So, this is about the time you entered the scene, remember? Right when the demon king started screaming in my face, all because I dared to tell him he wasn’t going to fix the world’s problems by himself.

  I wasn’t exactly in peak condition, what with being choked and poisoned, with animus scrambling my thoughts. Then Raelana decided to stir the pot by reminding him that his given name, Phorutos, means “trash”… and that he was living up to his namesake. Unironically, he had a full-blown meltdown and threw me to the floor like yesterday’s garbage. After that, I made the wildly rational decision, despite his unprofessional demeanor, to help him come to terms with reality.

  That’s about when you started peppering me with questions about how I ended up here, and I told you it was a long story.

  Okay, enough reminiscing. You should be well-versed in everything that’s happened since then.

  …

  What do you mean you weren’t there for all the rest?

  …

  You should at least have the general gist!

  …

  Memory overflow? That’s… not contagious, is it?

  …

  No, no, I know it wasn’t funny. Alright, back to the story, I suppose.

  Demon King Olethros began to advance despite not settling on a single form. Horns, fangs, arms, and legs all materialized and dissolved without pause, shrouded by a dark, swirling mist. It was as if someone had animated a stampede comprising an entire menagerie; had his screams of bloody rage not been present, I might have laughed at the surreal spectacle.

  I took a neutral stance, building my foundation on a part of the marble floor that was yet unmarred. With a sharp inhale through the nose, I summoned my aura as far as my will would allow. Though unseen, I could once again feel the sharp sting of fangs in my right hand.

  Why'd I enter a contract with literal teeth?!

  “Let go now, snakelet,” Raelana advised. “Or you’ll be going along for the ride.”

  A startled hiss and fizzle of darkness heralded complete control of my right fist. I grasped my locket within my other hand, ensuring my gauntlet was in direct contact with the jewel inside. The connection rewarded me with an even more intense spiritual pressure.

  “Brace yourself before you swing,” Raelana warned.

  As I broke into a charge, my aura flared and twisted around my right arm and feet. Olethros roared in response. His body writhed again, scales shimmering into existence as his jaw unhinged, fangs dropping in from nowhere. Animus swirled about him in wild and unstable waves as he began his final lunge.

  “I don’t care what form you take,” I shouted like a madwoman. “As long as you pull your head out of your ass!”

  My last step pulled the rest of my body forward, with my left arm ripping open an imaginary shower curtain to transfer all momentum to my right. My fist became the final bearer of all my rage, angst, desperation, and hope to salvage whatever was left of my former partner in crime.

  The moment I struck the center of his nose, the world turned to exploding rainbows, shattering all senses. My vision narrowed, giving me one last clip of his expression, a frozen mid-snarl, with mouth open, fangs dropped, and eyes wide. I couldn’t tell you if he had screamed, since all I could hear was the high-pitched sound of auditory blowout.

  Olethros was blasted backward, streaks of shadow unravelling from his giant mass as she sparkled like a gold meteor. Unfortunately, the force didn’t stop with him.

  The backlash crashed into my chest, and I flew backwards, arms and legs flailing, betrayed once again by the unfair reality of Newtonian law. Even harsher still was the fact that the basalt walls refused to yield to my impact. Sure, I could feel them crumble a bit around me as I dropped to the marble, but I found my final moments of consciousness less than satisfactory.

  The distinct smell of medicinal herbs caught my attention, followed only by the coolness of the marble floor.

  …Aleph?

  No…

  It was coming from a bandage over my angry right temple.

  Who…

  With a groan, I discovered several more along my face.

  “I kept telling you to invest in a helmet, but you just couldn’t be bothered to follow through.”

  Olethros, transparent and flickering around his waning gold core, sat a few feet away, propped up against a mound of rubble. My knapsack and most of its contents were at his feet, and in his trembling hands was my journal. He turned a page rather sluggishly, the act seeming to strain him.

  If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  “Is this supposed to be… me? As a cockroach?” He squinted at the page, even though his eyes were already shut. “Since when could you draw?”

  I sat up, well, sort of. “That’s private!”

  Wait.

  “Are you…”

  He looked up from the book, still struggling to maintain his form. “Am I… what?”

  “Are you finally going to listen to me?”

  “…Perhaps.” He sighed. “I’m certainly not in any condition to fight.”

  I had a thousand things to scream, but inane curiosity struck first. “How can you read it? Nora encrypted it to keep people like you out of it.”

  He considered my question for a moment. “I’m not people,” he eventually replied with a sniff. “And who do you think invented the spell in the first place? If you’re going to encode something, you should make your own cipher, not steal someone else’s.”

  This could be a trap.

  He might not be reading the text – he only mentioned my derogatory sketch.

  This illusion is meant to trick me into revealing something in my final moments.

  “Put your headband back on, I beg you,” he said with a self-suffering moan as he pointed at the ground nearby. “Never have I ever encountered someone with so many loud and overwhelming thoughts, and never mind that they bicker back and forth.”

  “Well, excuse me!”

  “I’ll consider it.” He snapped my journal shut. “I can read your nonsensical scribble just fine, but there’s other correspondence in there I simply cannot.”

  I frowned. “How can you tell it's correspondence?”

