#saiki lore

“I would like the following to watch over her and guide her in Enlightenment.”

“Mammon.”

“Aw, again? Why another one?” 

“Leviathan.”

“Wh-What?! Why me?”

“Asmodeus.”

“Oo yay! I haven’t been chosen as a mentor in ages! This’ll be so fun!”

“Belphegor, and…”

Beelzebub glanced over at the empty seat beside him.

“Beelzebub.”

“Me?” He looked at Lucifer in surprise. “But I’m—“

“Beelzebub?”

Lilith all but sprinted to him, excited footsteps tapping on the granite tiles.

“Lilith, don’t—“ Lucifer began to scold her, but she paid it no mind.

“You’re Beelzebub?” She asked when she reached him, “Really?”

“Ah…” He sat up a little straighter, wanting to make a good impression. “Yes, I am.”

Her smile widened and she stood up on her toes, her excitement so bright it made his chest feel lighter.

“Beelzebub, the twin of Belphegor, right? Is it true? Is it true Father created you two from the same beginning?”

“Oh um… yes, that’s true—“

She squealed in delight. “That’s so cool! Can you really communicate with your minds? Do you know his thoughts right now? Can you—“ “Lilith.”

Lucifer’s sharp tone finally caught her attention and she flinched, looking over her shoulder.

“Sorry, Lucifer…” she mumbled sheepishly, quickly taking a seat next to Beelzebub and sitting on her hands, doing her best to be the picture of innocence.

Lucifer only sighed and shook his head, continuing on with explaining the rest of the agenda.

That day he learned mornings could be… bright.

Lucifer always assigned a group of mentors to fledglings while Michael tended to only choose one or two. It was strange, especially since the young angels would often end up favoring the teachings of a select few until they found a way to recognize Fate for themselves. 

Lilith wasn’t quite like that. She quickly became fond of all those around her, even those who had not been assigned to mentor her. Always eager and excited to learn, it was hard to resist her charm. She held a tenacious curiosity within her, something that never seemed to dim no matter how much time passed.

If anything, it only grew brighter.

He’d never forget how excited she’d been when Belphegor showed them his new Manifestation. A glimpse at a new world, he’d said, something Father had created most likely. It was a strange place, and Beelzebub felt that if Father hadn’t mentioned it to them, then they weren’t meant to know.

Lilith, however, was captivated.

So many questions she’d asked, many that Belphegor couldn’t answer but had been excited by. He’d shown his Manifestation to a few angels, but most had dismissed it much in the same way Beelzebub had. No one had asked or felt the need to give it more than the briefest of glimpses. This unknown realm was of no concern and had no bearing or meaning in the Celestial Realm, so why pry? 

But whenever he saw Belphegor and Lilith together, a contented smile on his twins’ face that he’d never seen it…

It was hard to feel the need to squander it.

Afternoons had never felt so warm.

Soon she’d become older, and it was time for her to choose her path. What had she learned, and where would she like to grow? They had been walking together in the grand hall of the cathedral, her worry and uncertainty creeping in the closer they came to Lucifer’s door.

“I wouldn’t worry,” he’d said, “I don’t even have a clearly defined path.”

“Really?” She’d looked up at him in awe, “But you always seem to know what you’re meant to be.”

He’d never realized how… amusing that sentiment had been in that moment. Known who he was meant to be? Did he? He’d felt like a half of a whole since the day he’d been created, though the feeling never brought him distress. Nor peace. It just… was the way things were; it was his Fate to share with Belphegor.

“Do you know what you want to be?” She’d asked, “Maybe knowing your vision will help me find mine.”

“I want to protect what’s right,” he’d said.

Her smile was like sunlight.

“Lucifer! Lucifer!”

Belphegor had never spoken up or interrupted another before, but when he burst into the room even Lucifer was stunned into silence.

Without pausing for a second, he strode past Lilith and Beelzebub and stopped at the end of Lucifer’s desk.

“Belphegor, we’re—“

“I know, but look.” Belphegor held his hands at shoulder’s distance apart in front of his chest, recreating his Manifestation before their very eyes.

