✧ Lovelorn ✧

XXXV ❥❥❥ Ep8- The same shade of blue

M A V R O S

Light purge.

Mavros slowly gazed down, as a magic circle began materializing beneath their feet. Tycheros Laimargia from the sidelines, poked his staff on the ground and was rapidly chanting, golden eyes trained on him. Everything blurred, and time stilted in a slow motion. The screams of this fellow demons, the sounds of dragons zooming away and the army of Tycheros invading their castle faded to the background.

Because nothing else mattered.

He held the blade of the frozen sword that held him down the ground. He could polymorph, or slither away but he was unequivocally trapped, he acknowledged morosely. With the light purge beneath his skin, and the holy sword piercing his stomach....even his darkness could do nothing against that.

He gave a hallow smile.

So this was his end.

Tycheros' magic was designed to counter theirs, it was designed to eliminate their kind. It was cutting through his skin, piercing him. Light purge, for a demon was like death by a thousand stab wounds, then getting doused in acid over and over. This was worse than the flames of hell. Mavros willed himself not to scream or beg like the lesser demons did when they were basically being erased from existence. He will not.

At least even in death he will keep his pride with him.

He felt tears fall on his cheeks, but it wasn't his. He tilted his chin, to look up to a man silently weeping. Blue eyes were filled with tears, soft cyan hair shadowing his eyes.

In that moment something in him snapped, the dam of hurt and fury exploded.

"You!" He screamed, through all the different levels of pain and betrayal he was feeling. He could barely even hear his own voice through the ringing on his ears caused by the light magic. He gripped that blasted impenetrable armor, nails digging into it's metal— only his dark energy was evaporating amid the light purge fast. "You , you of all people have no right!—"

. . . .

It was centuries later when he materialized back into the world again. Demons don't die, they just disappear for a while then exist again, so as their King lives. A sparkle of hope lit in him. If he was alive then for sure their king was alive.

Maybe, maybe this time he could set things right.

Mavros stared at the desolate wasteland and floating landscapes. Ancient civilization was long gone and what was left of their fortress was just measly dirt and rubble. Forever forgotten, lost in translation. He stared at the bright blue skies, the same shade that was starting to makes his stomach turn and evoked unwanted memories.

The same shade of blue that was his downfall.

. . . . .

"I didn't expect to see you again," The Demon King greeted, a lot calmer than Mavros envisioned this encounter to be. He sat on his high throne, while Mavros looked up at him. "The demons are rousing it seems." The Demon King pointed out cynically, malevolent aura barely contained.

"It took a while to find you," He tested the words on his tongue, before finally deciding to say it again. "Father."

Something in the Demon King's eyes flashed, before Mavros registered the feeling of the back of his head hitting a wall, and a hand wrapped around his neck in a chokehold. The wall creaked, and rubble slowly descended on them. He registered vaguely that the expensive chandelier was tilting haphazardly.