A blooming white light enveloped Gary's vision as the gem crumbled within the palms of his hand. He could feel its force propel him... somewhere. His obscured vision gave no hints, but the sensation of wind and the scrapping of limbs against stone was enough to let him know he had been tossed across the floor.
His spinning head seemed to reverberate like a noon bell as he lie sprawled out on the floor, the explosion robbing him of both sight and sound. Yet, a voice seemed to seep past the noise, not unlike a shout heard when submerged in water. Perhaps it was just his imagination, but he could almost swear it came from the demon itself.
A morsel of joy came with the thought. It was a truly pleasant way to end it. Dying sucked and all, but being able to give one last 'fuck you' to his killer made the pill a bit easier to swallow.
Hell, even all of the pain seemed to fade away as strange warmth began to sink into his pale skin. He could barely keep himself from trembling with the delight it brought him.
He had never felt anything quite like it. It was a heat that felt otherworldly rather than originating from a glowing rock-bomb. A thought came to him, though he nearly dismissed it out of sheer habit.
Gary was not a good person. That, he knew. He had come to terms with his eventual afterlife sometime after he locked Shasa in a room full of vengeful gnomes, and sometime before dangling Gabriel above a pit of undead squirrels.
Yet, if that was the case, why did he feel as if he had been given a new body?
Perhaps...
He wasn't a bad person.
Family, priests, Brandus: they were all wrong. He was a good man. Worthy of heaven! His proof of admission was the comfort and heat that cradled him.
The realization carried enough emotion to elicit a sniffle from his unworthy self, though a small part of Gary couldn't help but marvel at the apparent incompetence of heaven's staff.
Awaiting the angel that was sure to accompany him, Gary decided to bathe in the comforting light until the moment his body finally gave out. It had to be soon, considering the giant hole in his chest.
'Any second now.'
He thought, growing a bit tired of the wait. He had never considered himself as a hardy individual either, but the current situation had him second-guessing that fact. Only a cockroach could hold onto its life as tenaciously as he had.
Impatience turned to confusion as seconds passed. The light that had blinded him also began to recede, shattering his prior ideas.
Still, the warmth remained. Nor did the pain return. Gary would have said he was fine if he didn't remember the feeling of impalement that had occurred a scant few moments ago.
Speaking of impalement...
He had checked his body the moment his sight had cleared up and was shocked to see his condition.
'...Where did the hole go?'
He carefully touched his chest as he stared down in amazement. The leather and steel armor remained torn from the fatal strike, yet his hands felt neither flesh nor bone underneath. Only unblemished, pink skin.
Neither did his other injuries remain. Much like the pain and exhaustion, they too had disappeared. Leaving Gary with a body that felt better than it had in years.
"A miracle," He whispered, clutching his breast. "A true damn miracle."
Gary cast a glance full of appreciation at the hand that once held the gem. He had no evidence, but what had caused it was pretty clear.
'Conduit', the demon called it. He still wasn't a hundred percent sure what a conduit did, but if it was anything like that then Gary had been sorely missing out.
To think that the demon had the nerve to say it would kill him... what a load of crap.
After making the logical decision of never listening to a demon again, Gary slowly stood upright and admired the scenery.
The room— which had already been marred by both old and fresh scars of battle —now sported a lovely new blackened crater in the center. The castle itself could be heard groaning from the blast, though whether it was from the broken and abused foundations— or something else entirely —had yet to be fully understood.
A large, scorched body could also be seen. Contrary to Gary's experience, the explosion did not treat his enemy quite as kindly.
Prone and contorted on the ground, the skin and membrane on parts of the demon's chest, arms, and face were noticeably absent, as if they had been blasted off of the body. He lay unmoving, more a charred corpse than the proud warrior that once stood.
The sight of it drew a mirthful smile to his face. Sure, it wasn't what one would call an 'honorable' end. But did that matter when his life was on the line?
The answer to that was a resounding no. The only reason he hadn't used an even lower method of winning was due to a lack of options, not a sense of pride or nobility.
While he was busy gloating over his victory, a small and weak groan that differed from the low shuddering of the castle perked his ears.
In a far-off corner, a prominent and familiar figure rose from the ground covered in dust and grime, looking about in confusion at the surroundings.