“Belphegor I’ve told you once, and I’ll tell you again. I’ve no interest in—“ “But look!” He’d cried, thrusting his arms out to make Lucifer see. “Look at what they’re doing to Father’s Creation!”

Lilith was at his side in an instant, peering over his shoulder. “What… what are those things?”

“I don’t know, but they’re awful. They’re ruining everything!”

Lucifer’s expression had soured, but he said nothing. Only analyzing. Then he’d looked into Belphegor’s eyes and asked.

“Where did these creatures come from, do you know?”

He’d shaken his head, tears starting to form in his eyes. “No, I just noticed them recently when I looked. They don’t seem like they’re from Father’s Creation.”

“Haven’t you seen creatures… cause harm to one another before?”

“Yes, but this is different! These… these things aren’t like animals. They don’t obey the laws of the realm!”

Lucifer quieted, and Beelzebub had taken a chance to glimpse into Belphegor’s distress. So many awful feelings, many he’d never felt before. Had Belphie… coveted this place?

“What do you think we should do, Beelzebub?” Lucifer’d asked him unexpectedly, snapping him from his thoughts.

He’d looked to the imagery, then Lucifer’s eyes and answered without a second thought.

“Whatever these creatures are, we should make sure they can’t enter this realm.”

The stricken looks on both Lilith’s and Belphegor’s face would never leave his memory.

“Yes… yes, that’s a wise idea. Beelzebub, I’d like to position you to watch the gates while I discuss this further with Michael.”

In a world full of sunlight…

“Beelzebub…”

Lilith had taken to a new hobby, walking along the meadows and gazing out across all that Father had created for this realm. From the scent of grass that stirred in the shapeless breeze to the way the wind swept her hair, she was the picture of serenity and grace.

If only it could be reflected on her face…

“Beel?” she repeated, half turning to him with a sad smile. “Could I… ask you for something?”

“Of course,” he said, “anything.”

She bowed her head and asked in a voice so soft he almost didn’t hear it over the grass’ rustle.

“Will you… hold me?”

“Yes,” he whispered back, not knowing why but wanting to comfort her all the same. He didn’t need to know why, all that he needed to know was he could make her feel safe and shield her from whatever caused her smile to lose its light.

“Thank you, Beel…” she whispered, holding him close as he folded his wings around her, hoping to deafen the sounds around them to bring her peace. “You’re always… there for me,” she said, reaching up to caress his feathers as she’d often done when she was little. She’d always praised his feathers, and even shown him that they could glitter like rainbows in the light. So soft and bright, she’d said, like the realm’s greatest embrace.

…when did it become so cold.

He should’ve known.

“Lilith!”

He should’ve known.

Belphegor’s wails rung out far into the night, piercing and wrenching deep inside his heart.

Agony.

Despair.

His knees buckled and he fell, dimly aware of his own pain as he watched Belphegor howl to the moon, tears mixing with the blood that poured from fresh wounds at his temples as thick, monstrous horns adorned his crown.

He should’ve known.

His twin’s cries became hoarse but never ceased. Never faded. Even as his consciousness ebbed away, his wails followed him into his dreams.

Without her smile, there was no light.

“Beelzebub?”

Without her, there was no right.

“Beel?”

He held himself steady, having trapped you between himself and the wall with no one else around. You, who had been nothing more than a simple human selected for the exchange program but quickly became more, so much more. Not just to him, but to everyone. Never had he thought he could make a pact with a human, let alone befriend one.

And yet…

“Beel?”

His jaws parted, breath ragged and hunger setting in. A pact, a friendship, a fondness… nothing could make the emptiness inside go away. Not when you looked like that, so curious and eager. So warm.

So… bright.

“Beel?”

“Order me away.”

“Wh… what?”

Saliva began to pool under his tongue, the temptation to eat what he hungered for rising. This hadn’t been the first time he’d trapped you like this, frightened you like this.

