Death and the Demon

Eliot/Ellulia

Eliot diffidently portaled to the Monastery of Clouds near sunset. He was supposed to meet Master Camble directly after the specialization ceremony, but he decided against it for a few reasons. For one, he felt lost at the time, something he’d never experienced before, and he’d just talked to Ellulia. With the knowledge that his test was going to be long, possibly several months, there was absolutely no way he was going to ghost Ellulia for that long. Instead, he set up a second date and explained everything to her. She understood, of course, but she wasn’t happy, neither was he. Still, he respected and, in a limited capacity, feared Master Camble. He wasn’t sure what sort of punishment he would get for skipping.

Eliot arrived in Master Camble’s office and opened the door to the Room of Enlightenment. Master Camble sat like a buddha statue at the low table. He didn’t flare into anger, but Eliot didn’t expect him to. Still, the reason he was so unnerved was that he had never done anything warranting Master Camble’s ire, so he only had a limited idea of what to expect; however, he did know that Master Camble would want him to own his actions, not grovel for forgiveness.

He stiffly walked to his spot across from his teacher. Master Camble’s face and demeanor was the same placid mirror of a still lake, not even acknowledging his presence. Eliot looked down at his tea, unable to meet his teacher’s nonjudicial eyes. The rejuvenating tea usually blasted a pleasant, steady vapor at his face and was the perfect temperature for consumption. Now, it was cold, and the sip he took made him grimace.

After a few long and painful minutes of silence, Eliot couldn’t take it anymore and blurted, “I apologize for being late, Magister.” Finally, Master Camble shifted, like Eliot’s words were his activation command.

Then, when Eliot’s daunt reached its apex, Master Camble simply said, “I understand. Are you ready now?” Eliot practically fell over himself: Master Camble was usually so stringent and unyielding in his direction that he was sure something would happen. In the back of his head, he knew Master Camble would only break character for a reason, but he also knew better than to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“Completely prepared,” he answered after a brief mental scramble.

“Good,” Master Camble nodded his head ever so slightly. He handed Eliot a map, then continued, “Your test is to conquer a dungeon, the one marked on the map. You have a month, and it started at sunrise. During this time you are not allowed to use magic of any kind. You may leave whenever you like.” Eliot nodded seriously to show his understanding. On the inside, he was brimming with excitement: he’s wanted to explore a dungeon since he first heard of them.

To the outside world, dungeons are naturally occurring instances that house monsters called mobs and have impunity from the rules that govern the rest of Earth. A dungeon can be any instance at all, to the point that the space inside of a dungeon can be completely different than its surroundings. The mobs drop items and money after being slain, the stronger the mob, the better the reward. Also, mobs are remade if the dungeoneer strays too far away from their original point of confrontation.

Dungeons are infamous for their danger, many beings lose their lives in their depths, but, if you manage to survive, they ensure fortune and glory; conquering a dungeon is on a new level of life threatening, you need to do what is called a one hundred percent completion. In a one hundred percent completion, you have to kill every single monster in the dungeon at least once, along with the boss. It doesn’t sound nearly as dangerous it should, but that just serves to lure more pitiful souls to their end.

Since the beginning of time, monsters have plagued human existence. The only reason most people are able to live in peace is because of the security a settlement gives them. In contrast, mobs are several times more likely to take your life, and, adding insult to injury, dungeons grow over time. If you enter an established dungeon that’s been hosting adventurers for a few years, the mob count can be in the thousands, each new series of monsters stronger than before.

The regular mobs were the least of Eliot’s worries, though. What got his attention was having to kill the boss. A boss was ludicrously strong, demigod level in some cases, almost always intelligent, and has the abilities to control the regular mobs. If you were a regular person, you would have to join a raid party, basically a small army of adventurers, to ever have a chance of killing a boss. In all ways, the boss is the pinnacle of the dungeon’s abilities, but that also meant that the boss would drop the best loot the dungeon had to offer, which was more than a worthy risk for most adventurers.

With determinations burning in his heart, Eliot stood up, said the respectful goodbyes, and made for the door. Before he knew it, he was at the edge of the monastery. The dungeon is still far off. Right now, I should focus on how I’m going to get off this giant cloud, he told himself with a sigh.

