Kieran stared at the archway above him. He held Esila's hand as they began to complete their journey. They had continued treading the green plains, even while the sun and sky had shifted their colors into a darker, blood-stained shade.

The stone was old but far from clean– seemingly maintained by a crew each week, polishing what could have been dull stone and managing the structure of a clear, old age.

Right at the center, he noticed the words carved into them. He couldn't make them out, for they were of a language he didn't understand at all. Something demonic, or maybe– no, that was Latin, he realized. But before those thoughts processed, before they stepped past the arch...

A single man appeared before them, standing right past the boundary, just a few feet before them. He gave neither of them a chance to speak, and instead introduced himself first.

"My name is Mephisto. P. Heles. It's a pleasure to meet you. If I may ask, what is your purpose in your visit?"

Kieran opened his mouth, but retracted his thoughts. That was a difficult question. After all, honesty should never be the first thought due to the nature of his quest. Still, matters of life and death cannot be shoveled through with lie after lie. His heart was still fearful of being cursed for it, all things considered.

He took a second to himself, pausing on what he could say. "Wait..." he mumbled.

"I'm waiting for someone here," Kieran brought himself to say. "That's all."

"I see!" Mephisto exclaimed. "You're not being entirely direct with the truth, but you're not lying. For that, I have nothing to hold against you. Please, follow me and enter our administrative castle. There's a firestorm coming, and I do not recommend you stay outside for it."

'Firestorm?!'

Esila let go of Kieran's hand and hurried to Mephisto's side, as if she herself was concerned about this 'firestorm'. Kieran turned around and stared up at the black clouds that loomed closer and closer. By Earth's standards, the storm was two hours away, maybe three.

This was the first time he wished the UnderWorld had more of a disconnect than Earth. He prayed that the storm was a bit further– that the storm wouldn't keep Alexander out or away.

He turned back and scurried along to catch up to the two demons as they sped through the double doors that carried them into a marvel. Compared to Osdohrne's dull castle, it was gorgeous. No, no, no, not just compared to that travesty...

In all matters of the truth, it was brilliant. Glimmering and glistening with precious stones and gems, the structure was only fit for kings. Not just Esila, but also Kieran felt out of place standing on floors built of solid purple crystal that reflected the light of the chandeliers that hung from the ceiling. The walls were black and blue, lit up by the torches on the wall and extending into corridor upon corridor.

There wasn't a single window, but not one was needed when surrounded by such maddening luxury, which all stood in complete contrast to Mephisto's self.

Mephisto was wearing the last thing Kieran expected for a demon. He was dressed in a monk's habit, old and shaggy brown cloth, loose over his body, with a hood drooping behind his head.

But as he smiled, flashing his sharp fang-like teeth while his eyes glistened with a blood-orange glow, he served Kieran a reminder of who and what he was.

Kieran turned his head and avoided eye contact, aiming his sights on the ceiling once again. They were painted, bright colors flowing and flashing from above, divided into sections and each displaying what seemed to be a tale of conflict. Kieran paused. No, not conflict. Death, he realized, was the theme.

He tried to make out the specific details some carried, but... It was mostly foreign to him, except for one. A winged human– an angel– dressed in blue armor and adorned with golden weapons, driving another downward.

The one beneath the angel's feet was ugly. His skin was reddened and his teeth were sharpened. Thin horns were protruding from his head that became void of all hair, contrasting with the flowing blond locks of his angelic counterpart. He, too, had wings, but they were now blackened, and they were far from the pure, feathery flow the angel enjoyed.

Kieran understood the story here; the archangel driving out the devil and the rebellion.

"You know... The Prince of Wrath had forbidden this image to be held anywhere in the UnderWorld. Anyone who possesses anything similar to a reminder of his failures and losses... They will be killed under his name."

"...Wait, really?"

"Yes," Mephisto said. "And this applies to anyone who sets their eyes on it, as well."

"Huh?!"

Esila dropped her head and shut her eyes, beginning to murmur out a rapid prayer. Mephisto only laughed in the face of that fear, however, bringing Kieran to awkwardly join in.

