Chapter 34

Love is Irrational

Eliot

Eliot felt numb. He didn’t even realize he was awake, at first. And, when he did, he felt a disconnect between his brain, his physical body, and the world at large. All his life, thanks to his mana sensitivity, his senses relied on the presence of mana to function. They were better than the average person’s, but now he knew exactly how hindered they were when his sensitivity was taken away. His sense of touch and general position that would usually fill an entire room was completely confined to his meat sack physical body. Thankfully, his hearing and eyesight still functioned, as suboptimal as they were. The problem with his hearing was his brain’s sound recognition, it was used to hearing sound waves with mana interference and was now having trouble deciphering what sounds meant what with the vibrations in the air alone. His sight was probably the least affected sense, with only his ability to see mana thwarted, otherwise, especially with the boons of his law, he could see just fine. On the contrary, his sense of smell and taste were completely shot. His nose and mouth can only smell an odor or taste something with the help of the tainted mana that comes with the mundane stimulus.

It was a subject of study that Eliot found extremely interesting, going off of the principle that mana didn’t exist in an unspecialized or untainted state, with those terms being interchangeable; for mana to be truly pure it would have to be in a void. Even the ambient mana that existed in the atmosphere was tainted by the air, it was just that the amount of air specialization was so insignificant and stable that for all intents and purposes it was unspecialized. Everything, not just air, slightly taints mana, merely to insignificant extents. Every mana sensitive sense, except for smell and taste, fail to detect these impurities. Unfortunately, in consequence, the ability to sense mana is integral to those two senses and without it there is no difficulty of recognition like in the aural department, they simply fail to respond to mundane stimuli.

But the system failure didn’t stop there. As a mage, practicing martial artist, and Demigod, mana was seamlessly integrated into his physical body as he grew stronger. Without the introduction of mana, the physical body would be frail enough to break from a bad fall and too weak to lift even a few hundred pounds more than its own weight. Due to this integration, even a martial fighter develops at least slight sensitivity towards mana, otherwise they would find it difficult to even move their bodies. Eliot as he was now, with complete mana ignorance, was having a very hard time. In the back of his thoughts, he figured that the abrupt shift in all of these elements simultaneously caused his body to spiral into shock, back in the alley.

What he could assume from everything his lame flesh sack told him: he was inside, slumped over on his knees with his head hanging dangerously close to the grimy wooden floorboards, and his arms were locked behind his back, a metal pole in between his cuffed wrists. He was honestly a little angry that they took so little precautions. If he could just stand up… but he couldn’t even do that in the state he was in.

He heard something, a person’s voice he realized a second after. Who they were and where it came from was a mystery, it sounded like the voice came from multiple directions. Now he was more exasperated than irritated in his musing of how normal people even functioned. So sudden that Eliot jolted in response, a hand lifted his head by its overgrown, shaggy hair. The scornful face that filled his vision was decidedly foreign, but he did recognize the emblem on his chest: a snake coiled dagger, notorious symbol of the Serpentine BrotherHood. The otherwise nondescript man pulled back his arm, making a fist. Eliot would go on to say how he audaciously stared the man in the eyes, not flinching. But, he very much would have flinched if his body felt like listening at the moment.

Surprisingly, even in his debilitated state, the man’s fist cracked against the fine contours of Eliot’s face like it was carved from stone. The man swore, that Eliot caught, and pulled his hand back, their face scrunched into a furious grimace. In turn, Eliot weakly smirked at him. The man ripped out a dagger, intent on digging Eliot’s eyes out, but he stopped, turning his head. After a few seconds, the man begrudgingly shoved Eliot’s head back down and walked away.

They left him alone for a while after, he had no idea how long. Thankfully, he could about guess the time of day from the natural sunlight in the room, which he could easily tell apart from candle light. It was still mid day by the time they returned, most likely not a coincidence that, soon before, his hearing started shaping up. His head was unceremoniously lifted once more.

“Blink if you can understand,” ordered the man from before. His voice had an annoying nasal quality. Eliot gathered saliva and launched it from his mouth. The man jerked away, throwing Eliot’s head back against the metal pole. A dent was left in the pole and Eliot was completely uninjered, of course.

A different set of feet appeared in his peripherals, making their way in front of him. “So you became a Demigod, eh? Well, your reputation isn’t false. I can still remember you a year ago, weak as a newborn bird.” A sense of disconcert engendered within him. He knew that gruff voice, from too long ago to remember in the moment. The feet stopped before him and legs entered his view as the body attached to them crouched. The newly arrived man reached out with a dagger, pressing it against the bottom of Eliot’s chin to lift his face.

With a visual, Eliot instantly remembered. The man had short cropped brown hair, bushy eyebrows, bagged brown eyes, an ear without the lobe, and was extremely fit, having to carry around heavy plate armor and a spear around all day. The man was Polly Ofal, captain of the Guard, and nearly sole informant of the ambitious trio’s Serpentine BrotherHood operation. Eliot couldn’t stop himself from exploding into laughter, sorely painful laughter.

“You tricked me good,” he croaked in anemic amusement.

Polly Ofal grinned maliciously. “Glad to see the rune hasn’t slowed you down. It will make this much more enjoyable,” he growled, letting Eliot’s head drop. “Obviously, the plan was to gain your trust while misleading you, but I ended up giving you something in the process of manipulating you.