He sat down, legs crossed, and thought about it. The edges of his lips dipped further and further as his frown intensified, unable to come up with a solution. The Monastery of Cloud’s whole shtick was that it was in the clouds, only when a monk reached the level of Cloud Monk and could walk on air would they be eligible to learn here. Needless to say, Eliot couldn’t walk on air without the aid of his magic. As time passed, he grew annoyed over being helpless in the face of such a simple problem.

“I could always just jump,” thought Eliot as he peered over the edge and saw the large expanse of space between him and even the tallest of buildings in Everveil. Contrary to how it sounds, he considered it as a plausible plan, his body is much stronger than it was even a short time ago. When someone practices a Martial Art, it reconstructs their body and strengthens it, the higher tier Martial Art the better. Eliot didn’t know the exact tier of his martial art, but it had to be up there if it was deemed sacrilegious. On top of that, he had just specialized, which is also something that restructures the body and soul better, faster, and stronger. Maybe that’s the point, figured Eliot after some pondering. He had some trouble with the altering turns Master Camble talked about, maybe this was his way of showing Eliot exactly how far he’d come.

By now, his mind was practically made up and he took another look over the edge. Adrenaline filled his veins as he started seriously considering the idea. He jumped in place, just a few meters from the edge and took deep breaths to hype himself up. After a few hops, he abruptly bolted toward the edge, giving himself no time to chicken out. As his feet reached the edge, slanting down, he tensed his legs and pushed off.

His arms flailed wildly, failing to grab any purchase, and his legs circled like he was riding a bicycle. His heart beat against his rib cage so hard that it felt like it was trying to fuel an entire city, and the rest of his body went half numb from the cold and the wind pressure, growing each second as he reached terminal velocity. Aside from making him feel like he was being crushed despite falling, the wind rushed past his ears, roaring with the sole purpose of rendering him deaf, and caused his hair and clothing to wildly flap behind him. But above it all, the one thing he registered was a cry of utter exhilaration, coming from his own vocal chords.

“WHOOOO!!!” he shrieked at the top of his lungs. In the back of his head, he knew complications might arise if he brought attention to himself, but it was hardly his fault. How was he supposed to know that jumping from a high place and hurtling through the sky to almost certain death would be so much fun?

Ellulia leaned against the supporting stone of a turret on Everveil’s wall, her hands stacked on top of each other and supporting her chin. She was on top of a guard tower, scanning the streets below for her white haired boy. She didn’t want him to go, not when they were actually interacting with each, going on dates, laughing, kissing. Not after she was addicted to his warm embrace, his protective arms wrapped around her in a hug as she burrowed into his chest.

She blinked the encroaching tears away and tried not thinking about it, she cried enough already. Gods I wish you used your bloodline more often, complained Beelzebub. A burst of anger rushed through her veins, but it left as quickly as it came. They bickered enough already, too, and she just wanted to move past it.

Ellulia, Beelzebub said sternly; she ignored him. Ellulia, he tried again. Ellulia! he shouted. What!? she barked at him. I think Master Camble threw Eliot off his monastery, he said. Ellulia sat for a few seconds, her face struggling to settle on a singular form of confusion, not for the life of her coming up with any reason for him to say that, until she saw Eliot. He was single speck in the endless streak of blue sky, but with Ellulia’s amazing perception she might as well have been falling with him.

Horror filled her in a frenzy and before she realized she even moved she was speeding across rooftops, desperately using every tool at her disposal to reach him. Of course, she made it in time and slammed into him like a freight train, from the side to redirect the force of his fall sideways. The complete opposite of her terror, Eliot was the billboard for glee, laughing jubilantly like he wasn’t about to become a human pancake.

“Ellulia?” he asked, his voice reaching a crescendo of joy. She didn’t know what to make of Eliot’s insanity, but she was relieved nonetheless after safely depositing him on a rooftop. Again, opposite her wobbly knees, Eliot couldn’t sit still. He was jumping up and down like a schoolchild. Then, he was suddenly pressed against and peppering her with kisses. She tried talking to him, but he just wouldn’t let her go, she barely had enough time to breath. Gods she would have loved it if Eliot didn’t just almost die. She gripped his shoulders and pushed him away.

“What the Abyss, Eliot?” she screamed at him. “You almost died, right before my eyes!”

