Though Valroth furrowed his brows, he did not hesitate. Without a moment's delay, he pulled Aeris into his embrace, spread his wings, and was the first to soar into the darkness.
Aeris had no idea how much time had passed. The wind howled past her ears, but she had long grown accustomed to the sensation. More than that, she was in Valroth's arms. One of his arms was wrapped securely around her waist, while the other supported her thighs, allowing her to half-sit upon his forearm. His grip on her waist tightened slightly, ensuring she remained pressed against his chest. They had traveled like this before, yet after their kiss, something about it felt different. Memories of their first meeting surfaced in her mind—Valroth leaping off a cliff to catch her in his arms, the way he had trained her, every interaction now carrying a strange, intoxicating intimacy.
Lost in these thoughts, Aeris barely registered the moment her feet touched solid ground. She blinked, glancing around to find they had arrived at the edge of a vast desert. Nearby, Valroth was deep in conversation with the leader of the four figures who had accompanied them. The man shook his head firmly, prompting a sigh from Valroth before he turned back toward her.
"You'll have to wait for me here. This is Asmodeus's domain—no one else is allowed to enter."
"I... I..." Aeris stammered, her chest tightening. She knew it was only temporary, yet the thought of being apart from him felt like sinking into an abyss. Her breath hitched, and she couldn't imagine even a single moment without him.
"Be good and wait here. If you're hungry, there are fruit trees nearby. If you're thirsty, there's a spring just behind you." His tone was gentle as he pulled her into a comforting embrace, his fingers threading through her long, dark hair in slow, soothing strokes. "Be good, Aeris. This is an order. I will be back soon."
With that, Valroth and the four figures spread their wings and took flight toward the depths of the desert. Aeris watched them disappear into the storm of swirling sand. A deep, aching sorrow spread through her chest, a sense of abandonment so overwhelming that she instinctively held her breath. Slowly, she crouched down, wrapping her arms around herself. She wanted to cry, yet no tears came. It was as if all the grief had lodged itself deep within her heart, tearing her apart from the inside.
She waited. Sometimes standing, sometimes leaning against a tree, sometimes curling up in the grass. The sky shifted from day to night, and then the sun rose again. From the very first second of his departure, her longing for him had reached its peak. She tried not to think about him, but it was impossible. She watched ants scurrying along the ground and wondered if he would spend half a day watching them with her. She gazed at the wildflowers, imagining his tall figure standing amidst them. She picked up a ripe, sweet fruit and decided she had to save it for him. In the end, she looked up at the sky, searching for the faintest glimmer of light, praying to an unknown god that he would return soon to retrieve her.
Meanwhile, the four figures flew in formation, surrounding Valroth as they made their way toward the heart of the desert. The fierce wind carried grains of sand that obscured their vision and blurred the passage of time, but they all knew exactly where they were headed. As the storm began to thin, a towering castle emerged from the center of the desert, its sheer size blotting out a portion of the sky.
The moment they saw it, the five of them descended in unison, their wings still unfurled. At the tips of their wings, where the feathers should have ended, there were instead two ferocious dragon-like heads, their sharp teeth bared in a silent snarl. Each of the four figures bore the unmistakable marks of Asmodeus's lineage—their curved horns no longer hidden, flames flickering along their bodies. Dark golden armor covered their shoulders, extending to their chests, where a red gemstone pulsed like a living heart. Gauntlets adorned their forearms, lined with razor-sharp spikes. Around their waists, a heavier, more brilliant red gemstone gleamed on their belts, from which blood-red capes flowed, billowing in the wind as they advanced toward the castle.
Yet among them, Valroth alone carried a black sword at his hip.
His gaze flicked toward the gemstones on the other four's waists, darkening for a fleeting moment before he turned his attention elsewhere. The closer they got, the more imposing the fortress became. Its walls, once carved from pale stone, were now coated in the sands of time, giving them a dull, earthy hue. As they reached the front gates, Valroth's flames flared slightly—only to realize that the other four did not react. Instantly, he tensed, halting mid-step before attempting to launch himself skyward.
But the moment he did, the four surrounding him followed, ropes appearing in their hands. Each rope glowed with an eerie red aura. The moment Valroth recognized what they held, he surged forward with all his speed, but it was already too late. The ropes, forged specifically to subdue the power of an Asmodeus, coiled around his limbs. In the blink of an eye, his arms and legs were bound, and he crashed violently onto the ground.
The four figures pulled tight on the ropes, preventing him from moving. At the same time, from the castle's massive doors, dozens of Asmodeus warriors emerged, their appearances similar to the five already present, save for one crucial detail—none of them bore the gemstones of power. The gemstones were proof of an Asmodeus's strength, and the ropes were designed to suppress that very power, tracking and binding even the mightiest of their kind.
They stood there, forming an impenetrable blockade between Valroth and any chance of escape. Yet they did not attack.
Then, Valroth saw them—six figures slowly stepping into the encirclement, each one wearing a violet mask. He felt no fear, only confusion as to why his own kind had betrayed him. But when he laid eyes on those masks, realization struck like a dagger to the heart.
No... it wasn't fear. Asmodeus had long since abandoned such emotions. It was something else entirely.
Valroth knew he could hesitate no longer. Gritting his teeth against the pain in his limbs, he let out a low growl. The twin dragon heads at the tips of his wings opened their maws, unleashing twin fireballs. Blue flames erupted across his body—cold, unnatural flames.
"Blue... his fire is blue..." Murmurs of shock rippled through the gathered Asmodeus. Regret flickered in their eyes. An Asmodeus capable of wielding blue flames had the potential to rival even Lucifer himself.
The flames consumed the ropes in an instant. Freed, Valroth rose to his full height, sweeping his gaze over those who bore the same horns and wings as himself. He saw the hesitation in their eyes, but he also saw something far worse—fear.
For too long, Lucifer's rule had crushed the will of the Asmodeus. Even now, despite witnessing Valroth's strength, fear still held them captive.
Expression unreadable, Valroth grasped the hilt of his sword. With a sharp metallic hiss, he unsheathed it, the blade gleaming in the dim light. Though it appeared black, a deep crimson hue swirled beneath its surface—blood, the blood of the countless foes he had slain.