The rain had lessened, but the skies remained iron gray.
Lucifer and Meira moved through the backwoods of the ruined district, their steps careful. With every shallow breath, pain lanced through Lucifer's chest. His shoulder throbbed where Meira had hastily bandaged it, and his legs—burning from exhaustion—threatened to give out at any moment.
But he didn't stop.
He couldn't.
Behind them, the capital still hunted. The black sword—now sheathed in bloodstained cloth—hung slanted across his back. Its presence, even dormant, felt like a coiled serpent waiting for another taste of violence.
Meira walked beside him in silence. She had said little since they left the shelter. Maybe she sensed that he wasn't ready to talk. Maybe she wasn't either.
Eventually, they reached the edge of the district, where cobblestone gave way to soft, wet earth. A dense forest loomed ahead, cloaked in mist.
"We should rest before dark," Meira murmured. "There's an abandoned shack deeper in the woods. I've used it before."
Lucifer nodded.
They stepped beneath the twisted branches of the forest, where the air was thick with moisture and the scent of moss and decay. Leaves dripped around them, and every twig that cracked underfoot felt like a war drum.
They didn't reach the shack.
Because something was already waiting.
It started as a low growl. Barely audible. Then the wind shifted, and the stench hit them—wet fur, blood, and something fouler. Meira froze mid-step.
"Wait."
Lucifer already sensed it.
A shadow lunged from the underbrush. Massive. Four-legged. Eyes gleaming like molten gold.
An onyx fangbear.
A beast created through blood rituals and warped magic—often released to patrol the Empire's borders. Its muscles rippled beneath armored fur. Its fangs were longer than daggers.
Lucifer shoved Meira aside just in time as the creature crashed into him, sending him sprawling.
Pain exploded through his ribs. The bandages tore. Blood soaked through again.
He rolled instinctively, just as claws raked the ground where his chest had been a heartbeat ago.
The fangbear snarled and charged again.
Lucifer barely got to his feet, hand scrambling for the cloth-wrapped sword. As he tore it free, the blade came alive in his grip—humming, thrumming, hungry.
"Let me help you," it whispered."Just one more thing. A small price... Pain. Give me pain."
Lucifer's fingers trembled.
"What will you take?"
The voice chuckled darkly.
"Only what you feel now. The wounds. The ache. The trembling in your bones. Trade it… and you'll move like wind."
The fangbear roared. It was coming.
Lucifer's grip tightened.
"Take it."
In a rush, the fire in his nerves vanished. The sharp agony dulled into nothing. His muscles steadied.
And he moved.
The beast pounced—Lucifer stepped to the side, unnaturally fast.His blade came down—cleaving across the creature's back. A spray of black blood erupted.
The fangbear screamed, twisting midair, jaws snapping.
Lucifer ducked. Slashed. Again. And again.
Every movement was smooth. No hesitation.He didn't feel his body. He commanded it.
Meira watched from the brush, eyes wide with disbelief.
Finally, the beast staggered. Roaring, it charged in a last frenzy.
Lucifer didn't retreat. He stepped forward and rammed the blade straight into its mouth—through its skull.
Silence.
Then a thud.
The onyx fangbear lay dead at his feet.
Lucifer stood over the corpse, chest heaving—not from exhaustion, but from something else.
Emptiness.
No pain. No fear.Not even the dull burn of adrenaline.
Just... blank.
"That… wasn't right," he muttered.
The voice returned, smug.
"You asked to win. I gave you what you needed. Power without burden. Isn't that what mortals always crave?"
"But I felt nothing."
"Precisely."
Meira approached slowly.
"You… fought like a war spirit."
Lucifer didn't look at her.
"I traded. Again."
"What this time?"
"Pain."
Meira's brow furrowed.
"That's… not how pain works. It teaches us when we're close to dying."
Lucifer finally turned to her, eyes dull.
"Then what am I now?"
They made it to the shack after nightfall. The place was barely more than four wooden walls and a roof made of moss and bark. But it was dry, and for now, that was enough.
Lucifer sat with the sword beside him, watching the storm roll outside.
His mind felt too quiet.
Every time he tried to remember what pain felt like, he couldn't.Not just from the battle. From anything.
Meira sat near the door, tending a small flame.
"What you're doing…" she said slowly, "It's not power. It's debt."
Lucifer said nothing.
"I don't know where this path leads, but…""If it ever asks you to trade something you can't take back—don't."
He didn't respond. But the sword beside him seemed to vibrate—barely noticeable.
And outside, something far worse than a fangbear howled in the dark.