The Gray Gospel.

The moment Kael felt the cuts around his neck, he knew two things for sure.

One, Helga wasn't playing around anymore. Two, he needed a damn weapon. Now.

Blood throbbed in his ears like war drums. His back ached from the slam, his lungs wheezed from the hit, and his poor, bloated, glorious ego was deeply offended.

Not because she'd attacked him. No, that was expected. But because she hadn't even paused to admire the glorious god-tier abs he'd been reincarnated with.

Rude!

Kael rolled behind a half-rotted pillar just as Helga's next kick split the floor where his chest had been.

Bam!

Dust exploded into the air. He scanned the surroundings once again—desperate, calculating.

A cracked weapons rack with no weapons. A half-burnt tapestry. A… flower vase?

Bingo.

He lunged for it. It was a hideous thing—pink, bulbous, probably stolen from some noble grandma's garden party—but Kael didn't hesitate.

With a practiced grip and one fluid twist of his wrist, he smashed it against the floor, the sharpest shard sliding perfectly into his palm.

He turned it slightly, testing the edge. Jagged. Fragile. And absolutely better than nothing.

The first Rule of his Gray Gospel echoed in his head:

"Everything is a weapon if you're desperate enough and smart enough."

That was Rule One. He'd carved it into his bones back when he was sixteen and barely surviving the alleys of East Arvada.

When every punk with a box cutter wanted to prove himself and Kael had nothing but a broken bottle and bruised pride.

It was the first rule of his Gray Gospel—the five brutal, foolproof rules that had carried him from the gutters to the throne of the underworld.

They weren't elegant. They weren't moral. But they were real. And they kept him breathing.

Gripping the makeshift blade, Kael stood tall, cocking an eyebrow despite the sweat dripping down his face.

"Helga, darling," he said, voice cool like iced whiskey, "You better have a damn good reason for trying to gut me. Because if this means what I think it means, you just made a very dangerous move."

She didn't even blink. Her long messy braid whipped over her shoulder as she took a slow, deliberate step forward.

Her ample chest rose with each breath—like a war goddess wrapped in skin like bronze silk.

Her eyes, however, were the real weapons. They were cold, sharp and accusing.

"Don't speak like you're my master," she growled.

Kael's smirk twitched, but he didn't let it drop. "Don't act like you're not my responsibility."

That did it.

With a hiss of breath and a stomp that cracked the floor, glowing blue runes blazed down her thighs like lightning bolts, veins of power flaring to life.

Kael's eyes widened, the pieces clicking in his head just as she vanished.

"Shit—!"

Swoosh!

She was on him in the blink of an eye, moving faster than most cars he'd ever driven. Just raw, terrifying speed.

Pure instinct took over. Kael crossed his arms over his chest, right as her foot slammed into him like a battering ram.

Bang!

Pain exploded across his forearms and he definitely he heard something crack, but his stance held long enough to launch him flying backward instead of caving his ribs in.

He smashed through a wooden beam, crashed to the ground, and skidded to a stop near a pile of broken crates.

He wheezed. His arms were numb. But he was alive. And alive meant thinking.

Kael's mind was already racing. The words she'd said. Her refusal to call him master. Her fury, not just anger but betrayal.

She didn't think he was her Kael. She thought he was someone else entirely in his body. A puppet? A pretender? A body thief?

His heart thudded. Technically, she wasn't wrong.

He didn't know why or how she knew, but Kael didn't have time to figure that out. What mattered was damage control.

And to do that, he had to do what he did best; lie with a little truth.

Still sprawled on the floor, Kael tilted his head up and grinned, blood trickling from his mouth.

"You know, Helga," he said through the pain, "I'm starting to think you don't appreciate our shared memories."

She froze, one foot poised to stomp on his throat.

"I mean," Kael continued, voice silkier than sin, "who else would know about the crocodile cave?"

Her pupils shrank. Her foot dropped, but not as a strike. She stepped back, confused, her icy fury faltering for just a heartbeat.

Kael launched himself upward like a coiled spring. His arms still groaned under the force of Helga's kick, but he didn't flinch.

His eyes narrowed, focused entirely on her, even as the pain shot through his forearms like fire. It wasn't enough to break him, though.

Pain was something Kael had learned to use, to turn into fuel for his focus. And right now, he needed to get control of the situation before it spun out of his reach.

This wasn't the first time he'd been put in a situation like this.

Rule Three of the Gray Gospel: Show weakness once, and you teach them how to kill you.

This rule governed how Kael held himself, how he spoke and how he fought. Even when outmatched, even when cornered, he never looked weak.

Because the second someone believed you were vulnerable… they would tear you apart.

He'd learned that rule when he was a street thug, decades ago.

"Helga," Kael said, his voice low, yet commanding, cutting through the rising tension like a blade through soft flesh.