“Order me to stay away.” He forced himself to say, sickening himself with the chilling buzz of his wings. What had once been soft and comforting was now nothing but another reminder of the creature he’d become.

“Tell me I can’t be alone with you,” he continued, swallowing the burning in his throat. “Make me promise to never be alone with you.”

“Oh… Beel…”

Don’t.

“Please.” He bowed his head until his forehead touched the wall, wishing he could say it was in defeat but in reality he didn’t want his prey to escape. 

“Why?” You asked naively, making the burn rise even higher, tightening in his throat. 

He couldn’t protect her.

“I trust you, Beel.”

He flinched as arms wrapped around his middle, another anxious flutter of his wings breaking the silence when he couldn’t speak.

He can’t protect you.

You reached up to caress his shoulders, fingertips lightly gliding along the edges of his wing.

“You’re just hungry, right? It’s been a long day.”

The burning reached his eyes, tears blurring his sight.

This empty feeling…

A low rumble vibrated in his abdomen and you laughed softly.

“See? You’re just hungry. I get cranky too when I haven’t eaten.”

Stop.

You rubbed his back, humming a nonsensical tune.

Stop trying to fill it.

He didn’t deserve to feel whole.

Not without Belphie…

Another rumble and you chuckled again, squeezing him a little tighter. “C’mon, let’s go to the kitchen and I’ll make you something. How’s that sound?”

Not without Lilith.

Just one bite.

He grabbed your shoulders and pushed you back against the wall.

Just one bite, then you’d see.

You’d see the monster he could be.

“What’re you doing, Beel?” you asked unflinching, keeping your chin up even as he leaned in to tear at your throat.

“I…”

A monster.

He couldn’t save her.

“You don’t want to hurt me, do you?”

He held your shoulders tight, hating the sound of his wings at his back.

“I… I…”

You reached up to wrap you arms around his neck and stood up on your toes, tucking his face into your neck and surrounding him in your scent. Your sweet, delicious scent.

His hands began to shake, but you only rubbed your cheek against his neck and whispered.

“I know you, Beel.”

“I know you won’t hurt me.”

He choked out such a wretched sound, but you only held him and stroked his hair, speaking sweet nothings while he salivated over your soul.

He had no right…

“C’mon,” you cooed gently, twirling a strand of his hair between your fingers and tickling the back of his neck. “Let’s go get a snack.”

“… Okay…” he whispered. “A snack does sound nice.”

No right…

He could fill your cheeks pull back into a grin. “We should hurry then or Lucifer’ll kick us out of the kitchen and make you wait till dinner.”

How annoying.

The seventh born knelt down, keeping to the shadows among the trees lining the road. Neither a cart nor a carriage could be seen coming from either direction, but only a fool would dare travel at night. A human’s vision was greatly limited in the dark and often they flocked to sources of light like moths to a flame, finding comfort in what chased away their weakness.

But it only served to funnel them into predictable patterns. 

He stood up and walked further up along the road, keeping to the shadows while whispering in the Infernal tongue, imperceptible runes scrawling across the dirt as he passed. The moon shone up above, glowing bright within the pitch of the night sky and casting its precious light atop the trees down below, reflecting off their leaves in an ethereal silver glow.

Little by little, runes peppered the road and laid in wait for their prey while he sat down to watch the fork with an irritated sigh. Normally he’d have finished replenishing the amulets and returned to the Devildom and Beel by now, but instead he was stuck here.

Waiting.

Under orders.

The curse at his wrist began to burn again and he scratched, cursing the damn humans that’d placed it on him. In the last few centuries, humans had begun to discover the secrets of their universe, further separating themselves from nature’s laws. All well and good, but now they’d started finding ways to perceive more outside their known realm. He should’ve seen it, should’ve known after watching them evolve so much over time when he’d lived in the Celestial Realm, but he never thought they might harness an understanding of their own magic.

He winced and hugged his arm to his chest, feeling the heat increase as the faint clink of iron interrupted a cricket’s song. 

Loathsome humans.

I might actually have to report this to Diavolo.

