Depthless Hunger

Troulon woke up, which was something he hadn't expected to ever do again. When that syringe had entered his neck, he had been sure that it was the end, and the human part of him had welcomed it.

Except Omilaena had never intended to kill him. Somehow she had injected a different essence into his soul, disrupting his demonic arts. And while he had been unconscious, she had deadened that part of him. He wasn't sure he could even reach those parts of himself anymore.

So he was just a Paper Artisan again.

During the chaotic end of the battle he had helped to evacuate, drawing people into the Great Library and hoping that it wouldn't be destroyed as well. Somehow the battle had ended with Matiavel dead and the Commonwealth officially out of demonic hands. Now he sat on the front steps leading to the Great Library, expecting someone to be along to arrest or execute him at any moment now.

One thing he hadn't expected was a pure demon: Gorutiel strolled up to the front of the library with a grin on his face. "You want to get out of here, Troulon? I always thought you had balls for a bookworm, so you can come along if ya want."

"What are you doing here?" Troulon asked. "Entering the city right now... that's insane."

"Oh, I've been here since the start." Gorutiel jabbed a thumb toward the devastated central regions. "I was actually going to jump in and help Matiavel, but... then I saw him trying to stomp a bunch of ants and failing. And I thought: who has real strength, the guy who kills everyone he sees, or the ones who go fight him anyway?"

"Then you're retreating. Taking away everyone who doesn't want to face justice."

"That's right. Demons can adapt to just about anywhere. We don't need to be in charge. So that brings me back to what I said: want to come?"