"So... So you were joking about that?" he spat out while the demon laughed.

"Oh, not at all. But you needn't worry. He doesn't know it's here. Nor does he know you are."

Kieran didn't know how to respond, and only kept himself quiet until Mephisto ushered him to sit. As he pressed his back against a seat of precious stone, he set his sights on the floor, not wanting another interaction with this 'Mephisto P. Heles.'

Just wait for Alexander, he reminded himself. That was the only way to get this done properly.

Again, Mephisto grinned, this time at the sight of the stressed human. He spoke softly and plainly as he took a step towards him. "It's not my job to assume. It's my job to know and do. This is why I know... one only enters this building if one wishes to enter the pits of Purgatorio.

Kieran's eyes widened as he kept his focus on the floor.

"Look at me, boy."

Kieran took in a sharp breath and strengthened his will. He slowly raised his head and lifted his eyes to meet Mephisto's kind smile.

"I can help you," the devil sweetly whispered.

- - - - -

Alexander tied a brand-new sheath to his belt while he made his way back to his transport, the silver train car, his hope, already in sight. The odds of finding a sheath that fit the exact measurements of Furcas' swords were slim to none, so he made do with one slightly larger.

This problem would delay his unsheathing by a fraction of a second, but for now... He spat out a sigh as he ran his sword down the scabbard and finally secured the harness. Now, it was good enough.

"Hi."

In the same instant that the voice slithered into his ear, Alexander yanked his sword out and raised it. He swung for the demon's throat.

Only a cloud of dust sprung into the air as he heard the voice again. "Man, are you serious right now?" the devil asked, now behind Alexander. "I'm not here to fight you."

He may have said that, but Alexander's instincts could tell the truth. This demon was a threat. He wasn't sure if it was one he could overcome, but... He had to try. Regardless of anything, he had to get his way back to Kieran.

'Already more than halfway done with the second day,' he reminded himself.

He turned around and met the demon face to face.

The demon was the most humanoid Alexander had seen before. His skin was pale, but rosy and peachy, like Alexander had seen everywhere on Midgard. He was thin, wearing an oversized purple suit. The sleeves were too long, too wide to fit his skinny body and partially drooping down over his shoes and glove-covered hands.

His hair was grey, but unlike Furcas, it was kept short, and his face kept beardless. The only nonhuman factor of his appearance was his golden eyes. A glimmering color Alexander had come to hate to see.

"Y'know, killing someone like Osdorhne is impressive– for a Human-Born like you, at least."

Alexander glared. "I've killed worse devils."

"I know!" the demon proclaimed with a wide grin. "Three Princes of Hell have your name on their corpses. The best part, for us at least, is that only Asmodeus was an Essence. The other two are completely dead! Now they gotta find a replacement for two princes! You've done us a great favor."

Alexander stared into the demon's eyes as they whitened, becoming crystal clear, not like Alexander's starlike eyes, but rather a simple and plain lack of color, his pupil and sclera joining into one.

He gripped his sword. "Just who are you?"

The demon grinned. "My name is Lucifuge," he said, pressing his palm against his heart. "While I may be another governor of Hell, the neighboring region of Laginstax, to clarify, I am at your service." He took a light bow. As he brought himself back up, he took a step forward and whispered to Alexander. "And I want you to focus on that. You're not just in the UnderWorld, you're in Hell's territory."

"I knew that already. That's why I'm drenched in blood, isn't it?"

Lucifuge laughed aloud, his vocal cords twisting a bit in his shrieking. "Yes, I suppose you're right," he said, wiping the tear from his eyes. "But since you and I are one and the same..."

"We're not."

"Allow me to finish, please," he said, his eyes returning to the original golden hue. He couldn't help but smile as he met Alexander's obsidian gaze. Those eyes were filled with animosity and anger, it seemed. But he stared even more, and could see what sat behind them. Frustration and weariness.

"And allow me to ease your burdens," the demon tempted. "I'm here to offer you a contract, after all."

"A contract?" Alexander lowered his sword.