“What are you doing? Lift up his head!” he momentarily paused to order his subordinate. Eliot’s head was held up from behind him, giving a clear view of the shark-like grin on his captor’s face. “You see, I respect you for your ability to ignore your own circumstances, see things objectively. You understand the amount of skill required to do what I have.”

“You’re… narcissistic enough to… put your plan at risk, for me to tell you how amazing you are?” Eliot chuckled incredulously.

“I don’t need you to say anything. I know you more than you know yourself, you have to praise strength. Seeing it in your face is all I want,” Polly Ofal told him.

Eliot didn’t deny it, he was right. “Then spare no detail.”

“Ah-ah-ah,” Polly Ofal tsked. “I would be a fool if I told you everything, who knows what damage you could do before your inevitable death? No, unfortunately, I am forced to give you an abbreviated version.”

“That’s… good enough,” Eliot struggled to get out.

Polly Ofal’s sharp toothed smile grew. “I’ll start from the beginning. As a boy, I had a dream, one of power and authority. But I neither had the talent to be an influential power house, or the blood of a noble. I thought only one avenue for myself, I joined the guard.”

He was pacing back and forth as he went on with his demented story, eerily similar to some qualities Eliot possessed when overly excited about something. “But my experience with criminals as a lowly guard inspired me! The fear and loyalty they had for their superiors-that was power! That was what I craved. I started my organization soon after, a humble beginning but one that I nurtured to strength. Using my organization, I purged the Metropolis of our enemies and took the credit as a guard. I was offered a position in the Royal Guardsmen by king Plador himself for my achievements! As an act of conniving genius, I respectfully refused and spoke at length about my sense of justice and hatred towards evil. I couldn’t possibly have a comfortable position in the castle when his glorious Metropolis still had villainous citizens.

“Finally, I ascended to infamy as Death’s Son and had an established reputation as captain of the Guard. But it wasn’t what I thought. I realized far too late that we were merely servants for the nobles. They would throw around their coin and we would serve them. My power was nothing but a tool, a means to an end for them. I’m ashamed how long I needed to suffer before mustering the courage to say no more. I devised a plan, one that would put my power above all others. I will show them exactly who is servant and who is master.”

Eliot’s smile stretched so wide that it hurt. What Polly Ofal was describing is an amazingly deceitful rise to glory, all hidden in the shadows. He even understood the stifling need to tell somebody about it once he heard everything. He felt that something so great deserved acclamation.

“You’re after the crown, aren’t you?” Eliot surmised. The manic pride in his eyes was practically confirmation in itself. “You manipulated the unsavory nobles to form a coup d'etat and made them think one of them will have the crown… You had them think that you would help them in exchange for profit, probably sole control of the slave trade. But… when they’re warring with each other over who gets the crown, you’ll be in a position to steal it for yourself,” he speculated with surety.

Polly Ofal exploded into clapping. “Bravo! Your deduction skills are amazing, though you missed a few details. It can’t be helped when you don’t have all the information,” he applauded. Eliot narrowed his eyes, still maintaining the thoroughly amused smile on his face. What an obvious lie, you just don’t want to admit I got everything right, he threw a mental insult born of his own pride.

“But there’s more. Otherwise you wouldn’t need me… as a hostage,” he led on with difficulty.

Retrieving the conversational baton, Polly Ofal’s animated face shifted. “You assume correctly, my plan is yet to be complete. There are still a few people who stand in my way,” he alluded.

“You’re using me to get to Master Camble,” Eliot provided the logical assumption.

“At first glance, yes. But, after investigation, there’s a bigger threat you can solve for me,” Polly Ofal protracted the reveal.

A small wave of fear passed over Eliot. He knew who Polly Ofal was referring to. On the surface, he was too lax from before and weak from his ailment to control his inflection. His drooped eyes turned sharp and his smile evaporated.

“Who?” he demanded, afraid to give them any ideas.

“Beelzebub, of course! Or should I say Ellulia Crucible, the young princess?” Polly Ofal’s smile turned predatory. It was clear that recognition isn’t all he gets off on.

However, contrary to his previous anxiety, Eliot burst into laughter. They aren’t planning on trying to expose her, otherwise they would have already done it, he reasoned. They’re stupid enough to try and fight her. Polly Ofal smacked him hard enough to bend the pole he was attached to.

“Is faking laughter your futile attempt at convincing me Ellulia Crucible won’t be swayed? I confirmed it myself, the girl may be a deranged serial killer, but she still has the desires of a human.”

Eliot’s laughter started up again, earning him another strike. When his head was lifted once more, his face took on a bloody sneer and he said, “You’re an idiot-” His words were cut off by a weighty kick, sending a loose tooth flying with a splatter of blood.

“Care to repeat yourself?” Polly Ofal threatened.

Eliot gathered the blood in his mouth and launched it in a wad at his feet, to no reaction. “I said, you must be simple minded if you think you can get out of this alive. She’s going to murder you all and love everysecond of it,” he snarled.

“I have eyes everywhere, I know she was forced to fake her death when fighting against Master Camble. If she can’t defeat him, how can she do anything but surrender against three of us?”

“Since you told me all about your backstory, I’ll deign to tell you,” he mocked. “Ellulia isn’t like us lowly mortals, whatever abilities she possesses, they grow without any training whatsoever. I don’t think she’s even aware herself, but she’s many folds stronger than even a month ago. Couple that with her rage? Hah! You’re all dead men walking.”

Polly Ofal grimaced. “You can tell yourself whatever delusions you want, but no one is so favored by the fates,” he rejected the very notion.

