Chapter 8: Demigod

Eyes opened slowly.

A ceiling of rough stone greeted him, and above that, a small barred window bleeding in a strip of pale light. A familiar flutter of wings, Pupa perched on the windowsill, its half-lidded eyes barely open.

“You are awake.”

Nagi turned his head slightly, studying the owl.

“What happened?”

Pupa tilted its head.

"Don't you remember?"

Nagi's eyes lowered, and the fragments of memory began to bleed back in.

It had been after the stroll through Welch with Ray. Nagi's arms had been heavy with food and sweets the people had pressed into him.

Back in the dim light of the inn, he had torn a piece of bread and held it toward Pupa.

“No?”

The owl shook its head slowly, eyes closing.

With a flat tone, Nagi muttered,

"Then I'll eat it."

The bread was soft on his tongue. But before he could swallow, a heavy weight pressed on his eyelids. His vision blurred, body sinking.

“Strange...”

He remembered the faint thud of his body hitting the floor. Pupa's tiny talons shifting on his chest.

"Nagi?"

But his limbs wouldn't move. His breath slowed.

The door had creaked then.

And in the dim, a small figure stood, the flicker of torchlight caught blonde curls and a devil's grin.

Cerys leaned against the frame, tail lazily swaying behind her.

“Finally,” she'd said, voice like honey laced with poison. “You took the bait.”

Back to Present

Nagi's eyes blinked slowly, the memory settling back into place. His face didn't change.

The sudden crash of the door jolted the air.

Cerys stepped in, her bratty smile curling wider as she spotted him chained to the floor.

“Good morning, immortal boy.” she sang, voice dripping mischief.

Nagi only stared back at her with that same dead expression, meanwhile pupa hopped into Nagi’s shoulder.

Cerys's small footsteps echoed in the dim chamber as she moved closer. Her bratty grin stretched as she circled him, slow and deliberate.

"You're an interesting one..."

The sound of chains scraping against stone marked his slight movement as he followed her with his eyes. She leaned closer, her succubus tail trailing lazily, brushing his cheek as she passed behind him.

"Where did you come from all of a sudden? Hmm?"

Her voice was a playful purr as she came back around to stand in front of him. Nagi remained seated, face as blank and unreadable as ever.

Cerys tilted her head, hands on her small hips.

"How about we negotiate? Join Reuben. Worshiped God of war. That cold shark boy can't treat you right anyway."

The words hung in the air. Nagi's eyes lifted slightly to meet hers. His tone was flat, but there was a subtle weight behind it.

“I'm not interested in the God of War.”

For a moment, Cerys's smirk faltered. A quiet sigh left her lips as if she'd been expecting that answer.

And then, with sudden petulance, she raised one foot and pressed it against his face.

“You really don't appreciate my hospitality, huh?”

The chain rattled as his head tilted slightly under the pressure. Nagi didn't resist, didn't flinch, just stared blankly past her toes.

And then he saw it.

The faint flash of yellow beneath her short skirt. A duck. A tiny, ridiculous yellow duck pattern on her underwear.

His eyes blinked once.

Cerys noticed where his gaze had gone and instead of embarrassment, "My eyes up here.”

She pushed his face just a little harder with her foot, as if punishing him for the audacity of noticing.

“Think about my offer, Immortal Boy~” she said in a song tone as she turned away. Her tail swung one last time as she reached the door.

The door shut, leaving Nagi in silence with the faint smell of her presence lingering in the room.

Pupa blinked its half-lidded eyes, “Duckies.”

The cold stillness of the cell was broken by a small voice from above.

“Found you.”

Nagi and Pupa both looked up. In the narrow window near the ceiling, a familiar face peeked through, red hair tousled, cheeks smudged with dust, eyes burning with nervous determination. It was Ray.

Pupa blinked.

“The kid?”

Nagi raised an eyebrow slightly.

Ray grinned down at them, crouching precariously on a stack of old crates and barrels. His fingers clutched the edge of the window bars.

“I knew something was off.”

He looked straight at Nagi.

Earlier...

