Chapter 92: Hope

Immediately, the last iron chain that held the Pandora’s Box at the center of the pillars shattered into pieces. A shockwave swept through the circular hall, vibrating with such violence that the ground began to crack on all sides. Pieces of the ceiling began to rain down in a deafening roar, raising choking clouds of dust.

"That idiot, he opened Pandora’s Box?" Kellen swore through his teeth. He turned away from the center of the room and rushed toward the spot where the Spear of Destiny was planted. As soon as he grasped the shaft of the weapon, a blinding dizziness seized him, making him bend his knees.

’These are the aftereffects of having used the Spear of Destiny...’ he thought bitterly, feeling his own Chi being drained by the relic.

The Spear of Destiny was no ordinary weapon; it demanded a constant tribute from its bearer, an erosion of vitality that left its victims and users in a state of devastation. And so he quickly put it into the bandage to seal it.

"This is not the time... I must quickly escape from here," Kellen murmured, struggling against the darkness that threatened to veil his sight. Until now, the heir of the Spear Clan could not assimilate what he had just seen.

He had shredded Daemon’s body, leaving him agonizing. Yet at the last moment, he had found the strength to stretch out his left hand to brush the terracotta jar, triggering this monstrous earthquake that threatened to bury the Catacombs.

"Fortunately he died in the final moments... he opened Pandora’s Box then died with the evils, otherwise it would be complicated to explain to my uncle how Daemon got Pandora’s Box..." Kellen snickered, casting a last glance toward the silhouette of his enemy.

Daemon Shaytan Dagon lay motionless in a pool of blood, his face turned toward the collapsing ceiling. For Kellen, there was no doubt that the son of Persephone had finally given up the ghost, taking with him the ability to control the evils of the relic.

Without thinking further, Kellen took to his heels. He activated his < Second Sense of Spear : Space Scent >, perceiving every falling rubble within a radius of fifty meters. He zigzagged between the blocks of stone.

He spotted a breach in the ceiling and plunged into it with a prodigious leap.

In the corridor of the first level, he found Liam, the representative of the Elemental Family of Wind, who was waiting for him. Liam wore a worried expression, his tunic covered in dust. "I’ve been looking for you everywhere, where are your men?"

"Most of them are dead, but you don’t have to worry about our plans... Daemon is dead, which will keep the Sword Clan quite busy... These coming days will be the opportune moment to take the lead of the Magic Clan."

Liam nodded with a predatory smile. "I didn’t make a bad choice betting on you. Let’s get out of here, the Elemental Family of Fire has started to act."

"To act?" asked Kellen, surprised by the haste of things.

"Yeah, their patriarch has been assassinated, the clan is upside down," explained Liam as he led him toward the exit. Wade BlackFire had fallen under an assassin’s blade, leaving his district and his family in total chaos, an unexpected opportunity for those who coveted the hegemony of the Magic Clan.

****

"Is it dark?"

Daemon had the impression of floating in absolute void, an expanse where the notion of up and down did not exist. Slowly, stars began to appear one by one.

"What’s going on? Am I dead?" he wondered.

Daemon remained motionless, his heart clenched by an anguish he could not repress. Despite the feeling of peace he had felt at the moment of his last breath, he could not help shuddering before the immensity of this solitude. Remaining in this cold environment for eternity seemed to him a punishment far crueler than death itself.

The minutes seemed to stretch into hours, then into days, for he had ended up losing all notion of time.

In a word: Daemon was afraid.

Deprived of his primary senses, his mind began to wander, thinking back over every moment of his short life. He saw again his afternoons playing in the snow with Kristian and Katelyn. He felt once more Lancelot’s hand ruffling his hair with tenderness before leaving for his last mission. Then the image changed: he saw again Persephone’s cold face plunging her flaming fingers into his chest to seal his Chi Core.

