and landed on the arm rest where his arm rests. She nibbles at his hand, now numb as he could not find the strength to move it, as she used her talons to grab his wrist and pull him forward and out of the chair. 

His thoughts grow cloudy, as he uses his remaining awareness to claw towards the pool. 

Eos understands his action, his intent, as it pulls and tugs him towards the pool, the animal surprisingly strong as it drags him across the floor and towards the edge of the water. 

Despite how its talons and sharp claws dug into the collar and the blood soaked back of his tunic, he looks at the pool. 

Pull. 

Tug. 

Move.

One step at a time.

He drags himself across the smooth tiles, slick with his blood which continues to flow from his throat. 

His finger tips touch burning water, as he collapses at the edge of the pool.

Something shoves him into the pool of water, and now he is going to drown within the pool itself, having traded one death for another. As he chokes in the white water, cloudy liquid which stings his eyes and burns his wounds with an almost healing agony, he chokes and gargles on the water. Feeling returns to his once lifeless and numb limbs, with it coming sensation of temperature, muscle movement and life.

In his mind, he curses the Witch Queen for pulling such a stunt on him, as he feels his wounds heal and seal up, strength returning to his limbs as he is hauled out of the water by a myriad of limbs which pick and pluck at his body.

“My, my, how disgraceful you are, fallen ruler,” The Witch Queen does not bother to hide her sneer as her blood tendrils had dragged him out of the pool, sopping wet and having dyed the water a faint pink due to the remaining blood from his wounds. Julius deigns to reply to her by coughing up the water that had been caught in his lungs, clearing his throat as he took his time to collect himself and take a deep breath.

“Your majesty, will you be able to track the whereabouts of Asmodeus using the blood I have given you?” He swiftly changes the topic, as the Witch Queen attempts to pin him down with a sharp glare. After having gone through two near death experiences, perhaps maybe three or more, since he had already died, he was starting to find that things were getting too repetitive. He had no time to dwell on the fact she had just tried to kill him, or perhaps left him on the tantalising edge of death for the crimes that Lucius had committed against her people, and even though she had sided with him temporarily to save the lives of her people and committed atrocities against the people of the Clover Kingdom, she was always going to be an unpredictable individual. 

Perhaps he deserved what she did to him, perhaps he did not. But now, he was in no power or place to stand his own ground and retaliate or warn her against such actions in the future. 

Eos lands at the floor near his feet, as she softly nuzzles his leg as he sits himself up. 

“A bold question from a child who nearly drowned.”

“I was led to believe that you would wish me to return for more sessions of this blood letting. Killing your blood supply in the first session would not do you any favours,” Julius looks up at her as he wipes his mouth on a towel. 

“You assumed I would have let you die in the first place. You forget I can bring people back from the brink of death, foolish little ruler.”

Julius was taken aback. He…was still not close to dying? At whatever she had put him through on the bloodletting chair, he would have thought he was only minutes, or seconds away from slipping away into the afterlife. Perhaps he would not have to put up with all of this now if he did pass on, though what would happen to Asmodeus would be unknown. 

“I am flattered you still refer to me as a ruler. Even I do not think I deserve that title.”

The Witch Queen gives him a harsh laugh.

“What better way than to remind you of the things you have lost? Naive, hopeless fools like you will never be able to bear the burden of your mistakes. Had you simply died and remained dead in the Afterlife, unable to face the consequences which have spread out from the actions of your twin brother, whom you shared a single body with, that would have been too easy for you.” She smiles at him, something cold, hollow and sadistic.

“Seeing you suffer, fall into despair, to come back to life only to go through so much more agony facing your mistakes, I have come to realise that is a far more satisfying conclusion for you than what would be made out to be a grandiose, martyred death at the hands of your allies.”

This second chance he had in this world was truly as she said. It was his penance, the only way he could make up for the inadequacies of his actions and the sum of his poor choices. Dying was too easy of a way out. If he had to accept the burden of undoing his mistakes, he would gladly take it up. 

What had occurred in the past year, was a culmination of the machinations of Lucius, as well as a mixture of his inattentiveness and poor choices made. Even if he had been a victim of all the tragedies that had taken place by Lucius’s hand, he should have stopped Lucius even before the man had come forth to make his appearance. Everything which culminated in his master plan, devised within the mind of his twin, he should and could have done more to stop him, for he was his brother. 

“Then I shall toil through my penance. If Asmodeus is what fate has deemed to be the threat I must annihilate with my own two hands, with what power I have and all I can give, then I shall.” 

Julius looks up at the Witch Queen’s eyes. 

“But know that I never wanted any of this.”

As he looked up at her eyes, he was fuelled by the memories, the hint of an undying, ever burning fire of self destruction, how close he had come to ruination, and how many people had died due to the devils all around him. He did not deserve such madness, nor the people around him deserve such death and destruction. 

“Tch. I suppose that you now is far superior to the previous version of you who was walking the fine line between sanity and insanity. Fix your mistakes, both yours and Lucius, because the latter is not able to do so, and I shall reconsider letting you off more lightly from these monthly bloodletting sessions.”

She waved a hand, as the room cleans itself up. 

“A room and a meal has been prepared for you. Use that messenger bird to inform your new allies of your temporary leave of absence for these two days.” She pointed a finger at Eos, who bristled at her. The Witch Queen looks back at it with a disdainful look in return, as she walks to the doorway leading out of the chamber. “The results of scrying using your tainted blood should locate Asmodeus, be it in the underworld or the human realm. Now,”

The door swings open.

“Make yourself scarce for it seems I will have visitors from the Clover Kingdom.”

Julius stiffens as her words, even as the doors slam shut behind her figure. 

Visitors from the Clover Kingdom. Who could they possibly be? 

He only knew of two individuals who were associated with the Witch Queen, and that was Dorothy or Vanessa from the Black Bulls. The main concern however, is the reason they were here. From what he could recall of the final battle, the magic knights had not ended on the best terms with the Witch Queen, even if she had aided in helping to deal the final blow to defeat Lucius. 

As the Witch Queen had not seen fit to update him on the situation, he could only speculate. Had….the kids that he had rescued from the clutches of the cult escaped safely back? That would be the most probable as he was certain the children would have informed the magic knights about the situation, and that they were stopping by the Witches Forest to pay them a visit to follow up on the investigation. 

He….really needed to make himself scarce if they came knocking. 

Quickly changing out of his wet clothes, he finds the dagger and slings it in its sheathe with the rest of his new set of clothes, head still slightly spinning as his body was still reeling from the aftereffects of nearly bleeding out. 

Slowly pushing the set of great doors open, Eos follows after him as he looks and walked through the halls of the Witch Queen’s palace with great caution. 

-

Vanessa yawned as she waited in the throne room for the Witch Queen. Her progenitor, whom she now held on the barest, thinnest respect for the immortal after all that had happened in the events leading up to this moment.

Rogue paced around along the length of her shoulder, the cat forged from the red threads of fate lazily yawning as well, as it nuzzled its head against her cheek. 

“I would much rather be elsewhere too, Rogue,” The pink haired witch commented, as she was wondering what was taking so long for the progenitor of all witches to make her appearance. It had been such an abrupt mission as well, where Nacht, who was now taking over as the Captain of the Black Bulls for the period of time Captain Yami had taken some time off, a mandatory order demanded by the Black Bulls as well as their current Wizard King. After all, their captain had dealt one of the finishing blows against his own mentor.

Speaking of which, she really had not known that him and the Wizard King had been so close. There had been a lot of things she realised she had not known about her captain. Such as his past in his homeland, the fact he had a younger sister?? Had he really not trusted them enough to tell them about his past? 

