A smooth, delicate fingertip traced from the side of his cheek to behind his ear, the warm, soft touch sending a shiver of tingling numbness through him. Salavira unconsciously tilted his head slightly, only to have his hair at the back of his head grabbed forcefully, yanking him back into position.
“Not happy about it?” Asmodeus questioned him with a look of amusement.
Unfortunately for Asmodeus, the defiance he anticipated didn’t play out. Even when treated like this, the person before him maintained that same unchanging fake smile, as if oblivious to the fate awaiting him, and said, “No, it’s my honor.”
As if feeling that wasn’t enough, Salavira leaned in closer, whispering in Asmodeus’s ear, “Master.”
…
Perhaps provoked by those words, the demon set up a small nest for his newly acquired slave, tossed him inside, and then vanished. Though the nest was built with the finest magic crystals, it was extremely simple inside. Apart from a small bed covered with a few animal skins, there wasn’t even a table. The door was tightly shut, but the window was wide open, as if the demon wasn’t worried at all about his little slave escaping through it.
Salavira sat quietly and obediently on the bed for a while. Seeing that Asmodeus hadn’t returned, the docility he had shown since Asmodeus first saw him gradually faded, revealing the cold core beneath.
If Asmodeus could see this, he would surely regret leaving this person alone here.
He coldly surveyed his surroundings, then got up and walked to the window. The chain of shadows around his neck dragged on the ground, clinking as it went.
It seemed as if Asmodeus had arranged it deliberately; the chain was just long enough for him to walk from the bed to the window, and from the window, he could see the seal he had set in his previous life.
But what caught Salavira’s eye first wasn’t the seal, but the grand palace encircled within it, its luxury and beauty unlike anything Salavira had ever seen in the human world.
He couldn’t help but widen his eyes slightly, staring for a few seconds before shifting his attention back to the silver seal on the outer circle—
A narrow crack ran across the seal barrier, like a scar.
The demon had escaped through it.
But as the reincarnation of the seal’s creator, Salavira could sense that the seal hadn’t worn down over time. It remained strong, and without that sudden crack, the demon would have slumbered within it for another millennium or two.
Even now, with the demon awakened, most of its power remained sealed within. The one that escaped was merely an avatar, albeit a terrifyingly powerful one, but its strength was perhaps only a thousandth or even ten-thousandth of the original.
However…
Salavira squinted his eyes.
He actually hoped this avatar’s power was stronger.
He reached out a hand through the window, catching a strand of the seal’s silver glow, gently absorbing the trace of magic into his palm, letting it flow through his veins.
The sensation was peculiar; though he had never possessed magic in this life, he felt an instant resonance with his soul.
But soon, the trace of magic leaked out of his body, leaving no trace behind.
Seeing this, Salavira shrugged and chuckled.
As expected, his current body couldn’t even contain the power that once belonged to him.
The outcome was anticipated, and Salavira didn’t feel disappointed. Sensing the state of his current body, he even laughed sincerely.
After all—
So far, his plan had gone more smoothly than he could have imagined.
…
Asmodeus strolled outside the seal barrier.
Unlike when he had tried to escape, the seal no longer desperately restrained him, merely emitting a pure, gentle glow, like a moon illuminating the land.
He stood before the crack, looking up at the magnificent palace within the barrier.
Perhaps the world couldn’t imagine it, but this palace was actually built for Salavira.
The world only knew of their irreconcilable differences, but even the oldest epics never recorded the time before they became enemies.
Back then, they were inseparable.
He still remembered how he loved Salavira’s silver hair, pure as moonlight, smooth as silk. In his leisure time, he would pull Salavira into his arms to braid his hair, from initially making a mess to creating more and more intricate styles, his skills improving to the point where even someone as aesthetically demanding as Salavira had praised him.
But those were long past…
A thousand years ago, a single sword severed all ties, leaving only enmity.
As for the palace before him…
He hadn’t even had the chance to invite Salavira to live in it before being pinned inside by the other’s bone sword. The gift he had painstakingly prepared to win favor had ultimately become his eternal coffin.
Thinking of this, Asmodeus couldn’t help but laugh at himself.
He raised a hand to touch the scar-like crack on the seal, his eyes filled with lingering resentment and deep melancholy.
