A/N: old habits die screaming, as Taytay said

The darkness that had consumed my mind was ever-present for the days that came. It was like Abaddon's words of advice had an opposite effect on me. Sometimes I wondered if I was worthy of the title of a king given the circumstances and emotions I was subjected to and was unable to escape.

For several days, Loki's words were ringing in my head, when he told me none of it was supposed to happen. The whole charade could've been easily avoided and the resentment was slowly growing in me. He came, turned my world upside down, and then left without elaborating. Even though such action should've been expected from a trickster god like him, I couldn't help but feel hurt, betrayed, and overall weak. I was truly struggling to find the right thing to feel about everything that had transpired. And yet no matter how deep I delved into the problem, the answer that I kept coming up with was - there was no point agonizing over it anymore. The end's near, the curtain's drawn and all we were left with was love that was never meant to stay.

"Abaddon's not joining the cause," I said dryly, sitting next to Beelzebub at the bar. At this point, doing anything felt like I was dragging myself through the mud. So tedious and strenuous. "So we're left... with just the three of us. He gave a few pieces of the advice though." I mumbled, taking a sip of bourbon in a glass.

"That's a shame," Beelzebub sighed as he slumped into his chair. "We could've really used his help. What did he advise?"

I stared into my drink, the dark liquid swirling in the glass. "He said to focus on our allies and not let emotions cloud my judgment, but at the same time, not repress them. Easier said than done."

Beelzebub nodded slowly. "That's actually solid advice, even if it's hard to follow. Especially now."

I scoffed. "Yeah, well, it doesn't change the fact that we're still up against impossible odds. And I can't stop thinking about Loki... how he just left, how everything went to hell after he showed up."

Beelzebub was silent for a few seconds, as if rummaging through his mind to find the right words. "I can only imagine what you're going through. Love isn't an easy emotion to handle for a human, let alone a demon who isn't supposed to feel it," he said, his words ringing with truth. For the first time, I felt understood. It was relieving that he got it, but then again, he always seemed to.

I let out a long breath, the weight of my emotions momentarily lifting. "It's like being torn in two directions at once. One part of me wants to fight, to hold on to what I had with Loki. The other part just wants to forget it all, to bury it and move on."

"Well, as Abaddon said, you have to find balance."

"But how do you do that?! Where's that balance everyone always speaks of?!" I exclaimed out of frustration and I buried my face in my hands for a few seconds. Then, I glanced at the glass and downed the rest of the liquid.

"Unfortunately, Asmo... I don't know." Beelzebub's response struck somewhere deep inside, making me realize that I would never find an answer. Demons were not supposed to feel this. Mammon loving Lucifer nearly destroyed him, and now I felt like I was the one dying. For a brief moment, I understood Mammon. This was impossible to navigate.

So, I let the matter drop. There was no point in searching for answers because nobody had them. Not even I. Once more, I let out a heavy sigh and then leaned into the chair, feeling the weight of the conversation pressing down on me. The dim lighting of the bar cast shadows on the walls, adding to the somber atmosphere.

"Anyway... what's Mammon up to? Did you find a way to keep him down?" I asked, trying to shift the focus to something more manageable.

"He surprisingly seems to be minding his own business," Beelzebub replied, swirling his drink thoughtfully. "Ever since he's been given back his position, he's been more than fine. At least he appears to be." He shrugged, but there was a hint of skepticism in his eyes. "I'm still keeping an eye on him, though. You never know with Mammon. He's like a snake, always ready to strike when you least expect it."

I nodded, appreciating Beelzebub's vigilance. "Good. The last thing we need is another surprise from him."

Beelzebub sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Yeah... However, doesn't it feel weird that Belial has such a powerful artifact with him? I know he proved his loyalty and yet I can't shake off the feeling it shouldn't be with him." He frowned and I instantly locked my gaze on him. After thinking for a moment, his words did rise a bit of suspicion in me. I was also feeling uneasy about Belial's sudden interest in the cause and the lengths he was willing to go. It could've been paranoia that was eating at me as well and yet I couldn't help but see Beelzebub's point.

"You're right," I said thoughtfully, rubbing my chin as I considered the implications. "I'll try to track him down and secure Solomon's ring for myself." The decision felt necessary, if only to alleviate the growing doubts and ensure that we had control over such a critical asset. The last thing we needed was another unpredictable factor in this already volatile equation.

