Heavy. Absolute. Ethan stood over the remains, chest rising slowly, divine energy still crackling faintly around him. Then he turned. Rowan lay crumpled on the stone, breathing shallowly. Curse sigils still burned faintly across his chest, flickering like dying embers. Ethan was beside him in an instant. He knelt, one hand hovering over Rowan’s chest, the other gripping his shoulder. “Rowan,” Ethan said sharply. “Stay with me.” Rowan’s eyes fluttered open. Unfocused. Struggling. Then they found Ethan. Recognition hit. “…You,” Rowan whispered hoarsely. “You killed it…” Ethan’s jaw tightened. “I should have done it sooner.” Rowan let out a weak laugh that turned into a cough. Blood stained his lips. “No… no.” He shook his head faintly. “You did it exactly when you needed to.” His gaze drifted past Ethan, to the pile of ash and black blood. Then back to Ethan’s hands. Still glowing. “…So it’s true,” Rowan murmured. “The human who crossed their world…”

“Stop,” Rowan whispered. “Please.”Ethan shook his head, desperation shaking through him like a fault line. “I can still—”“You can’t,” Rowan said, firmer now, even as his strength slipped away. “And you know it.”Ethan froze.The truth landed like a blow to the chest. He’d known it. He’d just refused to name it.Rowan looked at him, eyes still clear, still there, and that somehow hurt more than if they’d already gone dim. “If you force it, the backlash will tear you apart too.”Ethan’s jaw trembled. His hands were shaking so badly he had to curl them into fists. “I don’t care.”“I do,” Rowan said softly.The words undid him.Rowan lifted a trembling hand and set it over Ethan’s wrist. The touch was barely there—too light, too weak—and Ethan had the sudden, crushing thought that he might never feel it again.“Living like this,” Rowan continued, voice thinning, fading like smoke, “wasn’t living. It was waiting.”Ethan’s vision blurred. He blinked hard, but the tears came anyway, hot an

Not violent.Curious.Testing.Ethan raised the mask slowly, turning it in his hands as if weighing a weapon he wasn’t sure he should draw. The surface was warm now, no longer inert, faintly pulsing against his palms like it could feel his hesitation.“…If this breaks me,” he murmured, “at least it’ll be useful.”The words sounded steadier than he felt.For a moment, he didn’t move.Rowan’s voice echoed faintly in his memory, uninvited but clear.Masks never just cover things. They change what’s underneath.Ethan’s grip tightened. “You always had a talent for understatement.”Silence answered him.“Yeah,” he whispered. “I know.”He exhaled once, slow and deliberate, then lifted the mask higher.He placed it over his face.The world went dark.Then—Pressure.Not crushing.Wrapping.Something slid over his senses, warm and heavy, like sinking into deep water. It pressed against his skin, his thoughts, probing gently at first—curious, measuring, as though deciding whether he was worth

Not abruptly. Just enough to make them notice.The laughter didn’t stop right away, but it softened, curiosity slipping in.Ethan turned his head slightly, eyes half-lidded beneath the mask, as if bored by the question. As if this was beneath him. The mask helped—smoothed the reaction, flattened the spike of fury into something colder, something sharp-edged and controlled.“Disappointed?” he asked mildly. “I thought you’d be more imaginative.”That earned a few grins.One demon laughed outright. “Still touchy about them, huh? Don’t know why you bother. They’re tools.”“Breakable ones,” another agreed, tail flicking lazily. “You don’t get attached to tools.”“Unless you’re lonely,” the taller demon added, smirking. “Or sentimental.”Ethan’s hands curled slowly at his sides.Inside his chest, something twisted—tight, sharp, almost physical.Rowan’s face flashed through his mind.The way his breath had hitched.The calm in his eyes at the end.The stillness that followed.Human slaves, t

“Ah,” he said, voice rough but casual, “you’re all too kind. I’m just… looking for something to eat, actually.”For half a heartbeat, there was silence.Not the dangerous kind.The curious kind.Then laughter bubbled up again—some surprised, some mocking, some edged with interest.“Something to eat?” one demon repeated, head tilting sideways as if reassessing him. “That’s new.”Another barked a laugh. “Didn’t take you for the hungry type, Vephar.”A third smirked, barbed tail flicking lazily. “Maybe he finally got bored of screaming.”A few of them chuckled at that, comfortable in the assumption. Comfortable in cruelty.Then the tallest demon stepped forward.He was broader than the rest, horns curving backward like a ram’s, thick and ridged with age. His scales were darker—almost black—etched with faint sigils that pulsed when he moved. Not decorative. Functional. Binding marks of rank and authority.His presence changed the courtyard.The lesser demons shifted unconsciously, giving