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{Chapter: 260: The Abyss, The Demon, and The Human}
The next, he'd do something so random—like declaring war on a goose for stepping on his wine bottle or performing a one-man opera in the middle of a royal hearing—that she genuinely wondered if his mind worked like anyone else's.
But she didn't hate it.
In fact… she liked it. Liked him.
In her long life—longer than most kingdoms lasted—she'd grown bored of many things.
Bored of courtship, war, politics, and eternal beauty. But Dex... Dex was unpredictable.
Sometimes charming. Sometimes vicious. Always interesting.
That, more than anything, is what drew her to him.
A woman like her, a thousand-year-old elven war priestess with a noble lineage, an ageless face, and a blade that had slain Demi-Gods—she could have anyone. And yet, ten years ago, when she'd found Dex half-drunk and arguing with a cursed mirror outside a ruin, she hadn't killed him. She'd taken him home.
Since then, she had remained by his side. Not out of need, not even out of lust—though there were nights when her body and soul betrayed her.
No. She stayed for reasons she couldn't fully explain. Perhaps it was fascination. Or maybe it was something dangerously close to affection.
And yet, in all that time, Dex had never once whispered a word of romance. Never once admitted to wanting her. Never once answered her subtle hints. Never once said he loved her.
If he felt anything for her at all, it was hidden behind layers of sarcasm, laughter, and calculated distraction.
She could sense he was possessive. That much was obvious. When others got too close, his eyes sharpened. When someone mocked her, he remembered their name. But was it love? Attachment? Habit? Possessiveness?
She didn't know.
Although she expressed her dissatisfaction, Dex ignored her completely.
Truthfully, Dex didn't either.
As a full-blooded demon, his instincts were bent in strange directions. Though he had inherited some rationality and emotion from his unusual creation process, his soul was still twisted with the primal hunger of the Abyss.
To him, "love" was often indistinguishable from "ownership," and "desire" often meant "devour."
So when he looked at Valeera, sometimes his mind drifted toward something warm… and other times, toward the idea of locking her soul in a bottle and feeding it corrupted mana until it bloomed into a new creature.
He didn't act on those urges, of course.
Because, for reasons even he didn't want to explore… he liked having her around.
And so, their strange dance continued. Two ancient beings with no labels, no promises, and no idea what they were doing—pretending that lounging in the Elven Kingdom of Elsera wasn't just a pause between cataclysms.
As a pure-blooded demon, Dex's soul had always leaned toward destruction and self-interest. The sliver of humanity mixed into his creation had once offered a faint hope—like a flower struggling to bloom in a pit of rot—but now that trace was long buried, smothered beneath layers of betrayal, rage, and demonic instinct.
If Trina hadn't turned her blade on him...
perhaps things would've been different.
Perhaps he might have retained a piece of his humanity—enough to care, enough to change, enough to love. But the moment she sold him out, he tore those seeds from his chest with his own hands, burnt them to ash, and scattered them into the Abyss.
Now? Love was meaningless.
What remained was only preference—like or dislike. A predator's instinct. Nothing more.
(Author's Note: At the time of his divergence, Dex stood at a branching world-line. Had someone managed to enter his heart then, his composition might have shifted to 40% human, 40% demon, and 20% chaos. He'd still be no saint—but at least reason would temper his madness. But now, he is 60% demon, 30% chaos, and a fragile 10% human. Chaos rules. And when it does, he walks the razor's edge between cold brilliance and glorious lunacy.)
Dex posed a little in front of the mirror, tilting his head, giving himself a smirk. Then another. A finger ran down his jaw. He flexed slightly—just the right amount.
Then he turned toward Valeera and answered her earlier question with all the seriousness of a philosopher:
"I'm trying to figure out why I look so devastatingly handsome."
Valeera, lounging on a nearby velvet chaise in a flowing forest-green silk gown, rolled her emerald eyes—eyes sharp enough to kill and sultry enough to tempt a monk into damnation.
"You're shameless," she said with a huff, taking a slow bite of the crimson fruit in her hand. Juice ran down the side of her mouth, which she licked away with an agonizingly slow motion.
Dex raised an eyebrow, entirely unashamed. "I'll take that as a compliment."
He wasn't joking either.