"Good idea. If he is truly on our side, he should be ready to give it up." Beelzebub shrugged and I couldn't say anything against that reasoning. It was strange how I was able to have more trust in a trickster god than a fellow demon. Nobody could set you up quite like someone of your own kind, it seemed. "Anyway, I must go now. Somebody's gotta train the army." He chuckled, and downed the rest of the liquid in his glass before standing up.

"Alright, see you soon," I said, nodding and finishing my drink. Beelzebub turned on his heels and left, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Almost immediately, the same dark thoughts surged into my mind, threatening to overwhelm me. I felt an intense urge to scream, the gnawing need to sever these phantom limbs of emotion gripping me with a force that felt almost too strong to resist. Abaddon's advice had been true but came too late. If I sat with these thoughts for even a second longer, I was convinced I would lose my mind worse than the Devil ever had.

In an act of frustration, I stood up abruptly, pacing back and forth, trying to dispel the storm within. I saw the other demons in the casino, staring at me with confused expression. It annoyed me. And no amount of movement could chase away the shadows that seemed to dance in my mind. Every step was a reminder of how far I had fallen from the certainty I once knew.

I looked around the room and suddenly I hated every present demon.

"EVERYONE GET OUT!" I bellowed, my voice reverberating with an intensity that cut through the murmur of surprise. The room fell into chaos as people hesitated, exchanging bewildered glances, unsure whether to take my words seriously. But there was no mistaking my urgency.

"OUT EVERYBODY! NOW!" I roared, my voice echoing with raw frustration. Slowly, they began to rise from their chairs, the room a flurry of movement as they shuffled toward the exits. I continued to yell, "OUT, OUT, OUT!" and with growing urgency, they quickened their pace, streaming out of the room.

As the last of them made their way out, I slammed the door shut and slid down to sit against it, my back pressing firmly against the cold surface. The noise of retreating footsteps gradually faded, leaving me alone in the oppressive silence. The room was empty, save for the lingering echoes of my outburst. I closed my eyes, letting the solitude envelop me as I tried to calm the storm of emotions that still churned within. Then I almost understood what the Devil meant when he said everything in him was getting pulled apart.

Suddenly, the overwhelming silence was soon interrupted by a sudden message from Belial. I took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to steady the chaos inside me.

Asmodeus, let me in. Came his message but I couldn't even begin to unlock the doors. I just continued to sit there. Last thing I needed was some good-natured motivational crap. Nobody could understand the amount mental anguish love caused in this landscape that was Hell.

Shouldn't you be keeping close attention to the Devil?

Yeah, but then I was passing by and everyone said you were having an outburst so I wanted to check up on you.

I sighed in annoyance. Why would he care?

It's fine, continue on your task.

Are you sure?

Damn, he was stubborn.

Yes, now please go. I said as nicely as I could so he wouldn't get any weird ideas. There was silence on the other end for a little bit before he finally said:

Okay, if you say so.

I sighed in relief. I genuinely wasn't able to deal with anybody right now. Any attempts to help me just felt like a fresh irritant. I slowly rose up to my feet and moved away from the door, as I stumbled into the office on the other end. I walked over to the drawer on the desk, opened and grabbed the plastic baggie in it. I cradled it in my hand, my eyes fixated on it, realizing not even that was able to help me long-term.

Hesitantly, I opened the other drawer, and my heart sank when I saw the chain Loki had given me. A surge of anger and frustration bubbled up within me, and I grabbed the chain, hurling it across the room with a growl. The metallic clatter was a small but satisfying release, though it did little to soothe the storm inside me. The anger inside me seemed to rise and dissolve in waves, a relentless cycle that I struggled to break. I was fighting with my own thoughts in real time, feeling blind to the circumstances that had led me here. I had lost the game of chances, never truly knowing what the chances ever were.

Abaddon, Abaddon, Abaddon... I began firing off the messages to him once again. This time I was more relentless about it. I kept annoying him each second until he finally responded by sending the message back.

Meet me in the human world.

I groaned in frustration at the irony of my chosen location. Of all the places to end up, it had to be here—the very memories I was desperately trying to escape. But at least he had responded. I swallowed the lump forming in my throat and, with a resigned sigh, opened the portal.
Stepping through, I found myself back in the familiar valley that had once been sacred to me. The landscape stretched out before me, its serene beauty a stark contrast to the turmoil roiling within me. The valley's comforting familiarity was now tainted by the weight of my unresolved emotions, and I felt a pang of nostalgia mixed with irritation. It was as if the valley itself was mocking my attempts to flee from my own heartache.