  He shook his head, a nasty little grin tugging at his lips. “Well, it was just a guess based on the spacing at the top of them. Thank you for confirming it.”

  “Jerk!”

  “What?”

  “You heard me. You’re a jerk. If I’m vile, then you’re a jerk!”

  “Vile?”

  “Don’t act like you don’t remember calling me that. You called me vile!”

  His eyes opened in surprise, and once again, I was unfairly subjected to his brilliant green irises and dark, flowing eyelashes. Luckily, the hysterical laughter that rang from his throat snapped me back to reality.

  “That’s what you’re mad about? That I called you vile? Not the screaming, the fighting, the choking…” He slumped further down the rocks. “Your sword is over there, by the way. Do what you must to put Speranza back in balance.”

  “Idiot.”

  “Yes,” he agreed, shaking out his hair and throwing his head back. “I die… an idiot.”

  Oh, for the love of melodrama.

  “You’re not dying,” I confirmed, standing up with a groan. “You’re coming with me, and you’re helping me break into Paradise.”

  With a flinch, he pulled himself together, literally. His body started to solidify, and his gold core settled back into it. “What?!”

  “You didn’t get that far, did you? I didn’t think you were such a slow reader.”

  His face twitched several times, his brow rising and falling with every twist of his lips. “...What is my recompense?”

  Are you seriously asking me that? Thirty seconds ago, you agreed to die by my hand.

  “Again, the headband,” he mumbled. “If nothing else, put it back on.”

  “Fine!” I shoved it over my crown, suppressing a general wince. “I’ll just tell you exactly what I’m thinking, then!”

  I’ll spare you the fullness of my tirade, but suffice it to say it was a truly cathartic release. I called him all sorts of nonsensical names, from ninny to neanderthal. I’m sure I used many words he was not familiar with, but no doubt he ascertained them from context. The only thing that bothered me about my monologue was the fact that his vicious grin kept increasing along with my vitriol.

  Stop enjoying this!

  “And lastly, you’re an absolute and utter asshole for letting me believe you were a figment of my imagination. I thought you were an essential part of me, and I’m almost certain I told you things I’ve never, ever told anyone else. And if you ever utter any of them to—”

  “I haven’t, and I won’t.” He shook his head. “Not that anyone would be interested.”

  Clenching my fists caused him to flinch.

  That’s right. There’s a little more where that came from, you smug son of a—

  “My turn, if you wouldn’t mind,” Raelana murmured. “I also wish to rid myself of regret. Please allow me to say farewell to you both in the best way I know how.”

  I froze.

  You’re… going to leave? Where will you go?

  “Where the others have already gone. Please don’t forget about Raedine, though. She is still struggling with what happened to Ambrose.”

  I straightened as Raelana borrowed my aura, using it to project herself. This time, she held no sword nor shield, and the cape that had hidden her side was no more, revealing the loss of her left arm.

  “We meet again, Olethros.”

  “You!”

  “Will you not speak my name, even after all this time?”

  Olethros cast his foxy gaze away. “Captain Raelana Demonslayer.”

  “Better to be an Olethros over a Phorutos, but I believe your best role was that of Oliver,” she replied, putting her right arm on her hip. “Or perhaps the nameless merchant who saved my life.”

  He twitched several times, never looking up.

  “In another life, we might have been friends. That is why I implore you to seek out and maintain positive relationships, and not give up just because something does not go as planned.”

  “I… Will consider it, Captain.”

  That's the second time he's said that. But I thought that was my line..!

  She nodded, a ghostly smirk spreading across her face as she slowly disappeared. “You were a terrible villain. No wonder you failed.”

  The single tear spilling from his right eye was clear, and I fervently wished he’d return to his smug, smirking self.

  Maybe only so I could yell at him some more.

  “Anyway...” I muttered. “Recompense. For helping me get into Paradise… I’ll… back you up.”

  “I fail to comprehend whatever it is you're suggesting.”

  “And, if Euphridia won’t accept you and Demonkind at my behest, then… I’ll go over her head! I’ll get that weird old grandfather of hers to agree. He owes me.”

  Oliver tensed. “...Grandfather? As in, her progenitor’s progenitor?”

  “What a tedious way to put it,” I spat, returning some of his snark. “But yeah.”

  “Grandfather… So, the Goddess has a grandfather…” Even though I couldn’t see them, I knew his eyes were glittering behind his mask of a face. “What is he like? What is his name?”

  “No.”

  “I am simply curious as to the circumstances surrounding your return—”

  “I don’t care. You didn’t agree to help me yet.” I shoved out my hand after ripping off the gauntlet. “And even then, I’m not about to disclose the name of my employer.”

  I was probably in enough trouble with him already for complaining about his precious granddaughter.

  Olethros folded his arms, once again turning away. “Demon King Olethros would never agree to work with the Chosen One.” He then quivered slightly. “However, Oliver, the complicated dark mage, is a more worldly fellow…”

  “And…?”

  “Perhaps a modification to our contract would—”

  “No. If you don’t take my hand and shake right now, I’m going to punch you again and again until you do,” I insisted, shoving it directly under his nose. “So, which is it? Partners, or punches?”