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Arbious had returned from the depths of hell to his domain in the human world. His intense gaze was fixated out the window, thoughts swirling like a tempest within his mind. Alpos, once brimming with potential, had proven woefully inadequate. It baffled Arbious; how could someone with the power he had bestowed upon Alpos falter so terribly? The notion that Alpos might have turned traitor, as Morgana had claimed, gnawed at him. The idea was disconcerting, but he couldn't dismiss Morgana's words, given her genuine affection for him.

Yet, he pondered Alpos's ultimate motive. Why had the hellfire forges lain dormant for so long? How had they lost the entirety of the fourth sector to mere humans and a lone angel, who now dared to set up camp outside their walls?

The power dynamics in hell had evidently shifted during his absence, leading to the emergence of a democratic system. Alpos was no longer the unchallenged powerhouse. Though he had ascended to the rank of a doom guard, his strength still fell short. It seemed that in his absence, matters had spiraled out of control, leaving Alpos with no alternative course of action. It was a letdown, to say the least.

Morgana, on the other hand, had exceeded expectations. Despite Arbious's personal reservations about her, she had proven her worth. Her demon cultists had deeply entrenched themselves in Octavia, and as he ruminated, their influence continued to expand.

One undeniable truth remained—Alpos's motivation and the fire that once burned within him had dimmed. He had once looked up to Arbious, his enthusiasm rekindling upon his master's return. It was as if Alpos were a child eager to display his achievements to his parents, yet with Arbious's prolonged absence, that spark had dwindled to nothingness. This, Arbious concluded, was the heart of the matter.

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His breath became increasingly erratic, and his body trembled in agony. Chains bound his wrists tightly to his sides, and his legs were immobilized by unyielding restraints. The boy suffering in this cruel predicament was none other than Fear. Approximately a day had passed since his injury, but his condition had taken a perilous turn. His fever raged uncontrollably, and an unrelenting itch tormented every inch of his body. By his side, his sister sat, diligently replacing the cold, wet towels on his fevered forehead. It was an attempt to alleviate his suffering, for he had scratched himself raw in the past.

Even now, he screamed at the top of his lungs, tormented by the malevolent energies that enveloped him. They gnawed at his flesh and burrowed into his very being, as if a swarm of relentless ants biting him incessantly. His eyes remained wide open, and he convulsed against his restraints, pleading desperately, "JUST KILL ME ALREADY! PLEASE!"

Celestie shook her head, her heart heavy with anguish. "You'll BE FINE! I'LL TAKE CARE OF YOU! JUST CALM DOWN!"

Fear's struggles continued unabated, rendering him deaf to his sister's words. Celestie felt powerless, knowing that there were no priests nearby, and she had yet to inform her master of her brother's dire situation. But now, she had no other recourse. She had to implore Arbious for help. With that resolve, she replaced the towel on her brother's forehead with another soaked in cold water, placing a gentle kiss on his cheek. "I'll figure something out, brother! Hang in there!"

Hurriedly, Celestie left the room, making her way out of the infirmary and into the grand hall of the keep. Arbious often oversaw his dominion from the highest point in the keep, which was his room. She didn't understand why he took such pleasure in this view, but she had, on occasion, eavesdropped or peeked into his room to find him gazing out of the window. Climbing the stairs and passing the guards on their break, she nodded in gratitude, not wanting to inconvenience them further. She pressed on, racing to the highest point of the keep until she stood before his door.

Arbious, a man who had exhibited nothing but malevolence, was inside the room. A man capable of swiftly dispatching two priests in the blink of an eye. She gulped, her trembling hand reaching for the door. Three hesitant knocks followed.

"Come in."

Fear coursed through her veins, but her brother's life hung in the balance. She entered the room, taking in the sight. Arbious stood by the window, his hands holding what appeared to be black flames that dissipated as she entered—a distinct mark of hellfire, and not just any hellfire, but that of the Demon God. Even children knew this fact. Her mind raced; this was all the proof she needed to confirm his demonic nature. However, with her brother's life at stake, revealing his true identity would serve no purpose. He was her only hope in this dire situation, and she sensed that he knew it. His display of the black flames was likely a test of her resolve, or so she thought.

"What is it you want? Are you going to stare at me?" Arbious questioned, his words tinged with malevolence, but time was of the essence. She was paralyzed by fear, but she mustered the courage to speak, her instincts urging her not to flee. "Lord Arb... Arbi... Arbious..." She stuttered. "My brother... he needs your help."

"Your brother?" Arbious questioned, his tone dripping with devilish amusement. "I was under the impression he had a mere cold, nothing more."

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"No... That isn't true. Please... I really need your help! He might die!"

Sensing the urgency in her plea, Arbious considered her words. She had managed to pique his curiosity. "Very well, where is he now?"

"In the infirmary." She replied quickly, opening the door. "Please, we have to go now. I can't watch him suffer!"