His gaze locked onto hers, eyes filled with unspoken challenges. "How dare you attack me?"

Her eyes burned with fury, that old, simmering rage boiling up again.

She didn't care about his tone or his words. To her, this wasn't about subtlety. This was personal.

And Kael knew that. He knew exactly how much she hated 'him' in this moment, how she would love to tear him apart, piece by piece.

But that was a problem he could solve with the right words, and Kael was very good with words. Better than anyone, even when they weren't entirely the truth.

He took another step forward, closing the distance between them. "Don't you recognize me?"

His voice was a mockery of curiosity, but his mind was working at full speed. What was it she needed from him? What was it that bound her to him so tightly?

A memory clicked at that moment.

The first time they'd met, in the crocodile cave… something had happened then. Kael didn't fully remember it.

In fact, he barely remembered anything about the first time they met beyond the sight of that cave. But he knew enough.

Something significant had taken place there. It had been enough to make her follow him ever since. Enough for her to fight at his side and trust him, no matter the cost.

"I remember that night we first met," he said smoothly, his voice cutting through the tension, sounding more like he knew exactly what had happened than he actually did.

His gaze flickered, a shadow passing over his face. "The crocodile cave. I remember it perfectly. We both know what happened that night, and you've been with me ever since. Do you remember?"

He saw her hesitate for a fraction of a second, a crack in the storm of her fury. She was still angry, still questioning him, but that brief pause was enough for him to see that she wasn't entirely convinced.

He couldn't risk saying too much. If he told her he didn't remember what was promised, she'd never believe him.

Kael took a slow breath, his mind shifting gears, pulling in every ounce of experience he had in bending people to his will.

"I made a promise to you that night." he continued, his voice laced with the right amount of authority and just enough ambiguity to keep her guessing.

"Maybe it was about revenge to you, maybe it was just about me protecting you. The details, well… they don't matter now, do they?"

His eyes bore into hers, and he could see the storm of thoughts raging in her mind. The doubt, the suspicion, the conflict. It was all there.

But Kael wasn't done. Not yet.

"What matters is that I'm here, Helga. I'm still here, and I'm offering you the same thing I did back then; strength. Protection. Whatever it was you needed. I'm still capable of giving it to you."

She took a step back, shaking her head slightly, still furious. "You think I'm going to just forget? The mark of possession on your chest, what does it mean?"

Kael's expression didn't change. He'd been expecting this so he wasn't surprised.

The mark that had been inscribed into his chest the moment he'd been reincarnated into this new body was the most dangerous part of him.

It was most likely a symbol of his mysterious cheat. And right now, it was the last thing he needed to explain.

He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a low murmur, the words spilling from his lips like a secret meant only for her.

"The mark is a part of my plan," Kael said, his eyes narrowing slightly, his lips curling into a barely perceptible smile.

"But it's not something I can explain easily, Helga. To protect you, I can't say too much about it. But the truth is… this power I possess, it's not something I can just give away.

"It's why the organization is hunting me down. They want me dead because they know I can make people stronger. I can help them grow, but I can't transfer that power to anyone else."

He watched as the words hit her, watching her expression shift ever so slightly. She wasn't as angry now, but she still didn't trust him.

That was fine. He didn't need her trust completely. He just needed her to believe that he was still the one who could give her what she wanted.

"Don't be foolish, Helga," Kael continued, his voice sharpening. "You know that if I had any intention of using this power for my own gain, I'd have done it by now and sold myself to a top force.

"But I didn't. I'm still here, still standing, because I'm offering you something more than anyone else can."

His gaze softened, but only slightly, as he took another step toward her. "We can revive the Crimson Maw together. We can dominate this world, Helga. And I will help you achieve everything you've ever dreamed of."

For a moment, there was silence. And then, just like that, the anger in Helga's eyes seemed to melt away, replaced by something softer, something Kael had hoped for.

Her pride, her stubbornness, were still there, but there was also a vulnerability, an openness.

Without warning, she dropped to one knee, her head bowed in shame. "I… I'm sorry," she muttered, the words barely above a whisper. "I should never have tried to kill you."

Kael's gaze softened, just a fraction, but it was enough. "It's forgiven, Helga," he said, his voice still cold, but there was a certain warmth behind it.

"But remember this… you've got one more chance to prove your loyalty. One more chance to show that you can still stand by me."

She nodded, looking up at him, her eyes filled with a mix of regret and determination. "We need to leave here," she said, her voice urgent. "The Fallen are on their way."

The words hit Kael like a thunderclap. The Fallen.

Suddenly, memory fragments, scattered like shards of broken glass flooded his mind. Images. Thoughts.

His eyes narrowed, his heart hammering in his chest. He remembered.

This was bad.