Ellulia

Overlooking the vast Metropolis, Ellulia leaned over a merlon with her chin resting on her folded forearms. From the moment she woke up that morning, she was overcome with giddiness because today was the day Eliot would return. The past month was torture for her. Not only was she incredibly melancholic and bored since the two people she could talk to in her life-Eliot and Henry-were preoccupied or out of reach, but her cravings transitioned into full on, debilitating physical ailments, the likes of migraines, insomnia, and intense cramps. Quite frankly, she has no idea how she made it through.

But none of that mattered anymore, Eliot would come back today and sweep her off of her feet. His heart palpitating smile will replace the sun and the amount of elation radiating from him will infect her with his jocund temperament. His love would cup her heart and thrust it up into Paradise from its rotten Abyss. She would have a reason to live again.

Suddenly, a ping against her recently matured magical radar interrupted her heavenly day dreams. She pushed off the merlon and fixed her eyes on a paper swan, speeding towards her from a few hundred meters away. This was deliberate, she knew. There was no possible recipient besides her, based on its flight path alone. Could it be Henry? she wondered, passively waiting for it to reach her. As it flew within arm’s reach, the swan reverted to a simple parchment, uncreasing like it was never folded in the first place, and suspended itself at eye level.

Ellulia’s heart dove down into the pit of her stomach and all of the blood drained from her face. More detailed than a modern photograph, an image of a bruised and bloodied Eliot, hunched over on his knees with his arms lifted behind him by something out of frame, made her breath hitch. Underneath the picture were the words, “Come quick, princess”. Then, only allowing her a few seconds of mute horror, the paper dissolved into nothingness.

Without giving it a second thought, she threw on her cloak, donned her mask, and sprinted through the sky on nothing but air. Of course she knew it was most likely a trap. Of course she knew they could expose her identity. But none of that mattered, Eliot needed her help.

Henry

Henry lifted his torso from its previous position, practically parallel to the desk in front of him. He groaned in pain while pushing his back straight with his hands. After, he hunched back over anyway, running a hand through his golden hair with a tortured sigh of frustration that had long since stopped being enough to communicate the pressure he was under.

He knew that king Plador would place huge expectations on him now that he was an adult, that was the reason he studied at the Arcane Academy of Everveil in the first place. He had no need for it after the string of talented tutors that taught him since he started living in the castle, but he managed to buy himself a whole year of fun. He did feel a bit guilty for lying to Eliot about his abilities at first, but Eliot caught up to him much faster than expected, and his magical abilities actually grew in the end because of it.

With another sigh, Henry pushed the chair out from under the desk and got up, deciding that he needed a break from all the nobles’ bullshit. He honestly couldn’t stop himself from questioning king Plador’s intelligence for letting them grow so complacent and corrupt. Most of them, at least. Although he was only entirely confident in the Evergreens’ morals, them, the Machiavellis, and the Areses helped him at every turn, giving him much needed advisory and saving him from a few of his more devastating blunders.

Henry braced his hands on the double doors of his study. His push was interrupted when one of the two rings he wore on his left started blinking red. After a moment of bewilderment, his face blanched and he barrelled through the doors, running as fast as his enhanced body could go.

During their year at the Academy, him and Eliot helped Penelope make four magical rings for each of them. Three of the rings do nothing but store an extremely powered healing spell. The final fourth ring served as an alarm. It was highly complex compared to its predecessor, combining Eliot’s knowledge of engravings, their collective knowledge of plants, Penelope’s sacred knowledge of magical items, back breaking precision, and all of their unrelenting effort. In the end, its design was spartan, with only two usually clear bulbs nestled in an array of blue petals attached to a ring woven out of many different flexible stem components. It tracked the mana levels and vitals of the wearer, blinking if the wearer consciously wanted to send a signal or if the ring detected the wearer was in trouble. Usually, it would either glow blue if a signal was sent or glow orange if the wearer's vitals and mana levels were low and continuing to deplete. It would only flash red if the wearer’s heart stopped or it couldn’t sense the wearer’s mana.

Henry slammed open the doors to the Royal Guard barracks. “Everyone prepare for battle and assemble in front of the Grand Church as soon as possible!” he ordered, turning around to run the opposite direction without a second thought. As he drew near a window, he cast a homebrewed spell he dubbed the advanced flying spell, basically a tricked out version of the flying spell that let him fly at unprecedented speeds with enough instability to dodge everything that came his way. He shot through the window and arrived in front of the Grand Church within minutes, a massive cathedral with gleaming gold composite pillars as well as a host of ostentatiously panache, superfluous features.

“Where is he?” he asked Penelope, who was running down the large white steps with armor equipped and long leaf staff in hand. Henry felt a pang of regret, he didn’t worry about equipment since he could fashion a physical sword out of his mana, but having no armor would definitely be a detriment.

“He’s being held by the Serpentine BrotherHood in some buildinging in the slums,” she frantically filled him in, continuing past him in a rush.

Henry grabbed her arm and said, “We need to wait for reinforcement from the Royal Guard.”

“Eliot’s probably already dead by now! We can’t afford to wait,” she exploded.

Henry reached for her other arm and did his best to seem calm. “If he really is being held by the Serpentine BrotherHood, what can the two of us do? We aren’t all that powerful in the grand scheme of things, what happens if they have a Demigod?” Penelope took in a deep breath, her panic temporarily assuaged.

