Lilac poured all her holy energy into the core. The swirling red mass began to shift, bleeding into gold—then into an eerie purple.

"Huh?" Her voice cracked. "What… is this?"

Daemon didn't answer at first. Then he started laughing.

"Pfft… Puhahaha!"

"You're not dead?" she yelled, panicked. "Why?! What's happening?!"

Daemon stepped forward, his shadow stretching over her, and without warning, slapped her across the face. She hit the ground, stunned, staring up at him.

"Thanks for the help," he said, eyes glowing. "Feeding all that pure holy mana into my core? Now I can fuse the fragments completely. The demonic nature won't overtake me anymore. I have balance. Control. And all because of your sweet, idiotic little act of mercy."

Her face went pale. "You… used me?"

He knelt beside her, flicking her forehead. "Of course. Did you really think you could kill me with a prayer?"

The pain jolted her back into the real world. She gasped, lying flat, soaked in sweat. Nyxtriel stood behind her, watching silently. Whatever had happened, it worked.

Suddenly, Daemon's body erupted with light—divine and infernal energy surging in sync. The shockwave flung both Nyxtriel and Lilac backward.

He rose slowly, staring at his hands, power coursing through him.

"10th star," he muttered. "Perfect."

"Congratulations, my lord," Nyxtriel said, bowing.

Daemon smiled. "All thanks to our naïve little saintess."

"You monster!" Lilac screamed. She lunged toward him—only for Daemon to flick his fingers. Black tendrils burst from the floor, coiling around her, squeezing her midair.

"Lilac," he said softly, almost kindly, "thanks to you, I've reached a level I never thought possible. Even in my past life. For that, I'll grant you… a painless death."

Tears streamed down her cheeks as the tendrils began to tighten. She gasped, convulsed—then vomited blood. Her body went limp. One of her eyes rolled out of its socket, landing at Daemon's feet.

Nyxtriel walked forward, looking down at the corpse. "What should we do with her body?"

Daemon didn't even glance down. "Cut her up. Pack her in something fancy. Send it to the Holy Temple. Consider it… a thank-you gift."

Nyxtriel grinned. "Understood. But before that, my lord—"

She tilted her head. "You still haven't told me what happened… between you and the angel."

Daemon felt a cold jolt run through him. This wasn't good.

"Look… I just did what I had to," he said carefully. "It was part of the plan. You know that."

Nyxtriel turned away, hands trembling at her sides. "You slept with her."

Her voice wasn't loud, but it cut deep.

"You promised me," she continued, her voice cracking. "You said you'd kiss me on your birthday—and you did more than that with a stranger."

"How did you—?"

"Because we're bonded," she snapped, spinning to face him. "I am your sword. I feel it when something changes in you. I knew."

So she was jealous.

He sighed. "Nyxtriel, it wasn't love. It was part of the mission. You know that. You've always been the one I care for. Aren't we already bound? You matter more to me than—"

"You don't get it!" she shouted. "I've waited thousands of years for you. I stood by you, lived through you, followed you into every battle… but you never once looked at me like I was anything more than a weapon. Seraphiel saw me as his daughter. But you? You don't even see me as a woman."

Tears welled in her eyes. She turned her face away, but Daemon could feel it—the pain behind her silence. And it hurt more than he expected.

He stepped forward and pulled her into a hug.

"Nyxtriel," he murmured, voice softer now, "you are the most important person to me. That hasn't changed. But I need you to understand… I will do anything to make my plan succeed. I'll be a monster if I have to. I'll lie. I'll kill. I'll use people."

She didn't move. Didn't respond.

He pulled back, meeting her eyes. "But are you in love with me, Daemon… or are you just clinging to the memory of Seraphiel? Are you seeing him in me?"

Her eyes widened slightly. The question hung between them, bitter and raw.

"You can't answer," Daemon said, stepping back. "You want me to be someone I'm not. I'm not Seraphiel anymore. I don't remember your bond, your moments. I'm just the man you're projecting him onto. And I can't live up to that shadow."

"Don't you dare call him a shadow," she whispered, eyes burning. "He wasn't a coward."

"Then how did he die? He lost to Michael. He let himself fall."

"He died protecting me!" she yelled. "He chose to die. It was my fault!"