The thought sickened him even more than the curse as he glared through the trees. Anything that forwarded whatever goals Diavolo might have was not something he’d ever support. But if these bastards were going to start believing they could command him?

He ducked down lower as the first iron-clad humans came into view, marching with their shields strapped to their arms and eyes cast about scanning the trees.

As if they were truly able to see anything beyond their torchlight. What hubris these creatures had.

The curse burned brighter and he counted, assessing the group as it passed.

Six knights and a priest. 

His upper lip twitched.

He’d been captured, bound, and threatened with extermination for six knights and a priest.

Well… at least it wasn’t more. Aiding humans was infuriating enough, but seven wouldn’t be that difficult to deal with.

He breathed out an irritated sigh. Humans were so idiotic. Some had found a way to manifest their Will and bend the world around them, but because it was against the status quo it was deemed ‘witchcraft’.

As if all the prayers and rituals they’d cultivated across generations didn’t do the exact same thing.

The knights rounded the bend and marched within range of his traps, but he just closed his eyes and leaned his forehead against the tree.

Who gives a shit what the humans do to each other? All he’d wanted was to nap in the sun. The hill he’d found had been so… comforting… it… was almost enough to let him dream of—

The first knight triggered an unseen rune and fell to his knees, screaming into the night. Poor fool, it almost sounded like he thought he was being eaten alive…

He left his hiding spot and stalked closer to observe, curious to see how they’d react to a ‘touch of madness’ suddenly befalling their comrade. Would they attempt to console and leave themselves open for an attack? Leave the man to wail?

End his abrupt misery?

“Uriel, be silent!” The knight closest to the first admonished, approaching him. “Have you no sense?”

The man only wailed, lost in nightmares of his mind’s own creation, spurred on by Belphegor’s spell.

Frustrated, the knight who’d spoken reached him and rose his fist to strike sense into his ally when the priest raised a hand.

“Wait. Do not touch him. There may be black magic in our presence.”

“Black magic…?” The knight echoed, backing a step and reaching for the hilt of his sword. “Here? But those heretics are nowhere to be seen!”

The priest nodded with a thoughtful expression, observing the wailing Uriel from a respectful distance. “Giving into senselessness and fear will only weaken our own resolve. Let us not be too hasty, Ezekiel.”

Uriel began to claw at his face, desperate and unseeing as he turned his face up at the moon, voice raw and broken in his cries.

But the priest had tempered their irrational response.

Belphegor rolled his eyes and drew a lazy circle in front of himself while murmuring a reduction of the curse’s effect to shut him up.

Seems I’ll be introducing myself after all.

He pulled the hood of his cloak overhead before stepping out into the moonlight, adopting a meek gait as he came into their view.

“Uriel?” he asked, feigning obliviousness to the tension that greeted him. “Uriel the angel is here?”

The sharp sting of steel unsheathing from leather cut through the air, and Ezekiel pointed at him with his blade. “And who might you be, boy?”

Ah, good. A healthy level of distrust. This one might’ve survived long under normal circumstances.

He cowered back and clutched at the fabric over his heart, letting his voice falter as he spoke. “J… Just a tr-traveler, sir. Please, could you tell me where the angels are?”

His eyes narrowed. “And where did you come from? There have been no other travelers in sight for miles.”

Again, he cowered back and shrank his posture like an admonished child. “I-I have no money. I was sleeping nearby and heard the name of an angel.”

Would adopting a pitiful and hopeful tone quell suspicion? Appeal to the arrogance in his heart as if he might prove a savior?

“Please,” he begged again, stepping closer and looking up at him. With his eyes captured, his charms began to take effect.

Look at me.

Look at how small and frail I appear to be.

“Tell me, is it here?”

Ezekiel’s resolve wavered, eyes flicking back and forth uncertainly.

Another step closer.

You pity me, that much is clear, but I’m nothing more than a poor and destitute child sleeping in the dirt.

The priest outstretched his hand and spoke gently, almost… paternally. 

“No, there are no angels here, my child. Only men of God.”