After saying his piece, Henry stayed where he was, finding solace in Penelope’s brilliant golden eyes. But Penelope turned away and knelt down on the street. With a bit of chalk, she hurriedly scribbled out a large ritual that took up the entire walk way.

“What are you planning?” Henry queried and walked closer to get a better look.

“I managed to mix a few buffing spells into a mass ritual. The buffs aren’t as powerful as the spells but the quality stops degrading after three people. As long as there’s room and it’s fed enough mana, it can minorly buff an entire army,” she explained.

“That’s amazing!” Henry applauded her.

“If Eliot had the time and resources I did, he probably would have figured out how to make a spell that can power an entire nation, and he would have it mastered,” she deflected.

Henry smirked. “Let’s be honest, If it was Eliot he would focus on buffing himself.”

Penelope looked up at him with a dazzling smile. “That’s exactly what Eliot would do,” she agreed before looking down to continue her work.

“I can’t say I blame him,” Henry continued, “He’s a genius that comes from a village on the outskirts of the empire. He probably couldn’t rely on anyone around him as a child since he could do everything infinitely better.”

“Have you noticed that he always has this weird… I don’t know shell or something around him?” Penelope asked him.

“Yeah, I think I know what you mean,” he nodded. “He must have had a difficult childhood.”

Penelope finished a few seconds later and conscientiously checked her work before stepping back. “Some friends we are, talking about him behind his back while he’s off dying,” she sighed.

Henry looked in the direction of the slums with an impatient gaze. “Yes, but it’s Eliot. He’ll find a way to hold on, we only have to trust him.”

Ellulia

Forcing her eyes shut in focus, Ellulia stood above the slums, searching for the mana signature attached to the swan. It took what felt like an eternity before she found what she was looking for. But, as she followed its distant waves back to the source, an intrusive ocean of mana shocked her senses, causing her to physically recoil. When she opened her eyes, a winged man levitated in the spotlight of the setting sun. Master Camble, she recognized as her eyes adjusted.

“You are making a mistake,” his staid voice carried crisply over their long distance. “You should let Beelzebub permanently suffer in the deepest depths of the Abyss.”

“You don’t understand!” she cried in response, failing to keep desperation from her voice.

“I know, Princess. I understand it all,” he said irenically, stepping forward, outside of the sun’s harsh rays.

“This doesn’t concern Beelzebub. Eliot’s in trouble,” she broke the news, her voice barely above a whisper. As if saying it aloud would make everything worse.

“Captured by the Serpentine BrotherHood, I’m well aware,” he admitted with a nod, settling into normal conversation distance.

“Then you’re here to help?” she asked, hope cracking her cadence.

“No, this is the final challenge of his test,” he callously murdered her relief.

“Have you gone senile?” she shouted, dynamized. “They’re going to kill him, they’ve already beaten him half to death!”

“Eliot is a genius beyond his time. He has defeated all and every challenge in his way with minimal effort. If he is to continue growing, he needs an incentive lest he grow lax and complacent,” Master Camble explained his rationale.

Ellulia scoffed in disdain. “Do you really understand him so little? Eliot would sooner die than become static. All you’ve done is inconvenience his progress at the risk of his life.”

“That may be so, but he needs to learn that there are things not even his genius can resolve,” he remained intransigent.

“Well I, for one, am not going to do nothing and let him die. Especially when they’re expecting me,” she said with impetus.

“They threatened you with Eliot?” Master Camble asked, surprised. “Do they know of your relationship?”

“You have to assume so.”

“Then, more reason why you shouldn’t go. They have the backing of the entire Empire’s black market, gods know what trap they’ve laid.”

“It matters not what they have, I’ll shatter every one of their plans and save Eliot,” she vowed, her voice evinced with her love and her rage.

“Have faith in Eliot and your brother. His majesty, the Prince has already mobilized the Royal Guard and contacted Penelope Evergreen. They are preparing to rescue Eliot as we speak.”

Ellulia’s stomach knotted. Them being there only made things worse. The Royal Guard was an elite regiment that could take on armies on its lonesome. Including its captain, Reltus Eldon, who was a half-step Demigod that could fight outside of his weight class, they were a force to be reckoned with. But she’s had many run-ins with the Three Deaths that control the Serpentine BrotherHood, over her many years as Beelzebub. They were all Demigods with more than fifty percent understanding in their laws, and she highly suspected that Death’s Son understood a tier two law.

“All the more reason for me to go! They’ll be slaughtered on their own. How do you remain blind in these circumstances?” she spat back.

“If that is what you intend, I will have no choice but to stop you,” Master Camble admonished her, shifting into a battle stance.

Ellulia brandished her daggers and seethed, “This will be nothing like before. Now, I have something worth fighting for.”

Activating her dash rune, propelling herself forward with a spurt of flames, and using the converse of her bloodline to disregard restrictions like gravity and air resistance, she blinked forward with a sonic boom. Not entirely caught off guard, Master Camble’s eyes flashed brighter than they already were, reinstating the laws of the universe by battling her bloodline, and he transitioned into a stance that would let him use her velocity to throw her past him. But, as she came within striking distance, she used her law to seal her position in space and exploded into a whirlwind of metal.

Though the inertia slammed into her like a truck, Master Camble’s arms were severed at the elbow and many small cuts appeared around his torso and shoulders. During the exchange, Master Camble forcefully flapped his wings, retreating to a safe distance, which saved him from the worst of Ellulia’s attacks. They warily sustained the distance between them, taking a few moments to recover from their already heavy injuries.