She rushed down the stairs, casting anxious glances back at her unhurried master. Arbious seemed lost in thought, but Celestie paid it no heed. All she desired was to alleviate her brother's agony, even if only slightly. "Please, my lord, we need to hurry," she urged, practically begging him to pick up the pace. The five minutes it took for Arbious to descend felt like an eternity. With every step, his robes trailed behind him, a palpable aura of malevolence accompanying him.

"Please, this way, my lord," she urged, leading him to the infirmary. He had never been in this place before, so he was unfamiliar with it.

They descended into the underground and stood before the infirmary door, the agonized screams of Fear echoing from within. Celestie positioned herself between the door and Arbious, her arms outstretched in a protective stance. Arbious, showing an inkling of impatience, inquired, "What is this? I was under the impression you were in a hurry."

She stood her ground and stated firmly, "I want your word that you won't harm him once we go in." It was a cautious request, but given Arbious's malevolent nature, she had no other choice but to extract this promise. Most demons were known to break their promises, but Arbious had exhibited great pride in his tenure at the estate.

Taken aback for a moment, Arbious smiled gently as he placed his hand on her head. Her body quivered with fear, expecting the worst, but his soft voice reassured her, "Don't worry, I won't bring harm to either of you."

With a breath of relief, she stepped aside. Arbious reached forward and opened the door. Inside, Fear continued to struggle against his restraints, his tormenting screams unabated. Celestie followed closely behind Arbious as they entered, rushing to her brother's side. She changed the wet towel on his forehead, while Arbious surveyed the room, making his way toward them. "What is the nature of his injury?"

"He was cut by a plant," she replied, though she couldn't provide the plant's name. Arbious, however, remained undeterred.

As Arbious reached out with his gentle hand, extending it from his robes, he placed it on Fear's head. Instantly, Fear's panic and struggle seemed to ease, and dark tendrils emanated from Fear's mouth, forming a mist that was absorbed into Arbious's palm. Celestie recognized it as dark magic, and she watched in awe as it unfolded before her. What had he done? She questioned herself. With his suffering alleviated, Fear's breathing became less labored, and his eyes slowly closed, as if drifting into a peaceful sleep. "What did you do to him?" She asked, her voice tinged with both curiosity and fear as she looked at her brother.

"Hm," Arbious hummed. His gaze shifted to Celestie, seeking answers. "I removed the hold of the dark magic on him... But the nature of his wound... what plant could have caused such an injury?"

Arbious was now intrigued. Could a mere plant inflict such torment? If so, he had to know more about it. It might prove beneficial for his demonic conquest. However, Celestie, fearing the repercussions of the truth, sought to conceal it from him. "I'm not certain, my lord."

Arbious sensed her racing heart and knew she was lying. With a cold hand on her shoulder, he spoke, "Is this how you show respect to not only your lord but also the man who saved your brother?"

She felt the chill of his touch. Why was he even helping them? Weren't demons inherently evil? What was his true agenda? Celestie couldn't take any more risks, and, in the grand scheme of things, it was just a plant. "My brother would know its name, but he was injured while we were relocating it."

"Oh, so it's a special plant that only Fear knows about. Then his recovery is crucial... Ensure he receives proper care. The dark magic may still affect him, and he might experience more pain, albeit less than before. If the need arises, do not hesitate to call for me."

It all felt too strange, too inexplicable. What did Arbious stand to gain from helping them? Was this some sort of demonic kindness? Surely it couldn't have been. If so, then was the plant truly his motive, or was there something else at play? Celestie couldn't fathom it. Despite her doubts, she was grateful for his aid. At least, he had alleviated her brother's suffering, something she couldn't have done alone.

Arbious opened the door, exiting the chamber. As he left, Celestie remained in silence, her thoughts swirling. Arbious was ascending the stairs, but he sensed the commotion behind him and halted. Celestie had ran after him, her breath faint and rapid as she gasped for air. her legs felt weak from all the running around, yet she had to thank Arbious. "Is there something else you require of me?"

She bowed deeply, her waist bent at a full 90 degrees. Arbious remained unfazed, but this was her way of expressing gratitude toward him. Despite knowing that Arbious was evil, Celestie knew that without him, her brother would likely have perished. He had at least spared Fear from further agony, and for that, she felt a mix of admiration and indebtedness.

This act however did not go unnoticed. Arbious was pleased by her display of obedience. Her actions proved that Arbious could now put more trust in her. With that, he spoke. "Have your brother come to me once he can walk. I wish to speak with him in person about his role in this estate. As for you and me, our conversation will come in due time."

"A conversation... Yes," she replied, still uneasy. "I look forward to it."

This marked the very first instance in which Arbious had come to someone's aid. While in reality, Fear might have eventually recovered from his injury with a day or two of rest, it didn't matter much to Arbious. The circumstances had unfolded quite favorably for him. In the aftermath, he found himself with not just two individuals deeply indebted to him but rather three vulnerable souls who now regarded him with reverence.

And so, the two parted ways.