"Never mind that for now, you can decide later." Demeter spoke once more. "This heart I hold… this is Lumière's. It's not physical, not really. More like… a symbolism of what his was. It wasn't beautiful, but it had the yearning for beauty. So, it is surrounded by a gorgeous field of flowers."
He tossed the beating heart towards Ophelia like a ball, who caught it with his open hands. Blood continued to drip from its orifices, spilling out onto his skin and towards the grass below.
"But not all parts of Lumière Croft were that which sought beauty. Its manifestations in certain areas of this True World may be far more dangerous or otherwise inconsistent and strange. You might encounter peculiarities, errors that might corrupt you or endanger your existence."
Ophelia took a step towards Demeter. Underneath his feet, the blades of grass in the field turned a pure golden colour, not solidifying into metal itself, only adopting the hue; it was false splendor. Despair did the same, the blades of grass shrinking back as he approached, as if even non-sentient life feared his presence.
Neither being noticed this, but the sight made Demeter chuckle underneath his breath.
"Will you not be coming with us?"
Suddenly, as they both took another step, darkness closed in on them, and they became surrounded by a new environment. Ophelia reached forward, trying to grasp at the fading countenance of the strange being, but it had been far too late. He only retained a hold on the air in front of him, which had grown cold and rife with some sort of anxious disposition.
Despair remained at his side, and around them, dozens of figures glanced over at them, their faces etched with surprise and fear.
"Bastards. Are you one of 'his'!?" A man stepped forward, pointing a rifle towards Despair's head. It wasn't like the rifles from the physical world. It was a stark greyish-black, made of a thinner, smoother substance. It was sleek, almost perfect. The figures that surrounded them also dressed quite strangely, in black canvas vests and thick padded helmets.
Despair quickly lurched forward, brushing the barrel of the rifle aside with his hand as he raised his other fist, a malevolent black aura gathering around him as he punched his hand through the man's skull, sending blood and brain matter flying outwards across the ground behind him.
He let out a 'tsk' as the crowd around them exclaimed with panic, raising their own rifles towards the two men.
'I'm running out of accumulated fear. This will help soothe that issue.'
The two ignored their adversaries, glancing around at the place they had appeared in. Tall black spires stretched upwards around them, holding up a suspended ceiling that stood as high up as the sky. Thousands of stairs in a spiraling formation ran up the length of these spires, leading up to the ceiling above.
"You- who are you!? Are you with the Demon!?" Another one of the men stepped forward, pointing his ironsights down at Ophelia.
"No, Stark! They killed Pieter! They're with Mauniel!" Another woman screamed.
Ophelia glanced over at the man, Stark, who had approached him.
"Where are we, boy?"
Stark's eyes narrowed, still holding up the rifle at him. "What do you mean, where are we? Shouldn't you know? This is your Master's fortress, his Citadel."
"What Master? I am the Master."
"You're not Mauniel. You don't resemble a Demon at all."
Despair, listening to this exchange, glanced at Ophelia, before beginning to laugh exuberantly. "A Demon! You don't resemble a Demon!"
Ophelia's eyebrow twitched, and he began to raise his hand towards the man, Stark. The man suddenly pulled the trigger of his rifle, a bullet cascading through the air as it tore into Ophelia's palm. Crimson blood flew through the air, leaving a gaping hole where his flesh had been. Ophelia grimaced slightly, retracting his hand and holding it with his other, while Stark took a step back.
"No, you're human, you bleed red! How did you appear so suddenly? How does your comrade have this strength? Why kill Pieter? Who the hell are you people!?"
Ophelia glanced up at Stark, blood still pouring from the wound in his palm as a twisted, confident smile curled up the edges of his lips.
"I'm a Demon."
Suddenly, from the depths of the ground below, thousands of creature arose, surrounding the group of men and women.
===
As soon as the other two had disappeared, Demeter turned to face a creature standing beside him, one who had been there the entire time, tacitly observing the conversation between him and the two personae.
"What do you wish from continuing this? You didn't have to press the issue, you could have given him back his body. By forcing yourself into existence, you created a larger matter that has to be resolved, both for your own survival, and for Lumière Croft's."
This creature seemed to resemble the silhouette of Lumière, but its entire being was pitch-black, like a void that simply didn't exist in any normal state. It shifted at times, into something incomprehensible, writhing tentacles thrashing about before returning to the simple silhouette.
Demeter scoffed. "You can't speak. Of course, you've only 'existed' for a short time, you haven't yet observed any semblance of language."
Its maw opened up, a writhing tongue of void clicking against the top of its mouth which stretched to inhuman proportions.
"Lan-language."
He chuckled. "Yet smart enough to pick up on keywords. You might become a credible threat. It doesn't help that you have control of the body. I'll let you follow them for now. Learn the language, learn mannerisms, and when you can act the part, let's make a deal regarding the existence of Lumière Croft."
The creature stared at him blankly, pointing up at itself.
"Yes, you. The madness you derive yourself from, this beast you've turned into…"
This 'Monster'- he was the representation of the squid-like monster that Lumière's body had transformed into, manifested within the Sinner's domain. He was crucial to the revival of Lumière Croft.
Demeter chuckled, turning away from the creature.
"Your name is 'Monster'."