The demon king's posture didn't change, but the air grew heavy, thick with a new, focused intent. The lazy contempt was gone, replaced by a sharp, anticipatory stillness. "Creepy how?"
"He was... wearing armor. All black. And a helmet with a red eye." I pulled my knees to my chest, the memory of the crushing pressure making my throat feel tight. "There wasn't any noise. And the ground was... glass. Black glass. That's all."
The demon king was silent for a long moment. He looked past me, his gaze fixed on something I couldn't see, something in the deep, tangled woods behind me. He was thinking. Analyzing. "A dream," he finally said, the word a flat dismissal. "Your pathetic, mortal mind, attempting to process the world's ambient corruption by giving it a form it can comprehend. A child's drawing of a monster."
"Right," I said, my voice a little shaky. "A child's drawing. That...that makes sense." It didn't. Not at all. The dream had felt too real, too solid. The memory of the crushing silence, the suffocating pressure, was still vivid in my mind.
[I don't know... 😟] Angus's text box appeared. [Black armor and a red eye sounds like a classic 'Big Bad' design! Very cliché! But also very menacing! Classic for a reason! (｡•́︿•̀｡)]
"Then what about the ground? The black glass?" I pushed, a flicker of defiance sparking in my chest. "Is that my child's mind, too?"
"Obsidian," the demon king said, dismissive. "Are you so useless you are incapable of reading your own dream, too?"
"You say that as if that's a normal thing to do." Because it definitely wasn't in my old world. At least not for me. I'd be lucky if I could remember my dreams after I put my pants on in the morning.
"How pathetic." The demon king huffed, and the sudden, sharp sound in the quiet forest made me flinch. "I've made my peace that you are weak and useless, foolish and utterly perverse. But to think you are so soft minded you don't even think to understand your own dreams..."
He scoffed, and his eyes flicked to Angus.
"Did your dull-witted goddess even bother to control for who she would bring to this world, or was it all simply an excuse to force my hand? Her insolence astounds me."
"...She picks the people who need the most help..." Angus muttered, flinching.
[It's a very complex algorithm! (°□°)] Angus's text box appeared, the little angel icon looking deeply uncomfortable. [It considers things like latent magical potential, strength of will, and... uh... karmic balance! And... and other secret stuff! (＞﹏＜)]
The demon king's lip curled. "An algorithm that produced... this." He gestured to me with a look of profound disgust. "It did one thing correctly. It found the most helpless candidate possible."
"I. I'm still right here."
"Shall you do anything about it?" He challenged, but then, just as I was getting ready to say something else to try and win what was now a battle of my own, he turned away and began walking away. "You bore me."
"...Yeah. Well. You. You bore me too."
I wasn't sure why I said that.
But it made me feel a little better. A little.
***
We walked until the sun was high overhead. The forest was a monotonous green blur, the crunch of leaves under our boots the only sound. My legs ached, my shoulders were tight, and the hollow ache in my chest had settled into a dull, persistent throb. I was so tired I felt like I was walking through mud.
The demon king, of course, showed no signs of fatigue. He strode ahead, a relentless, driving force that I had no choice but to follow. I hated him for it. I hated him for his endless energy, for his effortless grace, for the way the sun glinted off his stupid, perfect hair.
I also hated that I was noticing things like that.
I've been trying my best to think about the fact that he's an insufferable ass and not that he's got an incredible ass.
But after days of trying, and overwhelming exhaustion...
He's still really damn hot.
The kind of hot where I'd be caught slipping and make shameless comments about him if he weren't standing right in front of me.
...The kind where I...
Still do that sometimes even if he is standing right there.
But I-
I try a little more. I have a bit more self control.
Just a little. Honestly.
I stumbled over a root that I hadn't seen, my tired feet betraying me. I would have fallen flat on my face, but a hand shot out and grabbed my arm, steadying me. I looked up. It was him. He had moved without a sound, a blur of motion in the dappled light. His grip was firm, a little too firm, and it sent a strange, jarring vibration through my entire body.
I try very hard not to notice the way the muscles of his arm flex.
Because they do. A lot.
He sighed in irritation. "We shall never get anywhere if we must sleep every single night for your pathetic body."
"If you're so impatient you can always just carry me as I sleep."
"Perhaps I shall. I'll begin by removing your legs." He replied, flatly.
He didn't let go right away, but his gaze flickered from my face to my arm, and then to something else over my shoulder. He frowned, and he let go. The look was not an angry one. It was something different. Curious.
It made him more attractive, which was deeply unfair.
"...Very well. Go and nest. Perhaps your useless companion will bring you food tonight. As I have no doubt your uselessness extends to your ability to feed yourself."
I...
Now that he mentioned it.
I am starving.
The last time I ate anything meaningful was the swamp town, and even then it's a bit of a blur. I can't remember if I ate before or after the confrontation with him.
Well.
In that case.
It's not really any wonder that when I take a step forward toward a patch of soft looking leaves I simply collapse instead.