9

Castor's bout of laziness quickly passed. The mage quickly got out of bed, made it, and went down to the kitchen to make himself some coffee. Strong and nasty. And then let the dragon spirit taste it. When his target had a heart attack from such a mockery of the very concept of the drink, Brinel would be able to finish off the creature and continue his peaceful life. An excellent plan, all that remained was to carry it out, which was not as difficult as it seemed.

"Take it easy, partner!" The dragon's voice betrayed his panic. It was a natural reaction, as he was aware of his host's power. "What's wrong with attracting beautiful females? Isn't that every man's dream?"

"Not every man," the young man sighed, his icy eyes filling with regret as the image of his younger brother flashed before his mind's eye. "Those who dream of such things are demons and spawn of darkness who have no place in this world. Their very existence is repugnant.

"Then why does my deed still leave a bitter taste of regret?..."

"I'll add to that," Castor's gaze became calm and neutral again. "A complete lack of necessary experience in communicating with the opposite sex. I only have a theoretical understanding of flirting, courtship, romance, and sex.

"Wow..." The dragon's voice fell silent, and Brinel felt a silent apology from the dragon. But the mage didn't need it, for he had long since lost the ability to take offence at anyone's words. No resentment or malice arose in his heart, even towards his arch-enemies. Only contempt for their very existence.

"And relationships are overrated. Too many people set themselves the goal of finding their 'eternal love', and end up finding rivers of tears, pain and emotional turmoil," Castor took his mug of coffee and drank the bitter liquid. His smile grew warmer.

"Add to that the fact that I never had the opportunity to have a real relationship. At the age of fourteen, I was taken to the Gildam Arcanum academy, and four years later, I was taken under the wing of a luminary," Brinel's smile turned cold again. "Then came the Dark Dawn.

The mage sat down at the table and closed his eyes, enjoying the hot coffee. His life was a manifestation of stories about unique individuals with special abilities, only multiplied by reality. Instead of admiration and hope, he received fear, horror, and contempt. Instead of respect and love, only isolation and control. Only his older sister was allowed to talk to him, once she had passed her trials. Was Castor offended by this? At first, yes. But as his only friend explained to him, it was normal. Those who stand out are always alone. And only those like you can become close.

"By the way, I still don't understand what kind of friend he is," the dragon muttered. The mage looked up from his mug and gazed at the morning sky, but his gaze tried to pierce through the blue and reach further. Further than anyone could see.

"He... is the one who gave me knowledge and opportunities. The one who supported me for decades. And not just me, but there were too few of us to win," Castor shook his head, dispelling the delusion. At one point, it seemed to him that the huge dark blue eyes were looking at him with approval. But it was just an illusion of his mind, which wanted to see and talk to the one who had given them the opportunity. An opportunity that had been destroyed by the people themselves.

***

Ddraig couldn't understand his partner. During his long existence inside the mechanism, he had seen many people. From the worst scoundrels to flawless heroes. And the dragon understood the motives of most of them. Power for its own sake, absolute authority, the love of a lifetime, the desire to protect what was dear to them... The degrees and shades varied, but it wasn't difficult to read them. But Castor was different. A mage from another world where the end of the world had truly come, destroying humanity in the most horrific ways. This should have affected the sole survivor, but Brinel didn't look like... he should.

Too calm, too level-headed, and too balanced. Ddraig opened one eye and looked at the cosmos around him. No, he had gone too far with the last one. But, honestly, he had expected a bunch of psychological trauma, specific desires and motives, and in the end, nothing! To live life for himself, not for the greater good! That desire wasn't bad either, but you'd expect something more global from a mage of such power. Especially with such an inner world. The boundless, beautiful cosmos... Hmm, he'd got himself a strange partner, very strange. But! Ddraig bared his teeth. Albion would only break his teeth on someone like that!

Speaking of not serving the greater good. Castor was currently tracking down a renegade demon to kill him. What surprised the dragon in this situation was the archmage's sensitivity, which allowed him to sense something was wrong despite the difference between their worlds. A sixth sense for evil and the supernatural?

"Tell me about renegade demons," his partner slid across the rooftops at tremendous speed, creating icy roads that crumbled behind him with a crash. What an extreme sports enthusiast...

"When a convert loses contact with the King, then...

"I know about the uncontrollable nature of demonic energy. I need more detailed information," Brinel flipped in the air, pushing off from the icy platform that had literally turned into steam. Ddraig whistled at such control over ice. Even Leviathan hadn't demonstrated such power when one of the carriers collided with her in battle.

"Usually, they turn into grotesque monsters whose thirst for power and instincts are completely uncontrolled," the dragon grimaced for a moment. Castor knew how to inflict emotional damage. "Although they don't lose the ability to speak, their words usually have no meaning.

"Grotesque monsters..." Brinel froze his left hand against the vertical wall and stared at the forest. There was a hint of mockery in the young man's voice. "If only you knew about real grotesque monsters.

The mage slowly drew in a breath and exhaled a cloud of vapour as a long, wide piece of shapeless ice formed on his left hand. Ddraig watched with interest through Brinel's eyes. What was he planning? This chunk could kill, of course, but he still had to hit his target... The dragon opened its second eye as the ice began to solidify more and more, and the visible aura of cold became more powerful, turning into a small snowstorm. With a crack and a whistle, the piece of ice turned into a needle the size of his partner's finger. Placing it on the palm of his left hand, the archmage ran two fingers along the needle, causing it to... glow red and become more transparent at the same time. It was as if it was slowly turning into a ghost."You're a bastard and a son of a bitch..." Ddraig hissed without malice, realising that Castor was doing this deliberately slowly. Demonstrating his control and abilities to a single spectator so that he would understand that the same thing could happen to him. Hadn't the dragon already said that he didn't understand the mage? Well, there you go. He didn't understand him. Just like he didn't understand how he had limited the spirit's vision to that of a normal human. The archmage himself could clearly see further! There you go!

