unexpected encounter

The night bled red.

It was one of those hours where the sky seemed to hold its breath—clouds thick with silence, stars drowned by darkness, and the moon absent as if it couldn't bear to watch.

Jaceon walked through the alleyways of a forgotten district, far from Levi's warm home, far from the cross that had burned more than his skin. He was hunting. Not for food. Not for fun.

For souls.

That was the deal. That was always the deal. Trade for passage. Trade for power. Trade for silence in the chaos of his mind. Every soul collected bought him time. Time to keep the truth buried, even from himself.

His boots echoed against cracked pavement as he followed the scent—something ripe, corrupted, and ready. But as he turned the corner, the scene before him stopped him cold.

Blood splattered the walls. Screams echoed, already fading into silence. A pile of bodies lay crumpled at the base of a graffiti-covered wall, their eyes wide and glassy. Lifeless.

At the center of the carnage stood her.

Jacita.

A demon from his kingdom.

Her silver daggers dripped with fresh blood, and a twisted smile curved her lips. Her long, dark hair whipped around her face as she turned to her next target—a woman clutching her child. The woman trembled, whispering something to her daughter. A final prayer. A goodbye.

The child's eyes were wide, too stunned to cry.

Jacita raised her blade.

Jaceon didn't think. He stepped forward.

"Stop it, Jacita!" he roared, his voice cracking through the night like thunder.

She turned, slowly, her eyes gleaming with infernal fire. "And who the hell are you supposed to be?"

Her voice was sharp, laced with ancient venom. She took a step toward him, sizing him up like prey.

"A vampire?" she sneered. "Or maybe a lost little wolf trying to play hero?"

Jaceon didn't flinch. His voice dropped, cold and commanding. "I'm not here to play anything. You've taken enough lives for one night."

Jacita arched an elegant brow, spinning a dagger in her fingers. "So what? You want a turn? There are still a few left breathing."

She gestured to the huddled mother, the child behind her still frozen in fear.

"I said stop," Jaceon growled, stepping in front of them.

Jacita's smile faltered.

Something in his stance. In his voice. In his eyes.

"Wait…" she said, narrowing her gaze. "You're not human."

Jaceon said nothing.

Her lips curled. "Oh… oh, I see now. You're one of us."

He stared her down. "We're not the same."

"Spare me your noble act,"

Jacita's laughter echoed across the alley like the hiss of a venomous snake.

"You're not supposed to interfere in my job," she said with a wicked grin, stepping over a twitching body like it was no more than trash. "I'm doing as I please. These humans… they're nothing. Toys. Sacks of flesh waiting to rot."

Jaceon didn't move from where he stood—blocking the woman and child, shielding them with his tall frame. His jaw clenched.

"I order you to stop," he said, his voice low but sharp as steel. "It's enough."

Jacita's amusement vanished, replaced with a sneer. "And?? Who are you to order me?" she spat. "You're a mere demon like me. Or have you been sipping too much mortal arrogance and forgotten who you are?"

Jaceon's eyes darkened.

"I'm not like you," he said.

Jacita's daggers hissed as they danced between her fingers. "Last I checked, we were bred from the same infernal pit. Same claws. Same fire. You don't scare me, stranger."

She stepped closer.

"You hide behind a pretty face, but I can smell the blood on your soul. You're one of us."

Jaceon raised his hand. For a brief moment, the air around him shifted—heavy, ancient, suffocating. A silence fell, unnatural and sharp, as if the world itself was waiting for something.

And then he spoke.

"I… Ahzi, the son of Satan, ruler of Hell, third in command of the Infernal Thrones… order you to STOP."

The words tore through the air like thunder. Shadows writhed along the ground, the sky above flickering as if the stars themselves recoiled.

Jacita froze.

Her smug expression shattered in an instant.

"…What?" she whispered, stumbling a step back.

Jaceon's form didn't change, but something about him did. Power pulsed beneath his skin, a darkness so deep it made the walls tremble. His eyes glowed faintly, rimmed with embers.

"You speak of rank like you understand what it means," he said quietly, but it was the kind of quiet that split mountains. "You answer to me."

Jacita dropped her daggers. They clattered to the ground.

"Impossible…" she breathed. "The prince is… gone. He's on a mission."

"And this is the mission," Jaceon—Ahzi—replied. "You've slaughtered innocents, disobeyed the ancient rules. You think your chaos goes unnoticed?"

