The sound of bones snapping apart filled Lucius's ears as he made his way towards Deimos, blade in hand. His shoulder writhed around until his skin and clothes broke apart; a bone burst from his shoulder and Deimos ripped it out to wield as a blade.

As his skin closed up, he explained:

"My ability is the unbounded manipulation of my own skeleton, and it's stronger than steel."

Lucius only responded with silence as he inched closer to the Demon of Limbo.

"Why do you fight? You know you won't win. Is it willpower? The chance that you just might win? How foolish."

Once Lucius was close, pain screamed at his legs as Deimos bent one of his kneecaps back with a brutal front kick, forcing him to his knee. Immediately after, Lucius's face was almost impaled by bone, but the demon hunter blocked it with the flat side of his own; the resonance of metal clashing filled their ears.

"Willpower is nothing but delusion founded by despair," Deimos continued.

The nihilistic venom of his words seeped into and spread throughout Lucius's mind; its darkness slowly dwindled the fire of determination that burned within him. And it was that fire sputtering out which gave way to Lucius believing he couldn't overcome the demon that scarred him as a child.

The fire within him burned, nonetheless. And so, Lucius slowly rose to his feet and shoved Deimos away with his sword; the demon stumbled back, but did not let up. After securing proper footing, Deimos's bone sword was swung overhead; it whistled through the air as it aimed to split Lucius's face.

But the demon hunter was quicker on the draw, and he would be the one to decide the battle's outcome. He put his life's worth of built-up resentment, depression, and all negative emotions towards Deimos in his next attack.

Thus, Lucius swiftly interrupted his killing blow, for the demon's attacking arm was cleaved off with a rising slash before the demon hunter's face was divided by half. The flowers crumbled as Deimos's limb made the ground its new home.

He clutched where his arm no longer was and fell to his knees in defeat. Black blood painted the decaying field of flowers–and his other hand–in periodic splatters and gushes. No pain in his face, only desolation.

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It only took one stroke.

"So you've done it," he conceded. "Finish me."

Lucius loved it, seeing Deimos kneeling before him. He had bested him. In a morbid way, his childhood trauma had been soothed, as though the people he lost at Deimos's hands forgave him at last. Victory had never felt so vindictive before. He rested his blade over his shoulder and approached the kneeling demon.

"Before that, let me ask you: Why did you do it? Was it personal or were you not thinking when your group murdered the people that took care of me?"

Nothing from the demon; he only looked down.

"Tell me or I'll take the other arm, Deimos."

Suddenly, his gaze shot up at Lucius and a skeletal hand burst out of his face in a gnarly manner. It instantly seized Lucius's throat and began strangling him with a strength he could not wrest from. Realizing the feeling of conquering his demon was for naught, the hunter's past woes returned to him as quickly as they left.

When Deimos rose to his feet, Lucius was easily lifted with him and gurgling noises escaped his throat as he attempted to breathe.

"Interesting. Even now, at the throes of death, you still struggle. Why is that? Is it your heart? If I gouge it out, will you still fight? Will that fire in your eyes still burn?"

Lucius, on the verge of blacking out, could not answer; all he could do was attempt to pry the fingers strangling the life out of him. The sound of bones snapping preceded a spike protruding from Deimos's palm.

"Let us find out."

There was nothing left to do. He closed his eyes.

Finally, Lucius felt it and let it consume him.

Despair.

But, before the curtains were drawn on the demon hunter's life, a gunshot rang out followed by a thnk sound. Lucius opened his eyes to see a hole in the side of Deimos's head.

Someone shot him, and black blood squirted out of where he was.

Then, more gunshots sounded off, and it was followed by a series of bullets burrowing into the demon's skull with blood spraying out. Deimos, unresponsive, collapsed, and Lucius was finally dropped to his knees. He could breathe again and he did so heavily.

He got to his feet while looking to his side–to where the shots came from–and saw Vera looking down the barrel of a smoking gun, and relief washed over him like never before. If she was alive, then there's a chance the others were as well.

"Don't worry about the others, they're alive and asleep. Anyway, hey, Lucy," she spoke with a smile on her scarred face before holstering her gun.

"It's Lucius," he replied.

"Same thing."

"Lucy's a name for girls."

"What are you, five? It's cute."

Lucius huffed.

"Damn that demon. I looked good before he cut my face," she continued.

"You still do," he replied bluntly.

Vera blinked a few times while looking at Lucius with disbelief in her eyes.

"Really?" she replied in a softer tone with reddened cheeks.

"Yeah."

The two locked eyes in silence. He was glad to have her–and the others–here and alive, especially after the great losses that weighed upon him.

Their intimate staring contest was interrupted and they huddled together when they heard the decrepit grass rustling. Deimos's body was supposed to be fading away.

It arose instead.