He tilted his head as if confused, unwilling to let Ezekiel go just yet.

“Men of God? But… I heard you say an angel’s name.”

Something snapped and Ezekiel’s eyes relighted. He scowled down at him. “Are you thick? There is no—“

“Calm yourself, Ezekiel.” The priest said as he approached Belphegor with carefully placed steps.

Too careful steps.

Doubt crept into the demon’s heart and he stepped back half a step, but the priest only smiled calmly, lifting his head to make his expression visible in the moonlight as he spoke in an elderly, soothing cadence. 

“Yes child, these men have been given the names of servants of the Holiest on High to show our devotion to serve in its name.”

Bile rose to his throat at the mere thought of any human sharing the name with his former kin.

“Is that so?” He bowed his head to hide his disgust while keeping his voice full of wonder. Humans taking their names as if they could somehow be equal? He clenched his fists, nails biting the heels of his palms. “I had not heard of this practice before.” What purpose did it serve? “Does it bestow you God’s Graces?”

Bastardizing their names for your own benefit.

Loathsome.

Disgusting.

“Even the Faithless know—“ Ezekiel stopped himself again with the patient gesture from the priest, but scowled at him instead. 

“Father, can you not see?” He pointed at Belphegor, “This boy knows none of our ways. Appeared out of nowhere. If not allied with heretics, he may as well be from the—“

“Hush, Ezekiel.” The priest’s tone was kind, but firm. “We are to love all God’s children, and welcome them into the fold.”

Belphegor bowed his head further and gripped at his chest, thankful for the dark to hide his morbid grin.

Welcome them into the fold? When the God they know is not that which exists?

“Look at how he cowers at hearing your holy word!” Heavy steps strode closer toward him but he remained unmoving. “If he’s not with the heretics, he may as well be!”

“Ezekiel, steady thy sword!”

In the corner of his eye he watched as Ezekiel raised his sword, the shadow of the blade cutting across the road, jagged and elongated.

An execution’s arc.

“God’s children,” he murmured without lifting his head, giving Ezekiel pause. “You think taking their names as your own is enough to count yourself among God’s children?”

Uncertainty slackened Ezekiel’s grip, but anger held it fast.

“How dare you-!”

Before he could bring his blade down, Belphegor dove under his arm and reached for the unprotected space between helm and breast, lifting him by the neck.

All was quiet.

“The hubris of humans truly has no end, does it?” He said, turning to grin at the priest. “First your kind attempt to enslave me, and now you wish to be counted among my kin?”

“M-My child, put him down-!” The priest sputtered in disbelief, retreating as the others moved to place themselves between Belphegor and he.

He squeezed even as Ezekiel struck and grasped at his arm and only lifted him higher.

“But are you not men of God?” He asked, Ezekiel’s struggles nearly effortless to ignore. More a mild annoyance, he’d be easier to hold if he’d quit squirming but soon enough the kicking would cease.

But not before he was punished for his blasphemy.

The sword fell to the ground in a thud and he looked up at Ezekiel, his disdain upturning his grin.

“Tell me. Does evoking the name of Ezekiel bring you protection?” He stared into his eyes, watching the man sputter as spittle ran down his fingers. “Do you feel closer to God?”

“Release him you fiend!”

“Fiend?” He echoed with a tilt of his head, unaware of whichever forgettable human had spoken. “Why such cruel words? I only wish to see evidence of God’s Graces.”

A knight drew his blade and held it with a shield raised while the priest bowed his head and began to pray.

Again with this? Prayers meant noth-

He frowned, a faint but steady glow beginning to form around the knight. Some rudimentary barrier of protection?

Was this the priest’s Will manifesting?

Fine. If the witches could see through it, there was a chance this elder could too.

He reached up to open his cloak and let it fall off his shoulders, releasing his glamor and letting his true nature shine in the moonlight. Silver kissed ebony as it entwined at his temples, extending in twisted horns of the human-named ‘Damned’.

“Wh-what is…”

“F-Father…?”

