Agony.

There was no other word for it. Nothing that could truly capture just how painful it was. Everything up until that point - the burning hunger pains, the torture inflicted by Lucifer's overwhelming magic, the wounds sustained time and time again - was all mere contrivances compared to the sting of the King of Demon's sword; a weapon forged through pure Creation. Even the bite of Diate's spear couldn't compare.

As soon as the tip of the reformed helicopter rotor pressed against his skin, Cobalt was assaulted by the worst sensation he had ever experienced, the likes of which he had never felt before. Time seemed to slow for the Incubus as inch after agonising inch of the white-hot blade was pushed into his chest, splitting his flesh apart as it cut through muscle and bone. Every cell in his body seemed to protest in unison, their unified screaming drowning out the pain left by Lucifer's previous assault.

"I told you; I made you, and thus I can unmake you. Creation can rip you apart at the seams, and you will feel it a thousand times as intensely in a mere thousandth of a second," the Devil king hissed, gripping the sword tight as he pushed it further into Cobalt's torso.

Tortured as he was, the only reply Cobalt could muster was a terrified gutter, blood pouring from his mouth in an incontrollable stream. It bubbled and boiled as it spilled onto the ground, freezing and crystalising as soon as it made contact with the broken cobbles underfoot. He could feel the blade narrowly slice past his heart, tearing out of his back after what felt like an eternity.

"But that would be too easy. For standing in my way, you of all people deserve to be made an example of. So how shall we go about it?"

He began to twist the sword, intensifying the pain beyond what Cobalt thought was possible. He could feel his mind rearing itself apart trying to comprehend it, but even as his very thoughts turned to mindless, incoherent babbling, the agony was crystal clear. His skin cracked and warped, seeping boiling blood as the underlying fat layers began to bubble and churn.

"The things I could do... I could cover every inch of your body in nerves. Let every moment be torture."

His insides were on the outside, coiling through his body like fanged serpents. His bones twisted and snapped, piercing outwards in an effort to rip themselves free.

"I could calcify your skeleton. Render you a living statue to pose and break as I see fit."

Still the blade turned and the torture worsened. Cobalt's vision shimmered and warped as his optic nerves were stretched and distorted. His very brain was set aflame; hot and cold at the same time.

"Or I could grind your pathetic little mind into paste, and leave you wandering the endless halls of a psyche that's no longer yours. The options are truly endless."

Twisting and twisting, round and around; the agony ebbed and flowed, a constant spiraling that never ceased. Even as Cobalt could feel his very being split apart at the seams, the blade of Creation kept him lucid. His heart kept beating as Lucifer grabbed his scorched, shredded face, forcing him to look up into his eyes.

"But truth be told, cur; all I want right now is to kill you. To scatter your very molecules to the wind. The urge is... overwhelming."

Creation tingled through Cobalt's head, reforming his obliterated jaw just enough to allow him to speak.

"M- Make... it... s- s- stop...!" the Incubus gargled, his voice warped into something completely unrecognisable.

Lucifer sighed, tightening his grip as the bone crushed and liquefied beneath his grasp.

"... Perhaps I will. But I'll take my time. So enjoy it while you can."

Letting go, the King of Demons gripped the sword's handle in both hands, his eyes flashing with a thousand different hues as the raw, primal force of Creation itself flooded through the steel blade and into Cobalt's body. Time stretched as seconds took minutes to pass, and as his senses bled away one by one, all he could feel was the blinding, deafening agony.

And once he was left with nothing but the pain of his bones crumbling, his flesh putrefying and his blood slowing to a halt, the Incubus turned his focus inwards.

They said one's entire life flashed before their eyes before they died, too fast to properly digest. With his perception of time as warped as it was, perhaps he could finally take a good, long look at himself before his brain grew too mangled to form thoughts any longer.

However, where Cobalt expected to witness a battery of memories he never recalled, he instead found himself assault by a sheer, unfettered emotions, spurred by strange, almost nonsensical thoughts.