Salavira, Salavira…
Of course, he wanted this person to pay the price, but… why had this person, after everything, become such a compliant, submissive vine to him?
Was it guilt?
Ha, could he even feel guilt?
The Salavira Asmodeus knew would never be like this.
Retracting his hand from the seal, Asmodeus, as if disgusted, brushed off the pure white magic clinging to his hand, then turned to look in the direction of the small nest he had set up—
Perhaps Salavira was also looking this way, at the seal and the luxurious palace.
He thought, maybe someday, when he grew tired of his revenge games, or accidentally killed him, he would place Salavira’s body in this palace.
That way, perhaps it would be a return to its rightful owner?
The thought was so delightful that Asmodeus couldn’t help but laugh.
But in the next second, his smile froze at the corners of his mouth—
He smelled a strong scent of blood, coming from Salavira’s direction!
In an instant, Asmodeus transformed into a shadow and disappeared from his spot, appearing in the blink of an eye at the small nest he had set up.
The first thing he saw was the blood spreading to the door, and following the trail, in the center, was the silver-haired figure lying in a pool of blood!
The figure was still trembling, seemingly in great pain.
…How could this happen suddenly?! He had clearly… treated all the wounds!
Asmodeus’s eyes widened instantly, and he quickly took three steps to reach Salavira’s side, carefully lifting the injured person to check his wounds.
“Salavira! What happened to you…” Unconsciously, his voice carried a barely noticeable tremor.
Salavira kept his head lowered, using one hand to support himself on Asmodeus’s shoulder, while the other, covered in blood, clutched his left chest tightly.
That must be where the injury was.
Asmodeus’s mind was in chaos, but he forced himself to maintain composure, adjusting the injured person to a relatively comfortable position.
But perhaps all his rationality was focused on this, as he failed to notice the metallic glint peeking from the “wound” Salavira was clutching tightly.
“Don’t move, let me see.”
—But just as he was about to check the wound, his hand was grabbed.
“Asmodeus.”
The injured person leaned against his shoulder, like a close companion, but the name he called out wasn’t the submissive “Master” from before, and even his tone was no longer gentle, cold and carrying a hint of triumphant laughter.
Asmodeus’s heart skipped a beat.
If he forced Salavira to lift his head, he would see those azure eyes filled with mischief.
But unfortunately, it was too late.
“Thud—!”
The sound of a blade piercing flesh.
It wasn’t until the intense pain began to spread from his heart to his limbs that Asmodeus belatedly realized what had happened.
He widened his eyes, slowly lowering his head, staring incredulously at the wound on his left chest.
A dagger was lodged in his heart, covered in blood, its original color indistinguishable, as if freshly pulled from someone’s flesh.
The person holding the dagger smiled weakly, straightening from Asmodeus’s shoulder.
“Thud!” The dagger was pulled from his heart, blood splattering onto Salavira’s pale cheek, creating a bizarre beauty. At the same time, Asmodeus felt a familiar power flowing from his heart through his veins, like a sturdy lock, immobilizing him.
Everything was so familiar.
The fragile slave before him gradually overlapped with the figure wielding a sword a thousand years ago.
Back then and now were somewhat similar…
Before Salavira had plunged that bone sword into Asmodeus’s heart, their relationship hadn’t been so tense.
At least, that’s what Asmodeus thought.
He had even prepared a gift for their reconciliation—
A pair of finely crafted Blood Demon Crystal Earrings, meticulously carved by Asmodeus over a long time.
He thought Salavira’s attire had always been too plain, needing a touch of vibrant color to truly suit him.
But the gift never had the chance to be given.
The bone sword had suddenly pierced Asmodeus’s heart, the blood, as red as the Blood Demon Crystal, splattering onto Salavira’s face, just like…
Now.
The same betrayal, the same wound, even the person’s exquisite appearance hadn’t changed.
Yet Asmodeus didn’t feel much anger, instead, a twisted pleasure rose from within.
He suddenly wanted to laugh.
The laughter started as a trickle from his throat, then grew louder and more unrestrained.
Salavira was startled, weakly gasping for breath, gripping the dagger tightly, warily watching the suddenly crazed demon.
The demon suddenly mustered all his strength to break free and raised his hand, but before Salavira could react, that hand merely brushed his blood-stained cheek, gently wiping away the blood:
“Salavira… you really are just like before.”