"Back so soon?" Abaddon asked and I turned around to see him standing near the little stream. His eyes squinted at me and then began, "Wha-... Oh dear." He mumbled as he came closer to me, visible concern painting his face. "You are quite literally tearing at the seams inside."

I was relieved I didn't have to explain myself; having a mind-reader for a friend had its perks.

"Yes... that's why I'm here," I replied, my breath coming in heavy, ragged bursts as if the weight of my emotions was suffocating me. Abaddon's frown deepened as he tried to read my expression and, undoubtedly, my thoughts.

"Don't tell me..." he began, his voice trailing off as he pieced together the reason for my return. It was clear he had already figured out why I had come back so soon.

"I tried to do what you said," I admitted, desperation clear in my words. "To find the balance, but I only ended up more off balance." I began to pace around the valley, unrest entering my core being all over again. "I don't know how to manage it. It feels like this love is consuming me, leaving me with nothing in return. It's like a parasite, feeding off my every thought and emotion."

Abaddon watched me intently, his concern growing more apparent. "You're describing an intense internal struggle," he said softly. "It's clear you're in pain, and no matter how much you try to stabilize yourself, the turmoil remains. The love you speak of is not just a simple emotion—it's deeply entwined with your very being."

"Yes. It's like it's eating me! I need to get it out now!" I yelled out, desperation rising even more, as I stopped in my pacing. My eyes locked onto him as if begging him to do something.

"I clearly underestimated the depth of what you're feeling," Abaddon said, his brows furrowing as he stepped closer. He placed his hands gently on my forehead, a gesture that felt both grounding and disconcerting. "It seems you're only now confronting the full weight of it. I'm sorry to say this," he continued, taking a deep breath, "but this limb needs amputating. I didn't realize how deep it had sunk into you. This kind of love—" he laughed softly, though the sound was tinged with the absurdity of the situation, "—it's a rare occurrence, once in a millennium. It's not something that's easily processed or digested."

He paused for a moment, collecting his thoughts. "Your and Loki's paths are intertwined in ways far beyond ordinary understanding. This connection is a part of a larger, more cosmic design—one that ties into the very fabric of the apocalypse. When have you ever heard of a demon experiencing such a profound and consuming love? It's practically unheard of."

Abaddon's eyes met mine with a blend of sympathy and resignation. "This type of love is not meant for demons. It defies the natural order of things. That's why, when it does happen, it signifies something greater—a destiny or purpose beyond the immediate pain you're feeling. This love is entwined with forces that are far beyond your control, and facing it means grappling with those greater forces."

His words hung heavy in the air, resonating with the profound truth that was both unsettling and strangely comforting. "So what should I do?" I asked, my voice strained with the weight of his revelation.

"There are two paths you can follow. One being harder than the other, especially given the fact that this feeling had gone ignored for far too long." He began with a sigh. "First path requires you facing all of this head-on, acknowledging the depth of what you're feeling, and then decide how to manage it. But as I said, since it has gotten this bad, I would... actually recommend, erasing all those feelings. There is more of a chance of them eating you alive than you managing to overcome them yourself."

I stood there in disbelief, my mind reeling from the implications of Abaddon's words. It felt as though I had failed a monumental test, and in doing so, I had doomed the entire Astral. The weight of it was crushing, a realization that all my efforts might have been for nothing. The sense of failure was overwhelming, and the thought that I might have played a part in something so catastrophic was paralyzing.

It would have been a small comfort if someone had warned me sooner, if I had been given a clearer sign. But it almost felt like this was orchestrated, like the pieces of this puzzle had been placed in my path deliberately. Had Loki known all along? It seemed impossible to think he hadn't been aware of the broader implications. He had tried to hint at it, I remembered, but why hadn't he told me outright? If he had known more, surely he would have shared it with me... right? The questions swirled in my mind, a maelstrom of doubt and frustration.

"And you... didn't know about this at all?" I asked, carefully. Everything I had been feeling until now just stopped swirling me, leaving me completely paralyzed.

"I... genuinely wasn't able to foresee it at all. Even my powers are limited once Astral itself decides to interfere. Not one demon in the history of demonkind has gone through what you're experiencing right now. There have been gods and deities falling in love with mortals, leading to their eventual doom, but never a demon..." Abaddon's voice faltered, his disbelief palpable. "I have to admit that I played a part in the coming apocalypse, but it was never my intention to push you into your doom. Nor did I want to. You have to believe me on this."

He said it with such firmness, trying to convey his innocence, and it did offer me a sliver of comfort amidst the chaos. Still, it felt like a small balm on a gaping wound.

