The metallic scent of blood spread throughout the temple.
“Ugh… it hurts!”
Salavira struggled to push away the large dog-like figure that suddenly bit him, but the guy was too big and seemed to be glued to him. After several attempts, he still couldn’t move him.
This action only stimulated the person pressing down on him, and the sharp teeth sank even deeper into his flesh—
Just a few inches more, and it would sever his throat!
With his life hanging by a thread, Salavira froze, suddenly realizing that Asmodeus truly intended to kill him this time…
He didn’t know why Asmodeus’s murderous intent came so suddenly, but if he continued to let it go, he might really die on this prison bed! So, even though he couldn’t understand where Asmodeus’s accusation of “deception” came from, Salavira had no choice but to speak up:
“Asmodeus, when… when did I deceive you?”
As soon as he said this, the force biting his neck suddenly paused, and then gradually loosened.
Asmodeus, with blood at the corner of his mouth, slowly propped himself up, his scarlet eyes staring at him incredulously.
Salavira felt a pang of guilt under that gaze. He carefully recalled his nineteen years of memories, and the only thing that matched the demon’s “deception” was—
“Are you talking about… the first time we met, when I stole the power of your avatar?”
“………”
The temple fell into a heart-stopping silence.
The demon’s breathing seemed to halt, and the hands supporting Salavira’s side were so tense that veins bulged, the intense emotions in his scarlet eyes growing more terrifying.
“You forgot?” he said.
His voice was hoarse for some reason, as if he had just swallowed powdered shards of a blade.
“Of course.” He sneered, “It’s been a thousand years… You’ve lived with humans for so long, it’s only natural that you’d have long forgotten our insignificant thirty-two years.”
But those memories hadn’t faded in Asmodeus’s mind at all.
He once thought that a thousand years of hatred and nightmares would have eroded those brief thirty-two years into obscurity, but now, looking back, every detail was still so clear.
…
On the 11,682nd day of their journey, they had their seventh argument and third separation.
But this time was different from before. Asmodeus stayed alone in the palace he built for Salavira, waiting for countless fortnights, but Salavira never returned.
It was only after he went to the human world that he learned there was a new “Holy Son” among humans, and this Holy Son was his former Salavira.
Their reunion, like their first meeting, was on an endless battlefield. In human records, this epic battle lasted for ninety-nine days.
But in reality, after just a few moves, Salavira dropped his weapon and faced the incoming sword light without dodging!
Asmodeus was shocked, but it was too late to retract his sword, leaving a deep wound on Salavira’s chest, exposing the bone! Bright red blood gushed out, quickly staining the snow-white figure with a striking color.
“You!” Asmodeus’s breath caught, and almost instinctively, he dropped his sword and rushed to hold Salavira, immediately forgetting that they had been fighting just a moment ago.
“You’re crazy…” he scolded, while tenderly healing the wound.
As for the resentment accumulated from countless lonely nights in hell, it vanished in this moment without a trace.
The wound slowly healed.
But Salavira suddenly pushed away the hand healing him and, without a word, tightly embraced him.
“Salavira?” Asmodeus gently patted his back, “Be good, don’t move, your wound isn’t healed yet.”
But Salavira continued to hold Asmodeus tightly, not moving an inch.
“Asmodeus, will you die?” he suddenly asked.
Asmodeus was taken aback: “I will, Salavira. Even though I’m the lord of hell, I can still be killed by someone stronger than me, or I might naturally die in a very distant future.”
“………” Salavira’s embrace tightened, “Asmodeus, I don’t want you to die.”
Asmodeus laughed: “Can I take that as a blessing from you?”
Salavira fell silent again, burying his head in Asmodeus’s embrace, quietly holding him, as if deeply cherishing something.
No one spoke, so Asmodeus had to find a topic himself. He saw the two weapons discarded nearby: “Shall we continue fighting?”
The person in his arms shook their head.
“I can’t beat you now.”
“?” This statement genuinely surprised Asmodeus. Then he heard Salavira add—
“That weapon isn’t sharp enough.”
Asmodeus turned his head to look at the large scythe discarded on the ground.
The scythe was forged from meteorite iron, double-edged, with a cold gleam like moonlight falling from the sky.
This scythe was already the best weapon humans could offer, but compared to the demon’s black long sword, it was far inferior. If they fought again, the scythe would be cut in half in just a few moves.