Freshly washed shirts. Sweet perfume. Burnt cinnamon and whiskey. Peeling yellow wallpaper. Broken pens and spilled ink. Drying grass on a summer day. Daisies ringing the Phrodival crater. Lake waves, lapping over and over. Red ink circles around incorrect answers. Lunchboxes filled with ice-cream. Ozone after rainfall. Bright, blinding, electric blues. Watercress on rye. Sunlight shining through the infirmary curtains. Detergent on linoleum, wafting off the freshly-mopped floors. Oily fingerprints on kitchen appliances. Soft snores permeating Language class. Plucked violin strings. Humming and brushing.

Red hair that smelled like smoke. Dimples in cheeks during rare moments of happiness. Dancing of fingers across fretboards. A thousand nicknames for a thousand people. Lamplight glinting off thick round glasses. Disinfectant and metallic ringing.

The taste of another, fleeting upon the tongue.

Though his form was barely cohesive anymore, through all the confusion, Cobalt Trayer found himself weeping, lamenting not the things he had forgotten, but rather the things he had forsaken. The parts of his life he had pushed away and denied to himself.

The experiences he had.

The hearts he had broken.

The wounds left unmended.

The love never realised.

And at some point during that long, painful process - awash in his own blood and tears - Cobalt came to a single, simple conclusion.

He didn't want to die.

He didn't want to die...!

"I- I..."

Lucifer raised an eyebrow.

"You have a lot of fight in you for a schoolteacher. It won't be enough," he grumbled, intensifying the surge of primal energy.

With shaking, malformed hands, he flimsily grasped at the sword, streaking its pristine surface with the bloody slurry that his flesh had become.

"... c- can't...!"

The Devil tutted and shoved the sword as deep as it would go. On and on the pain escalated, but Cobalt just gritted what was left of his teeth.

"... d- die...!"

He wrapped his twisted fingers around the sword. Faces flashed across his ruined mind. Seven of them.

"... Not... like... this...!"

With what few strands of control he had left, the incubus tapped deep into the carnal embers smouldering in his gut; the last vestiges of a dying, bestial flame. He pledged everything he had unto it, desperate to claw back some semblance of control. To control his fate, even just a little bit. To stand tall against the forces trying to break him.

And the flame - that damnable, Incupsychotic flame - obliged him.

It ignited with aplomb, spreading through his mangled body with renewed fervour, restoring the barest hints of cohesive sensation. His bones burned with the memories of his father's words, piecing themselves together as fresh teeth sprouted from reforming gums. His flesh prickled and stung, with every hair standing on end in an effort to resist Lucifer's onslaught. He noticed the Incubus' resistance, scowling with annoyance as he focused his efforts at reducing Cobalt down to nothing.

Creation versus carnimancy. One preceded the other, and yet there the two forces clashed, stuck in a deadlock as the Incubus' body ceased falling to pieces.

But despite Lucifer's best efforts, slowly - painfully slowly - Cobalt began to piece himself back together.

He tightened his grip, feeling his muscles constrict and tighten, empowering him with the Incupsychotic strength that he had reviled for so long. He knew it was weak and tenuous compared to what he had commanded in the past, but this... it was enough. He plumbed his memories for every scrap of emotion he could get; joy, rage, terror, sorrow, shock... even his moments of madness. The thoughts of what he was leaving behind - what he had done to place himself in this position - tore through his mind, bubbling to the surface as his skin knitted itself back together. His body remembered who he was, replacing every burn and scar, letting them glow red with fiery intensity as if to show his defiance before the might of Lucifer himself. The Devil's bemusement turned to frustration, before it quickly devolved into fury.

"What fucking insolence is this...?!" he roared, doing everything he could to try and rip the sword clean through Cobalt.