I had spent so long grappling with these overwhelming emotions, battling with a part of myself that I had never known existed. For a while, I had believed that this love was the greatest thing that had ever happened to me. Now, I faced the stark reality that I might have to erase it all, to pretend none of it had ever happened. The thought of having to discard those memories, those feelings, was almost too much to bear. It felt like I was being forced to deny a crucial part of myself, a part that had once given me hope and meaning, and now was to be cast aside as if it had never existed.

And yet, thinking that Loki might have known this, killed me inside. If he did know, and never told me, then I'd rather erase everything. I didn't want to harbor emotions for someone who might not have deserved them. He had said he shouldn't have dragged me into this mess... but was the mess he referred to the very chaos I was entangled in now? I didn't even know when I was going to see him again and the idea of waiting, pacing in endless anticipation, was unbearable. The emotions that threatened to consume me were a formidable force, and by then, I was sure they'd devour me.

"Okay..." I exhaled, staring up at the sky, a single tear sliding down my cheek. "Do what you must. Erase these feelings, toss them into the void, eat them... Whatever works." I said, resigning to my fate. I suffered long enough. It was time I had given myself some relief.

Abaddon nodded solemnly, his expression reflecting the gravity of the situation. He extended a hand towards me, his fingers weaving through the air with a delicate precision. A dark, shimmering veil seemed to form around his hand, and I felt the oppressive weight of my emotions beginning to lift.

"This won't be painless, Asmodeus," Abaddon warned gently, his voice a low murmur against the backdrop of the silent valley. "But it's necessary for you to regain some semblance of peace."

I swallowed hard, fighting the urge to retreat from the impending procedure. "Just do it," I said firmly, though my voice trembled. "I need to move forward, even if it means leaving this part of me behind."

With a deliberate motion, Abaddon reached out and placed his hand lightly against my chest. I could feel a strange, almost icy sensation spreading through me as he began to draw out the tangled web of emotions that had plagued me. It was a disorienting experience, like having a part of my soul physically extracted.

The process seemed to stretch on, the weight of my feelings gradually dissipating into the void. I could sense the raw intensity of my love for Loki being siphoned away, replaced by a profound emptiness that was both relieving and unsettling.

As the last remnants of my emotions were siphoned away, I felt a sudden, overwhelming wave of dizziness. The void left behind was disorienting, and my vision began to blur. The calm that Abaddon had promised was quickly overshadowed by a profound weakness that seeped into my bones.

I staggered back, my legs feeling unsteady beneath me. I tried to focus on Abaddon's reassuring presence, but the darkness encroaching on my sight made it difficult. My breath grew shallow, and a cold sweat broke out on my forehead.

"Abaddon..." I managed to murmur, but my voice was faint, almost lost in the oppressive silence of the valley.

Before I could say more, my vision blackened, and the ground seemed to tilt beneath me. I collapsed to my knees, and then, unable to fight the encroaching darkness any longer, I fell forward, unconscious.

The last thing I felt was the cool, damp earth beneath me and the faint echo of Abaddon's voice, calling out to me. As everything went black, the void that had consumed my emotions seemed to swallow me entirely, leaving me in a state of precarious limbo.

As I drifted into the unconsciousness, the sensation of falling seemed to merge with the abyss of my emotions, plunging me into a disorienting void. In this realm of nothingness, my mind was assailed by vivid, fragmented visions, each one like a jagged shard of memory or emotion.

In the swirling abyss of the void, the visions coalesced into a more defined narrative, focusing more intently on Loki. I saw him in a series of moments that felt deeply personal, as if my subconscious was pulling together fragments of our shared past, revealing layers of his presence and my own buried emotions.

Loki appeared first as a fleeting shadow against the backdrop of a sun-drenched meadow, his laughter echoing through the scene. It was a sound I had longed to hear again, filled with warmth and unguarded joy. The meadow was a serene contrast to the chaos I had endured, a glimpse of what once was—a symbol of happiness and connection. As I watched, my heart ached with a longing that felt almost unbearable.

The vision shifted to a darker, stormier landscape, where Loki stood alone, drenched and weary. His expression was one of sorrow and resignation, eyes glistening with unshed tears. He turned his head slightly, as if sensing my presence, and his gaze met mine through the haze. In his eyes, I saw a reflection of my own pain, a silent acknowledgment of the unspoken words and unresolved feelings between us.

