Leon sat alone in the dimly lit chamber, the weight of his own actions pressing down on him like an unseen force. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows across the stone walls, but it wasn't the darkness that unsettled him—it was the silence.
His hands rested on his knees, fingers curled slightly, as if still holding onto the moment that had passed. The war room had been chaos. He had stood before kings, generals, and nobles—every one of them powerful, proud, and yet, in a single outburst, he had made them flinch. Not with a blade, not with a battle cry, but with the raw, unfiltered fury in his voice.
His own voice.
Leon exhaled sharply, shaking his head. What the hell was that back there? He had threatened them. He had made them fear him. And the worst part? He hadn't regretted it—not really. The look in their eyes, the way they had faltered, it had felt… right.
And yet, now, sitting here alone, he wondered what he had just become.
The door creaked open.
Leon didn't need to look up to know who it was. The air shifted slightly, carrying the faintest scent of lavender and steel—Sylva. She stepped inside, her boots barely making a sound against the stone floor.
She didn't say anything. Neither did he.
Minutes passed.
Leon leaned back against his chair, tilting his head toward the ceiling. The silence stretched, neither of them breaking it, and yet it wasn't uncomfortable. It just… was.
Finally, he let out a breath and chuckled, the sound dry and humourless. "Well, that was a disaster."
Sylva didn't respond. He glanced at her, half expecting the usual sharp remark, but she just stood there, arms crossed, eyes distant.
For the first time since she entered, he realized something was off.
She wasn't looking at him in frustration or judgment. She wasn't angry. She was thinking.
Leon straightened slightly, waiting.
"I—" she started, then stopped.
Leon said nothing.
Sylva's fingers tightened around her arm. She shifted her weight, jaw clenching, eyes flickering to the floor before settling on him again. Her face was impassive, unreadable. Her voice, when it finally came, was the same—steady, indifferent.
"You didn't do anything wrong."
Leon's breath stilled.
Sylva looked away as if she hadn't just said something that flipped his entire perspective upside down. Her lips parted slightly like she wanted to say more, but the words refused to come.
Leon just watched. He didn't push. Didn't interrupt.
"I—" she tried again, swallowing. A rare moment of hesitation. "I wanted to—"
She stopped. Exhaled. Looked frustrated with herself.
Leon's expression softened.
He waited.
Seconds passed. Then more. The silence stretched between them, heavier now.
Sylva shut her eyes briefly, as if cursing herself, before finally giving up. She turned away slightly, rubbing her fingers over her wrist. She couldn't say it.
Leon could have filled the space. He could have brushed it off, laughed, made it easier for her. But he didn't.
Instead, he let the moment be what it was.
And when it became clear that she wouldn't finish, he spoke.
"Thanks," he said quietly.
Sylva turned back, confused. "For what?"
"For not being scared of me."
She blinked, taken aback. For once, she had no reply.
Leon smiled faintly, but there was no humour in it. Just something quiet. Understanding.
The moment passed between them, fragile yet unspoken. Then, with nothing else to say, Sylva gave the smallest nod and turned to leave.
Leon didn't stop her.
As the door clicked shut behind her, he leaned back in his chair, exhaling slowly.
Maybe—just maybe—he hadn't lost himself completely.
*
*
*
The sound of steel meeting steel echoed through the cold, stone chamber.
Virion stepped back, effortlessly avoiding the downward swing of Envy's violet-glowing scythe. The air crackled with magic as the weapon carved through the space where he had just been, leaving a faint distortion in its wake.
Too slow.
Too predictable.
He exhaled sharply, shifting his stance. "If that was meant to kill me, you'll be disappointed."
Envy gritted her teeth, pivoting with unnatural speed as she swung again. The scythe arced toward him, the weight behind it enough to split a lesser warrior in half. But Virion had seen this kind of power before.
Raw. Untrained. Lacking precision.
With a flick of his wrist, he parried the attack with a single dagger, the impact sending vibrations up his arm. Envy's balance wavered, and in that single moment of hesitation—
Virion vanished.
A second later, cold steel pressed against her throat.
"You fight like a beast," he murmured, his blade hovering just above her skin. "But a beast that swings without thinking is nothing more than prey to those who are stronger."
Envy's breath was ragged, her envy-coloured eyes burning as she glared at him. "Then make me stronger."
Virion narrowed his eyes.
She had improved, there was no doubt about that. She learned at an unnatural speed—faster than any demon he had trained before.
But—
"You're still weak."
Envy growled, pushing his dagger away as she staggered back. "Then I'll get stronger. I'll become a general, just like you."
Virion let out a slow breath, running a gloved hand through his emerald hair.
"The title of 'general' is not something you simply claim," he said. "It is given when the Demon Lord decides you're worthy." His gaze sharpened. "And right now? You're not."
Envy's grip tightened on her scythe, but she said nothing.
That was good. She was learning to listen.
But it wasn't enough.
After a long silence, Envy finally spoke.
"That shadow." Her voice was quiet, but firm. "Who is it?"
Virion paused. He had expected this question sooner or later.