However, instead of recovering, Ellulia took this time to seal the negative stimuli of her body. It was a dangerous prospect, but she knew that now, before Master Camble’s limbs fully regenerated, was her best opening. Unfortunately, Master Camble was aware of this as well. Ellulia bounded after him like a ravenous dog while he weaved imaginary paths through the air, seemingly evading her without any effort. He was suddenly much faster and moved with greater commove. She backed off once the fifth lunge missed its mark. Capable of seeing the mana that was now circulating throughout his physical body and boosting his physical attributes, she knew that his speed would outclass hers without the use of her dash rune, which she could only use five times before her mana pool ran out. She would have to find another avenue of attack.

Ellulia channeled fire into her daggers, sealing it inside. From prior testing, she knew the exact amount her daggers could handle without starting to change states of matters. Radiating with a lava like golden orange pattern, she threw her daggers one after the other, careful not to add a spin that could change their trajectory, and charged. She engaged utilizing her admittedly poor hand to hand combat, only proving a threat because Master Camble’s hands were still only stubs where his wrists should have been. But her real purpose was to be a distraction, coaxing him into favorable positions and momentarily easing up the seals of her daggers, which resulted in small bursts of fire that changed their trajectory and accelerated them further.

Frustratingly, she was mostly unsuccessful in inflicting any real harm. Really, it was a folly to think she could use what Master Camble was best at to beat him. Most of her attacks hit him, but Master Camble minimized the damage by always opting for the least threatening blow. Between her fists and her daggers, she was pummeling him with punches and jabs while her daggers failed to so much as leave a scratch. It would have resulted in victory against anyone else, but proved useless against the Head Monk’s restorative capabilities. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t bludgeon him into submission.

As the daggers began to run low on fire, she was forced to change her tactic. After backing Master Camble in a corner where he had to get hit by something, instead of punching him for the hundredth time, she opened her fist at the last second and latched onto his lower brachium, just above the elbow, with her right hand. Letting out a triumphant grunt, she sealed herself, and by extension Master Camble, in place while using the last of their reserves to skew her daggers directly at him. Realizing his predicament, Master Camble took a deep breath. Commanding every ounce of strength in his body, he overpowered Ellulia’s law with brute strength. From Ellulia’s perspective, he wrenched them both forward, perfectly aligning her daggers to intersect above Ellulia’s grip and slicing the arm clean off. Then, he sprang into a spin that ended with a devastating kick, sending Ellulia smashing into the ground, punching through a desiccated church on the way. The resulting earthquake from the impact shook the foundation of the buildings in a forty meter radius, causing the rickety old church to collapse in on itself in a vociferous snap and subsequent crash of wood on stone.

Ellulia tried to get up, only for her arm to fold in the wrong direction with a wet crunch. She tsked, cantankerously taking a second to structurally seal every bone in her body before shooting out of the divot of stone, disregarding every and anything that didn’t have to do with saving Eliot.

“You’ve already sustained worse injuries than you can afford. How will you explain your broken bones?” Master Camble queried once she reached the same elevation. Ellulia closed her eyes in focus, for a split second she sealed every possible position her daggers could take except for in her hands, seemingly teleporting them back into her grasp.

“I’ll confront that when it comes to it,” she responded before dashing forward with every ability at her disposal in a desperate bid to catch him off guard.

She flashed forward, driven by her ‘at any cost’ mentality to move faster than she ever had before. Her daggers plunged into Master Camble’s chest as she crashed into him, only managing to push him a few meters even with the insane amount of force behind her. Confused as to why he stood there and took the blow, she hesitated for a brief stint before following up. But, in that time, Master Camble gripped her left arm, both of his hands somehow fully grown. His physical strength was already proven to be stronger than the regular seal of her bloodline, there was little Ellulia could do to escape.

“Let go!” she screamed, stabbing him with her free hand and generally struggling to get free. She regained some of her wits after a minute of futile flailing, and changed her objective to cutting off the arm holding her. In response, Master Camble simply grabbed her free arm, rendering her powerless to affect her circumstances.

“You will not defeat me, Princess. Please see reason, return to the castle before it is too late,” he implored her with a gentle tone, loathe to let this continue.

His words cut through her emotional hysteria and willed Ellulia to look past her mess of feelings in a mollifying moment of realization. Coming back to her senses, Ellulia took back control of her actions, suppressing her anxiety and enmity through her own will rather than her law. She accomplished such a tremendous feat, despite losing on all accounts in the past, because of her sudden change in perspective. The way things were now, Eliot would die, she was sure of it. She was his life line, she couldn’t afford to lose her head. If she failed to save his life because of something as irrational and stupid as letting her feelings control her, then she might as well kill him herself.

Ellulia suddenly ignited in deep red flames, forcing Master Camble away with a grimace of pain. She put her palms together and poured fire between them, swiftly growing a massive fireball that she sent forward with all of her might. Master Camble nimbly jumped out of the way, only for the fireball to change direction, pursuing him like a heat seeking missile, not dissipating in the least. Ellulia promptly made another, then another, and continued until a swarm of incinerating spheres enveloped his every direction. It was at this point that Master Camble really extended his wings, unfurling to their entire two and half meter(seven and a half feet) wing span, and clapped his hands together in front of him. His majestic Equilibrium colored mana flushed as he invoked his law; the conflagrations, in turn, lost substance and died out in the blink of an eye.

