The son, and the father

In the midst of the impenetrable darkness, Shuuta found himself ensnared in the enigma that was darkness itself. The abyss swallowed his senses, a void so profound that he questioned the very essence of its existence. Was darkness merely the absence of light, or did it conceal something far more profound—a truth that transcended the mere concept of color?

During this extraordinary communion with darkness, it ceased to be a passive entity. It pulsated with a life of its own, each heartbeat echoing the mysteries it held. As Shuuta delved deeper into its folds, he felt sentience, a presence that whispered cryptic secrets, revealing layers of knowledge he couldn't fathom.

"Shuuta. We meet again," the entity within the darkness spoke, its presence imposing yet mysterious, and Shuuta sensed that it was not a mere monster.

"Who the hell are you? Are you a creature of the shadows?" Shuuta's voice, laced with curiosity and wariness, cut through the obscurity.

The entity chuckled, a sound that hinted at the familiarity of such inquiries. "No creature, young one. I am me."

Shuuta found the response cryptic, and a sense of familiarity washed over him, though he couldn't quite place it. "What kind of answer is that? I don't even know who you are, old man...old man?" Shuuta questioned himself, surprised by the term that had slipped from his lips as if he knew this entity.

"Oh? Memories flickering back, perhaps?" the entity teased.

Shuuta raised an eyebrow, feeling a vague sense of connection. "Yeah, nope. I don't know who you are."

"Ouch, that hurts, you know. I can't believe my son doesn't remember the face of his father." the entity seemed to pout like a child.

Shuuta was rendered speechless, his mind struggling to process the revelation. His father?

"You...are my father?" he finally articulated, discerning the entity's features—a colossal demon with unique wings, white hair, a well-shaped jaw, and an elegant medieval suit exuding an aura of power.

A solemn revelation hung in the air. "I am Abbadon, King of Kings, the Demon King of Sheol... once, the sovereign of shadows," Abbadon declared with regal dignity, his presence transcending the mere confines of the darkness.

Shuuta's incredulous gaze pierced Abbadon's nonchalant demeanor. "Your carefree attitude hardly befits a Demon King! What in the abyss is going on?"

Abbadon, finding amusement in Shuuta's palpable shock, managed a half-hearted apology. "My sincerest apologies! I've yearned to reveal myself for quite some time. And, by the way—"

Interrupting the demon lord's attempt at levity, Shuuta's thirst for answers superseded his initial astonishment. "Hold on! I've got a multitude of questions! How did my mother meet her end? I've been kept in the dark about it for far too long."

Abbadon's countenance shifted to a somber reflection. "Certain inquiries are best left untouched, but if your heart demands, I shall lay bare the truth."

Shuuta nodded, an insatiable hunger for revelations consuming him.

"I regret to inform you, kid, that your mother's demise... was a tragic consequence. Branded a Heretic, she faced the torment of flames at the stake."

Shuuta's eyes widened, a fusion of shock and anger flooding his senses. "W-what?"

Abbadon elaborated, "She dared to unite with a Demon King, a transgression deemed unforgivable. Particularly given her past role as a Heavenly Commander. The audacity to wed a devilishly handsome demon, such as myself, sealed her fate."

Shuuta's gaze bore into Abbadon, the revelation dismantling his preconceived notions about his mother's destiny.

"Fret not, my lad. She sacrificed herself in defense of your existence. Entrusting me with your welfare... and now, you find yourself in a state of demise. I must admit, Kohana won't be pleased."

Shuuta's shock heightened to unprecedented levels. "I'm... dead? What?"

"Strictly speaking, deceased. However, there's a glimmer of salvation. I've devised numerous incantations for such precarious circumstances, and that lad Kentaro possesses one. I overheard him discussing forbidden magic."

Shuuta's surprise was etched across his features. "He did? Hold on, you mean to say you heard him? Are you capable of hearing everything?"

Abbadon emitted an awkward whistle. "That Yuri, quite the character, huh?"

Exasperation marred Shuuta's expression. "Father!"

"My apologies! I'm constantly vigilant, just in case of emergencies. Besides, I've got time to spare. And about that Chunni girl, I'm fairly certain she harbors matrimonial aspirations for you."

A crimson hue colored Shuuta's cheeks, his face betraying his sudden embarrassment.

"Can you give me some privacy? I'll call for you when I need your help...but please, don't meddle with my social life. It's embarrassing, you know."