Vanessa found that her legs had carried her into the winding corridors of the Witch Queen’s palace, where she had been so deep in thought that she had forgotten that she was supposed to wait in the throne room. 

Walking on the carpeted floors of the palace, where red moss grown using magic formed the thick carpet beneath her feet, it formed a soft layer between her boots and the hard cobblestone floor, Vanessa sighed. Sunlight which shone through the clear glass panelled windows revealed an outside world with lush greenery, as witches beyond the confines of the castle flew on enchanted broomsticks or sat down at cafes and chattered. 

This scene brought back memories, as she watched the outline of the window panes overlayed on the glass window panels cast shadows of a grid, reminding her of the time the Witch Queen had kept her imprisoned just to develop her thread magic for her own gain. 

She was ever so thankful that Captain Yami had broken her out of her gilded, golden birdcage which the madwoman had somehow deemed a perfect enclosure for her. The new life she was given was something she would have never been able to dream of, as she turned away from the window and looked at the corridor.

A flash of movement caught her eyes, something golden which shone in the passing sunlight. 

She blinks, rubbing her eyes as she wondered if she had been fooled. 

There was no way there was anyone staying in the Witch Queen’s palace. 

Rogue leaps off of her shoulder, partially unspooling into a bundle of swirling red thread before she lands on the ground and reforms in the shape of a cat. She licks her paws, as she seemed to dart forward along the mossy carpet. 

Vanessa extends her magic sensing abilities to search for the presence of another fellow mage, since she was certain Asta was only a one of a kind non-magic user, and found traces of something which was within the corridor.  

Running out and dashing into a sprint, she comes around a corner to hear the sound of echoing footsteps, as Rogue seems to chase after this strange person? It had to be someone, though she could not seem to see where they were. However, Rogue could track the thread of fate bound to that individual, and she chased the person down, leaving behind a spool of red thread for Vanessa to catch up and follow along. 

“Hey! Is someone there?” 

The footsteps are silenced, as Vanessa whips up a net of threads, so thin that they were almost invisible, around the entirety of the area. 

If there was an intruder in the castle, she had honestly no idea what to do with them, since she knew handing them over to the Witch Queen would likely mean their death, but at the same time, who was suicidal enough to walk into the Witch Queen’s stronghold?

Her threads catch onto something, and that was how she came face to face with a small child looking up at her with a panicked, almost scared look on his face.

He had blonde hair and violet irises, as he seemed to look up at her, visibly tangled and caught in her makeshift web, as Rogue had reached out with a paw to touch his pant leg. 

“Kid, how did you even end up here?”

Vanessa immediately undoes her magic, as the boy drops to the ground but catches himself awkwardly in a half stumble. 

“-I-” The kid was hesitant to speak to her, as he seemed to shove a hand in his pocket, and an owl peeked out from the cloak draped over his shoulders. 

Huh. What a strange kid.

“The Witch Queen does not take kindly to intruders. Especially males, regardless of whether they are children or not. Honestly, you’re way too young to be caught up in a plan to steal something from this palace, and if you are, nothing is worth your life,” Vanessa spoke to the boy, whose gaze darts around the corridor with a panicked frenzy.

The owl flies out of his cloak to peck at her, as the boy looks at her with great uncertainty, though he decides to explain himself.

“I-I…uh, I’m a guest…” His violet eyes are of a strange shade of red as if it were diluted crimson which had faded and turned pale, and the edge of his cloak slips as his owl flies out to squawk at her, defending him from her questions literally. 

A strange brand on the boy’s neck catches her eye, the symbol of a snake eating itself in the shape of an infinity sign.

“A guest? The Witch Queen willingly inviting a male guest? Oh come on, if you want to fool me that badly, you should think of a better reason. And…I promise I won’t root you out. I might even help you if you are doing something the Witch Queen doesn’t like,” Vanessa winks at the child, hoping to convince him to be more forthcoming with her. 

The child however, only seems more hesitant and torn with every word she adds on.

“I…sorry, I don’t think I was supposed to meet you,” He backs away slowly, the owl flying away with him as he turns away from her and breaks out into a sprint. 

A flock of crows materialises in front of him, as Vanessa readies her thread magic for a possible confrontation with the woman whom she had once called mother out of fear. Rouge tensed at her feet, as she leaps onto the witch’s shoulder to stand by her mistress.

“Foolish boy. To believe you could not even follow the simple instruction of staying out of sight…” The Witch Queen steps out from the flurry of feathers, wearing her teal dress as she looks down at one of her progeny. 

“You! What are you doing to this poor child? Are you holding him here against his will?” She stands up to the Witch Queen, no matter how the immortal woman had decades worth of knowledge and magic experience far surpassing her own, but Vanessa knew her thread magic was powerful enough to bypass her progenitor’s blood magic. If push came to a shove, she knew she could find her way out and rescue the kid while she went about it. 

The Queen laughs at her.

“Child, you tell her yourself.” The child steps out from behind the queen, as he looked at Vanessa. He was tense, the way he stood, the stress in the way he moved, and his hesitation bled through above all else, as if he were under duress to make several difficult hard choices.

“I…I am here to stay with the queen. I apologise if I bothered or worried you,” The child eventually gathered his courage and wits to tell her, though the way he said it, the gaze in his eyes were almost haunted, the smile on his face not reaching his eyes. 

“It is unlike you to allow a male into your kingdom. What brought on that change?” Vanessa crossed her arms, as she looked up at the queen, her suspicion still as strong as ever.

The boy walks up to her.

“Please, it is of no matter. I made a deal with the queen, and now I am upholding my end of it. She does not mistreat me or keep me locked up within the confines of this palace, nor abuse me or my magic. So please, I humbly request that you forget you ever saw me in this place,” The boy pleads with her, his hands clasped together tightly as he gazed at her with those faded crimson eyes. 

A strange energy radiated from this boy, one she could not quite place. 

“...Are you sure? That the deal you made was fair, and that you are willing to stay in her company?” Vanessa kneels on one knee to be at eye level with the child. 

“She…is a cruel person. Cruel but only when she deems necessary, which is more often than what should be allowed. Just to confirm, you are sure that you…want to stay here?” Vanessa whispers into the boy’s ears, though she knew that the queen could hear every single word she was saying. 

The boy nods firmly.

“I chose this. I know what I was getting into.”

Vanessa looks at his firm gaze, as she nods, albeit reluctantly, as she stands up and begins to walk away from him. 

“Vanessa, do not forget that your business here is with me. Unless you wish to be expelled from the castle this very instant for meddling in the affairs of witches who belong to this forest.” Ouch. She did not have to hammer in the fact that she had been exiled from the Forest by stripping her title as a witch of the forest. Not that she wanted to remain permanently cooped up in this small society, disconnected from the world and forever living in their own bubble.

Though she did wonder…why the castle had still allowed her entry.

Vanessa uncrosses her arms, recalling how the new Wizard King had warned her that the Forest was not on the best terms with Clover Kingdom Knights. 

“I concede out of respect for you. I’ll be out of your hair as soon as you are able to tell us what you know about a potential devil which has been summoned nearby this forest. After all, it must pose a threat to you and the other witches, and if you aid us, we will help to take care of it for you,” Vanessa proposes to the Queen.

The boy seems to freeze, as he turns to look at the Witch Queen, before she dismisses him forcibly with the wave of her hand. 

“Tch. The mana of the Underworld has spread so far and wide across the land. One more devil being summoned is not anything new. West of the forest. Now leave.” 

For once, she was surprised the Queen had actually been helpful towards them. 

Though the authenticity of the information and reliability had yet to be verified, she thanks the queen and makes her way out for fear of overstaying her welcome.

-

Julius had not been expecting to see Vanessa so soon, having failed in his attempt to get away quietly. 