But before he could begin to slice the Incubus apart, a flash of maddened inspiration struck the Incubus. The muscle and bone within his chest snapped tight around the blade, shattering it clean in two. As fragments of steel rained down around them both, he screamed and ripped the broken sword's blade from his flesh, gasping for breath as the wound painfully knit itself back together. As the white steel gradually faded, Cobalt stared at the reflection of his face in the bloodstained metal.

There he was. For better or for worse. Just how he remember him always looking.

Still here. Still alive.

For better or for worse...

The blade slipped from his grasp. His legs buckled. His arms fell by his side as he toppled to his knees. That brief wildfire of strength left as soon as it came. His bones, his muscles, his skin... they fell numb and lifeless.

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And the fire in his gut... it died. Reduced to little more than a cold, ashen hollow.

"... That's that, then..." the Incubus murmured, feeling the last of his strength drain away.

He couldn't feel the hunger. Only the ache of starvation.

"You...! You little...!"

Cobalt looked up to see Lucifer standing just a few feet from him, gripping the shattered sword tightly as he stared at it, eyes ablaze. There was no hiding it now; he was furious. With an enraged cry, he threw the useless weapon aside and grabbed Cobalt by the throat, hoisting him off the ground.

"Do you think you've done something here, cur? Do you think you've proven a point? Hm?" he asked, his voice a low and spiteful hiss.

Taking a shaky breath, Cobalt took a moment to collect himself. The enervation was overwhelming; he couldn't have struggled even if he wanted to.

"Is this what Lilith would have wanted for you?" he asked, his legs dangling below him.

"Do not talk of that traitor now-!"

"I'm talking about your wife."

Cold, blinding rage. He could feel it in the air all around Lucifer. And yet having had the fight completely drained from him, Cobalt no longer felt the instinct to protect himself from the Devil lord's wrath. He'd say his piece, even if it was the last thing he said.

"She loved you. She loved your people. She loved your creations. Lilith... told me about her, but I felt her memories too. Her mother wouldn't have wanted this. Not for Hell. Not for Earth. Not for you."

Reaching up, Cobalt weakly wrapped his fingers around Lucifer's wrist.

"It's not too late. You can fix this," he pleaded.

The Devil went silent. For a long time, all they could hear was the panic of the city around them and the night wind as it howled through the twisted metal ringing the plaza.

"... You aid and abet my hellion daughter. You stand in defiance of your betters. You make a mockery of the sentence I render upon you. And you expect what, exactly? For me to see the error of my ways? To pack up and go home?" he breathed.

Lucifer tightened his grasp, cutting off Cobalt's air.

"I tried you as a beast, and you refused to bend. I tried you as an adversary, and you refused to break. And for the crime of daring to think you could possibly use my wife's memory against me...!"

He bared his teeth, his eyes aglow with power.

"I'll try you as I do those I truly, truly despise! I will have you sobbing before me before I grant you the mercy of death you cur~!"

He spread his wings and took off into the air, almost snapping the Incubus' neck in the process. Hurtling through the air, limp and exhausted, all Cobalt could do was shut his eyes as both he and the King of Demons flew back through the rift above the Luxor Obelisk. It sealed up behind them, plunging Place de la Concorde - one of the busiest squares in the city - into a dark, eerie silence.

-----

When Lucifer tore back through the veil between worlds, he slammed Cobalt down onto the platform with enough force to briefly knock the Incubus out. For a few brief moments, he was plunged into the welcoming embrace of unconsciousness, only to be wrenched back to the land of the living as a pair of hands suddenly grabbed his horns. He cried out in pain as Lucifer forced him to stand up, his face the very picture of divine fury.

"I don't think you understand your position, cur. Look around you," he told him, forcing him to peer around the chamber.

In the time they had spent on the Earth, more Devils had filled the chamber, standing shoulder-to-shoulder as they ringed the central dais. Lilith was being pinned to the ground by three soldiers, and despite both their best efforts and the backlash from the broken contract, she was still putting up a good fight.

But she wasn't alone, either.