Abbadon appeared unbothered. "Oh, come on, son! In my prime, I was a heartthrob. Many exquisite demonesses sought something from me. However, a Mystic girl stole my heart... quite literally. I asked Kohana to return it, but she tossed it to the ground, stomping on it like rubbish. I have a soft spot for formidable women."

Shuuta couldn't help but ponder, "Seems like my father is masochistic."

"Anyway, I have another question..."

"Yes, my boy?"

"Noara mentioned that I had to defeat you. Something about a vision and stuff... I can't recall it clearly."

"Oh, the Soul Cleansing!"

"The what now?"

"Soul cleansing—an integral part of every Mystic's journey, each unique in its own right. You're fortunate, to have your father. However, bear in mind, you're still at Level One, burdened with negative Xuvia Points. Certain skills I employed can't be accessed until you earn them through XP. Despite my efforts, you lost consciousness and became more...me."

Shuuta's complexion turned ashen. "Actually...how did I get that many negative Xuvia Points?"

Abbadon's expression held genuine concern. "Impressive, for that girl to manipulate your menu. Quite a feat."

Shuuta sighed. "I'm screwed, aren't I?"

Abbadon's silence conveyed the weight of the unknown.

"Now what?" Shuuta's voice wavered with uncertainty, his encounter with Abbadon leaving him with more questions than answers.

"I don't know, my son. I don't know," Abbadon replied, lounging in an elegantly conjured chair with an air of mystery.

Abbadon's eyes narrowed in contemplation. "All we can do is await your comrades' efforts to revive you. Also, you could inform them about me... unless you'd rather not, of course."

"I'm not sure... your name might not bode well for anyone. Besides, Noara would probably intensify her efforts to seduce me if she learned that The Abbadon resides within me as my father... so I'll pass on that."

Abbadon erupted in hearty laughter. "Fair point... You know what, I'd love to train you one day. Perhaps you could learn how to access Anima's Plane."

"Anima's Plane? Is that what this place is called?"

"Yes, entering is a highly advanced skill for a Mystic. It takes years for a Grand Mystic to comprehend Anima's Plane. Consider yourself fortunate!"

Abbadon concealed the true reason behind Shuuta's journey into Anima's Plane—his own demise. Abbadon's silence masked his concern, pondering if there was a way for him to aid his son.

Shuuta's thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the surge of Mana enveloping the plane. Abbadon's apprehension grew, recognizing the telltale signs of a Forbidden Ritual.

'If they mishandle it, Shuuta will be lost forever,' Abbadon mused, his heart pounding with anxiety.

"All I can do is place my trust in his comrades," Abbadon contemplated, casting a worried glance at Shuuta. His eyes widened as he observed Shuuta's unwavering confidence in his imminent revival.

Shuuta's stoic smile in the face of uncertainty drew a soft chuckle from Abbadon. "Geh."

Before Shuuta could take his leave, Abbadon presented him with a gift – an aged and worn katana, forged by the legendary Muramasa.

Shuuta accepted the katana with solemn reverence. The blade exuded an aura of unparalleled sharpness, as though it could cut with a mere glance. He sheathed it, securing it tightly behind his back.

"T-thanks…I still have a lot of stuff I want to ask…" Shuuta began.

"Idiot! I'm not disappearing! I can communicate with you whenever I wish!" Abbadon assured him.

However, Shuuta's countenance remained impassive, inadvertently casting a subtle pall over the mood.

Abruptly, a radiant light enveloped them both, and Shuuta's vision blurred momentarily. Darkness then consumed him entirely.

"Shuuta..."

His name echoed in his ears, gradually joined by other voices – men and women, friends and comrades. Shuuta struggled to make sense of his surroundings.

"Shuuta!"

The clarity increased, and he slowly opened his eyes.

"Ummm… where-"

The room trembled with a shared intensity as Shuuta's figure materialized before his comrades. His sudden return from the brink of death sparked a visceral wave of emotions, and each member of the group responded in a distinct yet equally heartfelt manner.

Yuri, unable to contain her relief, let out a cry of mixed joy and frustration. "Baka!" she exclaimed, hurling herself at Shuuta with an unrestrained force. Her arms wrapped tightly around him, an emotional squeeze that conveyed more than words ever could.

"-ueeh!" Shuuta gasped involuntarily, the physical strain accentuated by the sharp release of air. A mixture of blood and gas lingered on his lips, a brutal reminder of the perilous journey he had undertaken.

