Caleif and I sit in the living room of her mansion, both of us dumbfounded by Estingoth—I'm still not sure I can trust him, though Caleif seems unfazed.
"So, Estingoth, how should I train? Is there an easier way?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady. "I want to get stronger, and I don't want to lose control, like Claire warned might happen." I glance at Caleif, mesmerized by her beauty. She looks like an angel, but I know she's a demon—and that contradiction is something I don't think I'll ever get over.
Estingoth's voice echoes through the gauntlet on my arm. "There are a few methods, but the main one is simply to keep using me—experiment, push your limits. I can't promise you'll master the same feats I did in life, nor will I skip over the other training options you asked about. But there's something important I need you to know."
I meet Caleif's eyes. She smiles, then winks, and my heart flutters.
"For once, think with your head and not your other one," Estingoth continues. "I'm here as this gauntlet because, when I was dying, I bound my spirit to it. I hoped that someday a worthy wielder—someone like you—would grow strong enough to help me take revenge on the gods and those who betrayed me in my darkest hours."
I shake my head, rubbing the back of it. "Sorry, Estingoth. That's…heavy. I never imagined anything like it. But if I can't do what you used to do, then what will I be capable of?"
He sighs, frustration bleeding through the metal. "It's hard to say until you grow stronger. With me fused to you—and given that pact you made with that woman—you're no longer wholly human. How far you go depends entirely on you."
Those words land with the force of a sledgehammer, a visceral impact that rattles through my bones and leaves me reeling. My heart lurches, then plummets into a chasm of uncertainty, while my lungs struggle to draw in air. It's as if the very fabric of my being is unraveling, and I'm left grasping at threads too fine to hold. "Not wholly human?" The question spills from my lips, tinged with both disbelief and a touch of dread.
I turn to Caleif for answers, seeking solace in her eyes that seem to hold the mysteries of the universe. She's rubbing the back of her neck—an action that betrays her own inner turmoil—and I realize she's on the brink of revealing something monumental. "Well," she begins, her voice wavering before she steels herself. "When we forged that pact, binding you with Estingoth, you essentially relinquished your humanity. So, in essence," she pauses for breath, almost hesitant to continue but knowing she must, "you're a demon now, like me."
Her words hang in the air like a storm cloud ready to burst. They carry an undeniable weight that bears down on me until it feels like I'm sinking into quicksand. A kaleidoscope of emotions—fear, awe, confusion—surges within me as I process this bombshell revelation. Something clicks inside my mind—a strange sort of acceptance mingled with disbelief—as I grapple with the knowledge that I've crossed a threshold from which there's no return.
"So," I murmur, more to myself than anyone else, "no longer human." The phrase tastes foreign on my tongue, an alien concept wrapped in familiar syllables. It echoes around the room and settles into the corners like dust motes catching sunlight.
"I need a few moments," I finally say aloud, feeling an unsteady resolve settling over me like a thin sheet of ice. My legs move almost without conscious thought as I rise from my seat and make my way towards the kitchen. It's an instinctive retreat—a haven where I might sift through this upheaval in peace.
It's only as I stand here amidst pots and pans that the enormity of what Caleif revealed begins to take root. The cool tiles of the kitchen underfoot offer some grounding comfort as behind me, Caleif watches with an expression that mingles sympathy with silent understanding. I look up toward the ceiling and sigh. "Why did you do this to me, what did I do to make you hate me? I thought I was good enough for you, and yet here I am a demon. How fucking great." I say with a sigh as I glance over at the plate of pancakes and decide to walk back over to them and start eating again, saddened by the fact that they're cold now, but the taste is still otherworldly, which really makes sense now. Still doesn't make me want to ask her what she used to make these.
"Things like this, the transition into something new, something distinctly unhuman, can often feel like a storm you can't escape," Estingoth's voice resonates from the gauntlet once more, carrying an unexpected note of sympathy. "I comprehend the turmoil you're facing. Yet, consider it not a curse, but an omen of potential—a sign that your path now gleams with opportunities for strength and speed beyond what you knew. Perhaps even intelligence—though I'd wager not to hang hopes too high on that last one," he adds slyly, his mockery softening the gravity of the moment.
I release a breath I hadn't realized I was holding, and as my gaze drops back to the gauntlet encasing my arm, something catches my eye—a meter etched onto its metallic surface that I hadn't noticed before. It carries numbers that appear to fluctuate subtly. "Now that's peculiar," I mutter under my breath, scrutinizing the tiny display further. Curiosity piqued, I address the disembodied voice again, "Why does it read only 5%, Estingoth? Is there something wrong?"