Daemon froze. His expression darkened.

"…Your fault?"

"Yes, it was my fault!" Nyxtriel shouted, her voice breaking.

"I was selfish. I tried to sacrifice myself to stop them from attacking Seraphiel. But all I did was distract him… and he lost focus. That's how he died." Her voice dropped, tight with guilt. "After that, I was captured by a foreign king… he sacrificed his own people just to seal me."

Daemon's eyes narrowed. "It doesn't matter how Seraphiel died. My point still stands—he died for love."

Nyxtriel's eyes widened. "So you do remember. You know how it all began… how the war started."

"I don't remember everything," Daemon replied, calm but firm. "But the book showed me pieces—fragments of Seraphiel's past. He loved the goddess Lumina. And because of that love, he was banished. That's how Seraphiel, the angel, became the demon king."

Nyxtriel's breath caught. "Do you… still love Lumina?"

"I don't even remember her," he said flatly. "And I've told you—I'm not Seraphiel. I'm Daemon. I have my own memories. My own choices."

She looked away, exhaling. "…That's enough."

Daemon felt the tension shift. It was easing—finally.

But Nyxtriel's voice came again, sharp. "Still doesn't change the fact you slept with an angel."

He sighed. "I'm sorry."

She blinked, surprised. "Did you just apologize?"

"Yes," he said. "And I'll say it as many times as you want."

A small smile pulled at her lips despite herself.

Daemon grinned, sensing his chance to lighten the mood. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm—"

She quickly covered his mouth with her hand. "Stop it. That's embarrassing."

She was blushing now. Daemon smiled against her palm.

"If you're really sorry…" Nyxtriel paused, her voice softening, "…then make me a real woman."

Daemon blinked, confused. "A real woman?"

She nodded, cheeks flushed. "I mean… I want you to—"

He tilted his head. "What, transform you into a human? I thought you could shape-shift—"

She groaned, clearly frustrated. "No, that's not what I meant!"

Daemon chuckled, finally catching on. "Ah… now I get it."

She glared at him. "Stop teasing!"

"Alright, alright," he said with a grin, stepping closer. He leaned in slowly, close enough that she instinctively closed her eyes.

He paused. "Are you scared?"

Her eyes fluttered open, firm and full of resolve. "I'm never scared of you. I'm… happy."

That answer made him smile. He kissed her—soft, deliberate, and warm.

When he pulled back, she stood breathless, legs nearly giving out.

"How was it?" he asked, amused.

Nyxtriel blushed deeper. "It was… amazing."

"Good," he said with a smirk. "Because to me… it was delicious."

But then her face darkened. "Still… that angel. She got your first kiss. Your first time. I wasn't—"

Daemon gently lifted her chin. "Hey. That wasn't love. I didn't enjoy it—not like this. The whole time… I was thinking about you."

Her eyes widened. "Really?"

He nodded. "Really."

In one smooth motion, he scooped her into his arms and carried her to his bed, laying her down gently.

"Let's make a new memory," he said, unbuttoning his shirt. His torso was marked with old scars.

She reached out and ran her fingers along one. "You could've healed these…"

"I chose not to," he replied, smiling. "Scars tell stories. And they're kinda cool."

He leaned down and kissed her hands tenderly. The room went silent, and for a moment, nothing else existed but the two of them.

Meanwhile, somewhere in the heavens…

Inside a grand celestial temple, a goddess sat in silence—crying.

She was breathtaking. Her long black hair fell like silk across her shoulders, and a white scarf veiled her eyes. But the tears streaming down her cheeks weren't ordinary—they shimmered gold, glowing softly like sunlight through stained glass.

The angels guarding the temple remained still, watching her with growing unease. None dared to speak—until one stepped forward, flying gently toward the throne.

"My lady," the angel said carefully, "why do you cry?"

The goddess wiped her tears with delicate fingers and turned toward her. Though her eyes were covered, her sorrow radiated like a wound in the sky.

"I believe… my beloved has found another," she whispered.

The air trembled.

"I can feel it." Her voice turned colder. "Seraphiel… how could you forget me?"

A wave of killing intent surged outward, sending shivers through every angel in the temple.

The goddess tilted her head toward the stars, her voice barely audible now.

"I will see you again, my love."