As the Holy Son, Salavira wasn’t born into this world like ordinary humans, as a baby. From the very beginning, he appeared as a boy of about five or six years old. Therefore, in this world, he had no blood relatives to call parents or siblings. Even his mentor, Margaret, who was his guide in this life, only came to his side when he was thirteen and accompanied him for just four years before she was suddenly taken away by the schemes of despicable people. In this way, he was all alone.
However, the demon before him, sealed by his past self for a thousand years, who should have been his mortal enemy, was now telling him that their relationship could be this intimate. Salavira was stunned. He even seemed to ignore the pain in his wrist, stopping his struggle, motionless, staring blankly at Asmodeus, making the latter think he had said something wrong.
“No… this isn’t right.” After thinking seriously for a while, Salavira said this. Perhaps feeling it wasn’t enough, he added, “Asmodeus, this is impossible.”
Asmodeus was momentarily taken aback by his serious and somewhat stern attitude, then realized what the other was actually saying. He said it wasn’t right, it was impossible. But clearly, a thousand years ago, their relationship was like this… No matter how things changed, how the world transformed, these wouldn’t change. Yet, this guy in front of him easily denied all that with just one sentence.
Suddenly, a wave of painful bitterness surged in his heart. Asmodeus didn’t know that the enemy before him had already experienced death once and lost his memory in the cycle of reincarnation. He attributed this sentence entirely to Salavira’s heartlessness.
Staring fixedly at the person beneath him with blue eyes for a long time, Asmodeus released the hand gripping the other’s wrist, then his whole body gradually lost strength, as if extremely exhausted, completely collapsing onto Salavira.
Salavira thought he would continue to hold onto him and say something, or simply, like before, press him and continue to torment him. But he waited quietly for a long time, and Asmodeus remained silent, not doing anything excessive as he had imagined.
A strange silence spread in the chamber. Until Asmodeus spoke with a slightly hoarse voice, “…You’re right, we indeed are impossible.” After saying this, his voice suddenly rose, suppressing much anger as he continued, “But you and those humans are even more impossible! Salavira, I’ve said it long ago… In this world, only the two of us are the same kind, and your final destination will only be to die by my hand, or rather, die in my bed.”
“But—” Asmodeus said, then suddenly changed his tone, propping up his upper body, calmly gazing at the person beneath him, so beautiful that he almost couldn’t look away, “Since you still can’t give up on those humans, I can give you this chance, let you take one last look at them before you die, and see clearly their filth and disgust!”
…
The turn of events came so suddenly that Salavira even thought he was dreaming for a moment. But the solid ground beneath his feet and the ruins in front of him, still filled with the scent of dust, told him—he wasn’t dreaming, Asmodeus had really brought him back to Solent City.
Before bringing him here, this guy said, “Do you think saving those people will change their attitude towards you? Salavira, you’re so naive.” But in fact, Salavira never had such expectations. Whether it was choosing to fight against the insect mother or saving those trapped in the brothel, he had his own considerations. Perhaps there was conscience and compassion, but more so, it was a calculation of benefits for his further plans.
However, the guy beside him seemed to have a significant misunderstanding of his motives. Sometimes, Salavira actually wanted to explain, but the things involved were too complex, not something that could be clarified in a few words. Besides, he had no reason to explain to a demon, so he simply let the misunderstanding continue until now.
The overwhelming darkness had dispersed at some point, and under the golden sunlight, Solent City no longer looked like it used to. After that great battle, it turned from splendid to a chaotic graveyard overnight, just like two years ago. But the ruins at the city gate had actually been cleared quite a bit, with a small path among the rubble, leading to a row of newly built shacks, seemingly erected not long ago.
Salavira concluded that Karl and the others had already entered the city. This news reassured him a lot. The resistance had taken over what he left behind, giving them a chance to rise again. As long as Karl had half of Margaret’s talent, overthrowing the papal rule would no longer be a fantasy.
They had only stayed at the city gate for a short while when someone came out from inside, pushing a cart full of rubble. Seeing the two strangers standing at the gate, he was startled, immediately drawing a short sword from his side, pointing at them and shouting, “Who are you two! Where did you come from!”
Asmodeus sneered, “See, Salavira, I told you, you shouldn’t have saved these ungrateful wretches.” With that, he gathered a ball of magic at his fingertips, ready to strike at the man’s vital point—
But in the next second, his hand was caught and held by Salavira, the fingers charged with magic gently bent into his palm. Logically, Asmodeus should be angry at this moment, but feeling the soft hand wrapping around his, he found he couldn’t muster any anger.