In the Abyss, "shameless" was practically an honorific. To lie, to cheat, to flaunt—it was art. It was the soul of power. It was tradition.
Valeera stood up from the chaise, walking to the window with a predatory grace. Her hips swayed lazily, the twin daggers at her thighs glinting like fangs in the moonlight. Even in a kingdom of immortals, she was a creature of myth—lethal, beautiful, and not quite sane.
Dex watched her with half-lidded eyes.
There was no denying that Valeera was a woman who could make even devils hesitate.
Her long sun kissed-blonde hair fell down her back in silky waves, her lips often curved in an amused smirk, like she knew a secret no one else did. She was confident, capricious, and wildly dangerous when bored.
"I may have to go out in a few days," she said, her tone softer than usual, gaze fixed on the city below.
Dex leaned back lazily. "Oh? A secret assassination? Political throw? Kidnapping a noble's son again?"
Valeera let out a musical laugh that made Dex's tail flick involuntarily.
"Tempting. But no. The Kingdom of Kolia is about to fall. Demon tide's hit their border. I plan to assist."
Dex snorted. "Didn't that kingdom just collapse after their god died? Internal chaos, no military command, faith shattered. You know how that ends."
Valeera was silent.
"You're strong, sure," he continued. "But not decisive. You won't stop that fall. You'll only slow it. A shallow wound before the slaughter."
She didn't disagree. Her smile faded.
"I know I can't change everything," she murmured. "But Elsera is close. If Kolia falls, it will be our gates next. I'd rather strike early than wait for the flames to come knocking."
Dex sighed, his smile turning faintly crooked. "You always did have a heroine complex hidden under all that teasing and cleavage."
"Careful," she said, glancing over her shoulder. "Keep talking like that, and I might have to punish you tonight."
The teasing heat in her voice wasn't entirely playful. Her eyes glowed faintly with ancient elven magic—and something darker, more personal. Dex didn't flinch. But he didn't smile either.
He put down the mirror and finally looked at her directly, voice low and even.
"You don't get it, Valeera. None of this matters. This world is already cracking. The Abyss is clawing through it faster than your gods can react."
He stood up and walked toward her slowly, the mirth gone from his face, the demon within shining through his gaze like dying stars.
"My brethren outside this world... they're winning. I can feel it. The gods are bleeding. Reality is weakening. The polluted lands grow by the day. The sky is thinning. This world has maybe a few years left—maybe."
Valeera turned fully toward him, her expression unreadable.
Although he had never revealed his true identity to Valeera, he had never concealed his ways.
Dex knew very well that over the years, she must have noticed something, but simply hadn't said it aloud.
After all, Valeera wasn't stupid; in fact, she was quite intelligent and a good woman.
Therefore, Dex wasn't going to make any more excuses and directly revealed the truth, completely shattering her attempts to comfort herself.
"I know what you are, Dex," she said quietly.
He didn't blink.
"I knew it years ago. I smelled the rot under your skin. Saw the black in your soul. I knew. And still... I let you stay."
She stepped forward, close enough that her breath touched his chest, her hand sliding up to press lightly against his collarbone.
"Not because I thought I could save you. I'm not that naïve. But because, for all the things you are... I liked the way you looked at me. Like I wasn't a goddess, or a tool, or a prize. Just a storm to match your own."
Dex didn't move. But inside, something stirred. Not warmth. Not love.
Just a flicker. A pulse. A memory of a choice not taken.
His voice came low, almost a whisper: "Then why run off to save dying mortals, Valeera?"
She smiled softly.
"Because I chose to be that kind of fool. Even if it means breaking myself in the end."
For a long moment, neither of them said anything.
Then Dex leaned down, just a hair's breadth from her lips. His voice a thread of breath, thick with demonic timbre.
"I could corrupt you, Valeera."
"I know," she whispered, eyes half-lidded.
"I could ruin you."
She smirked. "Try."
She was A temptress. A killer. A woman too dangerous to be ignored—and too radiant to be forgotten.
Dex stood there a while longer, alone.
And for the first time in a long time... he didn't know if he wanted to follow her.
Or run.
******
Hey, where are the power store donors and commenters this week?
Get those stones going boys and tomboys, we need to get those numbers up!
If you want to discuss the story or just meme about join my discord server:
*****