“Yeah!” he exclaimed happily. “And you saved me, it was amazing!”

“You should be terrified right now!” she told him with exasperation. It was only then that Eliot realized she was angry. His smile withered away and he was left staring at her in shock, still panting from the ordeal. The second Ellulia said the words, she regretted it. She was overwhelmed by the fear of losing Eliot and said more than she meant. Her pain was intensified by the look of pain on his face, to her he looked like a hurt puppy dog. “Eliot, I didn’t mean that,” she tried to propitiate.

“No, you’re right,” he said. His face darkened and he looked at the ground. Ellulia rushed forward and took his hands, then pulled him to look at her. She knew he was sensitive about this thing, he brought it up multiple times during their first, unofficial date.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized, “I misspoke. Nothing you could ever do would outweigh my love for you.” Eliot was feeling rotten right now. He’d forgotten that there were still some parts of him Ellulia hadn’t seen yet. But, then his ears perked up and a weird feeling rose in his chest.

“Did you just say you love me?” he asked. The question caught her off guard, she wasn’t ready to admit it before and she didn’t realize that she said it now.

“I-I didn’t say that, I said I had l-love for you, that’s perfectly normal,” she stammered, her hands still squeezing Eliot’s as she stepped back.

Eliot grabbed hold of her hands and pulled her closer while saying, “Don’t you think we’re past normal?”

“Yes, but-” she tried.

“I love you, Ellulia,” he cut her off. His hands slipped up her arms, past her shoulders, and gently caressed her face, at the same time forcing her to look him directly in his eyes. “Do you love me?” Just like that, the bright sky was reduced to the coffee black of Eliot’s eyes. All noise faded away, the only thing she could hear was the beating of her own heart and the blood rushing through her veins. She felt like she was engulfed in an inferno, which was a novel feeling since she was immune to fire.

Finally, when she felt like her feelings for Eliot would rip out of her chest and eat him whole, when tears made her eyes glassy, when her lungs refused to take in any more air, she said, “Yes, gods yes, I love you! And why I fell in love with a manipulative bastard like you is a mystery!” Then, she jumped at him, intent on sucking the air from his lungs with her kiss. Eliot caught her by the thighs and returned the favor, the slight apprehension he felt from baiting her to profess her love was thoroughly knocked out of him with the pleasant surprise of Ellulia’s tongue purling around in his mouth.

As they separated, panting hot bursts of air, a small strand of saliva connected them for a few seconds before snapping. As they caught their breath, gazing into each other’s souls, Eliot had an idea. When Ellulia dove back in for round two, he dodged and held her head next to his.

“Run away with me,” he whispered into her ear. He hoped if he played it smooth enough, it wouldn’t ruin the atmosphere. But alas, as Ellulia heard the words, she went rigid before slowly pushing him away, forcing him to put her down. “Just hear me out,” he pleaded as Ellulia looked to the side, away from him.

Ellulia had to call upon every iota of her will not to agree. She’d fantasized about running away with him since they met, it would be so easy with his portals. They could leave the Crucible Empire, make a small house in some isolated forest or hillside, have children and grow old together. Away from their responsibilities, away from their demons, away from their destinies, together.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t that easy. They would be abandoning everything, for each other. Yes, it was the kind of romantic idea that made her hot and bothered late at night, but it wasn’t plausible. And she knew Eliot saw things the same way, he was just infected with love. Yet Eliot forged on.

“It wouldn’t be forever, they won’t even notice you’re gone,” he promised her. Ellulia couldn’t take in anymore. When Eliot took another breath, she sealed his ability to talk.

“You’re not thinking straight,” she told him with a frown that squeezed his heart. “We both have things we can’t leave behind.” She only let him talk after a few seconds to reinforce her defences.

“We wouldn’t actually be running, I only said it that way to sound romantic,” he said. He noticed the small shift in her breathing that signaled she was about to seal his speech again, and he lunged forward. He grabbed her by the shoulders and gave her a small shake.

“You would be traveling with me during my test, nothing more,” he explained. She wanted to shut him up again, but the pain was too much.

Instead, she could only manage a quiet and quivering, “How?” Suddenly, there was a gleam in his eyes and his body language turned explosive.