He lashed his tail behind him and lifted Ezekiel high while giving him a pitying grin. “Such a stupid fool you are, led to believe God would even know your name.”

Panic set in and he began to kick again, but Belphegor only turned to lock eyes with the priest as he crushed his throat.

“Tell me,” he said, dropping the body with an unceremonious thud.

“Do you still believe in God’s Graces?”

The priest continued his chanting, maintaining rhythm and only projecting his voice louder in a steady defiance as golden rays of light began to shine, extending to each knight one by one.

How funny, his spell casting looked so similar to the witches they pursued.

He widened his stance and shifted his weight to the balls of his feet as he lowered down, touching the dirt with one hand.

“Do you think God will hear you if you continue to pray?”

His tail swayed side to side in a lazy arc, capturing their attention with ease.

Idiots.

They should be watching his eyes.

No one moved save for the subtle nods as they watched his tail’s sway, captivated in their discomfort at the unnatural and inhuman.

Until the first knight broke through his stupor, overcome with a holy wrath. His first mistake was believing, his second yelling.

As the sword arced high, the demon dove low and struck up, crunching the knight’s face with one strike. In an instant he crumpled, joining Ezekiel on the ground.

To his surprise, the second acted just as his comrade fell and swung at his back.

Clever.

He sank to his haunches, letting the sword swing harmlessly overhead. Not to lose that precious momentum, he hooked his tail around a leg and snapped it out from under him, dragging the knight across the dirt before throwing his body against a tree with a crack.

Men of God broke so easily.

“Three,” he said quietly, standing up slowly and lifting his knuckles to his lips, the scent metallic and faint. “I have killed three, and yet I see no Grace.”

Iron clattered as fear shook resolve, but the priest’s prayer only became more fervent.

He grinned and dragged his tongue across his knuckles, tasting the blood of man.

“Do you still believe?” He taunted, stepping forward with hands outstretched while the cowards trembled back. “Do you still believe God cares for thee?”

No answer.

He sighed and looked up at the moon. Did they truly believe God lived in the sky?

A silent breeze whistled through the trees, stirring around and raising gooseflesh with its chill, but only the persistent murmurings of the priest’s unending prayer stretched between them.

“It’s fascinating you still find the Will to pray,” he said, looking down from the sky to smirk at the priest. Perhaps he could use this opportunity to test just how far a human’s Will could reach. 

Without a second glance, he stepped over Ezekiel’s body and ran toward the knight on the right. Startled but quick, the man raised his shield and readied his blade.

Ready even in the face of death?

I’ll kill you quickly.

Belphegor leapt up and twisted in the air, illuminated by the moon’s glow as he flipped overhead. The moment his feet connected with the ground he half-stood and struck back with his elbow, shattering the man’s spine and eliciting a delicious wail of agony.

“Do you think if I pray too, God might hear you?”

“Gabriel!”

Another snap and the knight once called Gabriel fell alongside his brethren.

He drew himself up to his full height and rose his arms to the heavens. “Oh Father, have mercy on my soul!” He cried, “Please save me from this agony! Such wickedness am I!”

“You damn demon!” The last standing knight bellowed, charging at him with sword drawn.

“Ah…” He leaned back, dodging the blade and catching him by the arm. “Yes, but didn’t you wish to be like me?” He twisted on his heel and threw the man’s momentum, causing him to stumble and fall over the dead. Then he turned to the priest and smiled wide. “A child of God so beloved and free? Only to be cast aside without a thought of mercy?”

Still the man prayed, holding himself in reverence as he backed away slowly.

The demon only grinned, feeling more alive than when the night began.

“Tell me priest, what am I doing wrong?” He said, stalking closer with hands raised. “I beg, I plead, I scream, and yet I am not struck down. Could it be that God has abandoned me? Truly?”

The priest’s eyes lifted to his for a brief glance, but his chant did not waver.

“If God had cared, wouldn’t I receive an answer? Your prayers haven’t ceased, and yet there is no one here but you and me.”