You can’t beat him with your regular abilities, Beelzebub spoke up, completely out of the blue.

Oh, now you want to help, Ellulia allowed herself a rude remark.

Think it through, he ignored her, more than used to being the subject of her ire, you’ve grown leaps and bounds while he’s stuck at a bottleneck.

Yes, but obviously he’s still stronger than me, she repined.

He outclasses you in almost every facet, true. But remember, when you first fought, you were equal in at least one respect, he alluded.

Our laws! she realized. The last time they fought, their laws were so equal that they canceled each other out. If Master Camble really was at the same level of understanding in The Law of Equilibrium, then she should be able to overpower him as long as she fully roused her bloodline. As she came to this conclusion, though, Master Camble initiated his first attack, convinced that Ellulia wouldn’t respond to words.

He flowed towards her as if he was riding a wind current, his fist pulled back, ready to fire. As he extended his arm, Ellulia could innately sense that her life was in danger. If she was hit, it would be the end. The amount of force behind his fist alone galvanized the space around it and a layer of air attached to its frame. Of course, Master Camble wasn’t trying to kill her, she reasoned that he probably overestimated her constitution, since she could seal all of her problems away.

If she were ever to face death, Ellulia imagined herself giving in. She wasn’t particularly fond of her life or what she’s made of it, many mistakes were made and she carries those regrets every day of her life. She never asked to be a princess, or to have unexplainable powers that eclipsed almost everyone else, or to crave the taking of life. Although, at the same time, she didn’t wish for death either. She was of a mind that if something could kill her, she would let it.

But that was before she met Eliot. He was the best thing to ever happen to her, and he made everything up to this point worth it. Furthermore, he made her want to be a better, stronger person. After he saved her life, when she almost died at the hands of Master Camble the first time, she changed. She no longer felt sorry for herself, she no longer wished that she was normal, she no longer blamed the world for her problems, nor did she run away from them. For Eliot, she faked the death of her alter ego, she fought tooth and nail to not give in to her blood lust, she risked exposing her abilities, she risked someone finding out about their relationship. She would do anything for Eliot. No, not would, will.

As Master Camble’s fist tore towards her stomach, Ellulia felt something stir deep inside of her. Everything, including Ellulia, froze. Buried in the far reaches of her soul, the Villain egg shook, once, twice, and a third time before a crack developed on its shell. From that crack, a surge of power incited within her.

Ellulia’s physical body was special. To the laws of the universe, what she regarded as her normal body was actually more of an enhanced substitute or transformation put on top of the regular original. Whereas most people would have two layers to themselves, their spiritual and physical bodies, Ellulia had a spiritual, physical, and enhanced physical body, all layered. Because of this, even with the profound energy given off within her soul, most of that power sunk into her soul and spiritual body. However, enough made it through to her regular physical body that it evolved from a weak, untrained human body to one that threatened to smash through the mortal limit. Since her enhanced body took her regular body as a base line, her physical prowess will eventually grow exponentially.

In the moment, though, the boost she got was practically negligible, comparable to some second wind, but it was enough. With that small push, driven by her love for Eliot, the adrenaline urging her body to do whatever it can to survive, and use of the dash rune, she narrowly avoided the punch by leaping to the side. It continued the full length of Master Camble’s reach before stopping, sending a wave of air ahead of it and creating a whirlwind. The air slapped Ellulia as it passed, throwing her hood back to expose her curly honey blond hair and making her clothes wildly flap about.

In consequence of such a powerful attack, Master Camble had to take a moment of recovery, which gave Ellulia the free time to summon everyone’s favorite Abyssal Lord. As soon as he noticed the coagulating flames, Master Camble tried to enforce his law; it was fortunate that even his law was repelled by auras, resulting in failure to stop Beelzebub from fully forming as a goat headed man in servant’s attire.

Letting out an invigorating, "Ba-a-a-a!" Beelzebub flared into a large, fiery bat and began his flaming onslaught, while Ellulia found a quiet corner of the sky to fully rouse her bloodline.

In the past, Ellulia’s bloodline was one of the only sources of entertainment for her. She would use it simply to stave off boredom, giving her the second hand effect of hours of practice. In fact, when she first discovered her bloodline it used to take an entire five minutes of meditation to fully awaken it. Now, Ellulia was having some of the same difficulty. Since Eliot, her mind was on the farthest thing from her bloodline. That conjoined with her steadily increasing power made it especially difficult to rouse it now.

However, due to these circumstances, when she finally did pull it from its slumber, she underwent a metamorphosis. She was keenly aware of the presence of something more within her, and after leading the smallest drop out, the rest rushed after like propane escaping a tank. An ocean of light absorbing, pitch black energy spewed from her pores and wrapped around her in a turbulent vortex. After a few seconds, the energy ground to a halt and the outside layer of her energy dispersed, revealing a tainted Ellulia. She emerged with bleached hair, discolored clothing, and chained shackles dangling from her hand and legs. Her silky white dress and heels she wore underneath turned a regal red, and the inky black of her previous transformation was restrained to her form fitting cloak, the chain draped tailcoat flourishing behind her, giving off a faint mist.

In the distance, Master Camble loomed over Beelzebub, reduced to a flicker of flame, with his large wings curved around the remaining fire in a choke hold. It was no surprise Master Camble defeated him so easily, in fact Beelzebub only managed for as long as he did because he absorbed some of the Villain Egg’s fumes.

