The demon had pulled me along to this alleyway. It was absolutely something I should be grateful for. After all, if people had seen me in the middle of the street they would have most definitely either called the guards and had me sent to the church for healing, or sent me to the church for healing and then called the guards. Both situations were not very good considering I had no idea who knew my identity.

My companion was in a worse position, naturally, but he could have abandoned me.

And naturally, as someone in a worse position, his actions after he collected his breath were what anyone would expect.

A knife’s tip loomed over my neck as the demon straddled on top of me. He let out heavy breaths, his hands trembling from the pain.

“Dark mage… I want you to cooperate with me, or I will kill you right here. Swear on your magic and I’ll let you go.”

I clicked my tongue.

The demon’s crimson horn gleamed right in front of my sight, menacingly, as if warning me against moving.

“You think you can overpower me right now?” I asked, annoyed.

“I think I can kill you before you do anything.”

“I see.”

I raised my injured hands and stabbed my thumb straight into the demon’s wound. The gaping hole in his stomach was probably not expecting any guests. Too bad, such things did not stop me for a second.

The demon gasped and pushed the knife down, but it had given me the opening I needed. I moved my head just enough to avoid a fatal wound. The blade sliced a shallow cut on my skin as the demon finally caved under the pain and fell to the side.

Standing up, I pulled my thumb away and got back on my feet. The demon writhed on the ground, it was a good chance to jab my foot in his wound.

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“Don’t scream or people might come here.”

He naturally feared death more than the pain. The demon bit his hand to stop himself from screaming while I looked into my bag. It was the bag I had prepared to move around in the labyrinth, so it had most of my wages from grave-robbing alongside three healing potions. They were nothing compared to a priest’s magic, but it was enough for me.

I poured one on the latest wound on my neck. It quickly closed up and left a scar. As for the wounds on my hands… they weren’t going to be healed by this potion. My hands looked like they had just been taken out of an industrial blender, it could wait.

I opened the other two flasks and poured them both on the demon’s wounds.

“Why… Ack!” The wound writhed as the muscles and veins started to reattach. His wound wasn’t going to heal with just this either, but at least it will close.

“Demon,” I said, walking behind into the alleyway. In one of the cartons kept full of trash and discarded items from the houses around was a bunch of clothes. “I’ll be honest with you. I hate the gods. I hate and despise everything about the Septet.”

I tossed a long cloth to the demon and took another to wrap around my wounded arms. The demon's eyes tremored as I tightened the makeshift bandage.

“You and I, we are both persecuted by the gods. But are we the only ones?”

A hailstorm that destroyed everyone’s fields but miraculously left one alone. Was this fortune, not a sick joke that forced a man and his family into a crazed lich and two zombies forever stuck behind a stone?

“These gods that only bring about suffering. That only care about themselves.”

A village abandoned by rain. One where the gods, their followers, and their subjects didn’t even bother glancing at. If not for their selfishness, wouldn’t a young girl avoid becoming a serpent? Wouldn’t a village avoid slaughter?

I knelt in front of the demon.

“The Septet can’t be trusted. I know it. The ones who truly need help suffer.”

The demon stared back. I could tell.

Both of us had found a companion. We were enemies of this world. We were persecuted by the gods, and condemned to death together.

“Be it a young child who has lost his brother and cries in front of the gods’ abode…” My words caught stuck in my throat as my heart tightened. “Or two country kids with big dreams… this world is indifferent to everybody. It doesn’t care about those who suffer.

“I am on your side, demon.” The fate decreed by the gods, whether it was to let dead adventurers rot in the forest, or to have demons stoned at first sight. I was going to resist it.

“Schwann,” the demon said. “Schwann of the Crimson Horn Tribe. What’s your name, dark mage?”

I nodded with a soft smile.

To think I had given out my real name before this. Wasn’t that risky?

Foolish and naive me.

Naive, naive, me.

“My name… uh… Acheron…?”

“Alright. My friend Acheron.”

Names were difficult.