"Yes. You see, a certain someone wants your soul. Not any of the Princes, mind you. That's just what everyone believes at first." Lucifuge wasted no time and continued, "The contract is as follows: Free passage between the World and UnderWorld, at any time you wish. You can return to your life and live out the 90 or so years you have left. You can do pretty much anything you want, but... Your soul's ownership is forfeited. It won't be yours after your inevitable death. After this death– the one you've already experienced, of course."

Alexander furrowed his eyebrows. 'A certain someone'. A devil wanted to steal Alexander's soul and make it their own. For now, all he had to do was keep the devil from attacking. That meant keeping him talking. "Who wants my soul? And why?"

"The Angel of the Abyss, even while his less common name is the Demon of Despair. He's... a god of sorts. Apollyon, although he himself prefers to go by his other name... Abaddon."

Alexander tightened his grip on his sword, squeezing its hilt around his coiled fingers. "You haven't told me why."

"You're dangerous. Far too dangerous. And since you're asking why, I'm sure you don't understand what soul ownership entails. Yes, you will live your life free but... What have you been doing for the past year?"

He grit his teeth. "Killing demons." The Demon-Born spat out a sigh. "What, so I won't be allowed to continue that? This whole thing is just to gain an advantage in this war?"

"Oh, no, not at all. You'll still be able to kill demons, especially the Princes. In fact, Apollyon and I encourage it. That's what I meant by your actions have been a favor to us. We're looking to make changes around here. And the usurper is willing to give you this sort of employment. As I said, if you return to the World and return to life, you'll still die eventually. We wish to capitalize on that. Your soul will serve Abaddon in his conquests."

"But that's for eternity."

"Well, it's as long as our master so wishes. If you perform well, it'll likely only be a few decades within this Hell of ours. After all, as soon as he fulfills his desires, he'll release you. That's part of the contract. And if your services are only needed for months, your term will be only months. Think about it that way."

Alexander began to understand. Apollyon wanted Alexander's soul, purely so Alexander would keep fighting, keep killing, and maybe most importantly of all, not kill that devil.

No matter how Lucifuge wanted Alexander to think, the Demon-Born had his own ideas.

"We'll guarantee you safety here and in the World," added on. "Plus, Abaddon's usurpation lies in the UnderWorld. We won't meddle with Worldly affairs."

Lucifuge pulled a sheet of paper from his back pocket and smiled. "If you want, you could read it yourself. That'll make your decision-making easier, I trust."

He unfolded the sheet and handed it to Alexander.

At the top, near the edge of the aged, stained paper, it was labeled, 'Contract.' And at its center, 'One Geas for One Alexander Lane, Human-Born of Vice and Virtue.'

It continued to list the details Lucifuge had laid out in the past minutes and nothing else. Nothing less, nothing more. Under what Alexander knew of contracts, it was trustworthy. If either party fails to uphold a set geas, they will perish and their soul will be damned.

At its end, it listed two lines. One was filled with a demonic signature and the other was left blank. That was where Alexander was to sign.

"Can you do me a favor, Lucifuge?"

The demon nodded.

Alexander ripped the paper apart and tossed its scraps to the side and into the air. "Tell the demon of the abyss that he can fuck off."

Lucifuge cackled out. "Really?! You're as strong-willed as they say you are!"

Alexander's face remained straight.

"You've impressed me," Lucifuge conceded.

"I shouldn't have. It's not a complicated decision I made. Signing that geas would've been a betrayal to my purpose."

"Purpose?! You really think your entire life was built around killing demons?!" Another laugh left the demon's lips.

Alexander spoke through his clenched jaw. "Well, I know it's not serving under one, either. Just leave me the hell alone."

As soon as the word 'hell' left his lips, storm clouds began to crackle overhead. Alexander looked up and stared. He had barely noticed after all. A storm at this rate... He took in a deep breath. It wasn't a good sign.

But Lucifuge shook his head. "I can't leave you alone. No, no, no, that isn't how this works. Abaddon won't like the decision you've made."

What followed was silence as Alexander understood that conflict was now the surest way out. He forced a smirk to his lips and said, "Makes no difference to me. I'll kill him the same way I kill the Princes. I'll cleave Despair in two."

"I'll let him know you said that."