Ray had been walking back toward the inn, scratching his head.

"Ahh! I should've just asked him again tomorrow." he muttered to himself.

As he turned the corner toward the inn, he paused. The door was slightly open.

That's weird, he thought.

Then he saw her, tiny frame, long wavy blonde hair, small black wings on her back swaying as she dragged someone across the cobblestone.

Ray's eyes widened when he realized who it was.

“Mr. Nagi!”

But his instincts kicked in, and he ducked behind a nearby barrel, covering his mouth to keep from gasping aloud. He waited until they disappeared into the shadows, then began tracking her movements quietly, keeping to alleyways and rooftops, determined to figure out where she took him.

Now, back at the cell...

Ray explored back over his shoulder.

He stood well, as tall as the stack of wooden boxes allowed and puffed his chest out, eyes blazing with courage far bigger than his small frame.

"Hang in there, Mr. Nagi! I'm going to save you, no matter what!"

The box creaked beneath his foot. Pupa raised one eye lazily.

“He's going to fall.”

Nagi simply blinked up at him.

“You're going to fall.”

Ray's confident pose faltered slightly.

"Wha—? I've got it under con—"

CRACK.

The top box split, and Ray vanished with a yelp. A thud echoed from outside.

A beat of silence passed. Then Ray's hand shot up into the window frame again.

“I'm fine!” he wheezed.

Nagi looked to Pupa who slowly shook his head.

The cities air was thick with anticipation, the smell of steel and sweat lingering like a storm about to break. Two tides of people faced one another, Welch and Reuben, the sound of snarling and shouting filled the cavernous city.

At the front of the Welch group stood Evan, tall and silent, his sharp yellow eyes sweeping over the crowd. His cold expression hid the flicker of something else, searching.

The murmurs fell into silence as the Reuben crowd parted like waves. A small figure stepped through the opening. Her short wavy blonde hair swayed with each step, the dim torches catching the tips of her small black wings and the flick of her succubus tail.

Cerys Cronabelle.

Her lips curved into a confident grin as she sauntered to the front lines, her crimson eyes locked onto Evan with a glimmer of mischief.

Evan didn't flinch. His gaze remained fixed on her, unblinking.

"You look happy today, Cerys."

Cerys tilted her head, hands behind her back like a child hiding secrets.

"Hmm... maybe I am. I've got a good mood going."

Her grin widened into a mocking smirk as she raised one hand, palm to her brow like a scout peering into the distance.

"But wait... I don't see your little toy anywhere. Did you lose him already, Evan?"

The crowd murmured. Evan's expression didn't change, but his voice cut through the air like frost.

"Careful what you say, Cerys. I'm still stronger than you."

The grin on her face twitched. Her tail lashes once.

"Ohh, there it is. The cold glare. I was starting to miss it."

Then she dropped her hand and jabbed her finger toward the Welch crowd, her voice sharp as a whip:

“Attack.”

The city erupted.

Welch roared forward like a tidal wave. Reuben's frontlines surged to meet them, steel clashing against steel, sparks raining in the dim light. The sound of war thundered through the cavern.

Evan and Cerys didn't move at first. Their eyes locked, a silent battlefield of their own forming in the chaos. And the war between Welch and Reuben began.

On the other side,

Lyon lay on his back, staring at the cell's wooden ceiling. The silence gnawed at him until the sound of approaching footsteps broke it.

The cell door creaked open. Kinana's teasing voice slipped through first.

"Well, well, well. How's our royal prisoner doing?"

Lyon sat up slowly, his eyes were distant. “Not in the mood.”

Behind her, Louille entered, posture straight but his eyes grim.

"Any progress?" Lyon asked, a sliver of hope in his voice.

Louille's answer was clipped.

"No. The king is… preoccupied."

Lyon exhaled sharply, leaning back against the wall. The air felt heavy, too still.

Then it shattered.

A scream. Not one, but hundreds. Outside, the city cried out in terror.

Louille's head snapped up. Kinana's grin dropped in an instant. Without a word, Louille bolted toward the exit, his voice sharp.

“Stay here!”

