Hypsos (the Sixth Layer), the Eighth Ring.

  The Palace of Aithon stood in silence, engulfed in its never-ending flames. Inside the largest structure at its core, a massive creature was sleeping in the middle of a lake of thick, bubbling black liquid.

  It resembled a giant frog with slick, pitch-black skin that gleamed like molten tar. Covering its back were hundreds of green eyes in varying sizes, each bearing a unique expression: contemplation, sorrow, compassion, hatred ...

  On its forehead rested a single, enormous eye, shutting tight. Every now and then, tiny flames would puff out from beneath the eyelid.

  This was Haimeros, the Lord of Aithon Palace, an archdemon of The Abyss.

  “… huh?”

  The enormous eye on his forehead opened. It was the same green color as the others, but its pupil was shaped like an omega symbol, drawn in a shaky and broken way.

  Before he had time to think, a covenant began to materialize before him; its flame had a deep, strange blue color. Though unsigned and incomplete, it radiated an irresistible force.

  Without even a word or a thought, Haimeros vanished on the spot.

  …

  Thymos, the Seventh Ring, Inside the dome.

  Tarisel stared without blinking at the boy trapped within the glass sphere. They were counting each second, waiting for his transformation to complete.

  Aaron was sealed so tight that he couldn’t even speak. The only thing he could do was glare at Tarisel, his eyes blazing with hatred and defiance, even as the cold breath of death crept closer.

  Ugly demon. Hope you choke on me and suffer a freaking stomach ache for a thousand years.

  “Keep glaring, little one. I like them brave souls, it adds flavor,” Tarisel sneered. “Hmm? Why do we feel … dizzy?”

  The goat heads swayed, trying to shake off a strange lightheadedness. And the glass sphere vanished just in that brief moment.

  “WHO IS IT???!!!” they roared.

  All their eyes flared into a burning red, scanning the area in a frenzy. Tarisel’s heads jerked upward.

  Hovering above, near the dome’s ceiling, was a gigantic frog-like demon, staring at the floating glass sphere now hovering in front of him.

  Haimeros didn’t know who had summoned him here, or why, but the moment his eyes fell upon the golden apple glowing on the chest of the boy inside the sphere, his greed overwhelmed his caution.

  “A divine constitution!”

  The two archdemons locked eyes. No words were exchanged. No warnings. Tarisel lunged into the air with explosive force.

  Haimeros extended his tongue toward the sphere. The instant it made contact, the frog demon froze for a blink.

  Then he smiled, an unreadable, almost mocking grin.

  And without a second thought, he leapt and vanished toward the distant horizon at a speed that defied belief.

  “STOP! WE WILL TEAR YOU APART!!!”

  Tarisel roared, bursting through the dome and hurtling after him.

  Their body began to grow larger and larger, matching the size of an entire mountain range. The long hair on each of Tarisel’s six goat heads extended and twisted, flowing like six winding rivers suspended across the sky. Each head chanted a different incantation, their voices forming a chaotic chorus of spells.

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  “Slow down, won’t you?” spoke the second head, its tone like a melody sung in a dream.

  Haimeros’s speed decreased as if something unseen pulled him.

  “We wish to be near you,” whispered the seventh head.

  Tarisel vanished from sight in an instant and reappeared right beside the frog demon.

  The main eye on Haimeros’s forehead fluttered once. His pupil shifted shape, morphing into the letter “η.”

  A dark glow spread from that eye, and under its gaze, Tarisel’s centipede body began to melt; their limbs sagged, skin dripping like tar. But they paid no mind and lunged forward without hesitation.

  The two archbeings collided and entwined in a brutal clash. They bit and tore at each other like rabid beasts, their violent struggle shaking the heavens and fracturing the land below, clashing through one volcano after another, the blows unleashed torrents of molten fire and thick plumes of smoke that surged like the end of the world. Amidst the chaos of their fight, one of the goat heads paused for a heartbeat long.

