CHAPTER 232: CHAPTER 232

While I waited for him to wake up, I activated Noblesee Codex, my spectral seal glowing to life. I needed answers—something, anything—on how to remove that Rakshesha’s mark clean without ending him. The feather pen scratched across the ethereal pages: queries on the mark’s removal, its weaknesses, even the curse’s origins. But after a few tense minutes, frustration boiled up. No matter how I phrased it, the responses looped back the same.

No records on Rakshesha’s Mark.

No records on Rakshesha’s Curse.

No records on the origin of Rakshesha’s Curse.

The author had seen this coming, hadn’t they? Knew I’d try to rewrite the plot, save Raphael without spilling blood. It was like the whole story was rigged to force my hand.

I was so lost in it, scribbling furiously, that I didn’t catch Raphael’s voice at first. "Remi?"

The Noblesee Codex vanished in a blink as I whipped around, he was right behind me, eyes open and fixed on mine. "Raph—" His name caught in my throat when I saw it: something off, a shadow lurking just beneath the surface. I backed away quick, putting space between us.

"What did you do to Raphael?" I demanded, my glare hardening. He looked the same on the outside—same face, same build. I could still feel his aura, warm and familiar, but woven through it was another... colder, darker, like oil mixing with water.

"What do you mean, Remi? I’m still Rapha—"

"Cut the crap," I snapped, cutting him off. "How long have you been awake, Drakar?"

He froze for a split second, then this creepy smile spread across his face—Raphael’s face, but twisted in a way that made my skin crawl. He eased back into the wheelchair, casual as if we were just chatting over coffee. "I’ve been awake since the moment this boy stirred, Remi," he said, his voice smooth but laced with something darker, mocking.

"Then why didn’t you take control of his body right away?" I demanded, my fists clenching at my sides.

"Because of his stubborn will," he replied, shrugging like it was no big deal. "I’ve been struggling to pin him down fully. We’ve been battling for control since the day he opened his eyes."

That damn demon—he’d been toying with us the whole time! Every visit, every joke, every gentle smile... how much of that was Raphael, and how much was this bastard pulling strings? My blood boiled, rage flooding in hot and fast. "Give Raph back!" I snarled, yanking out my Arcanum. It shifted in my grip with a soft click, unfolding into a sharp dagger, and I lunged straight at him, blade aimed for his chest.

He dodged my lunge with this infuriating grace, sidestepping like he’d been expecting it. "But I’m still Raphael, aren’t I? He’s just... sound asleep deep inside us, Remi."

"Don’t call me that!" I snapped, already charging after him, dagger gripped tight. "You’ve been fooling us this whole time!"

"All my feelings were real from the start, Remi," he said, backing away with that same twisted smile. "I didn’t fool anyone."

"Lies!" I growled through clenched teeth. Demons didn’t feel anything real—emotions were just tools for them, and the only thing that truly lit them up was chaos and destruction.

I pressed harder, swinging low, and this time I caught him off guard. The blade sliced across his arm as he stumbled back, hitting the forest floor with a thud. Blood welled up—dark, almost black—but he just cursed under his breath.

"Damn it, I’m still not used to this body," he muttered, wincing.

I pounced, straddling him to keep him down, my free hand pinning his shoulder while I channeled light magic into the dagger’s tip. It glowed bright, pure and searing, ready to drive straight into his heart and end this nightmare. But then he looked up at me, those eyes locking onto mine—familiar blue, pleading.

"Remi..." he whispered.

I froze. The light in my blade flickered, weakening as doubt crashed over me. "Raph..." How could I do it? How could I kill him knowing Raphael was still in there, fighting somewhere deep down?

In that split second of hesitation, he twisted—stronger than he should have been—and flipped us over. Suddenly I was the one pinned, my Arcanum skittering across the dirt out of reach. Fuck—why had I faltered like that?

"Get off me, you demon!" I thrashed under him, kicking and shoving, but his weight held me firm.

"Believe me, Remi," he said, voice low and urgent, "I don’t plan on killing any of you."

"And why the hell would I believe a word from a demon?" I snarled up at him, my nails digging into his arms as I strained against his hold. "I’ll let you live—only if you give Raphael back right now."

"I can’t do that," he said, his voice steady, almost regretful.

"And why not?" I shot back, twisting under him. "You slapped that curse on him easy enough—just mark someone else and let Raphael go free."

He shook his head, those eyes—Raphael’s eyes—holding mine without flinching. "That was a one-time deal. It nearly shattered my core just to latch on. As for Raphael... we’re fused now, two souls stuck in this body whether you like it or not."

I gritted my teeth so hard my jaw ached, fury boiling over. "Let me go so I can kill you! Everything you’re saying is bullshit—lies! Let go—I said let go!"

He sighed, long and heavy, like I was the one being unreasonable. "Fine. I’ll show you the past—the real story of the Myriad Operation and what went down there."

Before I could even process that, black smoke billowed up around us, thick and swirling like ink in water. I clamped my mouth shut, holding my breath, but it seeped in anyway, filling my lungs with this heavy, dizzying haze. "W-What are you doing?!" I gasped out, panic clawing at my chest as my vision blurred.

"This is the only way to make you trust me..."

His words trailed off, muffled and distant, as exhaustion crashed over me. I fought it, blinking hard, but my eyelids grew too heavy. The world faded to black, and I shut my eyes for good.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~ ~~~

Myriad Operation Year 20**

How long had it been since Drakar last felt truly alive?

He didn’t know when he’d first turned demon but it was a rush—like fire suddenly burning in his veins. It was so long that he only remembered stalking the human world, sowing chaos wherever he went: toppling villages, twisting minds until people turned on each other. It was even better when the Heroes showed up, all righteous and gleaming with their powers, trying to chain him down. He’d slip away every time, hitting them with a wave of madness that left them babbling wrecks. Pure thrill.

But immortality has a way of dulling the edges. Ruling his crumbling castle in the Underworld, barking orders at a horde of sniveling subordinates, toying with mortals’ heads from afar—it all started to feel like the same old game. Boring. Empty. He got so fed up that he just... stopped. Holed up in his throne room, staring at the jagged ceilings, waiting for some end to come. But nothing did. Demons don’t fade easy.

While the other demons clawed their way to greater fame and power, building empires of fear, he laid there like a forgotten relic. His minions drifted away one by one, tired of serving a lord who did nothing to grow their name. Whispers spread: he was done, irrelevant. The Forgotten Demon.

One restless day, he dragged himself topside to the human world, just to see if anything had changed up there. Maybe a fresh spark of destruction to shake off the dust. That’s when he stumbled onto it—the Myriad Operation.

He stood there on the outskirts, hidden in the shadows of the treeline, watching the chaos unfold. A full-blown battle raged between the Rogues and the humans—swords clashing, spells lighting up the night, bodies hitting the dirt. Drakar just observed, arms crossed, a faint smirk playing on his lips. ’These Rogues are throwing their lives away like trash,’ he thought. ’All for some master’s twisted entertainment.’

Most demons couldn’t be bothered with the human world anymore. Why risk it when you could lounge in the Underworld and send your minions on the mortals instead? Let the underlings do the dirty work while you racked up the glory from afar.

But Drakar? He was wired different. He craved the surface—the grit of it, the pulse of life up close. He’d wander among humans, mimicking their ways: laughing at their jokes, sharing their meals, blending in like one of them. That’s what hooked him—the emotions they chased so fiercely. Happiness that bubbled up warm and bright. Sadness that hit like a gut punch. And love... that one especially. The way it twisted people inside out, made them do the impossible. He wanted to feel it, to know what it was like to burn with something real.