"You monster...!" Cobalt gasped upon noticing the other demons held captive by the Devils.

The girls.

Jelli screamed upon clapping eyes on Lucifer, her legs giving out as the Devils holding her arms forced her to stand. Whitney and Quinn both struggled against their captors, while Elya and Lottie were shaking like leaves, both petrified to the core. It took three Devils to support Izzbelle; the blood oozing from her head betraying her unconscious state.

And Karazelle. For all the world, she looked calm, even as a pair of Devils kept their crossbows trained upon her back. She met Cobalt's gaze. He could decipher what that look in her eyes was.

"They've got nothing to do with- AGH!" the Incubus protested, crying out as he was forced to look back into Lucifer's eyes.

"I don't care. You think you can take what's mine, cur? Fine. I'll take what's yours."

Taking a deep breath, the King of Devils gripped his horns tight, enough to make the nerves inside scream.

"But first, I will retrieve what rightfully belongs to me. And I'll start with these."

With one foot braced upon Cobalt's chest, Lucifer kicked the Incubus down the stairs, right as he twisted and pulled with all of his might. Cobalt's horns didn't stand a chance.

They snapped right off; the left one ripping right off as the right was split straight across the middle. The tightly bundled nerves screamed in unison, setting Cobalt's entire nervous system ablaze as blood sprayed from the ruptured vessels. Stars danced at the edge of his vision as every muscle in his body began to spasm uncontrollably, and as he struck the stone steps, he tumbled to the floor of the chamber in a heap, twitching and gasping. He couldn't scream. He could barely breathe. All Cobalt could do was watch Lucifer stand there, clutching the pieces of broken horn in both hands.

"Decimation," he said simply, folding his arms.

The soldiers stood to attention all around them, eliciting cries of panic from Cobalt's students.

"A classic punishment. A tenth of one's forces are designated for eradication, to be carried out by their own comrades. Some attribute it to the humans. No. It was an idea of my own making."

Cobalt's watering eyes widened. Diate. The day he forced a gun into his hand and told him to choose.

No.

Please.

Not again.

"You say they're not involved in this grand act of insolence? Fine. I'll cut them loose, so long as you do one simple task for me."

He tossed his horn down the steps. It clanged dully on the way down, landing at Cobalt's side with a clatter. Shivering all over, Cobalt tentatively reached for it, his hands slicked with blood and sweat. It felt so familiar, yet so lifeless and alien. His left horn...

"Choose one for the slaughter. And be sure to make a show of it."

The incubus stared at the bloody horn in his hand.

"Try to argue or turn it on yourself, then my men will shoot them all dead. You're not walking out of here alive, cur, but if you have any sense left in that mangled head of yours, then you'll do what's best for your little friends here."

"N- No... not again..."

"You have one minute. Decide."

The doors slammed open as someone marched in.

"Apologies for the wait, my lord! I was suffering... delays!" a proper voice called out.

The King of Demons frowned and gave the intruding subordinate a curt nod.

"... And that makes ten. Drop him with the other cur," Lucifer commanded.

"As you wish."

Someone was dumped onto the ground next to Cobalt. He didn't want to look; he feared that he already knew who it was.

"One minute, cur. Starting now."

Shaking all over, the Incubus looked over to the man by his side, his heart plummeting at the sight. Brass Trayer, beaten and bloodied, lying upon his back as he arduously drew breath. He wasn't moving, save for the rise and fall of his chest and the blinking of his eyes. He turned to look at his son, his eyes flecked with broken blood vessels.

"Big man's flunky told me everythin', son," the older Incubus guttered.

Blood was crusted at the corners of his mouth, and his skin was unusually pale.

"D- Dad..." Cobalt responded, tears welling in the corners of his eyes.

He looked up at the rest of the demons. All eyes were on him; hurt, terrified, betrayed eyes. He remembered how they stared at him that day in the school's basement. The same fear. The same dread.

