The forest was silent.
Too silent.
Rion collapsed against the roots of an ancient tree, chest heaving, sweat dripping down his temples. His lungs burned with each breath, and his legs trembled with exhaustion. He had run until his body nearly failed him, but even miles away from the cavern, he still felt the cold grip of that presence inside him.
The presence moved.
A shadow detached itself from a nearby tree. It stretched, bent, twisted… taking a vaguely humanoid shape.
Rion's hand flew to the hilt of his blade.
The shadow tilted its head.
"Relax. If I wished to kill you, I would have done so while you were unconscious."
The voice was exactly the same one that had whispered into his soul.
Azrath.
The Demon King fragment.
Rion forced himself to stand, blade at the ready. He felt his heartbeat pounding in his ears.
"You manifested…" he whispered. "Fragments aren't supposed to do that."
The silhouette chuckled—a low, lazy sound.
"And exorcists aren't supposed to touch things they don't understand."
Rion scowled. Every instinct screamed at him to attack. But when he raised the blade, his body froze. His muscles locked. His arm refused to move.
Azrath's shadowy hand lifted slightly.
"Now, now. If you swing that thing at me, you'll end up cutting your own soul."
Rion's breath hitched.
"What did you do to me?"
"A simple binding. My 'fragment,' as you call it, was a piece of my core. When you touched it, your soul resonated with mine. A link formed. And now…"
The shadow gestured at Rion with something like amusement.
"We are one."
Rion's stomach twisted in horror.
"No… No, that's impossible. I'll exorcise you. I just need holy water, an unbinding prayer, a seal—"
"Try it," the demon whispered.
Rion muttered the first exorcism chant that came to mind, channeling holy light into his palm.
The light flickered.
Then died.
Azrath laughed—not cruelly, but mockingly, like an adult watching a child throw a tantrum.
"I occupy your spiritual root now. Your holy magic recognizes me as part of you. There is no 'exorcising' this."
Rion's knees nearly buckled.
He pressed a hand to his chest, feeling the lingering heat of the brand on his back. He wanted to tear the mark off, tear the demon out—but he could do nothing.
For a long moment, only the rustling leaves filled the silence.
Then Azrath stepped closer—his form still a flickering shadow, but the presence unmistakably powerful.
"Look at you. The Order's prized prodigy. The holy child. The perfect weapon."
Rion's fists clenched.
"Stay out of my memories."
"Impossible," Azrath replied simply.
"We share a soul now. Your thoughts echo through me."
Rion backed away, breathing faster. "Get out. Stop talking. Stop being inside me!"
Azrath sighed dramatically.
"If you panic like this every time we speak, this relationship will be far more tedious than I expected."
"Relationship?" Rion spat. "You parasite—"
The shadow vanished.
And suddenly, Azrath's voice came from directly behind Rion's ear.
"Parasites do not warn their hosts of incoming death."
Rion spun around—
And froze.
Holy light flared deep within the forest. Multiple sources. Moving fast.
A search party.
The Order had begun the hunt.
Rion stumbled backwards, heart racing. "They tracked me already?"
Azrath's voice hummed calmly inside his mind.
"The moment you touched my heart, you became a beacon. Holy magic reacts to the bond like a stain. They can sense you from miles away."
The lights drew closer—
He recognized the voices.
Knights.
Priests.
And—
His breath caught in his throat.
Elara.
Her voice was unmistakable. Soft. Clear. Trembling.
"Please… please let him be alive…"
Rion's chest tightened painfully.
She was here.
She was part of the hunt.
Of course she would be.
He swallowed hard. "She can't see me like this."
"Why?" Azrath asked.
"Afraid she'll see what you truly are?"
Rion glared into the shadows. "Shut up."
The demon hummed.
"You should run again."
Rion clenched his jaw. "I won't run from her."
"Not her. Them."
A blast of holy light shot through the trees, exploding against the ground where Rion stood a moment earlier. He dove behind a fallen log, teeth gritted.
"Rion!" a priest shouted. "Stop hiding! Show yourself!"
Another voice added sharply:
"He's corrupted. If you see him, aim for the heart!"
Rion's stomach dropped.
Elara's voice cut through the chaos, panicked:
"STOP! Don't attack without confirming—he might not—he might be—"
"Quiet, girl," the priest snapped. "If he bears the Mark, he is no longer human."
Rion felt like the world blurred for a moment. The words cut deeper than any blade.
No longer human.
Azrath chuckled quietly.
"Humans are so cruel to their own."
The search party drew closer. One step. Two. Three.
Rion pressed himself lower behind the log, every muscle trembling.
He couldn't fight them.
He wouldn't hurt them.
He just needed time.
Time to think. To breathe. To—
A cold whisper touched his ear.
"I can help you."
Rion's eyes hardened.
"No."
"Say my name."
"No."
"Call upon me."
"I won't use demonic power!"
Azrath was silent for a moment.
Then, softly:
"You will not survive without it."
Rion didn't respond.
Because he knew it was true.
Another blast of holy energy hit the ground inches from his foot. The explosion sent him rolling across the dirt, his ears ringing. His hand slipped from his blade. He scrambled backward, vision swimming.
The priests closed in.
Azrath whispered:
"Just a little power. Enough to run. Enough to live."
Rion squeezed his eyes shut.
He didn't want this.
Didn't want corruption.
Didn't want the demon inside him—
didn't want to kill anyone—
didn't want to hurt Elara—
But he also didn't want to die.
And the priests raised their blades.
Rion's voice cracked as he whispered the forbidden name:
"…Azrath."
The world stopped.
His veins ignited.
A wave of hellish fire surged from his core, bursting through his limbs like molten lava. His eyes flared crimson for a heartbeat. His muscles strengthened. His wounds sealed with burning heat.
The shadows of the forest twisted, coiling around his body like armor.
Rion leapt, faster than human sight.
Holy swords missed him by inches.
He vanished into the trees, sprinting so fast his feet barely touched the ground.
Behind him, the priests shouted in panic.
"Demonic aura—!!"
"He is corrupted!"
"Elara, stay back!"
But Rion didn't look back.
He couldn't bear to see her expression.
As the forest swallowed him again, Azrath's voice murmured inside him, satisfied:
"See? I told you. You and I… will get along just fine."
Rion didn't answer.
He just ran, flames fading from his veins, guilt burning in his chest.
He had used demonic power.
And there was no turning back.