“Listen, I’ve been planning a trip for a while now. I know it sounds like it can’t be done, but I thought of a really simple solution!” His words were fast and energetic, his arms and hands flourished and twisted as he spoke.

“You can’t travel under the name Beelzebub, it’s too well known. But, plenty of people use daggers and it’s hard to find a caravan without a few cloaked passengers. You would just have to wear a different cloak and use different daggers, which I've already taken care of.

“I can’t use portals right now, so the only way out of the city is by foot. But, again, that’s perfectly normal, we just need to have our story straight and we’re golden.”

“You’re forgetting the obvious, Eliot. I can’t just disappear for however long your test is,” Ellulia voiced her objection.

“I know, I know,” said Eliot as he took out his map. “Originally, I was going to portal you home at the end of the day, and that hasn’t changed. You’re simply going to travel with the public portal transport rather than my portals. You’ll only be able to travel with me to Relice Fortress because it’s the farthest settlement with direct transport to Everveil, but that’s more than half the journey!”

“We would have to end everyday at a new settlement. Can you travel that fast without your magic?” she asked him.

“If you’re in front of me, I’ll travel as fast as I need to,” he said. It wasn’t very smooth, but it was the best he could do when so desperate.

“Give me a minute to think,” she said as she walked to the roof’s edge. Despite her best efforts, there was a small well of hope growing inside of her. She was tempted to use her bloodline, without distraction she could vet the plan in seconds, but she swore she would never seal her emotions in front of Eliot.

Finally, after what Eliot experienced as an eternity, Ellulia said, “OK.”

“OK?” he repeated. Ellulia turned to face him, and reseted her arms on his shoulders, fingers interlocked behind his neck.

“I will run away with you,” she said dreamily. Eliot broke out in a giant, ear to ear grin as he grabbed her by the waist and spun. They laughed with each other for a few minutes more before Eliot remembered he was under very strict time constraints.

They made their way to Eliot’s house and picked up the supplies he prepared, along with Ellulia’s new equipment. Her cloak was a simple light green with black swirls from an engravement at the sides of its waist. Honestly, she didn’t like it. It was short around her waist, which was fine for most clothing, but it made the cloak slightly open at her front, below the chest. She had the same problem with the hood, it hardly hid her features. But Eliot knew that would be a problem, so he engraved it with the ability to change her facial features on a dime, even disguise her as other races, which Ellulia had to admit was impressive work. And, looking at it objectively, less cloth dragging behind her was a good thing during a battle. It was her that felt insecure being exposed.

Although the cloak was contentious, the daggers were amazing. They were modeled after leaves, forest green with thin lines of emerald. They were thin, frail looking things, but they had more structural integrity than most other daggers. In fact, the craftsmanship looked good enough to be the work of a master blacksmith.

To top it all off, they were curved. Most beings in her profession preferred straight edge daggers because they were better suited for killing blows and assassination. Ellulia, on the other hand, preferred curved daggers because they were better in a duel, and she didn’t need any help killing her targets.

Eliot was feeling more than a little nervous after the cloak’s failure, but he knew he succeeded with the daggers the second Ellulia layed eyes on them. She looked at them in amazement and was practically drooling as she conscientiously studied them. It really is a shame, he sighed to himself despite Ellulia’s approval.

He was regretful that he didn’t have enough time to engrave them. Engraving demanded perfection, and engraving on such high quality equipment raised the difficult ten notches, and then some. Engraving on weaponry was extremely hard in general with the small surface area, sharp angles, taking the smith’s original design in mind, maintaining or possibly raising the weapon quality, etc. Daggers especially were infamous for being headaches in the engraving society. Furthermore, these specific daggers were so tricky that Eliot was still clueless as to how he was going to incorporate engravings without ruining the leaf ascetic.

“Where did you get these?” she asked incredulously.

“I have connections,” he shrugged, referring to Cicely Canmore, the owner of the weapons shop he frequented. Canmore gave him a heads up about striking a good deal on high quality merchandise. These daggers in particular were forged by some legendary blacksmith in his early days.

“What are their names?” she asked next.

“They’re called Arcfolium. It means the divided leaf in fey,” Eliot answered. Gripping Arcfolium’s handles generated a sensation of dependability and deftness in her forearms. She knew these daggers would serve her well. Without any prompting, she lashed out at the air in front of her in an attempt to get a feel for them. They were perfect, the way they curved, the way the air flowed around them, their almost non existent weight, their instant mesh with her psyche.