Kakoyo, usually quick with playful banter, found herself at a rare loss for words. Her pouting expression revealed a depth of emotion, her gaze turned away as if to shield her vulnerable side from the others. Beneath the surface, emotions surged, revealing a connection to Shuuta that transcended their usual dynamic.

Kurumi, torn between joy and concern, tugged at the fabric of her clothes. Her eyes flickered with a blend of emotions, a testament to the profound impact Shuuta's revival had on her. It was a delicate dance of conflicting feelings, mirroring the complexity of their shared experiences.

Mikazuki, the ever-distant lover, stood there, silent and contemplative. Her eyes, normally cool and composed, betrayed a glimmer of concern. Shuuta's constant brushes with death left her feeling as though he were slipping away, a connection strained by the cruel hands of fate. Her heart thudded, echoing the fear of losing someone she might not truly know yet. She admired his selfless tendencies, a stark contrast to her own guarded emotions. As Shuuta lay lifeless, a subtle pang of longing and uncertainty wrapped around her, leaving her grappling with the unfamiliar ache of concern.

Noara, on the other hand, let out a sigh that seemed to carry the weight of the world. She slumped into an office chair, her relief palpable. The tension that had been gripping her evaporated, allowing her emotions to float like a feather. Each inhale felt easier, each exhale a release from the suffocating grip of worry. Noara had faced death before, but Shuuta's brief departure had shaken her more than she cared to admit. As the chair embraced her, she closed her eyes briefly, absorbing the simple joy of knowing that Shuuta had returned. It was a momentary reprieve, a delicate pause in the chaotic symphony of their journey.

"W-what happened to you? You arrived here, lifeless, Master…" Kakoyo's tears streamed freely, her eye patch burdened with the weight of her emotions.

Shuuta's revelation sent a chill through the room, rendering everyone silent. A collective sorrow pressed heavily on the atmosphere.

"I…I lost my first battle," Shuuta began, his voice trembling with the gravity of his emotions. He glanced down at the floor, avoiding eye contact. "I did my utmost to protect…Hana-"

But as he spoke Hanako's name, memories flooded back, and Shuuta's heart seized with a raw, overwhelming pain. The tears he had restrained welled up, spilling over.

The haunting faces of the Mystics seared into his mind like a relentless brand, each image a painful reminder of the ferocious battle that unfolded. The memories danced vividly before his eyes, a relentless torrent of flashes, vivid and cruel. The echo of their clash lingered in the recesses of his consciousness, a relentless replay of the desperate struggle. Then, like an abrupt storm, his last breath played out in his mind's theater, a chilling finale to the gruesome spectacle. And amidst the chaos, a single name surfaced—Hanako.

"Hanako…she's gone," he uttered through gritted teeth, the anguish evident in his voice. His fists clenched so tightly that blood began to trickle from the corners of his mouth.

Shuuta's vulnerability cast a profound shadow in the room, the sting of his pain palpable among his friends. They were at a loss for words, grappling with how to console him in his moment of despair.

He had been their pillar, their protector, but now, he was the one in need of support. His voice was barely a whisper as he attempted to elucidate the loss of his familiar, tears streaming down his cheeks, painting a poignant picture of profound grief.

An oppressive silence enveloped the room, each member grappling with their emotions, uncertain of how to heal Shuuta's wounded heart. They recognized that Shuuta needed time and space to process his grief, even if they couldn't alleviate his pain.

As the room remained somber and laden with the weight of Shuuta's grief, he finally looked up, his eyes still misted with tears. "I can manage," he managed to say, his voice regaining some composure.

Understanding that Shuuta required solitude to process his pain, the group began to file out of the room, leaving Shuuta and Kentaro alone.

Once alone, Kentaro approached Shuuta with a concerned expression. "Kid, I am sorry," he began. "You tried your best against a Commander, you probably fought with honor."

Shuuta looked up at Kentaro, his eyes revealing a mix of emotions. "It wasn't even me," he confessed, his voice trembling. He wiped away a fresh tear, finding it hard to maintain his composure.

"Hm?" Kentaro inquired, puzzled by Shuuta's words.

Shuuta took a deep breath, his eyes reflecting the complexities of the tale he was about to share. "It wasn't me who lost the fight...it was my father...Abaddon," he confessed, the burden of that revelation evident in his eyes.

Kentaro's expression remained grave, absorbing the gravity of Shuuta's words. Abbadon's influence had not only reached their world but had directly impacted the outcome of a battle, steering it toward an unforeseen direction.

