The storm had passed, but the air still felt thick.
Lucifer sat in the wreckage of the shack, eyes fixed on the puddle in front of him. His reflection stared back—familiar, yet not. The faint orange glow in his eyes flickered once… then vanished.
Behind him, Meira paced like a caged animal. Her breaths were sharp, her hands trembling despite the calm in the air.
"What was that thing?" she finally asked.
Lucifer didn't answer right away.
"I don't know."
A lie.
He knew what it was.Or rather… he felt it. Like something ancient had left a scar inside him—not on his body, but his soul.
The cursed blade sat beside him, silent.
Too silent.
"It said it was a remnant," Lucifer murmured.
Meira stopped pacing.
"Of what?"
"Of something older than the sword. Older than the curse."
She frowned.
"And it went into you."
He nodded.
She took a step back.
"Do you feel… different?"
Lucifer looked down at his hands. His skin looked the same. But under it—he could feel movement. Not literal—but something stirred in the marrow of his bones. A second heartbeat. A whisper behind his thoughts.
"Yes."
They didn't speak much after that.
By morning, they had patched the shattered wall with branches and bark. Meira kept stealing glances at him when she thought he wasn't looking. She didn't speak of what happened again. But the space between them had grown… heavier.
Lucifer didn't blame her.
He wasn't sure he trusted himself either.
That afternoon, smoke rose in the eastern sky—thin, dark, deliberate.
"Scouting party," Meira said grimly. "Imperial."
Lucifer nodded.
"How many?"
"Three, maybe five."
They weren't looking for him specifically. Not yet. But if they got close…
Lucifer stood and slung the cursed blade over his shoulder.
"We move."
"You sure you're up for that?" Meira asked, eyes narrowing. "After… last night?"
He met her gaze, steady.
"I'm not breaking yet."
But something inside him whispered:
"Not yet… but soon."
They traveled through the lower slopes of the forest, sticking to thick cover. The sounds of distant boots and muffled voices carried over the wind.
Soon enough, they saw them.
Four soldiers, cloaked in black steel. One held a map. Another carried a staff inscribed with runes—likely a tracker.
"If they find us, they'll call for the rest," Meira whispered.
Lucifer nodded.
"Then we stop them before they speak."
Meira blinked.
"You mean… kill them?"
He didn't answer.
They waited until the soldiers made camp near a shallow stream.
As night fell, the fog rolled in. And in that fog… Lucifer moved.
Meira watched from above, perched on a rock outcropping.
Lucifer approached silently, crouched, invisible in the mist.
The cursed blade did not glow. It did not whisper.
But he could feel it… watching.
The first soldier fell without a sound—Lucifer's blade sliding across his throat like paper.
The second turned too late. The cursed blade stabbed through his chest, clean and cold.
The third raised a cry—only to be silenced by a thrown dagger.
Only one remained—the mage.
Lucifer closed in.
The mage raised his staff, but Lucifer was already upon him.
"W-wait—"
"No."
The blade came down.
When the fog cleared, four bodies lay broken beneath the trees.
Lucifer stood over them, eyes blank.
He felt nothing.
Again.
Meira approached slowly.
"You didn't hesitate."
"Should I have?"
"They were human."
Lucifer turned to her, voice quiet.
"So am I."
But even he didn't believe it.
Not anymore.
That night, they found shelter in a small cave. The fire crackled weakly. Meira sat apart, wrapping her arms around her knees.
Lucifer sat across from her, sharpening his blade.
"You're changing," she said.
He stopped.
"You're colder. Detached. Even your aura feels… off."
He didn't deny it.
"Maybe this is what I need to become to survive."
"And what will you be when it's over?"
Lucifer stared into the flames.
He didn't answer.
The cursed blade sat beside him, humming softly.
And in the back of his mind…The voice was no longer just a whisper.
It was breathing.