"Please do."

Alexander lunged forward at Lucifuge and swung his sword again. He had raised it into the sky and rammed it down at the demon.

But to no avail. His swift movements had led him behind Alexander again. Before either of them spoke or Lucifuge moved next, Alexander slid his hand over his hilt and reversed its grip, driving his blade back up with vicious force until it pierced right through Lucifuge's chest.

But the smell of blood didn't rise into the air. Alexander turned to face Lucifuge, and what stood as the demon in a purple suit burst into a mist, a heavy cloud, a purple haze.

"Dude, you really are insane!" Lucifuge cried out from atop the train car. His legs dangled over the edge of the transport, the front screen of glass already cracked with the small pounds of his feet, back and forth, over and again. "I didn't see that coming! If that was the real me... You would've killed me."

Unfortunately, his suit was not stained with blood, nor was his ribcage sliced into.

Lucifuge didn't get there through another rapid movement as he did with Alexander's first attack. He had been there the whole time, loitering around atop the transport while Alexander meddled with a figment of magic. His magic energy was concentrated there, more so than whatever Alexander just fought. That magic energy... It was powerful beyond compare.

Alexander had been practicing magic and combat consistently for just over a year. He had never imagined he was truly strong in the grand scheme of things nor in any of the Worlds and realms. But this was something he never expected.

A demon subservient to another devil, one that isn't even a Prince of Hell. Alexander couldn't begin to comprehend how strong the 'usurper' was.

After all, Alexander was raised on Midgard, raised as a human. For humans, the highest, the peak, the epitome was High Grade. A classification that cannot be defined by anything other than an 'anomaly'. He had met the Paladins that fit under that label and even some of those from the Golden Dawn.

But even then, Arnold Norr and Charles Archibald... They paled in comparison to this devil. Could either of those giants even reach this level?

Alexander didn't have time to dwell on these thoughts. The demon raised his hand to the sky and slammed his palm into the steel. A thundering crackle exploded into the air and nothing more.

No shattering glass or bending steel– nothing of a grand impact.

Until thin plumes of gray smoke began to rise into the air. Lucifuge's smile remained as his body became engulfed in the fumes that quickly turned black.

"Bastard!" Alexander shouted out.

"No, my parents were married by my conception, for your information," Lucifuge responded from the rising darkness.

Again, he cackled and brought himself to his feet, now jumping off the train car and onto the ground. This time, his true body approached Alexander, his golden eyes shining and glowing.

Before he got within arm's reach, he stopped and laughed again. "Wow, you're seriously afraid of me, huh? Well... I hope you don't regret rejecting our contract. Anyway, I'm leaving now," he said, turning to the side and staring off into the distance.

"Like, seriously." He faced Alexander again with his lips curled into a grin, before disappearing into a circular shadow and into nothingness, the same way he so rapidly arrived.

Alexander dropped his sword to the ground and raised a middle finger at the same spot Lucifuge disappeared in. He dropped his arm after ten seconds and let a sigh leave his lips.

Painfully yet thankfully, he forced himself to focus on the fact that he wasn't slaughtered by that devil.

He turned to the side and stared at the incoming black clouds that lit up with flashes of crimson. They were coming in from the south, right towards the middle between Alexander and Kieran.

There wasn't much time left before that storm would begin to hit.

A slight purring grew from behind Alexander. This time, it wasn't a sound that surprised him or struck fear– rather one that instilled new hope in him. It was Shadowfax, still tiny, yet clinging to Alexander's back.

Shadowfax had stayed on the train car, resting until Berane's death. As Alexander made his way back to Osdorhne, she realized she had to stick by his side no matter what. And so, she crawled into his clothes and kept herself to his back.

Now, she was crawling out and over his shoulder.

Alexander smiled at the young dragon. Alexander didn't know if praying to God worked in Hell, but he did it anyway and spoke while he rubbed his hand over the small wyvern's head. "Hey, Shadow... You ready to start flying again?"

As if understanding his spoken language, she nodded. Alexander couldn't help but smile as she hopped off his body and landed on the ground.

"Alright." That was all he told himself before he got moving.