"Are your skills dulled, Sol, to the point you can't even block my attacks anymore?"
Caelum hovered in the sky, his white wings spread wide. Razor-sharp feathers floated around him, glinting like blades, ready to strike at any moment.
On the ground, Solen Vireith lay bruised and bloodied. Blood dripped from his mouth, and his massive sword lay beside him.
"Fight on the ground, you coward!" he spat, trying to push himself up. Blood continued to trickle from his temple as he grabbed his sword, using it to steady himself.
Caelum just smirked. "Unlike you—a creature cursed by the gods to never touch the sky—I will soar where all can see my majesty."
Solen wiped the blood from his lips, spat to the side, and sneered. "If people knew the hero they worship is just a narcissistic bastard, would they still love you?"
For some reason, Solen's words struck something in Caelum. The hero's grin faded, turning bitter. He swooped down, grabbed the demon by the collar, and lifted him into the sky.
"FUCK YOU! WHAT ARE YOU DOING?! LET ME GO!"
Solen thrashed, swinging his sword in desperation, but Caelum caught the blade with one bare hand.
Blood seeped from his palm as he yanked it away and tossed it aside like a toy.
"See the difference in our power?" Caelum said, voice calm and cold. "You will never win against me."
They floated high above the ground, the earth now a distant blur. Solen's face twisted in fury.
"Stop mocking me, you bastard!" he snarled, crimson eyes filled with loathing as if Caelum were the most disgusting thing in the world.
It only made the hero's expression grow darker.
"Mocking?" Caelum's golden eyes glowed brighter as the sun bathed him in divine light.
"You were born to lose," he said flatly. "And that's exactly why you should've given your life to me."
Then, without warning, Caelum released his grip on Solen's robe.
The demon lord plummeted. Arms outstretched, the last thing he saw was the hero—the man he hated most—watching him fall with those cold, distant eyes.
And the fact that they were linked in should have been the most romantic one. One soul separated into two, a soulmate.
Solen feels not just hatred, but also pain and betrayal...
But he couldn't find it in Caelum's eyes at all.
The hero had even gone and married after believing he had defeated him...
He had only ever seen Solen as a demon lord. Nothing more.
And that thought was—
Irritating.
His heart hurt so much that he wished he could just die.
'What is this? Did I really think he'd take my hand? That the man who looks at me with such indifference would ever...'
Solen gritted his teeth and finally closed his eyes.
He had never been this close to the sky before.
It should have been beautiful.
But all he saw—was Caelum.
He then closed his eyes, remembering their first meeting.
.
.
.
Solen Vireith was unmistakably the son of the Demon Lord. But he was also a lowly omega, whose only worth in the eyes of demon society was for breeding.
That was why his father tried to hide it—doing whatever it took to erase Solen's pheromones.
No matter how painful the process, he forced Solen to become something else, something unrecognizable.
But that omega instinct came rushing back the moment he first met him—Caelum.
The man who looked more like an angel than a mortal. The man who reminded Solen of who he truly was in the most painful way.
He remembered their first meeting vividly. It was in a ruined village, fire devouring everything in the middle of a rainstorm.
Solen's body felt strange, warm, and aching. Unmistakably desperate for touch.
Before he realized it, he was already on his knees, his massive sword the only thing keeping him upright as sweat drenched his body.
And then—he looked up.
Golden eyes met his own, and Solen shivered.
"Y-you…" he gasped, his breath ragged.
"I finally found you." Caelum's smile was bright, too bright.
"So why don't you give up, Demon Lord Sol? You're just an omega. You don't stand a chance against me."
Solen's brow furrowed. 'Is this really me reacting like this?'
His body instinctively wanted to be touched by him, to be saved in his arms.
Caelum cupped his face gently. Solen couldn't move.
His scent—it was intoxicating.
Solen leaned into his hand and pressed a soft kiss against it before he could stop himself.
"You really want to be touched that badly, don't you?" Caelum chuckled. "That's adorable…"
"Why don't you give up your throne—" he leaned closer, voice a whisper, "—and be mine instead?"
.
.
.
Solen's eyes finally surged open when his body landed on something soft. As he lifted his head, he saw Caelum holding him close.
"You think I'd let you die after all the annoying preparation for that wedding?" Caelum smirked, his golden eyes glinting as if seeing his prey.
"I've been searching for you all this time—and I finally found you again." His face moved closer, and Solen could feel his warm breath ghost against his lips, his silver hair on his cheek.
"This time, you're never running away again."
At those words, Solen shuddered—not out of relief or joy at finally understanding what Caelum had been thinking all along—but out of fear.
Caelum's eyes, once dull with boredom or disinterest, were now lit with a maddening obsession. And Solen realized if he didn't run now… he never would be able to.
"You're crazy..." Solen murmured.
The wind blew hard around them, whipping through the air as Solen saw Caelum laughing, his silver hair dancing wildly in the gust.
"Crazy is too simple a word to describe me."
Solen's eyes widened, and before he could struggle, Caelum's soft lips pressed against his in a gentle kiss. He grabbed at his collar, trying to push him away.
He couldn't help but notice how soft Caelum's lips were—how he kissed him like he truly wanted him—while his arms tightened around him, firm and unyielding.
But for some reason, it felt more like Caelum was trapping him.
And yet, his vision began to blur. His consciousness wavered.
Then—everything faded to black.