Eliot, standing around and feeling good about himself, jumped from the abrupt motion. At first glance, it was a harmless procedure, then he noticed the gashes in his fortified stone wall, five meters away from Ellulia’s position.

“S-sorry,” she apologized, embarrassed that she failed to control herself. Eliot laughed it away; seeing her get excited about something she loved, to the point that she got carried away, was oddly bewitching.

“Now, before we get going, I need to bond the engraving on the cloak to your mana pool,” he said.

“But, you can’t use magic,” Ellulia objected.

Eliot smirked as he explained, “Engraving in and of itself is not magic, by any metric. Sure, I manipulate my mana, but that’s hardly the same as using magic.” Ellulia was still irresolute as she sat reverse in his stone chair, afraid that he was unnecessarily bending the rules for her. Meanwhile, Eliot was equally concerned that the lackluster pillow he set on the chair wouldn’t be enough to satisfy her for enough time.

As he focused on his task, however, Eliot entered a flow state. He wouldn’t allow himself to present Ellulia with less than his best work. As the minutes flew by for Eliot, Ellulia was having a hard time sitting still. Not because the chair was uncomfortable, rather because her back chose then to be hyper sensitive. Each wet stroke of Eliot’s brush sent pleasurable chills up her spine. After more time elapsed, and the difficulty gradient to keep her small gasps silent got steeper, she wondered if Eliot was intentionally messing with her when she felt a second brush grace her senses.

“A-are you done yet?” she asked, a fluster present in her voice.

“Almost,” Eliot assured her offhandedly. He knew he was keeping them, but he couldn’t help himself. He had an intriguing idea cross his mind, and when he finished the required augmentations, he felt an itch that demanded him to continue. He obliged like the obedient slave to ambition that he loved to be.

As he went at the itch for beauty in him, his breathing grew erratic, his brushes sped up to blinding speed, and he felt like a god of creation, morphing the world at his whim. It helped that, when he was doing something he enjoyed, his brain functioned at its full capacity. His genius that he couldn’t be bothered to draw from in everyday activities was fully roused.

He needed another spell to incorporate that he felt would fit, but that was also practical; the spell came to him instantly. He wasn’t used to painting, in fact Ellulia’s cloak was the first time he picked up a paint brush and his dexterity was usually intolerable, so bad that he couldn’t wield any weapon to save his life. Right now, though, his hands felt like fluids contained by the physical manifestation of his will. And yes, hands. He was using both hands, two brushes painting simultaneously. It was a highly advanced technique that an amature like him couldn’t dream of pulling off. And yet, when one brush wasn’t fast enough, he practically subconsciously picked up a second.

At this point, Ellulia didn’t know how much more she could take. She was quivering from head to toe and she was already letting small whimpers escape. She quirred Eliot a few more times, but when he gave the same answer just worded differently, she could only pray that it would end before she let out a fully fledged moan and embarrassed herself beyond redemption. Thankfully, it didn’t come to that, and they both heaved sighs after Eliot announced his finish.

She turned rigid when Eliot said, “I’ll blow on it to dry faster.”

“No!” she yelled, then jumped out of the seat and caught herself in the upper right corner of the room like a human spider.

Eliot practically fell over from laughter and said in between labored breaths, “I was only joking. I didn't know you were so sensitive.”

Only after verifying for herself that the ink was dry did Ellulia jump down. She gave him a small slap for good measure and demanded he explain why she had mint green, ink angel wings on her back.

“Well…” Eliot fibbed. “I thought you would look good with angel wings,” he admitted abashedly. Ellulia felt her heart warm, not because of the sentiment, but because a nervous Eliot was such a rare thing. She wanted to frame his red cheeks, averted eyes, and nervous biting of the lip to keep forever and take a peak of whenever she felt down or confused. Then, she saw an opportunity to protract that image.

She pretended to be dissatisfied and got close enough to make him back away. Then, she followed until he was against a wall and she was close enough to feel his breathing.

“Do you really think I look like an angel?” she asked him with a voice of shrill hope.

He finally faced her with a flush of confidence in his features and said, “Of course.”

