Nothing remained of my world.

  Just a barren wasteland.

  A land burned to ashes, torn apart by the fury of countless battles, and drenched in the blood of those who had fallen in yet another pointless war.

  Sunset’s fading light barely managed to break through the clouds, painting the sky in shades of orange.

  It cast a soft glow over the lifeless bodies of my fallen comrades, as if mourning them.

  Ironic how the sunset made it more tragic—almost poetic, in a twisted way.

  The triumph of death over the fragility of human life.

  Or something like that. Poetry had never really been my thing.

  Soon, crows would arrive. Not that there was much left for them to feast on. As for the demons we had fought… well, there was barely a trace of them.

  Just scattered piles of ash, if even that. They had the curious habit of disappearing completely once slain. That would be one less problem for whoever had to deal with this disaster.

  But that was not my business anymore.

  Before me, the smoldering ruins of Avalon stretched out. Once, it had been a thriving kingdom, a beacon of honor and civilization. A true utopia.

  Now, it was nothing but a graveyard, razed to the ground by the fury of demons… and the foolishness of those who had ruled it.

  This war had never been about justice. It had never been about freedom.

  It had been about ego—about the greed of our leaders and the arrogance of those pulling their strings. They had thrown away centuries of hard-earned peace to protect their interests.

  Money. Power. Pride. That was all they cared about.

  They had never once considered the lives that would be lost, the families torn apart, the cities erased overnight.

  All of it to keep feeding the rot festering in their corrupted hearts. Or maybe I should say had been festering, since most of them were probably dead by now. What a shame.

  I hate nobles. The thought came as natural as breathing.

  They had stolen my life from me. My family. My future.

  They had forced me into battle against men I had once called friends.

  They had made me fight my best friend to the death.

  And not even once would I be able to taste the satisfaction of seeing the long arm of justice fall upon them.

  * * *

  “Phasvros, don’t tell me you’re dead already?”

  Somehow, I found the strength to speak, my voice barely rising above a whisper. My words were meant for the figure lying just a few steps away from me.

  A weak chuckle answered back. “I wouldn’t dream of dying before you, Albyon.”

  A smirk tugged at my lips.

  Our duel had ended in the worst possible way, with both of us lying here, bleeding out.

  My superiors would surely be thrilled. They had never liked me, and with a simple sweep of their hand, they had taken down two troublesome doves with just one stone.

  They sure must have been afraid of me. Even as a consolation prize, the thought gave me some small satisfaction.

  They had ordered me to eliminate the general of the enemy army. By pure, twisted luck, that demon had turned out to be none other than General Phasvros of the Black Army—or, as I had known him—my best friend.

  Protesting had done nothing.

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  I was bound by a contract of total obedience to the crown; they had used it against me, leaving me no choice but to carry out their orders. I had searched for any possible loophole, any way out.

  But there had been none.

  If Phasvros had to die, then at the very least, he would die by my hand. Not anyone else’s.

  Not that many others could have possibly stopped him.

  “You let them use you, huh, kid?” Phasvros murmured. Oblivious to the fact that I was anything but a “kid” anymore, he had continued to call me that all these years.

  I rolled my eyes. “Look, I don’t need you rubbing it in,” I grumbled.

  They had used me for as long as I had been useful. And the moment I was no longer convenient, they had made sure to get rid of me. Just like you’d throw away a broken tool. Even now, at the very end, I couldn’t stop myself from hating them. They had taken everything from me.

  Somehow, I managed to drag myself forward, inching closer to Phasvros until I was right beside him. We lay beneath a towering tree, its ancient branches stretching out over the ruined battlefield.

  “It was fun 'til it lasted,” I sighed.

  Phasvros let out a faint chuckle. “Lucky you, being able to say that, no regrets whatsoever.”

  “Who said I had no regrets?”

  He gave me a sideways glance. “Dunno… you seem pretty at peace with yourself.”

  I scoffed. “That’s resignation, not peace. Big difference.”

  “Everything considered, I’d say it’s about the same thing.”

  I shrugged. “Maybe.”

  A demon teasing me in my final moments. Wonderful, that's just what I need.

  He was right, of course—he always was—but I wasn’t about to admit it.

  “I don’t think I have much time left,” I muttered weakly. My legs had long gone numb, and my breathing was getting weaker by the second.

  “Hah. Weird. My hands are starting to disappear,” Phasvros said, sounding oddly amused.

  I let out a dry laugh. “Guess we should hurry, then.”

  “Hurry for what?” He asked, tilting his head.

  I turned to face him, forcing the last of my strength into my voice. “Make a contract with me.”

  For the first time in our long friendship, Phasvros looked genuinely surprised. “A contract?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “It’s been centuries since humans made contracts with your people, right?”

  He narrowed his eyes. “I had started to think you people had forgotten.” He paused, then smirked. “So? What’s your reason for offering your soul to me, o mighty Albyon?”

  It was a dumb reason.

  Childish, even. The kind of foolish idea only a dying man would come up with.

  Which, ironically, probably meant it was a genius plan.

  And even if it wasn’t… it wasn’t like I was expecting anything in return.

  “I don’t know how contracts work after death,” I admitted with a wince of pain straining my face. “But I thought maybe this way, we’ll meet again. Even if it’s in another life.”

  Phasvros went silent. Then he let out a breathless laugh.

  “Well, well. Even the great Albyon has a soft side.”

  “Shut up,” I grumbled, making the demon chuckle weakly.

  “If one of the parties dies, the contract dissolves,” he explained in a breath. “So I’d say there’s not much point in it.”

  I nodded. My vision was fading. I probably only had a few minutes left. So yeah, it was a stupid idea.

  “But, you know,” Phasvros murmured. “Fate works in mysterious ways.”

  His crimson eyes met mine, holding something unreadable, perhaps even a flicker of hope.

  “Who’s to say your wish won’t be granted after all?”

  I barely had time to process his words before he gave me one last tired smirk. “Well then… let’s give it a shot.”

  A strange warmth spread through me as he spoke the words.

  “Percival Albyon. This one before you, Phasvros, accepts your contract. From this moment on, my power is yours, and yours is mine. It’ll be a pleasure working with you.”

  Something slipped away from me then, flowing from my body into his. I wasn’t sure what it was, but I didn’t care.

  I thought of it as a symbolic gesture. I had never cared much for the details.

  “Thanks, my friend,” my voice came out weakly as I reached out and laced my fingers with the few he had left.

  Struggling to untangle it from my body, I grasped the hilt of my sword, my companion through too few battles, my loyal partner through a journey too short.

  I whispered ancient words, words from a forgotten language. The sword moved on its own, jerking free from the last fatal wound it caused me and sinking deep into the ground, almost to the hilt.

  Even after we’d gone, it would rest beneath this tree, a silent memorial to our friendship.

  The proof that we had existed.

  “It’s time,” I said quietly as Phasvros’s fingers crumbled into dust, the ashes swept away by the wind.

  When we die, we die alone. That much was undeniable.

  And yet, in these final moments, I felt anything but alone.

  “Yeah,” Phasvros confirmed. “It was fun, my friend. See you in the next life.”

  The last thing I saw was the sunlight in my eyes, the mist curled over Avalon’s ruins.

  A shadow fell across my eyelids. Then, there was nothing.

  I returned to Nyx. I returned to the darkness.