As he realised that he was not ready to face the others from his past, Eos nuzzles his cheek and hopes into the folds of his cloak, snuggling herself into one of the deeper coat pockets as she chirped in a bid to cheer him up. The warmth and contact of a warm living being did make him feel somewhat better, something which made him realise how much he missed the sensation of physical contact and affection which he had not really had much of for the entirety of his life. 

…Asmodeus has been something else. He forces himself to not dwell on those memories, despite how the brand on his neck seems to throb slightly at the idea of his name and those past times, and he can only choose to move forward from them. 

For now, he knew he had to return to the village, before anyone realised he was missing, since he too had lost track of time since he was forcibly brought here. Transported, he reminds himself, because he had made a deal with the Queen regarding this matter. 

As he walks down the corridors, he finds a witch waiting for him at the end of the hallway, a familiar face who waves at him excitedly. Samantha, who smiles at him with a quiet eagerness, as she opens a door to him. 

“Jules! How have you been?” The girl asks him, as he smiles at her sheepishly. 

It would be hard to explain everything that had occurred since they last met, so he settled for a simplified response.

“There were some complications…but I believe things might be more smooth sailing onwards,” He responds, and the witch trusts his words.

“That…is good to hear. Though things were hard, they became better in the end eventually. Not all hardships last for too long anyways, and I’m glad that you’re alright. The Queen has asked me to ensure that you have a meal before you leave. And before the uh…Diamond soldiers come knocking at the boundaries of our forest? I’m not too sure what is happening because of that since she has been secretive about it, but it seems like your presence is not welcome here…” 

Samantha smiles sheepishly, apologetic that someone like him who had managed to save her was discriminated against despite all he had done for her. 

Julius shakes his head.

“It’s…complicated, but don’t worry about it. I have it handled,” He tells her, and he does not expect the strange sad look which crosses her face upon hearing his words. Her eyes are sad, but she was sad not for herself, not because of him, but for him. 

“Ah….you seem far too young to have to handle such painful problems,” She whispers to him, voice low and wistful, and Julius remembers that he was in the body of a thirteen year old and even Samantha herself was older than him by maybe four to five years. What a strange sight it must have been then, to see a thirteen year old sacrifice himself for her to escape. 

As she leads him into a small outdoor dining patio and he digs into the meal the witches had prepared for him, he wonders how twisted and distorted things must seem for those who only know him as the thirteen year old Jules, and not the forty two year old Julius. The burden that the thirteen year old had to bear seemed so much heavier on a younger person than an older him, despite having the same scenario. Youth and inexperience which contributed to pity and sympathy, and maturity and understanding which contributed to a sense of responsibility and attribution of it.

The savoury crepes that were served to him were excellent, paired along with the drink he had been served, a refreshing sparkling apple juice likely farmed from the various trees and gardens within the forest itself. 

Just as he finished the rest of his drink, his senses pick up on something, a prickle as he looks around on the patio, a large balcony out in the open which overlooks a part of the forest. 

A hand grabs his shoulder, and Julius is certain he had seen Samantha enter the castle to fetch a glass of water, and she had yet to emerge.

“Shh…it’s me, Lotus.” Julius whipped his head around to find the source of the voice, the ex-general who was clouded in a thin faded white smoke, a smoky hand reaching out to touch his shoulder. 

“I’m here to get you out.”

The sheer amount of panic and adrenaline which floods through his veins is indescribable, followed by the wave of thoughts, of how Lotus had found him, how he had snuck into the Witch’s Forest, of what would happen if the Witch Queen discovered his presence, of the questions that would arise from his presence in the forest, and so much more….

“...Alright. Let’s leave the same way you entered,” Julius replies, schooling in his shock and panic into a controlled rationality, as he wrote a message on the napkin with a pen, informing Samantha that he would take his leave first and could see himself out. 

Lotus was cloaked in shadow, his smokey hand the only appendage outside of his cloak of faint white smoke, as the man stared at him with an incredulous expression. He offers his hand to Julius, who takes it up as the smoke engulfs the both of them. 

“Kid, you are surprisingly calm for someone who slipped away to another territory located hundreds of miles away from the town,” Lotus’s voice travels to him, as Julius finds himself seated in an open roofed carriage, carved out from grey smoke which darts across and above the canopy of the Witch’s Forest. 

He was seated on a seat, which was as soft as a cloud, seeing how the entire vehicle was made up of the smoky substance, being driven and directed by Lotus, who sat in front of him as the smoke carriage traversed and flew through the air. Wind rushed around them, though a thin barrier of smoke protected them from the cutting, harsh dust which came with moving at high speeds, and allowed the two of them to exchange words and remain heard by the other. 

Julius had to admit, using smoke magic in such a fashion was…simply ingenious. Julius remembers, from a long time ago, back when he was still a member of the Grey Deer, or perhaps he had already been a captain then, where he had encountered Lotus. The man had been young, but with keen eyes and made strategic moves, especially to retreat when he was facing off against Yami then. 

“I…made a deal with the Queen, and I was holding up my end,” Lotus whips his head around to look him dead in the eye. Julius hopes he does not regret saying those words, since he knew that giving Lotus a half truth was the best way to keep him in the dark. Lotus’s long, dark hair sways in the wind, as the man stares at him incredulously.

“You…made a deal with her? Do you know how unwise that is?” The man asks him, as they pass by a lake beneath them. 

Julius sighs. 

“It was the only way she would heal us and send us back.” Lotus’s eyes change, orbs previously filled with confused frustration to something else, a hint of warmth in those eyes which flicker as the man blinks, and understanding reaches him. The carriage slows down, as the wind becomes a quiet, soft breeze, a calmness which settles over the carriage. Even the smoke particles which make up the carriage gather and clump together more solidly, as Lotus clears his throat.

“I…I see. My fault for assuming, I apologise.” The man apologises to him awkwardly, trying to figure out how to approach and start a new line of conversation. Julius knew that he had to be brimming with questions, though he was outwardly calm and patient, with an aura akin to that of lazy contentment. 

“Are you alright?”

The question was one he did not anticipate. 

Julius looks at the man, who was leaning against his chair in the carriage made from his smoke magic, his hands off the carriage as he seemed to be looking straight, and into Julius. 

The way the man’s gaze peered into his own so uncannily was intimidating, especially since it was only the two of them alone, and even after spending a few days with his family, he knew that he had not earned Lotus’s trust. The man himself was sly, and could see through tricks and schemes since he himself was a schemer. Grey eyes which stared back at his own, filled with a heavy seriousness which gave the calmness an edge of tension, as Julius pondered on what he should say. 

Was this man truly asking him if he was alright…or was he trying to obtain answers from him?

“...I…will be fine,” He responded hesitantly, as he quietly waited for a barrage of followup questions. 

“Did the Queen harm you in any way shape or form?” Lotus asks, but this time Julius can read the seriousness in his concern towards him, as the man softens his gaze and Julius swallows nervously.

“I…I can’t reveal that. She has me under a spell that forbids me from discussing the terms of our agreement.” He fabricates a lie on the spot, knowing that he cannot truly deny the fact that he was harmed because he would be lying and Lotus would be able to see through it. Nor could he give an ambiguous answer where there should only be one correct answer. Thus, this was the best answer he could give in this situation.     

Lotus looks at him with a sweeping gaze, studying him from head to toe. 

“You know, you can always ask us for help right? For saving my daughter’s life, and helping to end that devil which invaded the town. All of us owe you one, and this is one of the few instances where I’m giving a fair offer in return.”