Suddenly, Ellulia activated the engraving and purred, “How about now?” She morphed her features to that of a demihuman, one with cat ears, small fangs, red eyes, and indiscernible whiskers.

Eliot felt blood rushing to his face as he took her in, caught off guard by her planned maneuver. Ellulia’s ears twitched ever so slightly in tandem with her whiskers as she moved forward and pressed against him. So up close, he couldn’t help but imagine how it would feel to fondle her ears, have her nibble on his lips, all the things she could do with her tongue, and he couldn’t help but note in the back of his head how amazing her breasts feel. His frenzied brain could only desperately try and fail to remind him that it was all an illusion, and when that didn’t work he damned himself for making it so realistic.

“Your face is precious,” she buzzed in his ear before backing off and undoing the illusion, smirking slyly at him. “That was payback for earlier,” she added. Eliot was left dumbstruck, heart pounding, and he remained flattened against his wall until Ellulia said, “We should get going.”

He took a deep breath, chuckled at himself, and agreed with a mirthful, “Yeah.” He grabbed his prepared things and led her out of the crypt. Before they appeared out in the open, Ellulia turned her hair black and added freckles. They walked merrily across the streets like a couple, holding hands.

“I had to add another rune to make the wings work,” Eliot eventually brought up.

“You spoil me,” said Ellulia.

“It’s a dash rune, it increases your speed,” he said. Ellulia immediately dismissed the rune; she didn’t need more speed, if she simply used her bloodline to focus, it’s well within her abilities to outspeed most demigods. But Eliot seemed to pick up on her dissatisfaction and explained, “It doesn’t just increase your speed, it increases your initial burst of speed, hence the word dash.”

Ellulia considered it and ceded, “I’ll have to try it out.”

When they reached the wall, it was near twilight. The sky was a vibrant purple, clear of clouds, and the walls blocked any sunlight from reaching the low streets. The gate hunched over them imposingly in the flickering torch light. Still they walked amongst the manageable crowd of people, both of them experienced in the realm of deception.

“You, in the green cloak. Halt!” ordered one of the female guards. Eliot and Ellulia stepped out of the crowd and Eliot faced the guard while Ellulia kept her head down.

“Problem?” asked Eliot.

“Remove your hood,” said the guard, ignoring him. Ellulia took a moment to separate herself from Eliot’s arm and removed her hood. “What’s your business?” she asked as she squinted at Ellulia's face.

She dramatically took hold of Eliot’s hand and said, “Roland took me for a romantic day in the walls. We live on the outskirts.” The guard studied them for a few moments in doubt.

“Your cloak looks custom tailored. You have a lot of coin for farmers,” she accused. Eliot smirked, hands in his topcoat pockets, and stepped forward.

He tilted his head up in conceit and said, “I’m a mage.” He shadow cast a spell, and Ellulia flicked a throwing knife below the blade of the guard’s spear. It was a perfectly clean cut, causing the spear’s blade to drop and clang ostentatiously against the stone.

In response, the guard straightened and said, “Sorry to bother you, sir. Have a good night.” Eliot scoffed and continued walking, Ellulia joined him.

“Alright, I approve,” she admitted when they were a good distance away. The dash rune didn’t just help her dash, it sped up even the smallest actions to blinding speeds. Coupled with her regular ability, she was confident she could punch a god in the nose without them knowing what hit them.

They practically skipped past the furrow fields that fed Everveil, exchanging small conversational topics and just enjoying each other’s company, until they were well into forest proper.

“What now?” asked Ellulia, knowing that Eliot was a scheming rascal.

Eliot grinned knowingly and flourished his voice as he said, “Now, we hunt!” Ellulia gave him an aporetic lift of the brow, and he went on. “I’ve hunted in these woods for a year, by now, I know where every monster is. I’ll run around and lead large groups of predators your way and watch you work your magic.”

“You’d be satisfied watching?” she questioned him.

“I could watch you kill until I died of old age and still be content,” he said. “Besides, I’m hoping it’ll help you with your cravings.” His words sent a lightning bolt zapping through her body.

“H-how did you know?” she stammered, suddenly chagrin.

“It’s the logical assumption,” he shrugged. He’d pondered her motivation behind killing for a long stretch of time, it wasn’t hard for him to guess that she was addicted and would have cravings from abstaining from the act of murder.

