Henzo’s bond forced one eye open, turning the innocent smile crooked as it glared at Ric through its crimson eyes.

A shiver ran down Ric’s spine, filled with more disgust than fright. “I still find nothing that can benefit me.”

“Come on. Let’s be friends,” Henzo’s patience broke, and he snatched Ric’s hand into a weak handshake.

Ric attempted to flood Henzo with energy hoping to push the fool to let his guard down further, but he failed at every attempt.

The brat was right; only a smidgen of his initial power and control remained after the initiation.

The most disheartening aspect was that even in his prime, at the peak of initiation, he lacked the power necessary to achieve any of his objectives. Even the slightest whims of the most boastful goddesses or their lesser siblings can dispatch him to kingdom come if they so desired, and he would have been a fool to not notice it all.

“Is the initiate stage the ultimate peak? And if so, has anyone surpassed that limit?” Ric inquires, his heart sinking deeper with each passing second.

Hanzo’s smile widened, and Ric swore he was all smiles and no face before relaxing to respond. “Depends...”

“How can... oh!” Ric realizes. “You won’t answer until we make a deal.”

“Yup.”

“You seem more desperate than me.” Ric slaps Hanzo’s hand away. “We shall see who folds first.”

“A folding competition?”

“Yes.”

“What are we folding?”

“This is going to be a long journey,” Ric sighs.

“Clothes? Wait! I don’t understand.”

Ric resorted to giving Hanzo the silent treatment, and after five minutes, Hanzo folded, sighing like a bird, ready to divulge whatever knowledge he had of this blessed world, which wasn’t much as he was a citizen of Hope.

“Yes!” Hanzo had a firm grip on Ric’s feet, imploring him to pay attention to the answer.

“I don’t want to know.” Ric heaved with every step he took, pulling Hanzo along. He detested not having the darker affinities more than ever at this moment.

“The peak has never been broken so far in history or within any foreseer’s vision.”

“I don’t care.” Ric grunts, struggling to get free. “What is up with Mary?” He coughs and mumbles another question, dragging Hanzo and the answers out of him.

“Mom–”

“–What are you both doing?” Mary gapes at the bizarre scene.

“Playing?” They both answer in unison.

“Real convincing,” Mary snorts. “These woods are off-limits.” She waves them closer. “No more entries.” She slaps Ric for good measure before he can come up with a bad word or, worse, a retort.

“How does she know beforehand?” Ric rubbed his cheek; this time, it hurt even more with the light gone.

“His initiation stage is gone,” Henzo informs.

“What is that?” Mary swings a suspicious eye at Ric instead of Henzo, suspecting he spoke his mind by using Henzo as a mouthpiece.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

Ric gives Mary a bland expression, which works as a retort without getting slapped. ‘This is your world; shouldn’t I be asking you that?’

He never says it out loud, but Mary understands him nonetheless. “I don’t follow the trend...” She shrugs, slapping Ric again for good measure.

“Mom is a bit... peculiar,” Henzo grins from ear to ear.

Ric’s stomach itches to spill a billion curses, yet he holds them back, scared he has no means to heal himself. Not that the light before was any help in front of this monster’s slaps. It’s time for his next move, and wasting time on recovery isn’t part of the plan.

The silence persisted as Mary cautioned the citizens to steer clear of Ric, emphasizing the importance of their safety as well as his. Henzo, however, disregarded this directive, defying Mary’s authority for the first time since he started calling her “mom,” and persistently badgered Ric to his heart’s content.

In Henzo’s perception, they were friends, and Ric’s opinion held no sway over the matter.

— — —<>|*|<>— — —

Ric contemplated that the uppermost branch of the tree of life might be a promising starting point. He reasoned it would be a suitable place to discern whether he existed in his familiar, albeit twisted reality, or a new, bewildered one. In either case, he needed power, and with a predefined path created for him, he strategized to create some shortcuts and highways.

The moment had arrived to carve a unique place in history for a demon to transform into a healer, becoming the pioneer of demon healers.

With the connection already forged between him and the tree, Ric delved into the experiment of transforming into a leech. In his perception, every life form functioned as a relentless leech, extracting sustenance from the tree to ensure survival. He desired to claim more than his fair share of the haul—a sort of demon tax if you will.

He tuned out the world around him as they reciprocated the indifference, slipping into a trance-like state. The disdainful glances of the people were dismissed by shutting his eyes, and their feeble, demonic curses were met with the defiant gesture of a raised middle finger and a matching attitude.

The intrusion of the world persisted, courtesy of Henzo—A mere nobody, an inconspicuous figure who proudly proclaimed Ric as his first and best friend; His only friend. No amount of dismissive gestures could dissuade this persistent leech from clinging to Ric and sucking his life away.

Henzo left Ric perplexed with a concept so alien that it left him confounded, shaking him to his very core.

Little did Henzo realize the depth of Ric’s experiences; a life that had endured for much longer, marked by the relentless pursuit of becoming the ultimate leech. In this harsh existence, demon parents existed with the sole purpose of birthing and selling their offspring for profit, a mere breeder no different from cattle. Men sought women for pleasure, and women exploited men until the moment they desired a child to be sold.

It was the typical human narrative but elevated to a level that only demons could endure—a realm of unfiltered truth, self-awareness, and a brutal honesty so intense that every uttered word seemed deceitful. To Ric, it was nothing short of heaven.

“You’re mistaken once more, you realize,” Henzo declared, yanking Ric out of his training session.

One thing Henzo understood about his best friend and used to turn a one-sided conversation into a dialogue was Ric’s steadfast belief in his status as the highest-ranking demon—a demon king.

The former were creatures brimming with pride, while the latter had their heads so far lodged up their asses that common sense became foreign land to them. Henzo is well-acquainted with these traits. After all, his best friend embodied both characteristics and then some.

Ric assumed Henzo was jesting when he inquired about the role of a king’s, or in his case, the demon king’s best friend, but the gravity of Henzo’s seriousness became apparent during their first debate.

Ric’s nonchalant attitude handed Henzo an advantage as he dismissed the notion without sparing it a second glance, granting Henzo an advantage and the freedom to choose a title at his leisure.

Henzo shamelessly claimed Ric’s accomplishments as his own and recited the rest of the bro code, a set of principles Ric ignored out of habit—until Henzo insisted Ric was mistaken. Not just mistaken, but mistaken once more, as if Ric had ever been wrong to begin with.

“Enlighten me,” Ric ground out through gritted teeth.

Though the desire to deliver a satisfying punch to the smug expression on Henzo’s face surged within Ric, the arduous process of recovery deterred him from taking such drastic measures, at least for the foreseeable future.

“Hope,” Henzo stated, intending to conclude with a single word like Ric, but the growing perplexity on his best friend’s face compelled him to elaborate. “Be it false or true, hope is the bane of our—everyone’s existence, yet it’s also the reason we strive to live. A hope for tomorrow. A chance for the next generation. I believe there’s balance everywhere, even within the demons. Otherwise, you guys wouldn’t be among the strongest beings around Saint.” He flashed a smile.

Ric responded with a scornful expression.

He despised such delusional fools who happened to be right. Individuals against whom he couldn’t formulate a counterargument.

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