Brindel took the needle and sent it flying with a swift movement of his hand. There was a soft pop, and the projectile flew off into the forest. Then the mage calmly slid down the wall and strolled towards the forest edge. At first, Ddraig did not understand why his partner was so confident, but when they passed through the trees and went deeper into the forest, the dragon immediately understood. An icy statue appeared before them. It was so perfect that no one would believe it was man-made. The creature, which looked like a cross between a dog, a cat and a human, was frozen in the moment it was stretching. Its back was arched, its tail was standing straight up, and its face expressed pleasure. Its eyes were closed and its fur was standing on end.

"Holy shit..." was all the dragon could say. His head was trying to comprehend one fact: using a single needle, the mage had managed to freeze a renegade whose demonic energy was pouring out of every pore. Whose instincts were stronger than even those of an ordinary demon. And just like that, freeze him to the bone?! With one small attack?!

"Not a bad pose. I could have waited longer to get a better shot, but I didn't know what the creature had in mind, so I played it safe," Ddraig felt Castor's smile grow warmer as he looked at the statue with satisfaction. The dragon felt a little uneasy about his partner's change of mood.

"When you were talking about how the gods have different ways of entertaining themselves," the dragon closed his eyes and muttered discontentedly under his breath. He had mainly talked about their "games" with humans and their own kind. Cruel deeds, as one would expect from gods.

"I remembered what I had been doing for the last two years in Kaerne," the mage's hand touched the ice. "I was creating art. Beautiful in their ugliness, statues of various creatures that had stood in my way. I think I filled an entire city with them when I needed to get one reagent..."

"So we have a psychopath who likes to turn his enemies into ice statues," Ddraig nodded approvingly. Finally, some serious psychological deviation! The excessive "normality" had frightened the dragon, who was used to all kinds of shit. But on the other hand, it was creepy. Were those who had been frozen like that still alive? If so, it was a very twisted form of punishment and torture.

"When I stumbled upon an art gallery in that city, I couldn't resist the temptation. I looked inside and examined the paintings there," Castor exhaled slowly and closed his eyes. His voice was filled with nostalgia and satisfaction. The dragon's instincts stirred. "Images of exalted gods and dragons. I looked at them and thought: what would they look like as statues? What do you think, Ddraig?"

"Just kidding," the guy added after a short pause, causing the dragon to howl. His partner wasn't just an asshole and a bastard, he was the real deal!

***

The life of one of the four demonic Lords is not as simple as some Sonochki think! It's not about participating in your own show (Her best creation, by the way! Levi-chan!) or trying to catch and squeeze his little sister, but rather painstaking work, fussing with documents and putting on a friendly face during negotiations. The woman exhaled slowly and irritably, crossing her arms over her chest. Serafall had never liked her official suit, consisting of a tasteless shirt, jacket and pencil skirt. If only it had been a bright colour, but no! Dark blue, almost black. Disgusting! Uncomfortable and extremely stuffy. And then there was Azazel, may the sorceress girl smack him over the head! Negotiating with him was always a battle between irritation and diplomacy...

"Oh well, never mind! I'll just give Sonya a hug and then all my energy and good mood will come back!"

Leviathan (if only her friends knew how much headache such a title brought her) walked down Kuo Street and was in no hurry to use her teleportation circle. Her sister had a very good sense of it! And Serafall didn't want her little sister to run away from her embrace!

"Hmm-hmm-hmm-hmm..." the woman hummed playfully under her breath (Young and active. And if Azazel calls her old again, she'll rip his dick off!), walking briskly despite her heels. But then all playfulness vanished, along with her good mood, when echoes of demonic energy reached her. Something was wrong. Like with renegades. Serapholl frowned and turned towards the forest, where the echoes were coming from. Such filth couldn't harm Sonya or her figures, but it was every demon's duty to get rid of those they had spawned. Plus, this creature would help her let off some steam. The main thing was that the creature had feathered wings... Preferably black ones...

Delving deeper into the forest, the woman did not expect to see IT, which made her freeze for a moment. A perfect ice statue, emanating echoes of demonic energy and an unpleasant cold. Steam swirled around the frozen renegade, only adding to the gloominess of the scene. As an experienced user of ice magic, Serafall was surprised by such... precise work. In her long life, Leviathan had never seen anything like it, and even her own frost spells were too crude, only vaguely resembling the creatures she cooled. And here...

"I don't feel any magical energy! It's like natural ice! How can this be?!" the woman exclaimed when she felt no echo of foreign magic. This made her think and frown even more. A pile of questions arose quickly, but she had no answers. Too... mystical (Yeah, says the Demon Lord. Serapholl smiled slightly at the irony). This can't be, unless an ice spirit or elemental has taken up residence here, but this place is too warm for them.

"I need to look for clues. Anything.

But her search yielded nothing. The grass around her was also frozen through and broke easily when touched by her warm hand. Serapholl pursed her lips in dissatisfaction. She didn't like the unknown in the city where her sister was studying. She had to get to the bottom of this problem...

"Hurry up," Leviathan finished aloud when, after being touched, the renegade fell apart into a pile of icy debris.

***

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