Then, a new scene came rushing to my mind. Here, Loki was standing before a crumbling, ancient edifice, the remnants of something once grand now reduced to ruins. He seemed to be waiting, watching, and I felt an overwhelming sense of helplessness as I realized that he was waiting for something—perhaps for me, or for some resolution to the turmoil that had engulfed us.

In another vision, Loki was seated on a solitary rock under a starlit sky. He looked up, his face bathed in the soft light of the moon, a look of deep contemplation etched into his features. The serenity of the scene was juxtaposed with a profound sadness, as if he was grappling with the weight of his own decisions and the consequences they wrought. His lips parted, as if to speak, but no words emerged. The silence was heavy with the weight of things left unsaid.

I found myself confronting the raw intensity of my feelings for Loki. The visions played out like a relentless reel, showing the highs and lows of our connection. Each image was a testament to how deeply I had been affected by him—how our moments together, both joyful and painful, had intertwined with my very essence.

In the final vision, I saw Loki standing at the edge of a precipice, looking out over an abyss. His form was illuminated by a soft, ethereal light, and he turned to face me with a gaze that was both pleading and resigned. There was a sense of finality in his expression, as if he was saying goodbye in a way that transcended words.

The void began to contract, the visions fading into the edges of my consciousness as I struggled to hold onto them. I felt the weight of my feelings for Loki pressing down on me, a mixture of love, regret, and unresolved longing. The clarity was painful but necessary, revealing the depth of my emotions and the struggle to come to terms with them.

As the visions receded, leaving me in the tranquil aftermath of my own thoughts. The place where feelings once resided were now replaced by ever-growning void and even attempting to think about Loki in a loving way, it felt like something forced those emotions shut. It was like everything I had felt for him ended up locked, shut and thrown away into the void, lost and forgotten. I failed to even experience sadness over it because I failed to grasp what I even lost. Memories of Loki remained but they no longer ached.

Eventually, I opened my eyes and slowly rose to my feet, feeling a bit disoriented after what had just transpired. Abaddon was standing nearby, seemingly waiting for me to wake up and stabilize.

"Welcome back," he mumbled, his arms behind his back. "How are you feeling?" He asked softly, his gaze locked on me.

"A bit dizzy... but I finally feel a semblance of normalcy." I said and stopped to think about it a tad longer. It was the first time in so long, I wasn't near mental collapse. I felt... stable. "Thank you, Abaddon." I smiled lightly but his expression remained sombre. It looked like he regretted what he had done.

He looked at me with an almost imperceptible sadness. "It was a necessary choice, but it doesn't make it any easier," he said quietly. "I hope that this new equilibrium brings you the peace you need, though it comes at a heavy price."

I nodded, the weight of his words sinking in. There was a profound understanding in his eyes, as if he knew the depth of the sacrifice involved, both for me and for himself. "I appreciate it," I said, the sincerity of my gratitude resonating in my voice. "I know it wasn't easy for you."

Abaddon's eyes softened slightly, though the underlying melancholy remained. "Sometimes the hardest choices are the ones we must make for the sake of another's peace, even if it means carrying the burden of those choices ourselves." He turned away with a sigh, opening the portal.

"I still feel much better than I used to." I said, a bit confused as to why he was so mournful if he had done the right thing.

"Those who fail the tests given by Astral are doomed to repeat them, Asmo," Abaddon said, his voice tinged with a deep-seated regret.

I watched as he stepped through the portal, leaving me alone with a quiet but lingering sense of unease. The weight of his words settled heavily on my shoulders, adding a new layer of complexity to my newfound clarity.

With a deep breath, I made my way back through the portal, my steps more deliberate and steady than they had been in a long time. The once-familiar terrain of the office greeted me with an eerie calmness. It was as if the chaos that had plagued me was now a distant storm, leaving behind a fragile, yet oddly comforting stillness.

I glanced around, noticing the subtle changes in my surroundings. The clutter and chaos that had once seemed overwhelming now appeared more manageable, almost inconsequential. I walked to my desk, the weight of my decision settling in with every step. The chain Loki had given me was still there, but it no longer held the same significance.

Sitting down, I allowed myself a moment of introspection. The absence of Loki's influence was palpable, and while the pain of losing him had been numbed, a different kind of emptiness now occupied the space where intense emotions had once thrived. It was a blank canvas, a new beginning marred by the remnants of what had been. The peace I felt was genuine, but it came with a lingering question: was I really doomed to repeat the same thing again? The silence enveloped me, offering both solace and a subtle reminder of the ongoing journey ahead. The room, once a battleground of conflicting emotions, now stood as a silent witness to my transition from chaos to clarity.