“Shall we forge another one?”
“Really?” The head buried in Asmodeus’s chest lifted, blinking, “But I don’t know how, do you?”
Hearing this, Asmodeus’s inexplicable competitive spirit suddenly arose: “Of course! And what I forge will be a thousand times better than those humans!”
Out of some selfishness, Asmodeus tentatively added: “But, Salavira, a scythe doesn’t suit you. Let’s forge a sword, just like mine, okay?”
Salavira agreed.
So, Asmodeus took Salavira back to hell, using the eternal flames of hell to forge a sword for him.
Forging a sword required the best materials, so Asmodeus intended to use one of his own ribs—his sword was forged from it.
But before that, Salavira had already cut out his own.
Asmodeus still remembers the moment when Salavira, covered in blood but expressionless, stood before him, handing him the bloody bone, causing a pang of fear in his heart.
In fact, he should have noticed something was wrong with Salavira back then, but perhaps the immense joy of regaining what was lost numbed him, or maybe he simply didn’t want to face the harsh reality that Salavira had abandoned him and sided with humans. In any case, he immersed himself in that fragile illusion of peace until ninety-nine days later, the silver bone sword, after its final quenching, was handed to Salavira—
“Asmodeus…” Holding the sharp bone sword, Salavira for the first time brought up the topic of humans, “Can’t you really stop?”
“Stop?” Asmodeus repeated the words in a daze, slowly realizing what Salavira was saying.
Why… is it about those humans again?!
A hint of ferocity flashed across his brow, and he clenched something in his palm: “Salavira, if I stop, it will be me who dies.”
“………” Salavira lowered his eyes, tightly gripping the sword, lost in thought.
The atmosphere grew tense, and Asmodeus sighed, opening his palm to look at the earrings lying there.
He had secretly crafted them from the finest blood demon crystals while forging the bone sword, exquisite and vibrant. They would look stunning on Salavira’s ears.
Imagining that scene, Asmodeus’s previously stirred anger dissipated, a smile appearing in his eyes. He was about to give the earrings as a gift to mend their relationship, but Salavira spoke first—
“Asmodeus…”
“I’m sorry.”
The voice was close, and Salavira, without him noticing, had approached with the sword, and then…
“Thud!”
The sound of a blade piercing flesh.
Asmodeus’s eyes widened, looking down in disbelief at the bone sword piercing his heart and the beautiful face splattered with red.
Everything seemed to freeze at that moment.
Asmodeus had dreamt of this scene countless times during his sealed nights, recalling those details he had deliberately ignored, like the wound he allowed his sword to make, and that sudden embrace.
Was Salavira feeling guilty? He didn’t know. But regardless of the reason, he didn’t want this condescending pity.
But now… it seemed he couldn’t even get that pity.
Lying on the bed, Salavira’s expression was blank, showing no reaction to the events he mentioned.
“You really forgot?”
Asmodeus suddenly felt his heart gripped by a powerful force, sour, painful, and bitter, even making him feel like crying.
He was angry, he wanted to question, but before he could speak, he saw Salavira’s blank expression asking:
“Asmodeus, did we really have a time when we were close?”
Asmodeus was stunned.
“I don’t remember, I really… don’t remember anything.”
At that moment, Salavira seemed like a child who had lost something important, clutching at his clothes like a lifeline, desperately seeking help.
This isn’t right.
Something is very wrong…
Asmodeus’s eyes widened: “Salavira, what happened after I was sealed? Why don’t you remember those times? Did those humans do something?!”
“I…” Salavira shook his head, “I don’t know, I only know that according to the epic records, shortly after sealing you, I died.”
“………”
Died.
Died…
Asmodeus repeated the word in his mind, a simple term, yet at this moment, he seemed unable to grasp its meaning.
He remained in that position, like a weathered statue, frozen for a long time before finally laughing softly:
“Ha… died, Salavira, how could you die, you’re lying to me again, right?”
“No.” Salavira slowly shook his head, “Asmodeus, I really have died once, and now, I’m only nineteen.”
“……”
Asmodeus covered Salavira’s mouth.
“Don’t say it, Salavira.”
He buried his head in the other’s neck, carefully feeling the blood flowing beneath the skin, but listening closely, he couldn’t hear any heartbeat.
Yes, he remembered.
Salavira once said, he had no heart.