"Freedom, you fucker. I want it."
Though Lythian's tone didn't carry a hint of respect—just arrogance—Seven was okay with it as he let go of his grip on Lythian's hair.
"Oath."
Seven said in a firm tone as he unlocked the "Cuffs of Heaven" binding Lythian.
The key, given to him by the Archduke as part of his reward for choosing Lythian, turned smoothly in the lock.
"Oath…?"
Lythian asked.
"Oath of Sevens."
Seven picked up the knife from the corner table, its blade still stained with the blood from Lythian's torture.
Without a word, he turned and pointed the knife at Lythian.
"You skipped it?"
"..."
Lythian didn't respond, but his silence spoke volumes.
Judging by his furrowed brow, he was trying to recall it. But with over seven thousand chapters in the novel, remembering every detail was an impossible task.
"...The cult?"
"Yes. That cult."
"..."
The second arc of the novel was where the 'Oath' was first revealed.
"So you did skip…"
Slowly, Seven walked directly towards Lythian.
Step.
"I guess you don't want freedo—"
"You fucker… fine! Let's do it."
He stopped just a breath away from Lythian.
Then, without hesitation, Seven pressed the knife into his own hand. Blood dripped onto the cold floor.
"Repeat after me."
Seven gripped the knife tightly as he endured the pain.
"I swear on the seven veins of my blood."
"...I swear on the seven veins of my blood."
"On the seven pains of my body."
"...On the seven pains of my body."
"On the seven fractures of my soul."
"...On the seven fractures of my soul."
Seven leaned closer.
"For Seven Hart's seven lives, I vow to serve, to obey, and to never betray."
Lythian hesitated. He didn't know the full weight of the Oath, but serving Seven was a price he wasn't willing to pay.
But he had no choice.
As he looked at Seven, his gaze met a pair of eyes that didn't quite belong to a human.
'Fuck it.'
Lythian thought before repeating the oath.
"...For Seven Hart's seven lives, I vow to serve, to obey, and to never betray."
"Should I falter, may the seven Gods claim me."
"...Should I falter, may the seven Gods claim me."
The knife began to glow and a swirl of energies with colors like threads of light and shadow wrapped around it.
Seven lifted the knife.
"May the Oath shatter me sevenfold—my body, my mind, my soul, until nothing remains."
"...May the Oath shatter me sevenfold—my body, my mind, my soul, until nothing remains."
Right after Lythian finished repeating the oath, Seven immediately pressed the knife against his palm.
But no blood came out.
Instead, the blood Seven had spilled onto the floor earlier began to twitch. Seconds later, it flowed upward, gathering in Lythian's palm and forming a sigil mark.
Seven then pulled out the knife.
As he did, Lythian groaned from the searing pain.
Not because of the knife nor the wound it left, but because of the sigil made of Seven's blood.
It left a sensation Lythian couldn't reply.
Despite enduring the torture for weeks, the pain from those couldn't even be compared to the current pain of the oath.
"Hah…"
Lythian took a deep breath as the pain began to fade, leaving only a dull ache behind.
He opened his eyes, turning his gaze back to Seven. If this was the pain of the Oath, then surely they both should have felt it equally.
But Seven was silent.
Not a single sound escaped his lips.
Thud.
Without warning, Seven's body crumpled to the floor.
He fainted.
"Seven?"
Lythian was unsure whether to approach and help him or to keep his distance.
The faint glow of the sigil on his palm pulsed once before fading completely.
Still hesitant, he took a step toward Seven, who lay sprawled on the floor, his chest rising and falling with uneven breaths.
"...Fuck it."
Lythian muttered under his breath.
Despite all the cruelty Seven showed him, he couldn't deny the sinking feeling of unease settling in his stomach.
'Is it because of the Oath…?'
Lythian crouched to shake Seven awake, but as his hand touched his shoulder, a loud thud echoed from Seven's chest.
The sigil mark shimmered faintly on the wall—the same one on their palms.
"What the—"
Thump.
Seven's heart thudded, and the sigil on the wall shimmered before collapsing into a radiant orb above his body.
Lythian barely had time to react.
The orb pulsed, and its light dimmed with each beat as though it was tied to Seven's weakening breaths.
Lythian's heart pounded nervously.
Run.
That single word screamed in his mind—an assassin's instinct when in front of someone stronger.
But his feet were glued to the cold basement floor.
Then, without warning, the orb darted towards him.
He raised his arms in defense, but instead of colliding, the light enveloped him and surged through his body with an electrifying force.
"Fuck… what?"
His knees buckled, and he collapsed beside Seven, gasping for air.
For a moment, everything was silent.
Not until a voice—not his own nor Seven's—echoed across the basement.
Lythian's fingers dug into the cold floor as the voice faded.
"Save him?"
He glanced at Seven, unconscious.
It was the same man who threatened him and whom he thought was responsible for his torture—now lay helpless.
For the first time, Lythian didn't feel hatred. Because of the Oath, he felt…
Obligation.
"Fuck tha—"
Growl.
Seven's stomach growled, followed by his own.
After all, both of them haven't eaten anything for a week.
***
Outside, everything was still the same—crumbling mansion and burning estate.
From the staircase leading down to the basement, Lythian emerged, dragging Seven over his shoulders.
As much as he wanted to lock Seven in the basement, the Oath wouldn't allow it. After all, a scar appeared in his aura-gate bracelet.
Despite not knowing what the Oath actually was, Lythian knew that it could cost him his gates.
"Hah…"
Lythian paused to rest. He barely had enough strength to walk, let alone drag Seven.
But that wasn't the entire reason.
The ruins.
Personally, Lythian didn't really care about it. What he cared about was where should he get the food to feed both himself and Seven.
Slowly, he dragged his feet towards the ruins of what seemed to be a kitchen.
"Fuck."
It was the only word that fit, seeing the state it was in—completely inaccessible, buried under the mansion's debris.
With his current strength, retrieving food from beneath the wreckage would take a day or two.
Seven might be dead then.
At first, he considered the idea as Seven will get revived anyway as he possesses Theia's artifact.
Seconds later, he dismissed the idea.
After all, it's not worth permanently losing his aura gate for.
With no other choice, he walked back towards Seven.
Step.
Lythian sighed, glancing down at Seven's unconscious body.
"Do I really have to feed him my flesh?"
Lythian muttered under his breath, weighing his options. Immortal, he could regenerate.
He could feed himself. But feeding another…
That didn't sit right.
But after a moment's hesitation, he smiled.
No.
He wouldn't use his own.
There was another way.
He glanced toward the body nearby, dressed in a maid outfit, lying on the training ground.