Right, this was the Lotus of the Abyss. The same man who had been sly and cunning enough to avoid death by his and Yami’s hand around…ten years ago. The offer he was making was indeed invaluable, and Julius wonders how much easier things would be if he had a man like Lotus on his side. With his smoke magic, which had great versatility in transportation, and supporting magic effects, as well as Lotus himself who was able to creatively reinvent new ways to use it. 

Julius studies the hand made of smoke, as he looks back into the eyes of the man. 

“I know. I appreciate the offer, and I believe I will take it up. I am simply unsure of when.” 

Lotus gives him a short nod. 

The man leans back in his seat, as the carriage begins to slow down, as the two of them near their destination. 

“For a thirteen year old kid, you sure speak weirdly formally. The only time I ever hear people speak like that are those nobles…and royalty.” Lotus flashed him a keen, sharp gaze, eyes glinting with a tease as Julius merely smiles sheepishly. 

“Maybe I came from a noble family?” He passes it off, knowing that it was a half truth, from every angle of how one could view his situation. Lotus shrugs, as he turns to face the front of the carriage and steers it back down into the large yard of the school where the shelter was. 

“By the way, you need to stop giving us a scare. Give us a heads up before you disappear or risk your life, alright?” The smoke around them dissipates as they land, and Julius can catch the sight of a black haired girl running up to him at full speed. 

“Jules! You….You idiot! I…I-” Anastasia grabs his hands, her grip tight on his wrist she holds on tightly. Julius stands, shellshocked.

“You must swear on your life you will never do something like that again!” The girl looked up at him, and Julius looked into her eyes. Her eyes which glinted in the dim light of the setting sun, tears having welled up in those obsidian orbs, held back by her sheer tenacity and will, as he looks and sees a reflection of himself in her irises. 

“You lied to me! To all of us! Do you not think that your life mattered too? Do you know how…how scared I was when your illusion fell apart? When all of us realised…that you never came back into the shelter?” Anastasia shouts at him, unable to hold back the anger, the hurt, and the betrayal which she had suppressed in her heart. Tears fell from her eyes, pools of obsidian black orbs which shone with a frantic pain as she held onto him so hard that he knew it would bruise. 

He had worried her so much that she was going to break down in tears because of him. She had a right to be angry, to be frustrated, to be overcome by betrayal, because what he had done to her had caused her so much pain. It had been foolish of him to think that he could have sacrificed himself without leaving others to bear the burden and pain of his death.

For that, he knew he was guilty. 

The girl releases him, realising that she was hurting him physically, as Julius looked down at the ground, knowing that it was unfair, and wrong for him to have treated her and put her through this betrayal. Especially after all that she had done for him, cared for him, and offered him a home. 

“I’m sorry. I…I couldn't find another choice,” He apologises, the sensation of being thrown out of his depth filling him with an emotion of young, shameful guilt coupled with the knowledge that he had brought a girl as young as her to tears by his own idiocy. He had not been in any right state of mind to find an optimal choice, and opted to sacrifice himself. 

Looking at the hurt, so raw and painful, which had stung Anastasia, this sweet, smart, young and kind girl, caused by him, it only confirmed the fact that he would cause pain to those who tried to help him. Taking half a step backwards, Julius wonders why he keeps making mistakes like these, a flaw which would drive away all who had cared for him and loved him. 

His breath is stolen when Anastasia pulls him into a bear crushing hug.

“Your life matters too. To all of us,” She whispers to him softly in his ear, as she wraps her arms around him, embracing him in her warmth as Julius is enveloped in her warmth. 

Anastasia held on to him tightly, as he raised his arm and hugged her in return. He owed her that much. Though…it was nice. To know that someone cared for him so much even after all that had happened, to forgive him for his mistakes, to accept him despite his flaws and what he had caused them. 

“Don’t you dare go throwing your life away again, you hear me? Promise me!” Anastasia takes a step back, as she raises her hand out to him, extending her pinky finger out to him. Looking at her hand, he knows he should take it. 

To value his own life…

He makes the promise with her. 

“I will.”

Anastasia smiles at him, and he smiles back. 

Chapter Text

The recent attack on the town had prompted the new Diamond Kingdom council to recall all of their skilled warriors and tacticians for a meeting to discuss plans on how to more effectively protect the people. 

Along with those recalled, had been Mars, Fana, Fanzell and Mariella, to the kingdom’s capital for a week long meeting while a new set of mage warriors, the magic knights of the Diamond Kingdom, were sent out to aid in rebuilding the town. 

The amount of thought and efficiency that went into the logistics was startling to Julius, who had only known of the Diamond Kingdom’s use of human experimentation on their own people to churn out battle hardened mage warriors. That was all he had known the kingdom for. Other than its hostile rock like territory, aggressive and persistent invasions on the Clover Kingdom which resulted in a year long war which he had ended as Wizard King. 

When the Shining Generals had attacked the Clover Kingdom, they had been taken care of quickly by the Golden Dawn, with most enemy mages dying in the fight, since they did not take prisoners of war. Then came the attack on the Witches Forest, which he had read about in the report. 

Mars had used a vial of blood from the Witch Queen in order to…influence the King to make better decisions to remake the Diamond Kingdom. 

Julius was curious to wonder how that young man had done it.

As they sat on the smoke carriage headed towards the Diamond Kingdom capital of Obsidian, where the name clearly hailed from stones and rock related names, Julius looked on at Anastasia and the rest of her family. 

“We’re moving over to the capital, since they offered us housing there,” Lotus mentions, sensing the curiosity bubbling in Julius. 

“Papa, I can really attend the new school there?”

“Ana, I’m sure you can. I’m also heading there,” Her older sister helpfully supplied. Anastasia beams, as she looked at Julius. 

“Can Jules come with us?”

“I’m sure he can. Mars, that young fellow, was smart,” Lotus chuckles, as they descend over the clouds and over a view. 

Obsidian was a capital built across a large crater, the remnants of a dead volcano which had long since died down yet the remnants of its rock formations were still highly visible, and formed the basis of many homes and buildings in the area. With elevated streets constructed of deep obsidian stretching a network across the crater, the Diamond Kingdom Castle was built in the centre of the crater, formed by mounds of volcanic rock and long hardened obsidian which build up into tall pillars and watch towers constructed at the edges of the castle. The central building was built many floors higher than the highest building around, the glint of shimmering marbled stone a beacon for all to see. 

Julius could see why the Diamond Castle was beautiful in its own way, obsidian watch towers which guarded the central spiralling tower that pierced the skies, as if someone had moulded the shape of the castle to reach up and out towards the stars. Shimmering white stones were used to illuminate the castle walls, drawing patterns of glittering stars across the smooth black obsidian, a black monument signifying the Diamond Kingdom’s proudest feat of construction, acting as a beacon in the darkest of nights, with falling stars across its vast walls and high towers. 

Next to the castle, built closely in the proximity of the towering megalith, was a new building, made of white granite and smooth marble, a large facility in the shape of a circular ring. A single tower jut out from the centre of the ring, a calling to the magnificence of the Diamond Kingdom, except built in pure white stone. 

At the base of the tower, within the ring of buildings, was a grassy green field with ponds and even what could be considered a small lake, a mixture of biomes such as a sandy beachside, to a mangrove forest or the burning ground of a living volcano, with the biomes divided by a magical barrier maintained by the tower in the centre. 

“That’s the new school.”

The new school-

It was breathtaking. 

Lotus takes them down for a closer look, bringing the carriage for a flyby around the school compound, at which the dazzling exterior of the school was almost blinding, white marble walls containing natural streaks of blue and gold decorated by flags and magical plants which grew crystal flowers, vine and leaves that glinted in the sunlight. 

