The air in the rundown tavern was thick with the scent of stale ale and smoke, but Serpha stood unflinching as Kain pressed the strange, metallic tube against her temple. Its cold surface sent a shiver down her spine, but she didn't blink. Her green eyes locked onto his, defiant and unyielding.

"You think I'm one of them?" Serpha asked, her voice steady but laced with irritation. "After all we've been through, Kain?"

Kain's scarred face remained unreadable, his eyes glinting like a predator's in the dim light. "Succubi are clever, Serpha. They wear faces you trust. This little toy," he tapped the tube, "sniffs out their essence. If you're clean, you've got nothing to worry about."

"And if I'm not?" she challenged, her lips curling into a faint smirk.

"Then I pull the trigger, and your head's a memory," Kain replied, his tone flat but deadly serious.

The tavern's patrons watched in tense silence, hands inching toward knives and bottles. Serpha's knights, stationed near the door, shifted uneasily, their armor clinking softly. Torren's hand rested on his sword hilt, but Serpha raised a hand, signaling them to stand down.

"Test me, then," she said. "But make it quick. We've got bigger problems than your paranoia."

Kain's smirk returned, faint but sharp. He pressed a small button on the tube, and a low hum filled the air. A faint blue light pulsed from the device, scanning Serpha's face. After a moment, it beeped softly, and Kain lowered the tube, his expression softening—just barely.

"You're clean," he said, tucking the device into his cloak. "For now."

"Charming as ever, why don't you try it on yourself?" Serpha muttered, brushing past him to sit at the table, but it was as if she knew something that others didn't. "Sit down, Kain. We need to talk."

Kain obliged, dropping into the chair with a grace that belied his rugged appearance. "Succubi in the capital, huh? Bold move. What's their game?"

"They're not just feeding," Serpha said, leaning forward. "They're organized. Strategic. The bodies we found at the Sturgon headquarters weren't random—they were important knights, informants, people with access to sensitive information. Whoever's pulling their strings is after something big."

Kain's eyes narrowed. "You mentioned the castle. You think the king's involved?"

"I don't know," Serpha admitted, her voice low. "But the timing's too convenient. Archmage Mandira vanishes, a new principal takes over Sturgon Academy, and now succubi are prowling the capital? Something's rotten, and it starts at the top...I personally know the histroy of Sturgon royal family so I wouldn't say I am not."

Kain leaned back, crossing his arms. "And you want me to play bloodhound. Why not handle it yourself? Your knights are no slouches."

"Because you're the best at what you do," Serpha said, her tone matter-of-fact. "You've hunted demons across continents. You know their tricks, their weaknesses. And you've got no love or duty for the crown, so you won't hesitate to dig where I can't."

Kain chuckled, a low, rumbling sound. "Flattery won't make me cheaper, Serpha. What's the pay?"

"Name your price," she said without hesitation. "But we move tonight. The longer we wait, the deeper this infestation spreads."

Kain studied her for a long moment, then nodded. "Fine. But I work alone. Your knights stay out of my way."

Torren, standing nearby, bristled. "We're not here to babysit, hunter. We're the 5th Order. We can handle—"

"Enough, Torren," Serpha cut in, her voice sharp. "Kain's our edge. You'll follow my orders and stay out of his path."

Torren clenched his jaw but nodded, stepping back. Lira, standing beside him, whispered, "He's as scary as the rumors say."

"Scarier and weirder," Torren muttered.

Kain ignored them, his attention fixed on Serpha. "Where do we start?"

"Well, just as usual there's no place but instead we search everywhere." she said. "But from what I found...they wanted information about Marciel family...so my guess is Juno and Marciel family have something do with this."

Kain's expression darkened. "Juno's kin? That's no coincidence. Those demons want something from him—probably that damned sword of his. I had my eyes on it for a while."

Serpha nodded. "Exactly. We find Lord Daniel, Duke Marciel, we find the succubi. And maybe we get a lead on what's happening in the castle."

Kain stood, adjusting his cloak. "Then let's not waste time. I'll head to the academy. You clean up the capital and keep the king's dogs off my trail."

Serpha rose, extending a hand. "Deal."

Kain didn't take it. "Don't get sentimental, Serpha. I'm in this for the hunt, not your friendship."

She smirked. "Wouldn't dream of it."

