*Content Warning: This chapter contains mature themes, violence, blood, and morally dark actions. Reader discretion advised.*
The God of Lightning's final strike crashed down a heartbeat too late. The crack in space sealed with a sharp, voiceless twist, swallowing Leon whole. Lightning devoured only empty air.
The god hovered in the ruined sky, staring at the place where reality had been torn open. His expression, usually calm and distant, was now clouded.
"…Troublesome," he muttered. "If that brat survives the void… defeating him in the future will be far from easy."
He let the thought linger only a moment before grinding it down.
"No," he corrected himself. "Surviving that place with a half‑dead body is impossible. He should have been erased the instant he stepped in."
His gaze dropped to the bleeding stump where his arm had once been. A trace of frustration flickered across his divine face.
"If only this arm had remained," he said quietly, "I would have chased him and crushed him between worlds."
Lightning gathered around him once more, coiling like a cloak. With a single step, his figure ascended higher and higher, merging with the thunderclouds. The storm rolled back toward the heavens, and in the end, the God of Lightning simply vanished from mortal sight.
***
Far below, the Eternal Zenith Empire erupted into noise.
The skies cleared. The suffocating pressure that had pinned armies and citizens alike to the ground finally faded. People collapsed where they stood, gasping, then laughing in relief.
"He's gone!"
"The god has withdrawn!"
"That demon boy… he must have died in that black crack!"
Some wept openly. Others cheered. Many began to curse Leon's name now that the danger had passed, spitting insults toward the empty sky as if they had not trembled moments earlier.
Within the capital's palace, the Emperor and Empress stood before a still‑flickering scrying mirror. For the first time since the battle began, their shoulders eased.
"It seems… we survived," the Empress murmured.
The Emperor allowed himself a thin, tired smile as the noise of celebration drifted in from outside.
"So, in the end, both the god and that monster disappeared," he said. "The Eternal Zenith Empire will be remembered as the stage where a Mind Demon wounded a god."
The thought pleased him, but the smile did not last. His eyes remained fixed on the empty sky.
"We cannot let our guard down," he added quietly. "We have not *confirmed* the boy's death. Logically, he should not be able to survive that place… but logic did not stop him from cutting off a god's arm."
Unspoken unease coiled around his heart.
"I refuse to believe he will never come for me again," the Emperor whispered. "I must prepare for the worst. Perhaps I am overthinking it… but even so."
He exhaled and forced his expression back into something calm and regal.
"…No. For now, we will call this a victory. The rest can wait until tomorrow."
He turned away from the mirror. "I should rest."
***
Days passed.
The world slowly returned to its usual rhythm, fear fading into stories, and stories hardening into legend. As the Eternal Zenith Empire wished, it seized nearly all the glory. In taverns, sects, and noble halls, people repeated the same tale:
"The battle that shook the heavens took place above *our* capital."
It was the Emperor who made sure no one forgot the central figure of that disaster.
"Summon the finest painters and sculptors in the empire," Kaelen Stromspire ordered. "I want the boy's likeness captured before memory dulls."
Artists were brought into the palace and forced to recreate Leon from every available description—blood‑red eyes, lightning‑scarred body, the cold determination in his gaze as he faced a god. Once satisfied, the Emperor gave his final command.
"Raise a statue of him in front of the imperial square," he said. "A full figure, larger than life. Below it, carve these words:
'If any of you see this man, report directly to the Emperor.'"
Some courtiers hesitated. "Your Majesty, will this not spread fear?"
"It will spread *vigilance*," Kaelen replied. "As long as he still exists in even one world, he is our empire's enemy."
When the statue was finally unveiled, the entire capital gathered.
There he stood in stone: Leon, head tilted slightly down, cloak frozen in an invisible wind, eyes carved with unsettling precision. At his feet, the inscription glared at every passerby.
Commoners whispered.
"So that's the devil who fought a god…"
"He doesn't look human."
"He looks… lonely."
But no one objected. Fear and awe blended into a single acceptance. The statue became part of the city—both a warning and a reminder that their empire had been close enough to touch a god's war.
