The scream that tore its way out of Rodrigo’s throat as his brother died in his arms was one of the most wretched sounds Resent had heard in his 431 years. The cries of tortured souls in their death throes paled by comparison. Resent watched through Rodrigo’s watery eyes as the nebulae binding Carlito’s arms behind him dissipated, and they dropped limply to his sides. The boy made every effort to revive his brother, from shaking and slapping at him, to more thought out, equally futile attempts, like using his sword to cut open his own palm and forcing the blood past his brother’s still parted lips. Resent would have explained that regeneration wasn’t transferable, and that even if it was, it was too late. But then, with a sudden callous acceptance, Rodrigo let Carlito’s corpse slip from his embrace and sink into the white fluff at his feet.

“The child’s willpower was impressive,” Misery said from behind him, and Resent could feel as every muscle in Rodrigo’s body tensed, tauter than a fully drawn bowstring. “Few humans are able to resist possession at all, let alone from a demon as adept as Jezebeth. But in the end, he merely hastened his own demise. Such a foolish sacr—”

The crack of breaking bones startled Resent. It had happened so fast, his vision blurred from the motion. Rodrigo had spun, flinging himself forward, and smashing his right fist up into Misery’s bearded chin. Predictably, every one of his knuckles shattered against the solidity of it. But the blow had also knocked Misery’s head back, exposing his throat as something in his square jaw popped.

Rodrigo gripped the wrapped hilt of his sword tighter in his left hand, his glove now slick with his brother’s blood, and stabbed at Misery’s throat. Misery raised an arm in defense, and the blade, pilfered from a foot soldier, clashed against the armor of royalty with a screech, and found itself lacking. It snapped in half and the boy was left grasping a broken weapon as useful as his blinding fury. In truth, he was a weakling, and his only successes in battle came from his cunning use of the nebulae. Abandoning them now was a testament to any sense he once possessed having died alongside his brother. Knowing that, Resent should have taken control immediately, but Misery’s behavior was peculiar. He seemed less interested in subduing the boy than in assessing him.

Misery struck Rodrigo in the solar plexus with the round pommel of his sword, knocking the breath out of him, and then pulled him in close by his frayed scarf. “You know, the main inquiry I had for Heinrik, was why you? Of the numerous humans in this world to have hidden Resent in, why go to such lengths to seek an unremarkable youth? I was at a loss at the time. Yet seeing you before me now, I have a theory.”

The boy likely wasn’t even hearing the words, let alone comprehending them, but to Resent, what Misery was implying was obvious, because it was a suspicion he had long harbored. A half-breed. Even in Hell they were a rarity, despite how much...intermingling went on between the two species. Most were killed in their infancy as they were a source of great shame to humans and demons alike, and those that weren’t, were ostracized by both parties. If that was indeed the case, it was no wonder Heinrik never explained his choice of Resent’s vessel.

Rodrigo slashed at Misery’s eyes with the sole remaining spike on his broken blade, but Misery caught his wrist and crushed the bones in it so thoroughly that it resembled loose flesh. If the boy felt any pain, he masked it well, refusing to drop his sword as razor-sharp nebulae erupted from the point where the blade had fractured. Misery cocked his head to avoid being impaled by the branching darkness, and Resent saw the curiosity in his former mentor’s gaze ebb away, and be replaced with a detached, lethal calm.

Misery clouted Rodrigo on the temple with the back of his fist, and the boy’s entire body whirled from the blow as his sword flew out of his grip. He hit the ground in a daze, the blood leaking from his forehead staining the snow red. The usurper’s strength was certainly a cut above the average demon’s, but it wasn’t on a par with that of Resent’s in his own body, or even that second-rate conqueror, Xanthos’. It was his nethntine gauntlets with the bolts over the knuckles that made his punches dangerous.

Now that Misery was through toying with them, Resent tried to take control, but in that irksome way that spoke of his dual-heritage, Rodrigo prevented it. He was barely holding his torso up with his battered hands as black spots started to overtake his vision.

“Enough!” Resent roared. “I don’t care whether you deluded yourself into thinking you ever actually stood a chance, or if you intended to die here as some form of atonement. I allowed you your tantrum, but you will sabotage me no further.”

Just then, nine gunshots rang out through the storm in rapid succession. Of the nine enchanted bullets, only two slightly missed Misery, while six more collided with his armor in harmless orange flares. The last one managed to graze his left ear, melting the lobe before a disbelieving Misery snuffed out the growing flame with a swat.

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In the distance stood the female brat, Raquel, shakily reloading her pistol as she edged closer. “Get away from my brother, right now!”

At the sight of her, the boy appeared to come out of his murderous rage. He had fallen into despair surrounded by the dead, dying, and injured, and in his regained clarity, it seemed to dawn on him just how outclassed he was. “Raquel, that’s the King of Hell. Get out of here!”

