The return flight from Ozzie's still lingered in the air perfume, neon adrenaline, and that electric tension neither of them dared acknowledge aloud.
Malerion and Verosika had barely stepped into his private suite when the door burst open.
Quill didn't knock. He never knocked when news was important.
"Report," Malerion said, already reading the energy.
Quill grinned rare, sharp, satisfied.
> "Dreg won."
Verosika blinked once, then smirked.
"Of course he did."
But Quill wasn't finished.
He stepped farther inside, projecting a hologram: Wrath demons chanting in a volcanic arena, ash falling like celebratory confetti.
The sound filled the room:
"OU-RO-BO-ROS!
OU-RO-BO-ROS!"
The chant wasn't fearful.
It was reverent.
Acceptance.
Territory wasn't just taken it was earned.
Malerion watched in stillness, hands clasped behind his back. Not pride. Not excitement. Something quieter. Deeper.
Recognition.
Momentum.
Verosika's voice softened beside him.
"…That's not normal."
Malerion glanced at her.
"How do you mean?"
She nodded toward the projection toward Dreg standing like a war god as Wrath demons celebrated him.
"You don't get Wrath to cheer. Wrath respects strength, sure, but loyalty?" She shook her head slightly. "That takes something else."
Something unspoken buzzed in the room.
Purpose.
Identity.
Direction.
Ouroboros was no longer a rumor or a growing shadow.
It was a force.
Quill cleared his throat.
"There's more. The Court of Wrath took notice. Minor lords are already sending silent inquiries. They want to know if they should resist or align."
Malerion answered without hesitation.
> "Tell them nothing."
Quill smirked.
"Already did."
He nodded to Verosika once politely but with the respect of someone who now understood she wasn't just decoration then left.
The door closed.
Silence returned.
But it wasn't the same silence as earlier not the careful, tentative hush between two people unsure of each other.
This one thrummed with weight.
Verosika exhaled slowly.
"Congratulations," she murmured.
Malerion raised an eyebrow.
"For what?"
She motioned vaguely toward the darkened skyline outside the window.
"For… this. Expansion. Control. Influence. Whatever you want to call it."
Her voice dropped a little lower.
"Your organization just shifted the balance of Wrath. Do you understand how insane that is?"
"Necessary," he corrected softly.
She stared at him really stared ike she was mapping the pieces of him she had only felt before.
"You're not like the others," she whispered.
Malerion turned toward her fully, meeting her gaze.
"Is that bad?"
Her breath caught barely noticeable, but he noticed.
"No," she answered finally. "Just… dangerous."
A faint smile touched his mouth.
"You keep saying that."
"Because it keeps being true."
They stood shoulder to shoulder, facing the window as Wrath's distant glow pulsed faintly across the horizon.
Malerion spoke first.
"Dreg did well."
"You trained him well," she replied.
His tone shifted lower, thoughtful:
"He's not just a weapon. None of them are."
She nodded.
"That's the difference, isn't it?"
She glanced up at him.
"You're not building soldiers… you're building a family."
Malerion didn't react outwardly but something in his eyes changed, subtle, unguarded.
"…Family," he repeated, quiet as breath.
Verosika's voice softened.
"You've lost one before."
It wasn't a question.
His jaw tightened not in anger, but memory.
Instead of retreating from the topic the way he always did he spoke:
"Yes."
A single word, heavy enough to reshape the air.
Verosika reached out slowly giving him time to move if he didn't want contact.
He didn't move.
So her hand rested gently on his forearm not claiming him, not comforting him like he was broken, but acknowledging the truth she saw.
A real gesture.
The first one neither could pretend was accidental.
Malerion didn't look at her hand.
He looked at her.
"…Most would use that," he said quietly.
Her thumb brushed his sleeve just once.
"I'm not most."
Silence again but softer now.
Unarmored.
They stayed like that for long, still seconds not holding onto each other, not needing to just existing in the same breath.
Then Verosika finally stepped back not breaking the moment, just giving it space.
"Well," she said lightly, though her voice was warmer, steadier, "Dreg's win means one thing."
Malerion tilted his head.
"And that is?"
She smirked.
"You just became someone Hell can't ignore."
A beat.
Then another.
Malerion spoke, calm but certain:
"Let them try."
Verosika's smile wasn't playful this time.
It was proud.
And quietly dangerously fond.