The crew dead and the assassin slain, the burial now commences. No words are uttered in the lake of Stillness, only the sound of the bodies being thrown overboard breaking the deep silence.
The captain of the dead crew and the temporary ally now sit after having given the lake extra citizens, alcohol in their hands. Aya looks over the lake as Sol sits in the crow's nest looking at his right hand.
The hand he controls, the fate he wields, are done so by this hand. Lives were saved and lives were ended. During his time in Appolyian he never doubted the blood he spilled. It was killed or be killed. Living in a dog-like society makes every mutt grow his teeth.
And now the first human life has stained this very hand. An assassin that does not hesitate to kill and would have done so in the future. A probable detriment to society and probably without a family. Yet still a human.
He always wondered how he would react. What type of murderer would someone be? What would it feel like when he killed? Satisfaction or guilt. Maybe it mattered how the kill happened. To claim it's all a part of some justice or purely based on emotion.
But as soon as the body went limp, Secessus knew none of that was true. His first human murder and he felt nothing. No anger, no joy, simply nothing. It didn't matter if the assassin were to live another day or died today at his hand.
The assassin didn't matter, nor did his human life. Why would it? Even though you can claim to be human, humanity is learned. When morals are not protected by society, they are nothing more than ideals.
The goal was to find a place to live yet here he is taking life. Taking life, a means to an end with no thought of worry about it. There will be no nightmares or dreams about this moment as his life continues.
A useless ideal from a past life. That was all it was. An ideal from a sickly boy that couldn't do anything. He couldn't leave when he wanted, he couldn't climb what he wanted, and he definitely couldn't decide his life.
Edwin Gwayne a name that he no longer carries, a name that will already be forgotten. Ideals from a sickly human boy who couldn't even live long enough to properly be an adult.
The shade demon, Secessus Solum Luciel stares at his hand. A hand part of a body that can move, a body that can go wherever he likes. A body that cannot only climb, but even reach the pinnacle of the sky if he so wished. A body and the power with it that can wield his life.
What does the will of the weakling matter? Those ideals didn't save him, nor were they ever truly his. And so what does this dream matter? This dream of finding a home. The dream of a weak child. Why should he cling to it?
The dream is that of the boy, and the boy is long dead. Buried in a graveyard around 20 years ago. His grave was probably already tossed aside to make space for others.
Still looking at his hand, Secessus is joined by Aya as she climbs the crow's nest.
"I've sent word to the grand duke that the assassin has been dealt with."
"I don't believe you're telling me this to keep me updated."
"No, I'm telling you to fuck off." Aya replies, making it clear that their shared experience doesn't seem to be a pleasant one.
"If I wasn't here, you would be in quite the trouble."
"I would've been fine. And it would have given me one more night of peace at the very least." She responds as her eyes immediately go to look at the large body of water.
"How did you survive the poison?" Aya asks, breaking the momentary stillness.
"My boy immediately rejects "bad blood" and in general tends to recognize dangerous situations for me. It spits out any contaminated blood whilst it focused on healing me."
"That's not normal."
"Well, I'm not quite standard." The shade demon replies as he creates his wings of darkness.
"I know you don't care, but I do wish you luck." Secessus says before jumping off the crow's nest, diving into the lake of stillness. The impact hurts, but is easily ignored by his regenerative abilities and enhancing of his body. He continues to swim downward, whilst also commanding his darkness strings to return the body of the assassin, as the darkness hasn't let go of the body just yet.
The still corpse now before him in the lake, he commands the strings of darkness to tear off the head of the dead assassin before dispelling the spell.
With the detached head in one hand, he swims up, all the fish fleeing from this potential predator. Easily reaching the top, the demon puts away the head in his shadow, another skill he has long not used.
'A spell created to be able to carry things secretly has now become the place where I stash a torn-off head.' The demon thinks still as the same hand he has been gazing upon puts away the head.
Summoning his wings made of darkness magic, he flies toward Yeoruogh.
Just as the sun sets, the gate of Yeorough comes into view. Secessus decides to walk the last few miles, not yet aware of how common flying is in this world. Cloaked in dark magic, he walks past the northern gate, keeping a low profile. He moves toward Kir's and Pallas's house, not intending to waste any time fulfilling the request.
Easily keeping a low profile, he arrives at the house near the center of the largest city in Creseytesia. Knocking on the door calmly, as for the children it would be rather late.
A woman with rose hair opens the door, she looks suspicious of the man cloaked in darkness before her house. Secessus drops, the darkness engulfing his body as he reveals himself.
"Sol, I heard you were out of town. What happened?"
"The things I'm used to." He replies as he pulls the torn-off head from his shadow and throws it in her arms.