"But, you see," Shuuta continued, a small, ironic smile playing on his lips, "Abbadon is not what you'd expect from a Demon King. He's playful, carefree, and sometimes infuriatingly casual, considering the chaos he brings."

Kentaro arched an eyebrow, the dissonance between the image of a carefree Demon King and the gravity of the situation intriguing him. "Carefree? Abbadon?"

Shuuta nodded, assuming the paradox that was his father. "He jokes in the face of danger, even in the middle of a fight. It's hard to reconcile the legendary Demon King with the one who casually comments on the weather. But that's who he is."

Kentaro's initial shock morphed into a pensive frown. "A Demon King who cracks jokes... that's hard to wrap my head around."

Shuuta chuckled softly, a hint of warmth breaking through the heaviness. "Believe me, I'm still trying to figure it out myself. It's like he defies every expectation. But in the midst of it all, he genuinely cares... for me."

Kentaro's gaze softened, recognizing the depth of the connection between father and son, transcending the ominous reputation of Abbadon.

"I know it sounds surreal," Shuuta admitted, "but he's more than the tales tell. And now, he's inside me, in my Anima's Plane."

The sudden eruption of Abbadon's voice in Shuuta's head was like a fireworks display in a library. "I'm not like that at all! I'm the sovereign of shadows! The King of Kings, the one who was supposed to bring destruction to all!" he barked in fury, his words echoing through the mental corridors with all the subtlety of a thunderclap.

Shuuta caught off guard, flinched at the auditory explosion inside his mind. It was like having a rock concert unexpectedly hosted in the middle of a tea party.

Meanwhile, Kentaro observed the scene with the stoic expression of a seasoned mystic. His reaction? A blank, deadpan stare aimed at Shuuta.

"Are you...okay?" Kentaro inquired, his voice almost drowned out by the lingering echoes of Abbadon's vocal theatrics.

"Shut up, old fart!" Shuuta retaliated, thrusting a balled hand toward the ceiling as if challenging the unseen forces responsible for this auditory chaos.

Kentaro, taken aback by the sudden burst of Shuuta's frustration, blinked. It was as if he had witnessed a street magician pull an unexpected rabbit out of a hat—bewildering and strangely amusing.

Kentaro, his blank stare now replaced by a mild amusement, chuckled softly. "Well, you certainly know how to make an entrance, both of you. A demon king throwing a tantrum inside a Mystic's head—classic."

Abbadon's voice, now adopting a mockingly hurt tone, interjected, "Tantrum? I'll have you know, I was expressing my dissatisfaction with the acoustics in here."

Shuuta rolled his eyes, caught between the comical banter of his father and the deadpan observation of Kentaro. "Anyway, old man, I need to spill the beans on the whole Abbadon situation. He's not as menacing as he sounds."

Kentaro raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Enlighten me."

Shuuta took a deep breath, ready to unravel the absurdity that had become his life. "So, during the battle, I was getting my butt kicked, and in a moment of desperation, Abbadon decided to lend me a hand... or rather, his powers. But things got a bit out of control, and I kinda blacked out. Next thing I know, I wake up, and he's chilling in my Anima's Plane."

Abbadon's voice chimed in playfully, "Chilling is an understatement, my boy. I'm sprucing the place up with a touch of demonic flair."

Shuuta sighed, shaking his head. "See what I mean? He's like a demon interior decorator or something. Not exactly the menacing force of destruction you'd expect."

Kentaro, despite the bizarre nature of the situation, couldn't help but grin. "So, the Demon King is an interior decorator now. I guess everyone needs a hobby."

Abbadon, ever the charismatic showman...showdemon, added, "Oh, it's not just a hobby, my friend. It's an art form."

Shuuta groaned, realizing that trying to explain Abbadon's quirks was like trying to explain the concept of colors to someone who only saw in black and white.

Kentaro, still amused, leaned back and crossed his arms. "Well, Shuuta, looks like you've got yourself a demon dad with a flair for design. That's a new one."

Shuuta nodded with a resigned smile. "Yeah, it's a whole new level of weirdness. But hey, at least he's not trying to destroy the world right now."

Abbadon's voice echoed in a faux-hurt tone, "Ouch, Shuuta. Right in the demonic pride."

Kentaro couldn't help but laugh. "Well, I can't say my day is dull anymore. A Demon King decorator and his Mystic son—classic indeed."

Shuuta's grief partially subsided, making him more relaxed and stoic than ever.

"Kentaro-san...may I ask you for a favor?"

"Mm?"