Ellulia stepped forward, sealing the space between them to teleport directly in front of Beelzebub. Suddenly, Master Camble’s body stiffened and any trace of his Demigods status winked out of existence. Ellulia cupped what was left of the Abyssal Lord and pressed her hands to her chest, safely depositing him in her spiritual body with a whispered thanks.

“How long have you known?” she asked, turning her attention to the paralysis stricken man in front of her.

“Two years,” Master Camble told her, his range of vernacular capabilities still intact.

“Why not confess my crimes?”

“You did not kill your brother. What reason is there to accuse you of crimes you tried to prevent?” His words lifted the weight of the world off of her shoulders. It would never be fully remedied, but the burden she’s carried around all her life was finally lessoned. She also realized that now she was forever going to be in his debt for keeping her secrets.

“Thank you for all that you’ve done for me, and for Eliot. I doubt he says it as much as he means,” she said what little she could to pay that debt back. Then, Master Camble crumpled unconscious and disappeared. Ellulia sighed, her appearance reverting to normal as she lessoned her bloodline from one hundred to a much more manageable seventy percent. She raised her head with a breath in, glaring at a building in the distance, steely resolve congealing in her eyes. It was time to save Eliot.

Eliot/Ellulia

Smiling to himself in slight embarrassment, Eliot went over his mistake one more time in his head. He couldn’t believe how stupid he could be when he let his emotions drive. In the heat of the moment, he said that Ellulia would kill them all, but now he realized that probably wouldn’t happen. It just didn’t make sense for her to take the risk. He was a thousand times more valuable alive than dead, they wouldn’t kill him just because Ellulia was a no show, and he was fairly sure she would see it the same way. Besides, it was obvious that this was part of Master Camble’s test. Sure, he was ruthless enough to put him in real danger, but he knew for a fact that Master Camble would step in to save him if he was really going to die. Taking into account that they confiscated everything he had on him, including his rings-Henry and Penelope were raising hell to try and save him. There was no reason for Ellulia to lift a finger.

The way things were going seemed to agree with him. After their fun conversation, Polly Ofal ordered everyone to set up the trap they planned. It was actually a very entertaining few hours since the trap came in the form of a multi-effect ritual. A team of nearly twenty mages entered and inscribed the floor with all sorts of arcane markings. The lack of runes made it pretty obvious that it was an actual ritual, too, not just a translated spell, making Eliot’s dopamine fly off the charts since it was the first time he’s ever laid eyes on such a thing. At some point, Cherry passed by him and he tried to strike up a conversation, but she rudely ignored his existence. When everything was finished and a crate of equipment was hauled in for everyone to use, they roughed him up some more for good measure then sent the message.

That was around fifty minutes ago. Thirty minutes into their wait, a member rushed in to report that they were under siege by the Royal Guard and the church. Polly Ofal wasn’t very distressed by the news, on the contrary he spouted some motivational nonsense about raptors always coming in packs-a plume or talon, Eliot knew were the proper terms-and sent Death’s Grasp to deal with it. Shame, I wanted to see him fight, Eliot thought at the time.

He finished recalling the series of events and moved on to speculate what would happen without Ellulia, when something smashed through the roof with a thundering shatter of wood and stone. It obliterated the floorboards around its landing site with so much force that a pulse of wind knocked every non-Demigod off their feet. Braced against the floor in the resulting crater was a severely battered Ellulia. Her mask sported deep cracks in spider web patterns across its profile, her dirtied hair hung free of her hood in a mess of sticky curls around her shoulders, and her cloak was well worn around the edges with a plethora of stains, as well as wide open to reveal her ruined white silks and long since broken heels.

Ellulia lifted her head, locking eyes with Eliot as if they were magnetized, which sent a shuddering bolt bouncing throughout both of their nervous systems. For Ellulia, it was one of relief and empowerment. Eliot was alive, and she would save him even if she had to drag the Goddess of Death down from Paradise to return his soul. For Eliot, it was something more. It was a spike of pure bewilderment and rhapsody that embedded itself in his heart. He couldn’t believe she actually came. Not only was she risking everything for him, but, from the looks of it, she didn’t even stop to properly change, and she was already injured. The only person that could possibly do that to her was Master Camble, who he assumed attempted to prevent her from interfering, which meant that-on top of everything else- she fought her way through Master Camble and still rushed head first into the Serpentine BrotherHood’s trap. Normally, Eliot would have scorned something so idiotically rash, but the circumstances turned his contempt into utter passion that melted his heart in an overwhelming deluge.

Spurred by the ardor in Eliot’s eyes, Ellulia rushed towards Polly Ofal with bared daggers. In turn, he simply sneered. As Ellulia stepped within the boundary, the dizzying array of lines sprawled all over the floor lit up with blue light, stopping her in her tracks. At the same time, her daggers instantly changed to liquid in her hands and the engravings on her cloak turned runny.

“Hey, what the Abyss!” Eliot shouted in outrage, vehemently struggling against his bonds. “Those daggers and engravings were perfect for her! Do you have any idea how hard it is to find a gift for a princess? How did you even do that? Her aura should h-” His tirade was cut short by one of the mages brought in to draw the ritual, who tried to wrestle him into silence with a gag, only managing to turn his words into unintelligible muffles. Even in their dire straits, Ellulia softly giggled at his antics before reigning in her inflection. With a grunt, the effect holding her in place ceased, then she reached out with her right hand, grabbing hold of a scythe shaped body of purest black. The mana pulled back into nothingness, revealing a wicked looking stygian scythe with a large blade.