The ex-general laughs at the amazement and pure shock in the children’s eyes, as even Julius had to admit that he was impressed by the architecture that could be found at the heart of the Diamond Kingdom. Never had he been able to come so close to the royal capital of Diamond, since the Clover Kingdom had always fought on the defensive, and the furthest they had ever gotten was to reclaim their lost territory, but they had never encroached upon the Diamond Kingdom’s land. 

Namely because they had always lived under the assumption that it was a barren wasteland without any valuable natural resources, but they did in fact have many natural resources. Crystals, gemstones, the rocky lands which were abundant with resources. Or perhaps it was only after the death of Morris and how Mars had managed to resolve the civil strife within the kingdom, that had allowed the kingdom to reach its truest potential. 

They land somewhere near the edge of the Capital, having been offered a shophouse as their new home. Lotus and his wife make quick work unpacking their items along with their children, as Eos hobbles around on the floor and window grails, taking in the sights and sounds as well. 

It turned out that their family was…going to start a bakery selling pastries and desserts? 

Julius mused over that idea as he helped them to unload baking tools, mixing bowls and many other items and necessities as they helped to set up the shop beneath their new home. It was almost a surreal experience in doing so, especially after what had happened in their old town, having just fought off a devil, met the Witch Queen, and now they were here in the safety of the Diamond Kingdom Capital…about to open a bakery.

His life had changed so drastically in the last week and additional few days, that it was truly like something out of a dream. 

Doing something as mundane as transferring confectioner’s sugar into large jars and pots, as well as washing and cleaning spoons, spatulas, wire racks and leaving them to dry, was such a stark contrast to the numerous life or death battles he had fought. 

In fact, it was probably a long, long time since he could do something as mundane as wash bowls and utensils. 

He only recalled his last time washing dishes by hand, which had been alongside Yami and William after they had a scouting mission which took place in the depths of a cave where they had set up their camp. Camping out in the wilderness, no, cooking in the wilderness with these two had been a blast. Washing the utensils and mess tins that had been used to cook their meals by the river was almost a stupidly mundane moment that he could not believe he had not reminisced about it more often, especially with how quickly things had changed and involved after that. 

He transfers the wet utensils onto the drying rack as he rinses off the last of the bowls and baking trays. 

Eos chirps from where she stood at the window sill, ruffling her wings as he dried off his hands. Looking out the window, he marvels at the capital of the Diamond kingdom, at the citizens who lived here, in the depths of this location and how different it was from the small town he had been at. 

In some ways, the capital was a reflection of the capital back at the Clover Kingdom, before everything had turned into dust by the opening of the gates and what Lucius had done. He wonders how reconstruction efforts must be like back at what had once been his home. 

Eos warbles, as she seems to flap her wings eagerly, looking out the window at a group of people walking past their yet to open bakery. Julius stared hard at what the bird was excited about, but simply passed it off as her natural animal instincts to adapt to a new environment. Especially since they had moved to an area with a much higher population density. 

Then she leaps off the window sill, and Julius rushes to chase after her as she falls over and into the bush right outside their window. Sidestepping through the backdoor, he rushed over to where the poor bird had seemingly landed, and yet she simply popped her head out of the green bush and looked at him eagerly.

Dusting and preening her feathers, Eos took to the skies as she seemed to circle him for a few moments. Looking up at her shiny undercoat of feathers, Julius realised that she wanted him to follow her, and hastily ran over to lock the bakery doors and close the windows before he followed after her. 

He weaves through the crowds and masses of people, threading through lampposts, bushes and shops as well as carts that were all occupying the streets and main path, as he tracked Eos’s path keenly. Where was she trying to take him? What had she spotted?

His small stature made it hard for him to see past adults who were much taller than him, though it made it easier for him to dodge between the legs of others, as he slips past and underneath a horse drawn carriage and out the other side.

A hooded figure stood by a large, three tiered water fountain, as Eos landed on the figure’s head. 

Julius scrambled forward, mildly panicked at the prospect of Eos harming or inconveniencing the stranger, only to stop, frozen where he stood as the hood slipped off. 

A male man with pointed ears looked at him, with wild hair that was swept forward, the spark of recognition that flashed across his gaze upon seeing him was more than enough to confirm one of Julius’s worst fears. An elf. 

With the strange tattoo across his eyes and cheek, Vetto stared at him as Eos warbled happily whilst standing on his shoulder. 

An elf who recognised him. 

No. No this could not be. Unlike Vanessa, Vetto…had seen him in his child form. 

Something thick clings to his senses, a tangible fear that locks his limbs, as he can only stare powerlessly, hopelessly, at the elf whose gaze met his own. His mind runs through a hundred thoughts, a thousand possibilities, outcomes and resulting conflict, skirmishes, everything all leading to his discovery, his capture, and his subsequent execution. 

The brand at his neck chokes him. 

Eos merely nuzzled the reincarnated elf on his neck. 

Eos…he should have realised she was too tame to be a wild animal by herself. Her true owner…had been someone else. Before either of them could say anything, Julius backed away and sprinted into the crowds, as he could hear the man spur himself into action to chase after him. 

His heart ached. It was a natural reaction, he tried to reason with himself, upon seeing how Eos had taken off to reunite with her former master, who was an expert at Beast magic and loved by all wild life. Why he was here, in the Diamond Kingdom capital of all places, was not something for him to think about or focus on. Eos…had simply returned to where her true home was. 

The sharp, acrid sensation of fear seared itself into his mind, the only thing keeping him running, moving as he weaved through the crowds, shedding the cloak on his person instinctively to throw the elf off. 

He slips into a narrow alleyway, ducking down into a small tunnel which only him, as a child could fit into, as he began to crawl through the pipe, without thinking about where he was truly going, only that he wanted to get away. 

He knew that Vetto recognised him. After all, he had gone around to visit the elves to check in on how they had resettled and negotiated a peace treaty with them. By then, he was only limited to this form that he was still currently trapped in, and he knew it would only be a matter of time before he was found. 

The water sloshed around his forearms and feet, soaking through his clothes as he found an isolated section of the sewage pipes that was dry. The entire environment stinks to high heaven, but at that rate, he couldn't care less if it helped to get Eos and the elf off of his trail, especially since both had the attributes of animals on their side to help hunt him down. 

He hauls himself up onto the elevated ledge, finding that it led to a grailed opening that overlooked a massive, vast crevice below, a sharp breeze which cut through the air and shook the metal bars. Sitting next to the opening, he stares outwards through the rusty metal bars, down and deep below into the vast crevice it hung over. A small weed grew from outside the grail to coil itself around the metal, the thin stem of the plant wrapping around rusty metal as it used the bar of metal as support. 

Closing his eyes, he leaned against the wall of the tunnel. 

Perhaps he was a coward for running away from Vetto. At the same time, how could he look in the eye of the man who he had nearly killed when he was manipulated by Lucius? Especially with how he had nearly killed the other elves as well, though it appeared that Vetto had survived. 

His past was catching up to him. With an unpredictable speed. What would he have said to him? The elf looked like he had much to say, though shock had been the primary emotion he could glean from the male. Whatever his reaction would be, Julius knew that he would not be pleased that he was alive.

None of his former allies would be pleased that he was alive. After all that he had done, or all he had indirectly allowed to happen, the best outcome was for them to not associate with him. Even the devil’s invasion of Anastasia’s home…was something that could have been avoided had he not been there. Too many events, too much pain, death and misery could have been avoided if he had not been present. While the events that occurred were not necessarily his fault, it was still true that his presence catalysed many events which led to catastrophic outcomes to take place. 

He hoped that Vetto would forget him. Pass him off as a figment of his imagination, a doppelganger who looked so much like him, and to forget that he ever existed in the first place. Let the past stay buried where it was, and not to go hunting for what could be. Julius Novachrono was dead. So was Lucius Zogratis. 