Children began using his name in ghost stories. Soldiers swore oaths in front of the stone figure before leaving on campaigns. Some secretly bowed in respect; others spat at the base as they passed.
Either way, the empire accepted it. Leon's image, cast in cold stone, was woven into Eternal Zenith's daily life.
***
Far away from celebrations and statues, there was only darkness.
Leon drifted in a place without up or down, without light or sound—a suffocating void that pressed against his lungs like cold hands. He had no sense of time; he couldn't tell if seconds or days had passed.
"…Hard to… breathe."
The words escaped his lips in a rasp, though no air moved. His eyes remained closed, but his mind was painfully awake.
"No… that's wrong," he corrected himself weakly. "I can't breathe at all. If this keeps up, I'll die just from… lack of air."
His body felt weightless, but the weight on his chest grew heavier.
"If I keep floating in this black space, I won't last long," he thought. "What should I do?"
A familiar laugh echoed in the emptiness, sharp and delighted.
"Kahahahaha… you really made a mess of things, brat."
The Mind Demon's voice slithered into his thoughts, sounding far too amused for someone trapped in the same void.
"If you lend me your body one more time," it said lazily, "I might consider helping you."
Leon's mind stirred.
"…If I hand you the body, you'll try to devour me completely," he replied inwardly. "You nearly did it last time."
"Nearly," the demon agreed cheerfully. "And whose fault is that? You pushed me into a corner and then jumped into the space between worlds with a half‑broken vessel. Now we're both stuck in this lovely empty grave."
Silence stretched between them.
Leon forced himself to think past the panic.
"If I give you control again," he said slowly, "what happens?"
"Simple," the Mind Demon answered. "I take the reins. I'll stabilize the body, reshape the energy, and tear us a path out of here. In return… you step aside. Sleep. Maybe forever."
Leon's jaw tightened.
"And if I refuse?"
"Then you flail around, unable to breathe, until your consciousness fades," the demon said. "When you finally collapse, I'll pick up whatever's left. I have patience. This void is quiet. I don't mind waiting."
Leon's thoughts churned. He imagined what would happen if he surrendered completely—the loss of his name, his memories, his will, all swallowed by the laughing thing that wore his face.
But he also imagined the alternative: drifting here, weakening bit by bit, until even hatred and ambition went silent.
"…You said you'd 'consider' helping me," he said at last. "Not that you definitely would."
The demon chuckled.
"Sharp as ever. You're right—I have no reason to honor any promise. Unless…" It paused, then continued, voice suddenly curious. "Unless we make a different kind of deal."
"A deal?"
"Share," the Mind Demon proposed. "You keep the consciousness. I keep the instincts and strength. You steer; I push. We both want to escape this place and get stronger. Our goals overlap, for now."
Leon frowned in the darkness.
"If I accept, what stops you from stabbing me in the back the moment we're safe?"
"Nothing," the demon answered honestly. "But if you decline, you die *here*—and I sleep in your corpse until something interesting happens. Which outcome do you hate more?"
Leon exhaled slowly, though no breath left his lungs.
"Escaping with a knife at my throat is still better than dying uselessly," he thought. "I can always find a way to cut the knife later."
He opened his unseen eyes within the void, resolve hardening.
"Fine," he said inwardly. "We'll cooperate—for now. You get the strength. I keep the control. Try to cross that line…"
"And you'll do what?" the Mind Demon asked, amused.
Leon's answer was quiet, but steady.
"I'll drag us both back into this void and bury you with me."
The demon laughed again, delighted.
"Kahahahaha… good. That's the hatred I was born from. Very well, brat. Let's tear this place open together."
Somewhere in the blackness, something stirred—a faint distortion, like a new crack trying to form inside an endless night.
***
**Author's Note:**
Leon didn't escape death; he traded it for an alliance with the thing that wants his body the most. This is the start of "two minds, one vessel" instead of simple possession. If you're enjoying this forced partnership with the Mind Demon, drop "Two monsters, one path" in the comments, or tell which of them you think will betray the other first.