“I’m disappointed your simple minds failed to prepare any efficacious counter measures,” she denigrated while brandishing her scythe.

“You shouldn’t act based on supposition, young princess” Death’s son chided with a tsk. He raised his trident and stabbed it into the leg of a nearby grunt, who understandably fell to his knees, screaming in agony. However, his screams were accompanied by a strangled cry of pain across the room, originating from Eliot. Three grievous perforations were apparent in his leg, already forming a pool of blood on the floor around him. “Any damage inflicted upon anyone in this room will be shared by Eliot,” he announced haughtily, as if already declaring victory.

Ellulia exploded in a fit of laughter; sealing the effect of an on going ritual was child’s play. “Watching you rabble peasants make an attempt at imitating wit is truly humorous. Perhaps father was right to suggest the commission of a few jesters,” she derided, abruptly lashing out with her scythe in a flash of metal that severed everyone caught off guard at the waist, excluding Eliot. Which is to say, only Eliot, Polly Ofal, and Cherry weren’t reduced to bisected corpses littering the floor. Moreover, the remaining two obstacles in her path were left with deep lacerations at the waist that would have made any non-Demigod die from blood loss in a few scant seconds. Lucky for them, Demigods clot almost instantly in response to any wounds that don't cause mass hemorrhaging, even Eliot’s wound had mostly closed up by now, still leaving him a bit woozy from the lost blood.

The two Serpentine BrotherHood heads immediately called forth their laws. Polly Ofal’s eyes gleamed with murky red light and he was lifted slightly from the ground with blood red wings. Cherry’s mana was mostly transparent, having almost no effect on her eyes and only giving her the thin outline of wings.

Once prepared, they lunged at Ellulia, attacking her from two directions. In turn, she merely glared. Their Demigod splendor blinked out of existence and their bodies remained suspended mid attack, unable to move a skeletal muscle. A malefic aura generated in the air as Ellulia slowly stepped up to Polly Ofal, dragging her scythe in the wood behind her.

Originally, she imagined ripping them apart limb from limb while sealing their ego in their bodies, or simply toying with them until they begged for the sweet release of death. But all of her rage had petered out during her struggle with Master Camble. Now, she had other punishment in mind.

Ellulia lifted her scythe and swung upwards. The blade of her scythe dug into his skull from under the mandible and acted as leverage until his cranium was wrenched from its skin, leaving behind a revulsive, gorey mess of snapped blood vessels, nerves, and skin that only partly obscured his parted, fleshy lobes of brain. As he died, she used her law to seal his soul in the material plane, then in a sphere of solid mana that she stored in the self-woven pockets of her dress. After, she let his body thump against the floor, his brain splattering from the impact, and turned towards Cherry. Her eyes bulging in abject horror.

Suddenly, Ellulia spun around and jeered, “For a Demigod of Deceit, your tactics are obvious.”

Ellulia dashed forward and seemingly grasped at empty air before slamming something down to the ground. Once the dust settled, the clone sealed in place disappeared and the real Cherry struggled against the pressure around her neck. Fearing she had something else up her sleeve, Ellulia simply crushed Cherry’s throat instead of giving in to theatrics.

When all was said and done, Ellulia and Eliot were left alone in the carnage ridden room. Although it was clear of obstacles, Ellulia stood at a distance, taking in the scene of Eliot bathed in the sunset’s beautiful rays. She took an incredulous minute to let it all sink in: she saved him. It was the first time in her life she used her abilities for good.

“I love you,” Eliot threw at her from out of the blue, his voice more charged with emotion that she thought possible. He opened his mouth to say more, but a knot formed in his throat. Even after they vowed their love for each other and consummated their marriage, never had he loved her more than he did in that moment. The sheer volume of his love left him choking.

“I-” but Ellulia’s response was cut off by the door being blown off its hinges. Henry, Penelope, and a behemoth in golden plate armor streamed in one after the other, freezing at the grisly sight laid out before them. With tears welling up in her eyes and pain building in her chest, Ellulia tore herself free of her rooted position and escaped through the massive hole in the roof.

Eliot cursed under his breath and quickly changed his expression to one of nonchalant relief. “You guys arrived at the perfect time, I totally thought I was going to die!” he sighed effusively.

“Was that Beelzebub?” asked the armored man, Reltus, Eliot recognized as his rescue party stepped closer.

“I thought she was dead,” Henry said what they were all thinking.

“I was there when Master Camble killed her, she looked pretty dead to me,” said Eliot.

“Did she do all of this?” Penelope asked with a grimace. Eliot feigned vestigial horror, curtly nodding in response.

“She was wearing noble silks under her cloak,” Reltus pointed out his observation, his experience in more than one war rendering him unflappable.

“I thought Beelzebub was a lowborn. Is it possible this one’s an imposter?” Henry proposed.

“It’s the same one,” Eliot definitively confirmed.

“Then, she was a noble all along?” Reltus wondered aloud.

“Not necessarily,” Penelope spoke up, still wearing a dark frown. “She may have had a change of heart after her close brush with death and decided to sell her services. The Serpentine BrotherHood’s control of most of the blackmarket and presence in the underground has earned them enemies in high places, willing to pay a king’s ransom for their destruction.”

After she was done speculating, Eliot brought up the elephant in the room, “Regardless of the circumstances, Beelzebub is in bed with some powerful people. Now, I don’t mean to sound needy, but can someone take these cuffs off, please?”