He remembered Mallory... Finally, his mind fixed on Mount Sandalphon, on the comforting smell of chicken soup and on a certain assassin with ruby eyes.

Suddenly, a movement drew his attention. A golden butterfly, made of pure Chi, began to flutter around him, its light chasing the surrounding darkness.

The creature multiplied then gradually materialized into an ethereal silhouette. The woman was luminous, graceful, and her mere presence added a sudden warmth in this glacial space.

"I... I know you... This ethereal silhouette.... Do you know where we are?" asked Daemon, trying to draw closer.

"Pandora’s Box that contained the evils has been opened, and you opened it a fifth time, breaking the fifth chain of the Pillar which caused the destruction of the Catacombs," said the silhouette finally, still turning her back to him.

’I didn’t think I had touched Pandora’s Box, but it seems I succeeded in opening it and absorbed the evils? But if the Catacombs are being destroyed...’

"Am I dead?"

"How can you die, if it is not I who kills you?" she answered in a mysterious tone.

Daemon frowned. "Why are you playing the mysterious one?"

The silhouette cleared her throat and turned around with a slightly embarrassed air, finally revealing her complete appearance.

Daemon remained speechless. Luci’El Daeth stood before him, and for the first time, he saw her face clearly... Even with that bandage over her eyes, she was of a divine beauty. Her golden hair, of a length such that it brushed the void beneath her feet, framed a face of fine features whose forehead shone with a six-pointed star.

She wore a long white woolen robe. Her stature was slender and graceful. On the back of her delicate hands, the number 7 was engraved. She radiated an aura of calm power, that of "The Midnight Star", the light destined to shine in the densest darkness.

"This is an important moment where I present myself to my worst enemy... Why do you want to spoil everything?" she asked, pouting.

"Huh!? Why are you behaving like a child?"

’Since when am I her enemy? I don’t even know her... is she also a victim of Persephone’s actions?’ he thought with bitterness.

"I suspect you are Luci’El Daeth, right? This is not the first time you have helped me. Why do you do it if I am your enemy?" insisted Daemon.

"You are the bearer of the Mark of the Beast and I am the Midnight Star... you are destined to die by my hand," she affirmed.

Daemon saw that he was facing a stubborn person, "Again this damned destiny..." he sighed, turning his gaze toward the stars.

"We can do nothing about it, we are all chained to it... Or maybe..." murmured Luci’El.

"Maybe?" picked up Daemon, intrigued by this change of tone.

"Pandora’s Box, which contains the evils that El feared for humanity, rested on five pillars on the third level. The four chains that held the main evils were broken long before you found the relic, thus releasing Conquest, War, Famine and Death."

Daemon suddenly recalled the structure of the circular hall he had glimpsed before Kellen struck him down. There were indeed five massive pillars surrounding the relic of El’s heart, but only one chain was still attached when he had brushed it.

’Were there people who opened Pandora’s Box before me and obtained these demented powers?’ he wondered, realizing that Hundun was even more in the grip of chaos.

"And you opened it a fifth time... And obtained the last evil at the bottom of Pandora’s Box," continued Luci’El.

"The last evil at the bottom of Pandora’s Box?" asked Daemon, incredulous.

"HOPE."

...

Blindly considering one’s wish as achievable... Even faced with a situation that seems sealed, hope pushes one to act, to struggle, to change what seemed immutable... The ultimate act of rebellion against destiny.

Hope is the capacity to shape one’s destiny with one’s unshakable will. 𝑓𝑟ℯℴ𝓂

At that instant, a sensation of intense burning ran through Daemon’s left arm. On his skin a tattoo of intertwined thorns of jet black began to appear. The brambles snaked along his forearm; at the center of the thorns a small green bud emerged which released a small golden butterfly that scarred itself onto the back of his left hand.

Daemon slowly opened his eyes as the ceiling collapsed upon him.

With his will alone, Daemon healed from the wound of the Spear of Destiny because...

"Hope keeps one alive."