He who was without his time magic, and only possessing illusion magic thrust upon him by another devil. Astaroth had been replaced by Asmodeus as the source of his curse, and his power. Julius opened his eyes, staring at water dripping down from the top of the pipe and into the larger reservoir across the ledge he was sitting at. 

If he could erase himself from the minds of all who knew or had known the old him, he would. It would be easier that way, for if they ever met again, neither would have to face the guilt, the anger, the hurt and the betrayal that was to come. 

He missed Eos’s warmth. 

The new life he had…he had foolishly allowed himself to get attached too soon. He thought she would be able to stay with him, for maybe just a while longer, but she had taken off as soon as she could. He smiles however, knowing that she had cared for him when she had been by his side. 

The source of her intelligence, had hailed from training and living alongside beings like Vetto. She was never meant to stay with him, and it was always her future to return to who she belonged to. 

Embarking on this new life…was not as easy as he had thought. Looking out through the grailed bars, he heard the wind howl as it rattled the bars and swept through the crevice, creating noise as it knocked and chipped a few pieces of rock. 

However, he could not completely ignore or disregard the new bonds and memories he had forged with the people he had befriended and had the honour of knowing. From Neige, to Rebecca, Mars, Lotus and Anastasia, he knew without a doubt that the bonds he had forged with them were undeniable, true and real. 

If not for his own sake, then for their sake he had to keep moving. To end the threat the devils posed on their lives so that they could live, regardless of the devils he had to face, and the past which was rapidly catching up to him. 

It was time for him to find Mars and the others. By enlisting their help, it would enable him to find the devil he so desperately needed to kill. 

He hauls himself up from where he had sat on the ledge, beginning the messy trudge back to civilization. 

Enough mulling and agonising over his past mistakes. 

It was time for him to move on. 

-

Returning to the bakery, the first thing he does is change out of his clothes, of which had been semi soaked due to his foray into the sewer pipes. Thankfully the water in that portion of the sewers seemed to be that of clean water, so it was not too hard for him to dry and shower off the little amount of dirt that had accumulated.

When asked where Eos was, he simply replied to Anastasia with a curt smile.

“She’s gone back to where she came from.” He apologised for not knowing where the owl had gone, but since it had managed to heal sufficiently, it was technically free to leave wherever it wished to be. He did not miss how Lotus’s gaze on him seemed to sharpen and focus on him. 

Her elder sister had also peered out the window, shushing the youngest sister when she started kicking up a fuss about the lack of Eos’s presence.

As the mother dismissed the rest of them to bed, he looked at Lotus.

“I have something I need to tell you.”

He stood his ground and spoke, knowing that it was about time he should, at the very least, admit some of the truths he had kept hidden from them for so long. It was only going to be a matter of time before the things he had tried so hard to keep buried would unravel and come forth to the surface. Vetto…Vetto had been a reminder of that. 

“Oh? I’m all ears.”

The man pulled up two chairs for the both of them, around the dining table in the kitchen, as he beckoned Julius to take a seat.

“I…I-” Hesitation claws at his throat, as he clenches his fists, the heavy decision of telling him about who he truly was weighing on his heart, choking his voice as he thought of all that would come after. His heart ached, it hurt in a way where he knew…he knew that the moment Lotus’s gaze shifted and his eyes changed after hearing the truth, the primal fear of fearing for his life surged to the forefront. 

Would he be arrested? Slain on the spot?

Perhaps his fears were irrational. 

Even if he was not going to be arrested or killed immediately after he revealed who he truly was, he did not know if he could handle the fallout. Would they be more willing to help him if he told them who he was? Or would they leave him to drown in the problem he was in now? Especially after his presence attracted the devils to the town.

They had called him a beacon.

He knew he was something the devils desired, and moving deeper into the Diamond Kingdom might have just damned a lot more people to the same fate. Still, he had to make a decision.

“I’m…a devil possessed.”

He goes with the truth that is the easiest for him to speak.

Lotus stares at him, his smokey hand seemingly flickering and flaring up with his smoke magic for a slight second, as the man leans back on his chair and brings his hand up to his chin.

“Devil possessed…like that Asta boy? Or…like the Dark Triad?”

If anything, the man was more curious than angry or filled with hatred than he’d thought he would have been. 

“…It’s…complicated.” 

“Still better than that Lucius fellow. Anything’s better than him.”

Julius bites back a wince. 

“If I had to describe it…I just want the devil banished and gone. The contract was…forced onto me during a summoning ritual and due to a series of unfortunate events, I ended up as the host.” 

“Is that why you’re buddy buddy with the Witch Queen?”

“We are not buddies.”

He snaps a little more sharply than he thought he would have. The memory of how she had taunted and tortured him by ‘accidentally’ leaving him to bleed out was still fresh on his mind. Lotus’s eyes widen a fraction, as he nods slowly and placatingly.

“So…did she also force you into a contract?”

“In short…yes. I had to agree because there was no other choice available. But…it has its benefits for me, so it isn’t as bad as the devil contract.”

Lotus watches him keenly.

“You know…you talk awfully a lot like the nobles I know. And something tells me there’s a lot more to you than what you’re telling me.” The man’s gaze is sharp, a blade which pierced right into his soul. He knew Lotus was sharp, and that things would eventually come to light, but…perhaps not like this. 

“Did…you really forget your memory?”

Julius stills.

Would everything unravel from this point onwards? Like fraying threads on a piece of fabric, one thread torn and separated from the main bunch simply pulled apart to unravel the other threads it was connected to? When a hole was discovered in his story, the entire fabricated lie, would it widen and deepen to engulf everything he currently had now?

He must make a choice.

To tear apart this veil or to stop the tear from further damaging what he wanted to keep and retain of his new life. 

“I…I cannot say much. I do have my memory, but the past is something I do not wish to talk about. Not now, not ever.” He stated firmly, gathering his courage to say those words aloud. Lotus leans back in his chair, scratching his goatee.

“That makes it hard for us to help you, no? But if you are not ready to tell us, then no pressure. You just have to remember to tell us what is crucial to helping you get out of this mess,” The man responded. “I always knew you were a peculiar child.”

Julius exhales a breath he had not realised he had been holding.

“Still though, it might be better for us to have this talk with Mars, Fana and Mariella. Maybe even Fanzell. They are the ones who need to know about you the most. So, let’s save this talk until then, alright?”

The older man mentioned, using a gentle nudge in his words to get him to end this line of conversation. It was getting late after all, as Julius took a quick glance at the window out into the streets, showing nothing but darkness as all lights along the streets had turned off.  

He nodded.

“Till then, as long as you don’t put my family in danger, I will help you to the best of my ability. You saved my daughter’s life, that’s a fact that won’t change. Rest assured, no matter who or what you are, I’ll repay that debt.”

Julius looked up at Lotus.

The man had saluted him with the three-fingered greeting of the Clover Kingdom. Three fingers of the right hand over the heart, the nostalgia from that action alone brought a new wave of emotions on him. 

“I managed to guess that part, no?”

The man jokes with him, as Julius gave in and simply nodded.

The man turned around and began to return to his room.

“How…did you know?”

Lotus stops in the corridor.

“...Just a hunch I had.”

Just a hunch…Julius leaned against the table as he let out a sigh. Things were developing much faster than he would have ever anticipated. Vetto, Lotus, Mars…all of these people were going to collide and uncover his past, especially if they did not already know about it. He had no doubt that Vetto would not let him go that easily. 

Which meant he had to reach out to Mars and Fana as quickly as he could. Lotus as well, and he had already taken the first step in doing so, though the results were something he did not anticipate.

