CHAPTER 434: DEATH & DEMONS-II

Something was trembling. Cassius frowned, at first glancing down at the ground, thinking it was the earth beneath him quaking. But the grass swayed still and the soil lay quiet. No, it wasn’t the ground. It was his own hands. They trembled faintly, betraying what his face refused to show, as though some instinct deep in his bones feared what his mind was only beginning to grasp— that he might not leave this place. That he might be chained to Hell.

"That woman must mean a lot to me," Cassius muttered, staring at his shaking hands. His voice was steady but the words felt like glass cutting his tongue. Him, the very same man who had laughed at blades pressed to his throat, who had waded through blood without blinking— now trembling at the thought of being caged below, trembling at the thought of leaving her behind.

"A lot is an understatement," the demon said, lowering himself onto the grass beside Cassius. He sat cross- legged, arms folded across his scarred chest, eyes fixed not on Cassius but on the endless meadow before them. His voice was calm, almost conversational, but every word landed heavy. "You think it’s easy to leave Hell. I’ve tried. I’ve clawed at the gates until my fingers turned to bone. The only way out is death. And I don’t think you’re ready for that— not while your arms still ache for her."

Cassius’s eyes dropped back to his calloused palms. They were scarred and hard as stone, hands made for killing and command. But now they felt almost fragile. "Could I not become a demon then?" he asked, his tone caught somewhere between defiance and doubt. "I think I’m strong enough as I am."

"You came here for more power," the demon replied flatly, "because deep down you knew it wouldn’t be enough to protect that woman."

Cassius’s eyes flicked up at him. "Are we going against a demon?" His voice hardened. That was the one enemy even he had learned to respect.

The demon nodded slowly. "He is not one yet. But soon he will be."

Cassius scoffed, pushing back the rising dread in his stomach with sarcasm. "Then send him to Hell. Let him rot there."

"He won’t."

"Well that’s unfair," Cassius snapped, his lip curling. "He can’t be dragged to Hell but I can? Then by your own words there must be some way to escape without dying."

"No." The demon’s silver eyes turned on him at last, their weight like iron. "He is a child of a demon and a human. Do you see it now? Halves like him are despised in Hell. No one wants him. He carries the power of a demon but the body of a man. But you— once you cross that threshold— your body will become a demon. And Hell always takes what belongs to it."

Cassius’s throat felt tight, but he forced himself to hold the demon’s gaze.

"This," the demon added, his tone quieter now, almost a confession, "is why I only shared you a fraction of my power. Every time I give you more, you inch closer to demonization. Every time, you step nearer to the pit."

"But if you learn more of my power, I could tell you this, you are going to get even stronger, strong enough to defeat him by a small chance," the demon placed his hands on his knees as the sky above him turned stormy, almost as though rain and storm had been stirred and about to drip and destroy the meadow.

"But I will leave her."

"Correct. In the end, it is a choice only you can make. And I would advise you against it," the demon said, his silver eyes dark with an ancient weariness. "For though men grow desperate, becoming a demon is the last path any desperate man should ever walk—even if it is the only road left open."

Cassius tilted his head back, exhaling a short laugh that carried no humor. "I don’t think that helps me much. If what you say is true—that our enemy is powerful, that he’s becoming something more than mortal—then to protect this... woman... I will need power. Whether it damns me or not." His jaw clenched, voice firm. "If her life is wagered while I fight a half-demon, then I don’t have the luxury of fearing Hell."

"I knew as much," the silver-eyed demon sighed, as though he had foreseen the answer long before Cassius spoke it. "I know telling you otherwise is futile. Still... you granted me peace once. So before you misstep, before you are torn away from her against your will, I must warn you. Remember: the pit takes without mercy."

"How kind," Cassius muttered. The word was genuine for once, but his tone—seasoned by years of sarcasm and sharp retorts—made it sound like mockery. Yet the demon only smiled faintly, as though he could tell the truth beneath the mask.

"Then how about this," the demon said, lifting one scarred hand. His index finger rose, and with it a subtle weight pressed against Cassius’s brow. "Since I cannot chain you, nor save you from yourself, I’ll give you a blessing instead. A mark that may aid you... if not now, then in the moment you need it most."

Cassius flinched slightly at the sensation—a warmth blossoming at the center of his forehead, like a coal pressed to his skin. He reached up, fingers brushing against nothing, but the lingering heat told him something unseen had been etched there.

"You’re not going to stop me from ever calling on your power?"

The demon’s grin curved, jagged and knowing. "Of course not. When you ask, I will answer. I will always be ready to give you my strength. But remember what I told you. Each time you take more, the pit grows closer."

"I’ll remember," Cassius said, his voice steady, though doubt flickered in his chest. "But I won’t promise to honor it. If Arabella’s life is in danger, you know what I will do. Even becoming a demon... is a small price."

The demon’s smile faded into something almost sorrowful. "See?" His voice was quiet, resigned. "Even when your memories are scattered, when your soul is wiped bare—you still speak her name. Even now, you cannot help yourself."

Cassius froze. His red eyes widened, his carefully composed face breaking into something raw and unguarded. Arabella. The name had slipped past his lips without thought, without intention, as if bound to him more tightly than breath. And in that moment, the flood came—her face, her defiance, her laughter, the sharp edges of her voice, the warmth of her hand in his. Memory crashed into him all at once, and with it the cold weight inside him cracked, splintered, and gave way to warmth. For the first time in what felt like centuries, his chest stirred.

A slow smile curved his lips, soft and dangerous all at once.

"Good luck," the demon whispered, voice fading into the wind as the meadow began to dissolve. The edges of the world grew white, blinding, until the figure and the grass and the sky all melted away. Cassius was swallowed in brilliance, the light erasing everything except the echo of her name pulsing in his chest like a heartbeat he thought he had lost.