Ellulia recovered quickly in the face of Eliot’s offhanded assumption of her needs and said, “I love you.” before giving him a peck on the lips. Eliot, brimming with good feels, ran off to lead some unsuspecting animals to their deaths.

Hours later, under the skulking dark sky, Eliot sat on a flat rock, elbows on his knees and both hands supporting his face. No matter how much of it he saw, he was utterly taken in by Ellulia’s deftness. The way she moved was an enigma to him; every time she spun around a monster’s attack into its blind spot, everytime she stabbed or slashed a monster's vital, every single time she twisted and jumped, his fascination began anew. It was the same awe you feel when observing a master toiling away at their chosen field of study. Every tiny detail was conscientiously taken into consideration and each of their actions overflowed with virtuosity and genius.

Ellulia was overtaken with bubbly laughter as she brutally butchered crowd after crowd of vicious monsters. She rolled under a quada, a big monkey-like creature with four tails and two sets of arms, and launched upward dagger first. The right half of Arcfolium cleaved the quada in two halves, and Ellulia splashed around in its blood.

She took a microsecond to take in her surroundings and felt slightly disappointed that nothing, except for Eliot, was alive in a hundred meter radius. Still, she felt her hunger satiated and carefully picked her way through the heaps of bloody meat. Once clear of any remains, she burst into flames for a few seconds to evaporate all the blood on her and her equipment.

“I needed this,” she sighed as she made her way toward the tranced Eliot. “What do we do with the bodies?”

Eliot snapped out of his epiphanic state and said, “Leave them where they are. Their remains will feed ungrown flora and hungry monsters-” He was going to continue on, explaining unnecessary facts about the ecosystem, when Ellulia sat in his lap, facing him. She was overcome with the sort of drowsy feeling after a long pleasurable or particularly jocund experience. It filled her with the drunk confidence she needed to do what she was about to do.

Eliot was none the wiser as she started kissing him. He took it in stride at first, his hands around her waist, but then Ellulia suddenly grabbed him and rolled off of the rock onto the ground. They were in a large clearing, so they didn’t have an unpleasant landing, and Ellulia continued their interaction with growing vigor. Eliot was only temporarily put off by their abrupt shift and returned her intensity with his own. Then, he felt her hands wandering, feeling his toned abs and continued upward.

“Wh-” he tried before Ellulia shoved his shirt above his head. It was off in the next second and she was pressing herself against his bare chest. It was only then that he realized what she was attempting and he felt a small pang of panic. He wasn’t ready to go that far, not yet. He firmly planted his hands on her shoulders and gently, at least he tried to make it gentle, jerked her away from him. They gazed at each other and panted for a few moments, but when Ellulia tried to re-engage, he kept her away. She gave him a look, but Eliot was too overwhelmed to put his feelings into words, the most he could do was chomp down on his lower lip.

“You’re nervous?” she guessed. Eliot didn’t nod, he didn't need to, she translated his ‘yes’ from the look in his dark, milky eyes. In response, she slowly slid her hands down to his hips and brusquely squeezed before saying, “Good.” and continuing her advance. As she violently kissed him, her hands started work on his pants. Eliot felt a new surge of panic, but he didn’t stop her. He only understood in the next second that the reason he was too overwhelmed to speak and why he didn’t stop her was that he wanted this to happen, and he had an epiphany.

How many times did he do something just because he wanted to? How long did he chase after Ellulia because he wanted to experience the aberration of love? When he dueled Henry, it was because he wanted to. When he first confronted Cel, it was because he wanted to. When he first kissed Ellulia, it was because he wanted to. His entire way of life was to do things he wanted to do and enjoy himself.

With this new perspective in mind, he rolled on top of Ellulia and murmured, “I won’t let you have all the fun.” His movement mimicked her own, his hands slowly sliding up her blouse. His left hand hesitated above her breast, but he made up for it with a squeeze that made her let out a sensual moan. In the next second, she was top-less. And Eliot hesitated again: he caught a confusing look of vulnerability in her eyes.

On the inside, Ellulia was choking in neuroticism. She had never been so exposed before. Of course, she was physically exposed, but right now she also felt like her entire being was on display, waiting for Eliot’s judgment. She always wore a mask, whether it was the literal mask of Beelzebub or the facade of a princess, she always hid her true self deep down in darkness. Did Eliot love her for what she truly was, or did he fall in love with her masks? And each second Eliot spent hovering irresolutely over her was agonizing.