-

“You had something you wanted to tell us?” Mars looked at him, as the man flashed a gaze at Lotus, who smiled back in response. Julius took in a deep breath. In the room with four of the most prominent and skilled Diamond mages he knew, Fanzell, Mars and Fana were seated at the meeting table, whilst Mariella sat on the ledge of the window. Lotus stood behind him, between him and the door, as if making sure that he had to fulfil his promise to tell the truth.

“I do.”

“All of us?” Fana asks, as Mariella exchanges a glance with Fanzell. The woman casts a spell, which envelopes the whole room in a thin layer of translucent ice magic, enclosing the space within and making sure nothing left the room.

He could not afford to wait anymore. Holding the truth back from them was unfair, and detrimental to their cause.

“I’m a devil possessed. The devils call me a beacon and I am a source of power for them, which is why they are after me.”

Fana stiffens in her seat. Fanzell’s easy going gaze sharpens into something serious, as Mariella did not seem all too surprised at his revelation.

“Which devil do you possess? And how is that possible?”

Mars is calm, schooling in his surprise into a contemplative gaze, as the man tried to piece together the information he knew. 

“A devil known as Asmodeus, devil of rage and lust. I can only assume that Lucius did not manage to summon forth all devils from the underworld in his quest to end the world, and some manage to stay and linger in their homeland.”

“Interesting. In a way, they managed to avoid certain death and domination by that mad man.” Lotus muses, as he strokes his goatee.

“This devil…Asmodeus…” Hearing the name spoken from another person’s lips was strangely unsettling for Julius, as he shivers involuntarily at the thought of the devil. 

“Rage and lust…” 

“Did…” Fana looks at him, eyes glittering with concern, a horrifying realisation held behind those turquoise eyes, and Julius was starting to realise that people were too sharp. 

He doesn’t know what to say.

He does not want to remember what had transpired that night.

“...I’d rather not talk about it.”

Fanzell slams his hand on the table. 

“If a devil really did that…to a child, no less!” The red haired man was angry, no, beyond furious at the thought of a devil defiling a child. Mariella was equally outraged, as she began to sharpen a pair of knives at where she sat by the side of the room.

“You see…about that…”

He feels all gazes on him, differing intents in each pair of eyes, from anger, outrage, for him, to concern, pity, hurt, all on his behalf, all for him, and it pins him on the spot. Would their positions change if they knew he was Julius Novachrono? That he was the one half of the madman that was Lucius Zogratis who brought the world onto its knees, wrought death and destruction of the highest level in all of history, would they still feel those emotions for him?

There was no running from the inevitable. The penance he had to pay, to carry the burden of his legacy. 

“I’m not an amnesiac. I lied. I…” He looks at his own hands.

“I’m Julius Novachrono.”

Mariella drops one of her knives, before she swiftly and instinctively catches it before it touches the ground. Fanzell’s jaw drops. Mars' eyes widened, the largest reaction he had seen from the purple haired male who stared at him.

“We stand in the presence of the ex-Wizard King of Clover? How interesting.” Lotus leans down across his shoulder, and Julius flinches from how close the man was. 

“Apologies. I did not mean to intimidate you.” Lotus takes a few steps back.

“Wait, wait, wait…how are you just accepting this?” Mariella throws across the room, a question directed specifically to Lotus, who simply chuckles.

“I had my suspicions…but I definitely did not think you were once the Wizard King.”

“...He’s a child!”

“No, it’s entirely possible.” Mars interjects, as he clears his throat softly.

The man steps forward, pulling a seat out to sit down by the table, offering it to Julius, who stares blankly at the chair, unsure if he wanted to take up that offer or not. Their reactions were…a lot more within his expectations than he had thought. He did not know if that was a good or bad thing.

Still, he was curious as to how Mars was taking this.

“...Asta might have accidentally told me a few things when he was semi-conscious after the battle against Lucius. One of them was the fact that the uh…ex wizard-king…could turn into a child. Perks of time magic or something along those lines…” 

“How come we don’t know about that?” 

“...Because I did not think we would need to talk about it…”

“He’s right. Julius Novachrono perished when Lucius Zogratis died.”

“But he’s right here?!” 

“...I don’t know how I was revived either.”

Mariella gets up from her position at the window ledge and walks over to him. 

“Do something to prove that you’re the ex-wizard king.”

Do something? He did not have his time magic anymore. What exactly could he do? Neither did he wish to use the devil’s illusion magic to attempt to mimic and replicate one of the spells of the captain, for fear of undoing the efforts that his time at the Witch's Forest had helped to settle the forbidden magic within his body.

“I can’t cast any spells for the time being, but I can speak about some information that only someone of my status could have known.”

“Fair enough.”

“Mars, you fought alongside the Black Bulls squad after defecting from the Eye of the Midnight Sun because you wished to save the then elf-possessed Fana. The Witch Queen gave you a vial of blood to allow you to change the corrupt ways of the nobility and royalty of the Diamond Kingdom by….influencing them…” 

“....Wait, Mars, you did what?” Now, it was Lotus’s turn to be surprised with this new turn of events. Fanzell sighs.

“There were a few complications in cleaning out the nobility and all the corrupted individuals which were driving our kingdom into the ground. Using that vial of puppet bloodflow from the queen was the fastest, most peaceful way to get them all exiled. It’s the reason why Moris was exiled.” The red haired man explains, as Mariella nodded at the side.

“You staged a coup on the throne last year?”

“It…was not exactly a coup. Morris was a bad influence on the king. We simply reversed that influence.” Fana explains. 

Julius wonders if he should have picked a different piece of information to tell them.

“Good job!” Lotus claps for Mars.

“...er…thanks?” The teen was confused with the response.

“You made the Diamond Kingdom actually livable again.”

“Also, nice work to you too, Mr Novachrono,” Lotus turns his attention to him. Julius blinks.

“...what for?”

“A whole lot of things, I suppose. For saving my kid after your spontaneous resurrection, for killing all those devils…though your presence kind of lured them in, but don’t worry about that bit. And for updating me about current affairs too.”

Julius remains silent.

“So…speaking of the devil problem…how are we gonna handle that? Usually we leave those kinds of high ranking devil to Asta and the others, right? Since they have the capabilities to take them down, while we don’t…” Fanzell murmurs under his breath.

“...As much as I’d like, I’d rather not have to drag them into my mess again.”

“Your mess? I mean it’s kind of on us to have not noticed the summoning of a high ranking devil near our borders.” Lotus interjects as well.

“Then I guess we have no choice but to try and take down this devil by ourselves, then.”

Fana looks over to Mars. If Julius recalled correctly, the young man had aided in extinguishing a few higher ranking devils during Judgement Day as well. He, out of all of them, had the most experience.

“I have experience taking down high ranking devils, but even then I would also require a great amount of backup and support from the side. One high ranking devil between us should be doable. Stress on ‘should be.’”

“With every combat situation, we must always anticipate the unexpected. A feasible plan would be to use you as bait, though,” Fanzell points at him. Julius nods.

“That was my plan as well.”

“...I’d prefer it if no one acted as bait. After what happened at the town…” Fana trails off. 

Julius remembers all too well what had happened in the fight against the sound devil. Truly something which makes his heart clench up, an instinctive fear of having seen the still living girl caught in the throat of the devil, followed by…by the image of Lucius Zogratis. If anything, he was certain it messed up his psyche even more.

The devil illusion magic was something which thrived off of despair and negative emotions. One wrong move and he could easily spiral into something uncontrollable and damned. 

Even now, the only reason he knew everyone’s reaction was so calm was because they had not seen how devastating the corruption from the Devil’s magic was. The brand on his neck still stung, but the pain had been dulled down greatly by what the Witch Queen had done to him. Speaking of the Witch Queen…

“The Witch Queen is also on our side in this fight, or at least she’s willing to offer some assistance in terms of knowledge.” Fanzell groans.

