Shattered Line

Chapter 41: Cost of Life

The Demon King advanced from his throne. His cape cascaded to the floor, swishing with each powerful step. His face contained no spec of emotion and no hint of thought. Rather, his eyes spoke volumes. They burned brightly, a ferocious intensity within their depths.

As he reached the bottom, one watchful Noble rushed forward. He delivered the King a red-tinted Zweihänder. From pommel to point, the weapon matched the Noble in size.

Lucifer stepped before her, his head bowed, "My King, please wait."

"Move."

"Lucifer." Isla emphasized his name, her voice rising in pitch. "This is my fight, not yours."

He hesitated, his back trembling. Still, he slid to the side, smoothing down the nonexistent wrinkles of his coat.

Isla lifted her chin, her gaze latching onto the King. His mere presence radiated a crushing pressure. Her pathetic attempts at composure had ended minutes ago. She knew her pale face and sweat-slicked nape exposed her unease. Concentration be damned, she expended every ounce on merely remaining upright and stable.

She watched him approach, raising the giant weapon to her neck. Her gut instinct roared, telling her to retreat, squealing about death. But how could she? Fear ensnared her body, swaddling her core. She would die before she fled the room.

Isla swallowed the dry lump clogging her throat. Being here and now, she had a reason. What about her father? What about Leef? She reiterated to herself. Nothing would ever change if she succumbed to him.

"We have a common enemy. Isn't that worth something?" she whispered, unable to strengthen her voice.

Her words produced no reaction, his face unflinching, but she continued. "We both hate the Gods." Her sound bolstered, one notch higher.

Still, he chose deafness and was unresponsive. Instead, he prepared to strike, swinging his sword high. One attack and he would behead her.

"Help me kill him. Help me kill my father."

The silence extended but not alongside his weapon. The Zweihänder blade straightened and descended.

"Even if you kill me, I'll just come back again. This will never end," she blurted.

His attack ceased and Isla shivered as the Zweihänder touched her neck, stinging her skin. She tilted her head away and searched his expressionless face. Why stop?

"You can break my limbs, shred my body, drain my blood, but I'll come back again. I'll live again," she added.

Isla restrained herself and waited. What would he do next?

He withdrew his weapon, propping the hilt against his shoulder. "And?"

Her eyes widened a split second before she recovered. "I'll give you my life, use me as you see fit. In return, I want him dead," she proposed.

He cocked his head, his eyes darkening from their fiery red to maroon. "Your soul." A flash of yellow entered his gaze—as if his proposal was amusing—but then receded from sight.

Her soul for her father. A dangerous exchange, but even more confusing. What value did she hold? Or did he desire a pet God? She chuckled at the situation's madness.

Her outburst incited a scowl. Laughter must be an unfathomable reaction for him. She brushed her cheek, her face heated.

Offering her soul meant she would never be free. He would employ a blood contract to enact his claim.

Dropping her hand away, she stared at the contours of his fine face and hardened jaw. "Fine. We have a deal then?"

"My Lord please wait," interjected an onlooking Noble. He scurried forward, the top of his hair whitening from age. "She's a God! Our people would never stomach the thought of your greatness having a connection to the race we despise."