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.


    “


    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,


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    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,”


    “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”