Rion stopped running only when his legs failed him.
The forest had changed around him—the trees older, thicker, their roots coiled like sleeping serpents. A thin mist covered the ground, glowing faintly under the moonlight. He collapsed near a moss-covered boulder, gasping, clutching his chest.
His heartbeat was erratic.
Too fast.
Too strong.
Too loud.
He pressed a hand against it as cold dread crept through his blood.
"What… what's happening…?"
A shadow peeled away from the nearest tree, reforming into Azrath's vague silhouette.
"Side effects."
His voice was smooth, almost gentle.
Rion glared weakly. "Side effects of what?"
"Calling my name."
Rion's stomach twisted. "I only used a little power."
"Even a drop of demon king essence is not… 'little.'"
Azrath stepped closer, his form swirling like ink in water.
"Look at your hand."
Rion lifted it.
His fingertips had darkened—faint black lines tracing his veins, crawling slowly up his wrist like creeping vines. His breath shortened. Panic bubbled in his throat.
"This… this wasn't here before."
"It wasn't." Azrath's tone softened, disturbingly calm.
"Your body is being remade to handle my power. Corruption, you call it."
Rion staggered backward until his shoulders hit the boulder. "Stop—stop it—take it back—reverse it—"
Azrath tilted his head.
"I cannot."
The words struck like a hammer.
"The moment you spoke my name, our bond deepened. Your body now adapts to carry what it believes is its master's power."
"I'm not your vessel," Rion hissed, voice shaking. "I'm not—"
"You are," Azrath said simply.
"Not by choice, but by fate."
"Fate?" Rion spat. "Don't talk as if this was destined. I didn't ask for—"
He stopped.
Azrath had gone silent. Too silent.
His shadowy form stiffened, head turning slightly as though detecting something distant.
Rion frowned. "What is it?"
For the first time, Azrath's voice lost its composure.
"…They're opening a Sanctuary Gate."
Rion's blood ran cold.
"Here?!"
"Near," Azrath corrected.
"Your Order is desperate. They don't want to chase you. They want to corner you."
Rion pushed himself up, ignoring the cold crawling through his veins.
"I… I need to go back. Explain everything."
"They will not listen."
"I have to try!"
Azrath's shadow rippled sharply—his version of grabbing Rion's shoulder.
"You are branded, boy."
"Holy eyes see you as a vessel of sin. No words will change that."
Rion's throat tightened.
He knew Azrath was right.
He knew the Order's laws better than anyone.
A corrupted exorcist was killed on sight—
even if they begged.
Even if they cried.
Even if they were innocent.
But still—
"I can't let them risk themselves searching for me," Rion whispered, voice cracking. "Elara… she'll get hurt."
Azrath paused.
And to Rion's surprise, he spoke quietly:
"…The girl is not your concern."
"She's my friend!"
"Do you think she sees you as one anymore?"
Rion flinched.
Images flashed through his mind:
Elara's trembling voice,
the priest's harsh declarations,
the terror in the knights' eyes
when they looked at him.
He felt sick.
Azrath's presence softened slightly, like a sigh through smoke.
"Human bonds break easily. Do not cling to chains that already snapped."
Rion shook his head. "You don't know her."
"I know her better than you think."
The demon's tone deepened.
"Your memories are no longer yours alone."
Rion's jaw clenched. "Get out of my mind."
"Impossible. But if it comforts you, I will… look away."
Rion stared.
For a moment, he almost believed Azrath.
Almost.
Then—
A distant horn sounded through the forest.
Rion froze.
He knew that sound.
A Sanctuary Gate had fully opened.
Azrath's voice was a low growl.
"Move."
Rion stumbled, shadows trailing faintly behind his steps. He forced his body to run again, though every movement felt heavier. His corrupted veins pulsed painfully with every heartbeat.
Branches whipped past him. Leaves scattered around him. The wind carried the scent of incense—holy magic.
Azrath spoke sharply:
"Left."
Rion obeyed without thinking, avoiding a spear of light that burst through the trees.
He heard voices behind him. Familiar ones.
"Spread out! He's near!"
"Elara, stay back!"
"No! Let me find him!"
Rion's breath shattered.
She was closer than he thought.
He wanted to shout to her.
Wanted to tell her he was alive.
Wanted to tell her he wasn't a monster.
Not yet.
A sharp whisper echoed through the bond:
"Stop."
Rion skidded behind a tree, body shaking. "What now?"
"…She's passing by."
Rion's breath caught.
He didn't dare move. Didn't dare breathe.
Elara's footsteps approached through the mist. Her white cloak brushed the ground, stained from the chase. Her staff glowed faintly, casting a halo around her. Her eyes—usually warm—were filled with fear and desperation.
"Rion…" she whispered into the night, voice trembling.
"Please… don't run from me… Please let me find you…"
Rion's chest constricted painfully.
His hand reached out—
unthinking, desperate—
toward her silhouette.
Just a few steps and he could touch her.
He could tell her he wasn't gone.
He wasn't lost.
But Azrath's voice coiled around his soul like a cold chain:
"If she touches you now, her body will reject the corruption.
Your presence will poison her.
She will die."
Rion froze.
His entire world stopped.
"No…" he breathed, horrified. "No—she's a priestess, she has holy resistance—"
"Against demons, yes."
Azrath's tone was ice.
"Against a demon sharing your soul? No."
Rion pulled his hand back instantly, shaking violently.
Elara walked past the tree, so close he could smell the faint lavender scent of her hair. Her breath hitched as she whispered:
"Please be alive… Please still be you…"
Rion bit his fist to keep himself from responding.
Tears threatened to escape, but he forced them back.
Elara eventually moved on, disappearing into the mist.
Rion collapsed to his knees, shaking.
Azrath spoke softly—not mocking, not cruel.
Just truth.
"You cannot return."
Rion didn't argue.
He knew.
The corruption crawling up his arm pulsed again—stronger now, already reaching his elbow.
He bowed his head, voice breaking.
"…What do I do now?"
For the first time, Azrath's answer held something strange.
Not malice.
Not arrogance.
Something almost like… purpose.
"Live," he said simply.
"And when you are strong enough… seek the truth of why a demon king fragment still breathes."
Rion lifted his head slowly.
"What truth?"
Azrath's shadow turned away.
"That I died… without knowing who betrayed me."
The forest went silent.
And for the first time, Rion realized—
Azrath wasn't just a parasite.
He was something far more dangerous.
A king seeking answers.
And Rion…
was now bound to his vengeance.