***

The grand hall of the castle was bathed in the soft glow of flickering torches, their light dancing across the ancient stone walls. At the far end, a towering portrait of a stern-faced man in regal armour loomed over the room. King Soris stood before it, his eyes tracing the familiar lines of his father's face. His expression was one of longing, a quiet ache that seemed to pull at his very soul. The weight of the crown on his head felt heavier tonight, as if it carried the burdens of generations past.

A faint rustle broke the silence, and Soris's posture stiffened. He didn't turn, but his voice cut through the stillness, low and measured. "Are they here?"

A figure emerged from the shadows behind him, cloaked in darkness that seemed to cling to their form. They moved with a casual grace, their steps silent on the cold stone floor. Unlike the courtiers and guards who filled the castle, this figure did not kneel or bow. There was no trace of deference in their stance, only a quiet confidence that bordered on insolence.

"They have indeed entered the city," the figure said, their voice a low murmur, tinged with amusement. "Strange, isn't it? A human king so… interested in what lies beyond the gates."

Soris's lips curved into a faint smile, though his eyes remained fixed on the portrait. "Strange?" he echoed, his tone almost playful. "I offered my own blood to glimpse the power of that otherworld. It's not just my dream, you know. It's my family's dream—centuries of longing to see what lies beyond."

The figure tilted their head, their face still obscured by the hood of their cloak. "Is that all?" they asked, a note of skepticism in their voice. "You just want to see it?"

Soris's smile widened, taking on a crooked, almost predatory edge. "Of course," he said smoothly. "I just want to see."

The figure let out a soft chuckle, though it carried no warmth. They knew this man too well to believe such a simple answer. King Soris was no mere dreamer. His words were a mask, hiding plans that twisted and coiled like a serpent beneath the surface. But the figure didn't press further. They had their own designs, and at the end of the day, it would be them who emerged victorious—thanks to this human king's ambition.

"There's another matter," the figure said, their voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "Juno's body. Hand it over to the succubus. She'll find a way to bring him back from his unconscious state. Only he knows where that sword is."

Soris's expression flickered, a shadow passing over his face. "That sword," the figure continued, almost to themselves. "It's no ordinary blade. I still don't understand why your father entrusted it to Juno instead of you...I dont' understand why you didn't try to take that dword from Juno before all this disaster fell on your land human king."

For a moment, Soris said nothing. His gaze remained locked on the portrait, his father's painted eyes staring back at him. The silence stretched, heavy with unspoken truths. Finally, he spoke, his voice quiet but firm. "I'll arrange things. No one will suspect Juno's disappearance."

The figure nodded, satisfied. "I hope so," they said, their tone carrying a subtle warning. "Handle it cleanly." With that, they stepped back into the shadows, their form dissolving into the darkness as if they had never been there at all.

Soris stood alone once more, his eyes fixed on the portrait. "You really tried to spare me this curse, didn't you, Father?" he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "But it's too late."

The next morning, the castle buzzed with the usual activity—servants scurrying through the halls, guards patrolling the ramparts, and courtiers whispering their endless schemes. But beneath the surface, a quiet tension simmered.

King Soris sat on his throne, his demeanor calm but his mind racing. The figure's words echoed in his thoughts, mingling with memories of his father's warnings and the strange power that pulsed beyond the gates.

A knock at the door broke his reverie. "Enter," he called, straightening in his seat.

A young captain of the guard stepped inside, bowing deeply. "Your Majesty, the council is ready to convene. They await your presence."

Soris waved a hand dismissively. "Tell them I'll be there shortly. There's another matter I need to address first."

The captain hesitated, sensing the weight in the king's tone, but he bowed again and retreated. As the door closed, Soris rose from the throne and moved to a small side chamber. Inside, a single man stood who was one of the personal knight of Soris.

Soris stared down at him, his expression unreadable. "This is a matter of emergency," he murmured. "There is intel that the Marciel mansion might come under attack at any moment, given how things have spiraled out of our control... By order of the throne, I want Sir Juno to be secretly moved to a mansion on the outskirts of the capital."

He turned to the guard. "Prepare a covered cart. Move him tonight, quietly. No one must know."

The knight nodded, his face betraying no emotion. "As you command, Your Majesty."

Soris lingered a moment longer, his gaze drifting to Juno's closed eyes. "I wish things didn't come to this, our saviour." he whispered. "I guess you tried to take our family's burden but you ultimately failed."

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