“Wait—!” Lyon stood, gripping the bars. "Let me out! Louille! Kinana!"

Kinana explored back as she followed the prince.

“Stay put, fruit boy!”

Their voices vanished into the growing roar outside. Lyon gritted his teeth, slamming his fists against the bars.

He stepped back, muscles tensing, and with a guttural shout, he rammed his body against the wooden cell door.

At the front gate, chaos painted the air. Neema stood, sweat beading on her forehead despite her composed face. Her sharp gray eyes flicked to Louille and Kinana as they arrived.

"What's happening?" Kinana demanded.

Neema didn't answer. She only pointed forward.

The crowd had parted. Two figures emerged from the haze.

One tall. One small.

The tall figure's blue hair shimmered in the dim light, his yellow eyes burned like molten gold. His smile was a predator's, cold and mocking.

Louille's breath caught in his throat. He drew his claymore in one swift motion, the blade erupting in flames. His own hair burned like fire as his voice split the air:

“Sariel!”

Kinana stiffened beside him. Neema's fingers tightened around her umbrella.

Sariel stepped forward, laughter curling in his throat.

"Ah… Prince Louille. We meet again."

Beside him, the smaller figure rolled his neck. Bare-chested, his skin was the color of fresh blood. White rugged pants cling to his frame, and from his head jutted two horizontal horns like sharpened blades. His bright yellow eyes glowed with unwavering confidence.

Louille's grip on the claymore trembled. Kinana noticed it instantly.

Louille's voice was low, as though speaking the name would bring the earth to its knees.

"Hades. The Demigod of the God of War."

The clash raged on.

The air was thick with steel, blood, and roars. Shadows warped into weapons under Cerys's command while stolen abilities shifted in Evan's hands. Both leaders stood at the center of the storm, breathing heavy, sweat and dirt streaking their faces.

Their eyes locked.

In perfect unison, they sprinted forward, ready to end it in one decisive blow—

—and then they freeze.

A suffocating pressure swept across the battlefield, so heavy it drowned every scream.

A sound like grinding stone followed, and suddenly, mixed bodies from Reuben and Welch alike were hurled aside like ragdolls. Dust and shattered earth spiraled into the air.

Through the haze, a shape emerged.

A figure clad in crypt-black armor, a death mask covering his face. From his back unfurled a massive scorpion tail, each step it took sweeping away soldiers like dry leaves. Between the cracks of his armor and mask, a sickly green aura pulsed like a heartbeat.

Behind him walked another man, tall, long white hair flowing like silk, his crimson eyes calm and cold. His presence feels like the opposite of the armored figure yet no less suffocating.

His smooth voice cuts through the silence, "Abaddon... you should show mercy. However, this is the place where you once lived."

The armored figure didn't stop walking. His voice was a growl, resonating from behind the mask.

"Samael, don't compare this land to your pristine celestial halls. It's been over a hundred years since I returned... and still, people do nothing but wage war."

Samael's lips curled in a faint chuckle.

"Ah, so that reminds you. That your god abandoned you... just as they enjoyed a war."

Abaddon stopped. Slowly, his masked head turned to Samael. The air shifted.

A bloodlust so overwhelming it felt like the world itself flinched.

Every soldier from Reuben and Welch alike felt it pierce their bones. Cerys's breath hitched and Evan's knees threatened to buckle.

Samael only smiled softly, "My apologies.”

Abaddon said nothing, continuing forward. Each step seemed to crush the earth.

No one could move.

Not a single soul dared to breathe as the scorpion-tailed demigod stopped in front of the two commanders, Cerys and Evan.

His mask tilted slightly, voice like death itself. “Which one of you… is Welch?”

Evan swallowed, his sharp teeth flashing as he forced a smile that didn't reach his trembling hands.

“That… would be me.”

For a fraction of a second, nothing happened.

Then the tail moved.

A wet, horrible sound ripped through the air as the scorpion's stinger pierced clean through Evan's stomach.

Blood sprayed against the cracked ground. Welch soldiers screamed. Cerys's red eyes wide with shock.