It was great to have minions, but it was also a lot of work. I was still wondering how to connect Bishop and his lot with Rosha and Risha, with no one getting killed in the process by the end of the day. It wasn't the only thought that plagued my mind that afternoon as I strolled through the bustling streets of Tinaris.

There was just so much to wonder about. The prophecies, plans, true and false gods, the dying world, my own origins… What did this world meant for me if I wasn't even from around here? What did my old world mean if I couldn't even remember it, much less go back in there? It wasn't just piercing the thin veil between Hell, Heaven and mortal realm—these three places were, after all, still parts of the same world.

The place where I was from was something entirely different; I knew it in my gut.

Submerged in my thoughts, I barely paid any attention as the crowds on the streets thinned to the rare lonely people and night guard patrols, and the sky darkened. Despite all my determination to see my original plans of revenge to their end, I couldn't stop myself from mulling over them over and over again in the light of what Bishop and his book told me.

There was a temptation to simply not believe, too. So what if some psycho who heard about me in Hell actually remembered it after reincarnating and wrote my nickname down? That didn't mean that he didn't imagine the rest of his 'vision'. It wasn't a very detailed one, too—the Prophet didn't remember how I looked in there, or details about the First God. Just his words.

But in my gut again, I knew it was true. Damn my gut, but this all just clicked. I couldn't say I remembered this instance, but there was that sense on the back of my mind, like the weakest deja vu, that prevented me from dismissing my findings.

It was late in the night by the time I had enough of walking, and then I realised I forgot to ask in which inn Rosha decided to stay. Annoyed with her and myself, I turned towards Bishop's place instead, though at this time, I had no interest in the old men.

Even awakened so late, he didn't hesitate to tell me Yvenna's address.

She, too, was sound asleep by the time I crawled in her window. Unlike Bishop, Yvenna woke up at the first creak of opening shutters, and already had a knife in hand by the time I stuck my head in. It was a pleasant surprise to find out that in her home, Yvenna slept naked like the day she was born.

"Voren, what the fuck are you doing in my window in the middle of the night?" Yvenna growled at me in the next second.

"Getting into your room." I did just that, prompting Yvenna to step back. Then, she realised her state of dress and, with a blush so dark I could see it even in the poor lighting, dropped the knife to the floor and tried to cover herself with her hands.

But since I already saw both her nipples (erect with cold) and the enticing bush of curls between her legs, Yvenna's attempt at modesty only made me more aroused.

I didn't know what I was thinking about when I went to seek her at first, but now I had a clear idea of what I wanted from her. The same, I imagined, I would've gotten from Rosha if I knew where she was right now. Sex was just what I needed now to pull myself away from the thoughts about prophecies, fates and mysterious creatures of order and chaos.

"Well, get the fuck out now!" Yvenna almost screeched and lifted an arm from her breasts to throw a punch at me. "Pervert!"

I deflected the sloppy attack and moved in closer. She stepped back; I stepped forward again. This repeated until, at another step, Yvenna hit her bed. There, I saw her move from defensive to the wildly offensive again.

"What the hell do you want, Devourer?" she snarled, throwing another punch with one hand and throwing the bed covers over herself with another.

I caught her fist with a palm and held it as I thought about what exactly to do with this woman. She was so unlike pragmatic Rosha. I knew I couldn't just trade with her. Yvenna was wild and mad and completely crazy, and these qualities of her stirred something equally primal and wild in me.

Maybe I was a human once ago, in another world, but like I told Rosha, so were other demons. Demon wasn't just a species that could be put in a character sheet. It was a state of mind and soul. Demons were those who persevered despite everything, and those who listened to their Hell-shaped instincts to not just survive—to thrive.

Right now, my instincts told me to just overpower Yvenna and rut with her like the beasts we both were under the veneer of humanity.

Yvenna kicked me in the shin. There was a lot of force in the strike, but my gelatinous body just absorbed it all harmlessly. "Answer me, damn it!"

"Sex." I pushed her on the bed and straddled her hips, preventing her from kicking me again while pinning her arms down with mine. "So you being naked already just makes it easier for me."

To give Yvenna credit, she was strong enough to wrench one hand free and try to go for my face. I had to wrestle her on her stomach, with her arms held behind her back, where I just glued them together with my web. Then, I was free to give her firm butt a good slap it deserved.

"You dirty, dirty… ugh!" Yvenna wriggled under me, with no results besides arousing me even more, and after all this wrestling, I was already rock hard. "Why didn't the Prophet warn us that Devourer will be such a pervert, too?"