A regretful expression crossed his features, but still he did not waver.

Why wouldn’t he waver?

Angered, he dropped all pretense and strode toward him. “Stop that blathering and answer me!”

His eyes did not look away, and that had been his mistake. In his anger, Belphegor had nearly forgotten, but with that spark of hope in the priest’s eyes…

…he turned and caught the blade before it could lop off his head.

The knight didn’t react at first, mystified he’d caught it so effortlessly.

He sneered. “Did you honestly think a human’s creation could ever—“

Heavy drops fell to the dirt, imperceptible to the human ear but deafening in his own. He looked down, stunned, staring at his blood muddying the sand.

“You…”

Nothing in this world could cause him harm.

“You cut…”

Nothing had ever come close.

The priest’s prayers hummed within the blade, burning into his flesh as it glowed with a golden light. 

Light he doubted humans could even see.

How could they have—

Pain sliced through his palm as the knight awoke first, yanking the sword from his grasp. A righteous yell swallowed the shocked scream as the sword drove forward, aimed to pierce through his chest.

If he didn’t move…

…he might finally die.

The night sky reflected so expansive and bright on polished steel, unfathomable stars and galaxies stretching overhead in endless wonder.

Endless…

He sidestepped and grabbed the man’s wrist, yanking him forward to land on his face at his feet.

“As if I would let a human kill me,” he spat, slamming his heel down on his back and forcing him to release his grip. The accursed sword fell to the ground in a clatter and he dropped the arm in favor of the blade, holding it with bloodied palm while studying its features. The glow was bright, but focused around the blade’s edge.

…was just another reference to nothingness.

“F-Father,” the man cried, crawling toward the priest with one arm limp. “We must—“

Belphegor drove the sword through his heart, slicing through iron as if it were paper. “Hm…” Just another sword after all. He smiled sadly, “First to shed my blood and yet you die like the rest. What a shame.”

Only then did the priest’s prayers cease.

“Do you still believe?” He asked numbly, pulling out the blade and inspecting the night’s sky on its marred surface. It wasn’t as pretty as it was before… Where was that Willful glow?

He dropped the sword and walked the last few strides toward the priest, who had moved to kneel with hands clasped and expression patient. He gazed up at Belphegor with an acceptance of Fate, his eyes sorrowful in their grief.

“God made no move to intervene.”

The priest answered with a silent nod.

“He answered neither you nor me.”

Another nod and the priest closed his eyes, turning his face up to the heavens.

Belphegor clenched his fists, grounded only by the steady thud of bleeding into the dirt.

“Then how can you still believe?” He asked through grit teeth.

“Simple, my child,” the priest said, looking into his eyes again. “It is a Father’s duty to love—“

Belphegor struck him across his mouth, whipping the priest’s head aside and cracking his neck. Killing him in an instant, an unintentional mercy he’d not yet decided to grant.

“Don’t you dare begin to say such things to me!” He yelled at the body as its soul began to rise, forming in wisps of ethereal clouds. Memories incarnate that could dissipate and begin again anew. Another life. 

Another breath.

He leaned over and inhaled, swallowing memories as they began to wake.

Liars.

Humans were filthy, faithless liars.

Scum. All of them.

Unknown images flickered in his mind’s eye. Thoughts. Feelings. Memories.

Praying at the altar. Warmth and hope.

Feeding the poor and orphaned. Regret and compassion.

Seeing the sick be made well. Relief and a tired sense of joy.

Raising and living alongside those with no family. A tenderness that—

Bile rose to his throat, burning until he turned and vomited into the dirt. 

No.

He wretched again.

No.

“How much longer must you torture me?” He asked with a self pitying laugh, eyes starting to sting.

He threw back his head and cried out to the night, knowing no God would ever hear his prayer. “Why take her and not me? Why?” Tears might’ve ran hot down his cheeks, the throbbing at his palm might’ve continued to burn, but in his pleadings he could feel nothing.

Nothing…

His sense of the world began to fade, the familiar shadow creeping into his mind and pulling his consciousness downward, drawing him into its endless abyss.