“I don’t care who he is. I won’t just run away and let him kill my family,” Raquel said. To Misery, she stammered, “I’ll g-give you one chance to turn around and leave, you...you gorilla, or next time, I’ll shoot to kill.”

Perfectly composed, Misery strode toward Raquel, sword in hand. Summoning an admirable amount of courage, she fired off shot after shot at him. Using the flat of the blade, he blocked each one that neared his face with a flick of his wrist. Even with the leisurely pace he was moving at, the gap would be closed in seconds. And then all it would take was a single slice to cleave her in two.

“Tear him apart,” Rodrigo hissed, finally losing consciousness. Resent didn’t appreciate the commanding tone, like the boy was letting loose a hunting hound, but in this case, they were of one mind. As soon as Resent was back in control, he hopped to his feet and stumbled, his head aching with nearly unbearable agony. Misery had exercised no restraint in that punch. A normal human would have permanent brain damage, if the impact didn’t kill them outright. And that, Resent realized, was why Misery felt it was safe to turn his back on him. He expected him to do the sensible thing and use the brat as a sacrifice to give the organ time to regenerate. But the boy would have a worse conniption if he lost his sister as well, and become even more intolerable.

Raquel was retreating as she reloaded. Misery was only a few feet away from her now. “Are you not scared, girl?”

“Nope,” Raquel said, although the tremble in her voice had spread to the rest of her body. She fired off two shots before Misery lifted his sword high.

So engrossed by the idea of decapitating the girl, the usurper failed to notice Resent barreling at him until the nebulous enveloped uppercut rammed into his cheek. Misery tumbled to the ground and Resent wasted no time in straddling him. Using the nebulae to compensate for the disparity in strength being in this body created, he held the arm Misery was still gripping his sword with in place. With the index finger and pinky of his right hand inches from Misery’s skull, there was no chance of him cheating death again.

“No half-dead Brute to trip me up and save you this time,” Resent growled.

With his free hand, Misery didn’t strike him or try to break free. He merely reached up and touched one of the obsidian gemstones on the crown.

The scenery changed from the storm to an oval-shaped chamber with pools of dark boiling water on either side about twenty feet below the ground. A few feet away was a long row of steps that led to the throne. It was an uncomfortable-looking thing, sculpted in the image of the skull of their liberator, the diavolik that bore three horns, and the basis for the crown. The same insignia was present in some form on the attire of every member of Dreadmus’ military.

Because of the brain damage he was still regenerating from, Resent’s understanding was delayed until he recognized the symbol directly underneath himself and Misery. The ruler’s private portal. To instantaneously return to this exact spot in the throne room, no matter your location. He had only seen his father use the crown in such a way a handful of times. Nonetheless, he should have anticipated this.

Misery punched Resent in the throat, knocking him off. This was maddening! He still wasn’t accustomed to being so feeble. In all his decades sparring with Misery, he could always overpower him at close quarters. Using a blade had been the one reason he could challenge Resent.

“A fitting setting for our final confrontation,” Misery mused, a note of self-pity in his voice as he rose to his feet. “Right where you assassinated him, and I was nowhere in sight to stop you. In truth, neither of us is a worthy successor, failures that we are.”

“You still cling to this fallacy that I committed patricide?” Resent asked, eager to keep Misery talking so his own wounds could heal. “And assassination? Have you ever known me to engage in such cowardice? No. Unlike you, I’ve always taken the direct approach to my battles.”

“As I told you before, there were several witnesses who swore even under the most rigorous torture that they saw you disposing of your father’s corpse. It has been fifteen years. Take responsibility for your actions at last, you filth!”

Resent scoffed. “It’s no secret I would have been thrilled to kill Strife, but another stole the opportunity from me. I never had any reason to lie about this and your insistence to the contrary proves one of two things. Either your unrequited adoration of my father has made you irrational, much like I’d expect from a human. Or, you disposed of him in a way specific enough to incriminate me and pull off this grand scheme of yours that landed you on the throne.”

“I was nothing until your father found me!” Misery barked. “Just another low-class demon with an aptitude for violence. To even entertain such lunacy shows the lack of comprehension you had for our relationship.”

“Even if I had killed him, who are you to condemn me? Whether blood-related or not, many a demon has killed their predecessor to succeed them. Rarely has it been considered a crime. If it were left to the council—”

Misery leveled his sword at him and one of two clear jewels embedded in the cross-guard, mistaken for adornment until now, lit up in a bright green. Faster than Resent could react, a bolt of lightning emitted from the blade’s tip and pierced through his chest. He sank to the floor.

In Resent’s fading vision, the nebulae-given scar under Misery’s left eye stretched as he spoke, as if it was taunting the prince for this second defeat against his inferior. “I suppose it was the correct decision not to await their judgment.”