"That thing—" he chose his words carefully, "is the Demon Lord's assassin. A weapon forged in the depths of the abyss. It has no name, only a purpose."
Envy frowned. "And the Demon Lord trusts it?"
Virion let out a dry chuckle. "The Demon Lord trusts no one. Not me. Not the other generals. Not even the shadow itself." He met her gaze. "But she enjoys keeping things that entertain her."
Envy's brows furrowed at that. "Entertain her?"
Virion sighed, resting his dagger against his shoulder.
"You've noticed it too, haven't you?"
Envy hesitated, but then nodded.
"She's… different," she admitted. "She watches me like she's amused. Like I'm a piece in some game she's playing."
Virion exhaled through his nose. "That's because she is."
Envy's expression darkened, but she remained silent, waiting for him to continue.
Virion turned his back to her, staring up at the massive banners of the Demon Lord that lined the training chamber walls.
He remembered when he first met her—when they were both children.
Back then, she wasn't the Demon Lord. She was just a girl, the last heir of a dying royal bloodline, hidden away in the ruins of the old world. She was brilliant, ruthless even as a child, but there was always something… empty about her.
She was bored.
Always.
Even when she tore down kingdoms, even when she enslaved entire armies, even when she claimed the abyss itself as her own—
She was bored.
Nothing in this world ever excited her.
Even when she found the shadow and bound it to her will, she was unimpressed.
Even when she raised an empire from the ashes, she never smiled.
But now…
Now she watched this new hero with interest. Now she played with her army like pieces on a chessboard, stretching the war into a slow, painful game.
And for the first time in centuries—
She seemed like she was having fun.
Was that a good thing?
Virion didn't know.
And that terrified him more than anything
Virion turned back to Envy, his expression unreadable.
"You're strong, but you still have much to learn."
Envy tightened her grip on her scythe, frustration flickering in her eyes.
"If you want to survive under her command, you'll need more than just power," he continued. "You'll need to be useful. Otherwise, she'll grow bored of you."
Envy swallowed, nodding slowly.
Virion studied her for a moment, then spoke one final warning:
"If you think being a demon general is about strength, you're mistaken."
His voice was low, edged with something grim.
"It's about surviving in a world where even monsters can be discarded."
"It's time for your next trial."
* * * * *
The darkness was suffocating.
Envy's breath came in slow, measured inhales as she stepped forward into the abyss. The cold stone beneath her feet felt unnatural, as if the ground itself was shifting.
Virion had led her here—to the Trial Chamber, a place deep within the Demon Lord's fortress.
A place where failures were forgotten.
She clutched her scythe tighter, its violet glow pulsing in the darkness.
This was her next test.
And she refused to lose.
"What do you fear, Envy?"
The voice slithered through the darkness, sending a shiver down her spine. It was everywhere and nowhere, echoing off unseen walls.
Envy tightened her jaw. "I don't fear anything."
A low chuckle. Mocking.
"Liar."
The darkness shifted.
Suddenly, she wasn't in the chamber anymore.
She was back in the slave pits.
Her body ached with phantom pain, the memory of chains burning into her wrists. The scent of blood and filth filled her nose.
And before her—
Stood her former master.
The man who had beaten her. Starved her. Sold her.
His dead eyes stared at her, the same cruel smile on his lips. "A slave should know her place," he sneered.
Something snapped.
Envy lunged—her scythe cleaving through him in one vicious swing.
For a moment, silence.
Then—
His body melted into the shadows, reforming behind her.
"You can't kill a memory, girl."
The voice was everywhere again, taunting. "You think a new name erases what you were?"
She turned, swinging again—this time with even more force.
But it was useless.
Again, he reformed.
Again, he laughed.
And for the first time since her rebirth—
Envy felt powerless.
The shadows twisted, shifting once more.
Now, she saw Leon—standing over her.
But his face was different. Disgusted. Cold.
"You were always beneath me," he said. "A slave pretending to be something more."
Envy's grip shook. "Shut up."
Sylva stepped beside him, her brown hair flowing like a queen's. She looked down at Envy, pity in her eyes.
"We were never the same," Sylva said softly. "You were always a broken thing."
Envy's pulse pounded in her ears.
"No," she snarled.
She swung her scythe—this time aiming for Sylva's throat.
But before the blade could reach—
The shadows rippled, and suddenly—
She was back in the chamber.
Sweat dripped down her face as she gasped for breath.
She turned sharply, Virion standing in the distance. Watching. Judging.
"…What the hell was that?" Envy's voice was hoarse, filled with rage.
Virion didn't answer immediately.
Then—
"It was your weakness."
Envy clenched her fists. "I don't have weaknesses."
Virion gave a dry chuckle. "Clearly, you do."
Envy's nails dug into her palm. She hated this.
Hated feeling like she wasn't enough.
Hated knowing that the past still chained her.
Virion's gaze sharpened. "The Demon Lord didn't give you power to be haunted by ghosts, Envy. If you can't cut them down—then you'll never be fit to stand at her side."