Endless.

Soon even he could not hear his wails unto God, only knowing he continued to scream by the rawness felt in the back of his throat.

Nothingness.

The abyss beckoned, spreading darkness further and promising to swallow every thought, every despair.

If he could fall deeper this time… perhaps he might not…

A sharp hiss snapped him back to reality and he turned toward the sound, blackness retreating to reveal Uriel’s face, sweaty and labored with hair clinging to his brow and hatred in his eyes.

Who are you?

Why such anger?

A shard of moonlight flew toward him, reflecting off the thrown dagger as it sailed for his throat.

How… pretty…

Pain returned to his palm, pulsing with every beat of his heart.

He closed his eyes and held his breath.

Perhaps he too could find freedom in the light.

The blade slid across his throat smoothly until the handle struck and it ricocheted off his neck. He coughed on reflex and reached up to rub the bruise.

“You bastard!” Uriel yelled. “You rotten, filthy, putrid scum!”

Not even a scratch.

“How many…”

He stood up, seeing the world bend and fold as his mind flirted with the edges of the abyss and reality. Nothing was anything. Thoughts were not meaning. Breath without breathing.

Unfeeling.

Nothing.

He turned toward the one who yelled, a face that floated in a sea darkness and light. It continued to yell and hurl obscenities as he drew closer, fascinated by the vitriol it expressed. Such anger was… 

So…

Noisy.

“Stop yelling,” he said dully, tongue thick in his mouth as reality began to shake, solidifying at the edges of his view but the abyss refused to release its hold. If it could not swallow him alone, it would devour reality itself.

Darkness stretched forth to silence the angry face, covering its screams until nothing could return once more.

He breathed in deep, tasting hate upon the dying breath and turned his face up to the heavens.

If she could be cast out for saving the Fate of one…

The abyss beckoned again, calling to him to submit himself to its embrace but a sudden burn anchored him still. Foreign, but familiar. It made his body feel… angry. But why?

He couldn’t remember.

He blinked, but the darkness only stretched over his peripherals again. He squeezed his eyes shut and shook his head, focusing on the feeling of opening and closing his fists again and again until they felt attached to his body. Tangible. Solid.

Wind whistled through the trees, making him shiver with the memory of its chill.

He stretched his neck, feeling the ache of the healing bruise.

The heat around his arm began to fade and he breathed a sigh of relief.

He opened his eyes and looked around, recollecting where he was and what he’d done. With the knights and priest dead, the curse must've been released.

So the contract was complete, then.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth as he glanced back in the direction from which he’d come. With no curse, he was free.

And there were some damned humans that could curse in that direction.

He walked toward the trees but stopped, noticing an extension of the abyss had attached itself to reality. That…

Had never happened before.

He tilted his head, curious as he approached it. The air around it was hazy, and an uneasy sense of vertigo set in when looking into its depths. Even light itself seemed unable to resist the yearning to sink into the sense of…

Endless.

He reached out, the motion opening barely healed wounds and spilling blood into its bottomless chasm.

Nothingness.

It rippled and shook, crackling in the air as entropy danced before his very eyes, fighting to find shape or break apart.

So entranced, he’d hardly had time to even flinch as it shot through his chest and embedded itself, finding anchor in his soul.

He choked and fell forward in a breathless gasp, chilled to the bone as the darkness found its shape, becoming his shadow.

A deadly chill touched his spine, crawling down slowly as the specter rose and blocked out the moon at his back. He turned back and regretted it, the agony of distant memories of a life now passed flooding his mind. 

He turned away from it and forced himself to his feet. There was no time to wallow in self pity. Even as he swayed, he forced himself to remain standing.

The ability to curse demons was a problem.

The sooner he solved the problem, the sooner he could go home and rest.

The easiest solution was always the best.

So it stood to reason that if he killed the witches, the knowledge would die with them.

No more curses from humans ever again.

He stepped into the forest, the shadow of despair following in his wake, the dull pain of his palm returning as he clenched his fist.