At the same time, Eliot had his own internal struggle. Seeing the betrayal of her nerves, he had to ask himself: did Ellulia want this? Was there some complicated reason she was forcing herself for his sake? But the times where there was no time to think were the times he made the best decision, it was just how his brain worked. He came to the conclusion that it was his turn to help her cross the bridge of doubt, like she had before. The reason she was reluctant didn’t really matter, all that mattered was that she did want this, and all he needed to do was show his willingness.

After spending a few seconds that felt like an eternity to both of them, he slowly, excruciatingly so to Ellulia, bent down and delicately bit down on her erect nipple. It sent a bolt of bliss percolating throughout Ellulia’s soul. Her back arched and she gasped with euphoria. Simultaneously, she felt something cement within her heart, a feeling of fulfilment.

The next morning, Ellulia woke up feeling content. She didn’t care where she was, what she was doing, or even who she was. All she cared about was the feeling of someone’s arms wrapped around her. She remembered the second she opened her eyes and saw Eliot’s face, asleep and peaceful. She wanted nothing more than to stay in this moment, safe and with Eliot. Then, Eliot started rousing, and she made sure he would be satisfied with what he saw.

When Eliot opened his eyes, he was faced with Ellulia’s smiling face and full view of her naked chest. He just woke up for gods’ sake, and he had no idea what was going on. Then, he felt his blood travel downstream.

“Was last night not enough for you?” Ellulia cooed. But Eliot was up, adrenaline filling his veins and considering whether he should fight or flight. He chose flight, unfortunately the best he could manage were a few unbalanced steps away before he fell back against a tree. He was hyperventilating now and he wanted nothing more than to be clothed again, but his clothes were wildy strewn about the grass, it felt like they were galaxies away. Next, everything started converging to a point, making it feel like he was suffocating, and he realized he was having a panic attack.

He almost forgot he was capable of them, the last incident happened more than three years ago. The thing about his panic attacks was that they came in the most unexpected times. He usually thrived in stress and challenge, but a few specific and rare scenarios managed to awaken the anxiety within him.

Then, there was a hand, placed softly against his chest, and a whisper saying, “Breath.” He did, and one by one everything returned to normal. Ellulia was left of him, still sans clothing, as was he.

“Did we-last night?” he gasped. Instead of answering him, she threw her leg over and sat above his waist, putting her face squarely in his view.

“Have you shown me everything?” she asked him.

He was starting to get control of his breathing and responded with a breathless, “What?”

“You’ve seen my heart, soul, and now you’ve bore witness to my body,” she said before repeating, “Have you shown me everything?” He took a deep breath and finally he was back in control

He wasn't in the clear just yet, though. The girl of his dreams was literally sitting on him, completely naked, asking him if he was honest with her, and he still wanted to say no. He wanted to say he diligently managed his relationships, disguised himself, and kept everyone at a distance because that was there it was safe, where he could be a monster, where he could be himself. But he knew that wasn’t true. Ellulia’s seen his psychotic death wish, disregard for human life, what Cel called his scheme hands because whenever he explained some elaborate plan he would talk with his hands as much as his mouth. And he made it perfectly clear that he was some disruptive, random peasant that barged into her life and flipped everything upside down.

“...Yes,” he finally admitted. Ellulia flashed him a heart melting smile as she grabbed his hand and placed it on her chest. He had to remind himself that he was more than friendly with them last night.

“Then, I can truthfully say I will always love you, in life and death, until the end of time.” As she said this, he felt the soft, steady beat of her heart. Bathump… Bathump… Bathump…

Faced with the declaration of his dreams, he felt compelled to say, “And I will always love you. In life, death, and in between, until the end of everything!” Though he was semi-pressured to say it, he meant every word.

She chuckled and said, “Then what’s the problem?” before getting off of him and getting dressed. There is no problem, everything is perfect, he responded silently. He stared at Ellulia for a few seconds before laughing, he couldn’t believe he had a panic attack about his most wanted fantasy coming true.

“Time waits for no one,” Ellulia reminded him. He got up and dressed, a single thought in his mind: Did we just get married?