Envy's breath was ragged, but her rage burned hotter than her fear.
"…Then I'll do it again."
She tightened her grip on her scythe, violet energy surging through her veins.
"I'll kill them this time."
The Trial Chamber was silent.
Envy stood in the center, scythe in hand, her violet aura pulsing against the dark stone walls.
Virion watched from the shadows, arms crossed. His expression was unreadable.
"You failed once," he said, voice cold. "What makes you think this time will be different?"
Envy exhaled slowly.
"Because this time, I understand."
Virion raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. With a flick of his wrist, the chamber shifted, and once again—
The darkness swallowed her whole.
When the shadows cleared, she was back in the slave pits.
The stench of sweat, blood, and rot clung to the air.
Her former master stood before her, arms crossed, his cruel smile twisting into something familiar.
Mocking.
"You'll never be more than a slave," he sneered. "No matter how much power you think you have."
Last time, she attacked without thinking.
Last time, she let her anger control her.
This time—
She breathed.
She let him speak.
And then, in a voice as cold as the abyss, she whispered:
"You don't exist anymore."
Her scythe pulsed, the energy within it howling in hunger.
Her master's sneer faltered, just for a moment.
Then, in a single clean motion—
She sliced through him.
The shadows screamed.
The figure writhed, twisting into formless darkness before crumbling into nothing.
The chains of the past—shattered.
The shadows twisted again.
And this time, Leon stood before her.
His golden eyes burned into hers, filled with disappointment.
"You were never my equal," he said. "You were never meant to stand beside me."
Sylva stood beside him, her brown hair gleaming in the dim light. "You wanted what wasn't yours," she murmured. "And now you'll always be beneath us."
Envy's grip on her scythe tightened.
Her pulse was steady.
Her rage was not.
"You're right."
Leon's expression flickered. Sylva took a step back.
Envy tilted her head, her violet eyes glowing with something darker. Something hungry.
"I did want what wasn't mine."
She stepped forward.
"I did envy you."
Another step.
"I still do."
Her scythe ignited, violet fire crackling along its blade.
"But the difference between then and now—"
She swung.
Leon's figure split in half, dissolving into pure darkness.
Sylva's scream faded into the void.
And just like that—
The chains of her envy were gone.
Envy's eyes snapped open.
She was back in the chamber.
Virion was still watching, but now, his expression had shifted.
He had seen what she had done.
He had felt the change in her.
Envy let out a slow exhale, lowering her scythe. The weapon's glow was brighter than before, its power humming beneath her fingertips.
She turned to Virion.
"I've won."
Virion was silent for a long moment.
Then—
He smirked.
"…Maybe you have."
* * * * *
The throne room of the Demon Lord was vast, yet suffocating.
The air was thick with unseen power, pressing against Envy's skin like an unshakable weight.
At the far end of the chamber, seated atop a dark, twisted throne, was her master.
The Demon Lord.
Crimson eyes gleamed with amusement as she rested her chin against her hand, her eternal smirk playing on her lips.
Beside her, standing as still as a shadow—was the Shadow itself.
Envy's blood boiled.
She clenched her scythe, her violet aura burning brighter than before.
She had passed the trial.
She had shattered her past.
And yet—
She still wasn't enough.
Not compared to that thing.
Not compared to her master.
But she would be.
The Demon Lord's smirk widened as she leaned forward slightly.
"You've come with something to say, Envy?"
Her voice was smooth, controlled—bored.
As if none of this mattered.
As if Envy didn't matter.
That only fuelled the fire in her chest.
Envy took a step forward. Her eyes burned, her knuckles white around the scythe's handle.
"I will surpass you."
The words cut through the silence like a blade.
The Shadow stirred. It tilted its head, observing her—curious.
The Demon Lord chuckled. A low, knowing sound.
"Oh?" she mused, resting her cheek against her fist.
Envy's pulse was thundering.
"I will surpass you." Her voice was sharper this time, deadly serious. "I will surpass your shadow. I will surpass you. I will become something greater."
Silence.
Then—
Laughter.
The Demon Lord threw back her head and laughed, the sound echoing across the chamber.
It wasn't mocking.
It wasn't cruel.
It was genuine amusement.
And somehow, that enraged Envy even more.
"You truly are a delight." The Demon Lord sighed, her crimson eyes blazing as she looked down at her.
"But tell me, Envy—"
She leaned forward, her voice dipping into something cold.
"What makes you think I would ever allow that?"
The room darkened.
The very air became heavier, like gravity itself had shifted.
For a brief moment—Envy could not breathe.
This was the weight of absolute power.
The Shadow did not move. It only watched.
Envy refused to kneel.
Her body screamed, but she kept standing, kept glaring back at her master with all the fire in her soul.
And then—
The weight vanished.
The Demon Lord smiled once more.
"Well." She waved a hand, dismissing the tension like it was nothing.
"I suppose it would be boring if you didn't at least try."
She leaned back against her throne.
"Very well, Envy. Show me."
Her crimson eyes pierced through her.
"Prove that your envy is worthy of being more than just a fleeting flame."