Chapter 91: So warm...

Daemon was sent flying across the room, his body bouncing twice on the stone before immobilizing against the base of a pillar. He was in a pitiful posture... His body was nothing more than a mass of gaping cuts that let a constant flow of purple liquid escape.

"*Cough* The cuts aren’t that deep... so why... Can’t I even get up?" murmured Daemon. He tried to brace himself on his hands, but his arms wavered and he fell to the ground again. On top of the weakness, he felt the cold seeping into his veins, extinguishing his chi little by little.

Kellen smiled wickedly as he approached him, staggering slightly under the effect of adrenaline. He savored every second of this moment. "Since I’m certain you’re going to die, I’m going to tell you something... This spear is the Spear of Destiny..."

Daemon widened his eyes while swallowing: "The... Spear... It’s impossible, it’s kept in the Doom. How could you have stolen it from the Sorcery Clan!?"

Kellen opened both arms, delighting in the expression of terror he thought he read on his enemy’s face. Daemon knew perfectly well how this mystical relic worked. It was as popular and feared as Excalibur or the Holy Grail... A weapon whose wound never closed, condemning the victim to inevitable agony.

"You’re going to lose all your blood in the slowest and most painful way possible..." explained Kellen in a honeyed voice. "I made sure not to strike too deeply, precisely so you could savor the slowest death possible. You’re going to feel life escaping from you drop by drop, Dagon. That’s the price for what your mother did to my father."

A heavy silence fell over the room, only disturbed by the dripping of Daemon’s blood on the floor. But while Kellen expected pleas or moans, an incongruous sound rose.

"Is that all? I’m just going to die? Is that it?" asked Daemon.

Kellen frowned, disconcerted. "Huh? You want me to torture you first?" 𝑓𝑟ℯℴ𝓂

"Hahahahahahahah!" Daemon burst into a frank laugh. The laugh turned into a bloody coughing fit, but the smile stayed on his reddened lips.

"Have you gone mad, idiot?" spat Kellen, gripping the shaft of his spear.

"You can’t understand, Kellen..." replied Daemon, breathing deeply, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

’Is this how I triumphed over destiny? If I die here, now... then I’ll never become that monster! I’ll never cause Armageddon!’

Strangely, an immense inner peace invaded him. It was the feeling of absolute freedom of someone who had already surrendered to death and who no longer had anything to fear from the Oracle’s prophecies. He was no longer the bearer of the Mark of the Beast, he was just a man dying for his own choices.

’All that’s left is to protect the Pandora’s Box... to stop her from taking it.’ he thought with a new determination.

Daemon took his katana and, using the blade as a lever, he tried to stand up by bracing against the pillar. His muscles screamed in protest, but he straightened up, staggering, and raised his weapon toward Kellen.

"You’re still standing?" Kellen, annoyed, swung his arm to launch an undefended attack. The blow aimed at Daemon’s head, but the latter interposed with his right arm, the one that was still bandaged.

The impact was so violent that the fabric surrounding his arm caught fire under the friction of the spear’s chi, finally revealing what Daemon had been hiding for so long. The skin of his forearm was studded with dark scales and his fingers had transformed into sharp claws. The number 999 glowed on the back of his hand in a malevolent red.

’He even managed to deeply wound my right arm...’ noted Daemon seeing a black cut on his scales. ’The Sorcery Clan is definitely no longer neutral if they gave this weapon to take me down.’

Seeing the bizarre arm, Kellen’s expression became disgusted. "What the hell is that? Your arm is... Now I understand why the Great Witch wanted you dead... you’re a fucking monster!"

Daemon smiled, a wild gleam in his golden eyes. "People tell me that often..."

Taking advantage of Kellen’s stupor, Daemon quickly freed himself with a roll to the side. Ignoring the atrocious pain of the wounds that refused to heal, he ran toward the Pandora’s Box, located at the center of the five pillars. The terracotta jar was held by a single chain.

’If I manage to open the Pandora’s Box and die with the evils it contains... it will be my last good deed and...’

Daemon didn’t have time to finish his thought. Kellen, mad with rage, yelled and hurled the Spear of Destiny with all his strength. The weapon split the air like a red lightning bolt.

"What the... Kuh—"

Daemon spat out a lot of blood, a hot cascade that flooded his tunic. When he lowered his eyes to his torso, he saw a gaping hole. The spear had gone clean through him before planting itself violently at the other end of the room....his guts literally spilled onto the floor in a morbid and wet slide, mixing with the dust of the Catacombs.

"Oh... Shit... I was so close..." he stammered.

His gaze grew more and more blurry as he staggered, his hands desperately seeking support in the void. The Pandora’s Box was only a few centimeters away. He difficultly stretched his left hand toward the jar, his fingers brushing the cold surface of the relic.

"Shiii... I could have..."

At the last moment as he felt the cold of death, he vaguely felt a sense of fear...

After all, what human wasn’t afraid of death?

His strength abandoned him completely.

His knees hit the ground, and he collapsed in front of the artifact. As his eyes closed and the darkness enveloped him, he suddenly felt a familiar presence.

’So warm...’

An ethereal silhouette, bathed in a golden glow, appeared at his side. Without being able to see its face hidden by the radiance, he felt its slender and delicate fingers intertwine with his outstretched left hand. Together, they touched the Pandora’s Box at the precise moment when Daemon’s last breath escaped from his lips.