Estingoth's chuckle is like the scrape of metal against bone. "Ah, so you've discovered it already. That's intriguing," he replies enigmatically, his tone shifting slightly into one of reminiscent wisdom. "The meter serves as a barometer of sorts for your emotional state—an ongoing tally of your feelings at any given time." He pauses as if savoring an unwritten memory before continuing. "See those lines? The red line signifies anger; as for the others... well, that's for you to uncover in due course. Back when my own life flickered out like a candle flame in a tempest, I had managed only two—a red line for anger and a blue one whose meaning danced between sadness and happiness. Alas," he sighs with a spectral wistfulness woven into his words, "memory fades with time."
Distractedly pushing back an empty plate that once bore those miraculous pancakes, my eyes linger on the diminutive red line glowing subtly at 5%. "So am I meant to believe this indicates a surge in my anger? It hardly feels substantial," I muse aloud, studying the pulse of light with thoughtful detachment. "Fascinating," I ponder quietly with visions of what more this enigmatic meter could reveal swimming through my mind—a mystery veiled in layers yet waiting to be peeled away like petals from a rose.
Just as these thoughts take root within me like budding seeds ready to bloom in strange yet wondrous forms, Caleif's presence across the room feels almost palpable again—a silent beacon of understanding amid newfound chaos. I sigh as I realize that I sometimes focus on the wrong things. "Sometimes I'm so intelligent and then other times it's like I'm an idiot. I wish I was a little more different, so it wouldn't feel so awkward." I start walking back into the living room where Caleif is still sitting on the chair eating her strawberries as she watches me in an almost cute and innocent way.
Sitting back down on the edge of the couch, I sigh and look back towards Caleif. "I'm sorry, I just needed a minute. So what's next? Training? Or what?" I ask, unsure of what's to come next. Caleif smiles and then laughs. "Oh, Kamen. It'd be too soon for you to train, you only just woke up after forming a pact with me. What's next is you continue to live your life until I need you, or something happens. Being a new demon can be boring, but just remember; one day you'll think back and be happy that I went easy on you this time." I shake my head back and forth mockingly. "Well, I'm sorry, I didn't know. How am I supposed to live my life normally now, knowing what I know?"
Caleif shrugs as if it doesn't really bother her that much. "I'm sure you and I can think of some things to do. Until then, just go to classes like normal, you don't really need to go to work anymore because it's not like you need money now."
I sigh, resigned to my fate. "Alright, but when will I be able to see you again?" I ask, feeling a bit nervous about her answer. Caleif puts down the now empty plate on the side table next to her and wipes off fragments of strawberry from her lips in an almost seductive way. "That all depends on what needs to be done. There are contracts that you can do. You would report to me before and after completing the contract, and the reward is different each time. If that isn't what you're looking for, then you can always stay here and clean for me. You'd have to do it in the apron I was wearing, though," she says, laughing loud and hearty.
Wiping a tear from my eye, I chuckled. "That was funny, but really, don't push it. I'd prefer to tackle the contracts." Caleif laughed again, clearly anticipating my response. "Alright, Kamen. In that case, head home, get some rest, and see me after classes. I'll have some contracts ready for you. What about you, Estingoth? Any thoughts?" she asked, clearly entertained.
Estingoth grunted, "That's fine by me. I'd rather have Kamen using his brain for our benefit instead of whatever's on his mind now. Some things he thinks of, I wouldn't have imagined in my past life." I quickly hushed him, laughing awkwardly. "Don't mind him, Caleif. I'm gonna head out now. But... thanks for having my back."
I stood up, made my way to the door, and stepped outside, momentarily disoriented. "Wait, where am I?" I muttered. From inside, I heard Caleif's laughter. "You're about five minutes from home! Just go right!" she called out. Shaking my head, I started walking, the surroundings surprisingly lush and green, with plenty of trees and plants—not at all what I'd imagined a demon's property would look like.
Back inside, Caleif sat musing over her plans for me when a woman's voice broke the silence. "He's interesting, and kind of attractive too. What are you going to do with him, Caleif?" It was Mira Nightshade. Caleif chuckled softly. "He definitely is intriguing; there's something about him that pulls me in. Keep your hands off, Mira. He's mine." She licked her lips, closed her eyes, inhaled deeply, and then stood up, heading to her room. She glanced around, smiling as she opened her dresser to lay out some clothes. As she slowly undressed, she murmured, "I bet Kamen would love to be here right now. Maybe someday. Stay safe, Kamen," she added with a smile, though concern weighed on her expression.