“Let’s go into the city and take a look.” Salavira ignored the man pointing a sword at them, turned to Asmodeus, and then released his hand, walking into the city on his own. Asmodeus felt a sudden emptiness in his hand, and his heart followed with a moment of emptiness. He quickly took two steps, simply grabbing Salavira’s hand, gently wrapping it in his own.
The two of them entered the city hand in hand, not like they were walking into ruins, but more like they were going on an outing. As for the unlucky guy with the short sword, from the moment Salavira approached, he found himself completely unable to move, only able to watch helplessly as these two suspicious individuals entered the city, unable to even utter a warning.
The resistance had turned the remaining buildings into a residential area, housing the surviving slaves from the brothel. As for the shacks they initially saw, which looked like they were for keeping livestock, they held the nobles captured by them. As Salavira and Asmodeus approached, the resistance was leading the willing slaves to repair the houses.
Their attire was too conspicuous among the crowd of people in tattered clothes, not at all like those struggling at the bottom, but more like the nobles who were pampered every day. Just like those in the shacks. Soon, the crowd surrounded them with hostility.
Asmodeus, seeing this, didn’t let go of Salavira’s hand, but instead, with a look of amusement, squeezed the soft flesh of his hand. But Salavira’s eyes remained calm, his gaze sweeping around as if searching for someone.
Soon, the crowd suddenly became agitated, then made way for a tall man with brown hair and a scar on his face to walk in from the outside. It was clear that this person held a high status here. Salavira, seeing this, was somewhat uncertain, looking at the cautious man, tentatively called out, “Karl?”
With just this one call, the caution on the brown-haired man’s face transformed into joy at a speed that was astonishing: “You are… Salavira?” It was clear that the moment he called out the name, he wanted to rush over and give Salavira a bear hug, but after thinking of something, he restrained his impulse, instead kneeling on one knee, performing a knight’s salute: “Greetings, Holy Son!”
With this call, the atmosphere of the surrounding crowd instantly changed. People became agitated, but not with the previous caution and hostility, but rather… gratitude and joy? A large group of people knelt down, using immature etiquette to pay the highest respect to this Holy Son, who had always been a non-existent presence in the hearts of the people.
Salavira himself was quite surprised, momentarily forgetting to let everyone rise. But he quickly understood why when he rushed into the brothel and killed those beyond saving, these people were so afraid of him, but now they were so willing to kneel to him. It was Karl. He was using him to gain credibility for the resistance.
Two years ago, the resistance’s image in the people’s minds was polarized under the papal’s smear campaign. Now that Karl was leading the resistance to rise again, besides the thorny inverted cross flag, he also needed to raise a flag in people’s minds and spirits. And with his identity as the Holy Son, he was naturally very suitable for this position.
Salavira had no objection to Karl’s use of him, seeing it as just one step in achieving his goal. But Asmodeus couldn’t see so many complex things. The completely unexpected scene appeared before him, catching him off guard, his face turning blue and white, the hand that was lightly holding Salavira’s growing tighter and tighter, to the point where Salavira’s fingers were almost deformed from the pressure.
But Salavira seemed completely unaffected by this: “Everyone, please rise, there’s no need for such formalities since I’m not in the temple.” He put on a friendly demeanor as Karl wished, with a gentle smile on his face.
This was a smile Asmodeus had never seen before. He almost popped his eyes out, seemingly wanting to swallow Salavira whole, never letting these humans see him again. The first to stand was Karl, who saw Asmodeus’s terrifying expression and Salavira’s calm demeanor.
He asked uncertainly, “Holy Son, this is…?” “He’s a friend of mine.” “Oh…” Karl clearly didn’t believe it. After all, Asmodeus’s man-eating gaze was too unconvincing. Karl hesitated for a moment, decisively choosing to change the topic: “Your Highness, are you planning to stay in Solent for a while? Although our conditions here aren’t great, if you want to stay, we’ll do our best…”
Before he could finish, he saw the strange man beside Salavira pulling him out of the crowd, moving with an eerie speed, disappearing from sight in the blink of an eye. Salavira, equally caught off guard, found himself in a deserted corner the next second, brought there by Asmodeus.
“You…” Salavira wanted to ask what he was up to, but this person didn’t give him a chance to speak, pressing him against a half-collapsed wall, kissing him urgently and fiercely, drowning all his words in the exchange…