  Hsssss.

  The sound of flesh sizzling echoed through the air like a warning bell.

  Tarisel turned two of their heads, eyes widening as they peered across hundreds of miles. Atop the throne of bones they had just abandoned, a hand cloaked in feathers like a raven’s mantle was reaching through a small, dark portal.

  In its grip was the glass sphere holding Aaron’s soul.

  Damn it! We’ve been tricked! This frog is real, but the orb he swallowed is a fake one!

  Fortunately, the glass sphere carried a small curse embedded within. Any creature below the epic rank who touched it would suffer burns. It was thanks to that curse that Tarisel detected Acher’s deception.

  They roared with fury:

  “Cloak of Ambiguity?! You are a reaper! Drop it now if you wish to live! Our father will hear about this!”

  Luther ignored the threat and pulled his hand back.

  “Shatter!”

  Tarisel screamed, a cry that tore through the dome and made the volcanic mountain beneath erupt. The ceiling began to collapse, stones and magma shooting off into the sky and falling like rain.

  Acher flapped his wings and rose into the air. The crack on his forehead widened, and something unearthly began to stir behind his back, its form still hidden from view. A black light shot out of the crack and enveloped Luther’s hand, protecting him from all harm.

  Haimeros seized the moment and chomped down on one of the goat heads, chewing with grotesque delight. Tarisel let out another scream:

  “Stand down! What did that one promise you?! We’ll give you ten times more!”

  “You cannot,” Haimeros replied with a chilling laugh, unleashing another furious assault.

  Within the false orb, a single crack-shaped symbol had been inscribed. Its aura was terrifying; Haimeros had never felt anything like it. As he looked upon it, he felt like a mortal pilgrim at the foot of Olympus, gazing up and overwhelmed by the radiance of the Peak of Glory.

  The character carried a promise.

  A day will come when I return to my throne. When that time arrives, I shall grant you one wish.

  Tarisel gritted their teeth. Their body split down the middle, one half continued to fight Haimeros while the other flew like lightning back toward the collapsing dome.

  They clapped one hand onto the fifth goat head, and it quickly rotted into bare white bone. From the mouth of the exposed skull, a blood-drenched, skinless hand shot out at unimaginable speed, stretching across the sky and grabbing Luther’s wrist before he could retreat into the portal.

  Acher's power shielded the boy from the raw power of Tarisel’s touch, but still, Luther’s arm was caught. He couldn’t pull it back.

  “Attack him!” Acher shouted.

  Luther poured the remaining bit of his Ascended Power into his scythe, letting the energy seep into the blade, then swung it downward and struck the grotesque arm.

  Tarisel howled in agony. The strike paralyzed the monstrous limb and even disrupted the rest of their body. Their speed slowed to a noticeable degree. But they still refused to release their grip, continuing to charge toward the dome’s center.

  Mother fucking Flow! This is too goddamn early for me to go, Acher cursed in his mind.

  But it seemed there was no other choice left. The crack on his forehead began to grow even bigger, and his body trembled in pain.

  Luther’s jaw tightened at the sight. He twisted his hand, tossing the orb into the swirling vortex ahead. Then he raised the scythe again without pause.

  This time he aimed it at his own arm.

  Just as the raven was about to chant an unknown incantation, and Luther was about to sever his own arm, another hand appeared.

  It reached out and caught the boy’s left wrist.

  This hand was pale and smooth, almost translucent like polished jade. It held him with gentle but firm strength, stopping his action in full.

  “Thank you. I hope you’ll let him leave,” said a woman’s voice.

  The second hand then let go of Luther’s wrist and turned to snap the bones of the first hand, freeing the young reaper at last.

  Luther pulled his arm back.

  “Pylōrosphragisis!”

  At the very last moment before the gate completely vanished, Luther heard the furious scream of Tarisel echoing through the void.

  “Eurydiceee! You fucking bitch!!!”