“Not that lady…”

Mariella elbows him.

“We’ll take what help we can get.” 

Lotus casts a glance at him, something holding a spark of realisation and a glimmer of concern.

“So then, first up is a non-bait method to lure the devil out. Preferably into a place with no civilians around, after consulting the Witch Queen, maybe you know, using some of her really ancient blood magic to take the devil down, defeat it or seal it and then we can call it a day?” Fanzell summarises quickly.

“Won’t killing the devil kill the host?”

“If my life is what it takes to seal away this threat, I’ll willingly give it up.” He would willingly give it up a thousand times over to repay for all the sins and mistakes he has made over the years. For all the lives lost at the hands of Lucius Zogratis, he would atone for them.

“Hey now, let’s not have any sacrifices yet, alright? I think Judgement Day already took the lives of so many good people, let’s not add your second chance to that,” Lotus raised both his hands in a gesture to get the ex-Wizard King to calm down and not jump straight to such a permanent method.

“How else are we gonna handle that high ranking devil though?”

Julius runs through the options in his head.

“Well, there’s a few options, none of which I’m too keen on. If I follow Asta’s footsteps, I can be equals with the devil-”

“That’s not happening anytime soon.” Lotus interrupts. The man looked at him with a raised eyebrow, as if wondering why and how he was suggesting such an audacious idea in the first place, especially since the man knew about what he had to go through being the devil’s prisoner.

“...Yeah. That’s out.” Julius tries not to choke on his own voice, and he clenches his fist and tries to push those memories out of his mind. He tries not to let himself be aware of how the others were all subtly watching his movements and body language as well. Out of concern, but he also felt uncomfortable by it.

“The second is to make him subservient to me.” That was how Nacht had managed to acquire all of his devils. A method which involved more rituals, rituals he knew…because of the Zogratis siblings.

“With my current state however, I lack the power to do that. I don't even own my own grimoire, so that removes a lot of options.” Julius brought his hand down. 

“-Wait-” Julius waves a hand bringing up his ‘grimoire’, and waves his hand through the book, shattering the illusion easily. Using the illusion magic for minor illusions such as these was something he could maintain quite easily, he realised. Perhaps if he trained more and figured out how to weave illusions that could just draw from his own mana instead of negative mana, he could gain a few cards up his sleeve.

“...You aren’t a fire magic user? Hm, that was quite an interesting display of magic you showed me back there in the woods.” Mariella steps closer, staring and watching the space where his grimoire had once been.

“I’m not a fire magic user. It’s always been time-” Or soul, he supposed. But soul was his attribute. Now, he possessed illusion magic.

“It’s Devil Illusion magic, to be precise. I’m certain I’ve barely scratched the surface of its true potential, but I am wary of testing it out to its fullest.” For now, Flawless Mirage would have to suffice. He wasn’t even entirely certain what Flawless Mirage was, other than being a basic illusion spell that was something he could control.

“Some training sessions are in order, I suppose?”

“I certainly would like that, but I’m also certain that using the illusion magic at its peak would draw unwanted attention in the form of minor devils or even Asmodeus himself.”

“But your minor spells are fine?” Julius nods. Though he may not know what Flawless Mirage truly encapsulated, he knew that it would not call upon more Devils. Something deep in his soul, that latched onto his instincts and years of interacting and experiencing different types of spells simply told him so. 

“We still have the issue of how to separate the Devil from you though,” Fana mentions. 

“I can ask the Witch Queen. Our interests align in that aspect that she also wants Asmodeus dead.”

“You sure? She sounds like the kind who would want the devil dead even at the cost of your own life.”

“Well…that too.”

“Okay. Let’s figure out a plan which does not involve anyone dying.” Lotus lays out on the table. 

Mars drums his fingers across the table top.

“The Clover Kingdom delegates are coming in a day or two. I could…ask them what protocol there is in a…non suspicious manner…”

“Sure!” Fana supports his idea.

Julius tenses up at the news. He wonders if the new wizard king who took his place would have more knowledge on the issue. Though amongst the captains, he knew that none of them knew much about the Devils in the first place. With the exception of Damnatio.

“...If a man by the name of Damnatio Kira is present, I believe you have a chance to obtain more information from him. He is very good at reading through lies however, and I am uncertain as to whether he is still alive after what transpired on Judgement Day.”

“I’ve got the namelist with me.”

Everyone turns to stare at Lotus.

“How? You aren’t involved with the planning as far as I’m concerned?”

“I wasn’t a spy for nothing. Was simply hoping to see if I could meet up with the Asta fella and thank him for saving my life back there on Judgement Day.” Lotus pulls a thin slip of parchment from one of the inner pockets of his clothes.

Everyone crowds over him.

“Asta, William Vangeance, the current Wizard King- Fuegoleon Vermillion, his aide, Marx Francois, Noelle Silva, Nozel Silva, and a few other names of what seems to be junior knights”, Lotus straightens the list out, as he moves his finger down the list.

“Ah. Damnatio Kira. That’s our guy, isn’t it?”

Julius nods.

“That settles it. We shall approach him and get the information from him. How we're gonna do so without raising any alarm? That’s going to be another issue that we will be discussing here for the next few hours.”

Mariella huffs at the thought of this meeting being extended.

Sadly, that was the way planning and brainstorming went. As far as Julius was concerned, planning and coming up with creative tactics and strategies took up that much time.

-

“You said you found him?” The pinked haired girl adjusts the decorative clips on her ears, the shape of flowers draping down like long earrings from the tip of her ears to disguise and conceal the pointed tips which marked her as one of the sole remaining elves.

Her pink hair was tied up into a bun, a look she wore only because of how it was easier to conceal it beneath a pretty flower crown adorned with flowers the shade of vibrant flames. 

“I don’t lie. Or joke around like Rhya does sometimes. I found him, the man who started this all, and who owes us so much even from his death. Or perhaps his second life.” Rhya pets the owl’s feathers, as Eos fluffs her feathers up in comfort.

“Because of this owl that you rescued, who tracked him down? What was its name again?”

“Luna.” Luna nuzzles his fingers.

Fana ponders, an idea coming to her mind like the spark of a fire sending tinder and kindling ablaze.

“Since we found him, we should bring him back with us. If anyone can heal Patri, it’s the man who injured him so badly in the first place. Time magic, or soul magic, is magic beyond even the realm of us elves.” Fana smiles. 

“I’ll bring him back whether he likes it or not. It’s his fault for everything in the first place.” Luna takes flight into the air.

“It’s puzzling how he managed to come back. Didn’t all of us kill Lucius Zogratis?”

Vetto shrugs.

“The Wizard King always seemed like he had some unseen, unknown card or trick up his sleeve. I wouldn’t be surprised if he had some back up plan to reincarnate himself.”

“And he chose to run from you?”

“Like a rabbit that had met the jaws of a wolf. He was tiny, as well, I guess Asta would say that is his de-aged form.”

Fana chuckles. 

“That means he’s vulnerable. The best time for us to find him. If he refuses, then we will have to bring him by force.” The flame user juggles a ball of volatile fire in the palm of her hand.

Vetto raised an eyebrow.

“I didn’t think you would be more aggressive than me. Regardless, Rhya would advise us to seek a more peaceful negotiation first before we actually engaged in a fight. I smelled the scent of guilt and fear from him.” Vetto elaborates, his heightened senses as a beast magic user going so advanced as to be able to sense the emotions of others.

“Well, I was called Fana the hateful. Suit yourself, but I call dibs to beat him into submission.” Fana smiles. Amongst the two of them, the flame magic user was indeed the more violent one. 

“Shall we?”

Vetto watches Luna who takes flight to return to her previous master.