But this was no sick joke. No test. There was no empty gun in Cobalt's hand, just the sharpened horn of the man who was to wield it.

"Didn't see this at the end of the road... But Hell, when did I ever predict anythin' right?" Brass said, his voice weak and faint.

He took a shaking breath.

"You know what you gotta do, Cobalt."

He turned his gaze back to his father, eyes wide with shock.

"What?! Dad, no!"

"Fifty seconds!" Lucifer barked, folding his arms.

Brass craned his neck to face Cobalt. It looked like even the smallest of movements pained him greatly.

"I'm dead weight now, son. Don't worry, I-"

"No! Shut up! D- Don't say that!"

The horn fell to the ground as he grabbed his face, wincing as a surge of pain pulsed out from his forehead. Sweat poured down his back as he gasped from breath, his heart hammering faster and faster. He could feel no heat where the hunger usually was; just cold, unbridled terror.

"Forty seconds!"

"I won't feel a thing, son," Brass said, trying and failing to reach for him.

"No! I- I just got you back!"

The older Incubus forced a smile. Tears were streaking down from the corners of his eyes.

"I- I know. I know. It hurts me too. But I ain't afraid of dyin', Cobalt. Look at me. Please."

Wiping his eyes, he turned to look his father in the eyes.

"I didn't think I'd get this far. You know that. All this time I got to spend with you... it's all just gravy, son. More than I ever expected. And I am so, so proud of you."

A frail, weakened hand twitched. Grabbing it, Cobalt reached up and pressed the palm against his face. His skin was cold and clammy.

"Thirty seconds!"

"You don't got time to think, Cobalt. Just promise me you'll get them outta here," the Incubus guttered, blinking his vision clear.

"D- Dad...!"

"It ain't gonna hurt. I promise."

"I- I can't do this...!"

"Yes you can. You can, and you will. I'll feel nothin'."

"I'm not gonna kill you, Dad!"

"Twenty seconds!"

Brass furrowed his brow.

"I ain't gonna ask again, son! Do it!" he coughed, splattering blood everywhere.

Every single rational and irrational thought railed against it. His very body tried to hold him back as he picked the horn up in a shaking hand. But he still did it; he couldn't refute his father's words.

"I- I'm sorry...!" Cobalt sobbed, raising the horn high.

"Ten seconds!"

Brass' face softened, glistening in the lamplight.

"... I love you, son. Don't forget that."

"I- I won't. I'm sorry!"

Gripping the horn tight, Cobalt swung it downwards, piercing the iron spike through Brass' sternum. He gasped as blood splattered from the wound, but before he could pull back, his father grasped his arm.

"I- It's okay! It's okay, I promise! I- I don't feel nothin'!" he breathed, forcing on a smile.

He weakly tugged at the arm, guiding his son to slowly rip his chest open. Flesh tore and bone gave way, all the while Brass guttered and gasped, bleeding his last with a reassuring smile on his face. He looked his boy in the eyes - his gaze so full of love and pride - and delivered to him one finally message.

"K- Kiss your mom for me, will you? T- Tell her... tell her I...!"

Cobalt nodded understandingly, blinded from the tears.

"I will Dad...!"

He pushed the horn as deep as it would go. The old Incubus' eyes widened. His breath caught in his throat. He dug his nails into his son's arm.

In the span of a single minute, Brass Atticus Trayer died in his son's arms. His eyes glazed over as his arms fell limp by his side, his breath releasing for the final time. The tears were pouring down Cobalt's face thick and fast, the world around him falling away into a silent, blurry mess. The stomping of Devilish boots, the barking of their leader, the cries of his students... He was deaf to all of it.

Cobalt knelt there before the maimed corpse of his father, his own body just as battered and broken. Amidst the muffled chaos all around him, he heard a most peculiar noise.

The sound of dozens upon dozens of chains, breaking open all at once.

A small, paradoxical smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.

And he laughed.