"I thought you were just a myth," she whispered. "A warning they told us in training…"

He stepped closer, his presence pressing down like gravity.

"Return to Hell," he said. "And tell the others. The heir walks the Earth."

Jacita stared at him, trembling. "I… I didn't know. Forgive me, my lord…"

She vanished into a mist of black smoke, fleeing without another word.

The alley was silent once more.

Jaceon slowly turned back to the child and her mother. The woman clutched her daughter tightly, crying quietly. The little girl blinked up at him, unafraid, as though she saw something gentle behind his glowing eyes.

He knelt down slowly, meeting the child's gaze. "You're safe now," he said.

"Are you an angel?" she asked softly.

He stared at her for a long moment, then gave a faint smile. "No," he murmured. "Not even close."

Then he vanished into the shadows, leaving behind only the whisper of his name on the night wind.

Ahzi.

And somewhere deep in Hell, the demons began to whisper that name again—with fear.

The heir was no longer in hiding.

The war for balance had begun.

---

Days passed.

And still… the soul of Levi McLaren remained untouched.

Jaceon—Ahzi—had abandoned his mission's path, though he wouldn't admit it to himself. What began as curiosity had become something dangerously close to affection. Levi's laughter, his awkwardness, even his stubborn kindness had begun chipping away at centuries of infernal detachment.

He'd begun to forget.

Forget that he was a demon on a mission.

Forget that Levi was a target.

Forget that his very presence in Levi's world was a ticking bomb of damnation.

Instead, he spent his nights at Levi's mansion, teasing him, challenging his faith, sometimes even laughing… actually laughing. The light that glowed within Levi—so pure, so untainted—began to fascinate him. And that light, slowly, had begun to seep into Ahzi's shadowed soul.

But Hell hadn't forgotten.

And the Demon Lord—his father—never waited patiently.

---

One night, while Jaceon leaned on the balcony outside Levi's room, a strange cold wind stirred.

Then the world shifted.

Time froze.

The stars above him flickered out, as if swallowed.

And from the shadows behind him, a voice like cracked stone echoed:

"Ahzi."

Jaceon froze.

He turned slowly, already knowing the darkness that stood behind him.

Towering, horned, cloaked in shifting black flame and crowned in broken bone—the Demon Lord, his father, Satan himself.

"You dare ignore your mission?" Satan growled, his voice shaking the heavens and the pits alike. "You were given a soul. His soul."

Jaceon remained silent.

"I should drag you back in chains and skin your pride from your flesh," Satan snarled. "You forget who you are."

"I didn't forget," Jaceon said quietly. "I just… needed more time."

"Time?" Satan thundered. "You dance with mortals. You joke. You eat at their tables. Do you think yourself one of them now?"

Jaceon didn't answer.

"You disgrace your blood," his father spat. "I sent you for one task. One soul. You're not there to make friends. You're not there to fall in love."

Jaceon stiffened at that last word. "It's not love," he lied.

Satan stepped closer. The air warped with every step.

"You were raised to conquer. To devour. To burn the weakness from the world," he hissed. "And yet you—my heir—waste your power pretending to feel. You disgust me."

"Levi isn't like the others...

I'm trying so hard to do my job," Jaceon said before he could stop himself.

His father's eyes flared with fire.

"So that's it," Satan said coldly. "A human boy who's father owe us made my son forget he is death incarnate."

"He's more than that," Jaceon said, his voice rising. "He's good. Real. And… I don't want to destroy that."

"You will," Satan snapped. "Or I will."

The threat hung heavy in the air.

Jaceon clenched his fists, torn between the fury of Hell and the fragile light of Earth. His voice trembled, but not with fear.

"I will do my job," he said, "But I need some time."

A long silence followed.

Then Satan's lips curled into a chilling grin. "So be it. Play your little game, boy. But mark my words…"

He leaned in close, his breath like frost and fire.

"When love makes you weak enough—I'll be the one to kill him. And you'll thank me for it."

With that, he vanished into the night, leaving behind a storm in Jaceon's heart.

The stars returned.

Time moved again.

But the world felt colder.

Jaceon turned and looked back at Levi's window, his chest aching.

The soul he was sent to destroy…

was now the only thing keeping him human.

And now, he was running out of time.

---