"Your Holiness! I never thought that I could ever work as a hunter again. Thank you for healing my leg."

The older man had a wide grateful smile on his face as he thanked Sorin. His legs were heavily injured during a previous hunt, and he couldn't pay for other healers but was able to get help from the temple.

"Oh dear Gods, praise them for their miracles!"

The woman cried out after Sorin helped her daughter recover from a grave illness. She kneeled and prayed with tears in her eyes.

"Saint!"

"Your Holiness!"

"Thank you!"

"Thank you!"

They were all the same.

They praised him whenever they needed him, seeing him as a vessel for their own salvation. It was all hollow gratitude veiled by their own self-interest.

"Kill the Heretic Saint!"

"How dare you trick us into worshipping you?"

"You are the traitor of the Gods."

Sorin woke up in cold sweat. His heart felt like it was going to explode in a sudden feeling of fear. He rarely dreamt of anything anymore but when he did–

It was his memories of the past.

The dream was so vivid that he could feel the blood on his skin and taste ash in his mouth. With a bitter sigh, he stood up from his bed.

Sorin brushed his messed-up hair, feeling the sweat on his forehead. He ignored his dream, finding it useless that a part of him still couldn't let go.

The Holy Saint, bound to the Gods, trapped in their cycle of 'salvation'. A mere tool for humanity to keep their faith and worship the Gods.

"Ridiculous," he whispered to himself.

***

It was unfortunate that the same day he dreamt of such memories was when he did his duty to the temple. It was an important event for most people living in the Empire.

A chance to experience a miracle performed by Sorin himself.

It was his duty to serve the people by healing them, a gathering where they could be free from all their sickness and injuries.

Sorin stood in the middle of the city's square where hundreds of people had gathered for his blessings. The sun shone brightly above them as if the Gods themselves were favoring the event.

He scanned the sea of faces, desperate for the Gods' blessings. His white robes were embroidered with golden threads that glinted under the sunlight.

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The Saintess sat beside him, her servants holding an umbrella over her. She looked slightly anxious by the event and the number of people that have gathered, after all, her divine magic isn't strong enough.

With a gentle smile, Sorin listened to the man's fervent prayers kneeling in front of him. Reaching out to grab his hand, Sorin took the man's palm "May the divine beings bless you." He prayed.

The familiar feeling of divine magic flowed through his veins, it felt somehow... wrong.

But watching the man's teary eyes as Sorin healed his illness was enough to distract those thoughts away.

It was the same as in the past. The people believed in him, in his abilities to alleviate their own pain and suffering. Sorin knew that was what people expected of him.

Humans seek escape from their own struggles and fate.

It was suffocating.

Still, he continued with his duty, reaching out his hands to those who needed his help. Sorin could feel a glimpse of their pain, suffering, and fears that the demonic energy in him buzzed with need.

Sorin moved his gaze to Ophelia, whose complexion had turned pale. With masked worry, he approached the Saintess "Saintess Ophelia, are you okay?" he asked.

Ophelia gave him a tight smile, Sorin noticed the sweat from her forehead and the way she tightly clutched her white robes "Ah, yes. Thank you for worrying, Saint Sorin. I just feel a little bit dizzy." she answered.

He took a handkerchief from his pocket, handing it to her "Please, take care of your health, Saintess." he smiled before returning back to the podium.

He watched as Ophelia's servants fawned over her, she couldn't even do her duty properly, and yet people worship her.

They worship him;

Sorin, who had sworn his loyalty to the monarch of all demons.

He couldn't help but chuckle a little at the thought.

'Seriously, Lucifer, what are you turning me into?'

Still, Sorin doesn't entirely hate the people of the empire. He had met ones who were genuinely kind, those who just wanted a peaceful life.

Sorin does not care for humanity but he still cares for the individuals. He pities the innocent and fragile lives of the people.

A young boy stood shaking in front of him, with dark hair similar to Sorin's and piercing blue eyes. His clothes looked well-tailored and high quality to be just a normal commoner's.

Sorin smiled in an attempt to comfort the young boy "Is there something wrong?" he asked gently. The boy didn't respond and instead, a hitched breath escaped his pouted lips.

The boy looked like he was about to burst into tears, Sorin recognized the expression of fear on his face. The way his heart quickened at the Saint's presence.

This boy knew something.

He trembled in front of Sorin, his eyes not once meeting the saint. He was looking at something behind Sorin-

It took a lot of effort for Sorin's expression not to crack- it seemed like this child could see 'everything'- The demonic magic from Sorin despite his best attempts to conceal it.

***

He tried to touch the young boy, disguised as a blessing but before his palms could reach the child's head, he let out a scream.

"No! No!" the child cried in a panic, stumbling away from Sorin. The other people at the plaza noticed the commotion, viewing the young boy as disrespectful.

Sorin faked a surprised expression but the child was already cowering in fear. Hiding his face from Sorin.

"Oh, dear! Your Holiness, we apologize for the disrespect." A sudden voice cut through Sorin's thoughts, he met the gaze of an older woman running to the child, behind her was a man who looked exactly like the child.

They ushered the child back-up way too forcefully "Adrien! How dare you?" he heard the man whisper to the boy.

"F-father... I don't want to..." the child sobbed.

The woman, the child's mother, gave Sorin an apologetic bow "Oh, your Holiness, we really didn't mean..." she stopped mid-sentence to glare harshly towards the boy.

"We brought him here because we suspect that he's suffering from mental illness, maybe an evil spirit has possessed him." she said to Sorin, not bothered by the fact that her own child could hear her.

"Mother, please... t-there's something." Adrien pointed at Sorin, his stubby fingers shaking.

"Shhh... Adrien. Enough." His father snapped "Apologize to the Saint."

Adrien eyed Sorin for a quick second, biting his lips but still bowing his head before running away. Both his parents apologized for their child's actions but could see the anger radiating from them.

It seemed like the child is not treated well at home, Sorin caught a glance of bruises underneath the child's sleeves.

"Interesting." he hummed to himself.