There was no one else here, and Damon had no idea when she had actually arrived.

They had been intending to meet Abellona these past few days, so they had tracked her down. However, unlike Xander, she wasn't someone his party members knew on a personal level. She was, after all, the empire's princess.

So in the end, Xander had sent a formal invitation with all of their names on it, intending to invite her to join them, or at least negotiate terms and agreements.

Just that Damon didn't know when she came, much less that she would have him cornered like this.

Her hand on his shoulder was soft, and her scent was familiar.

There was no one on this balcony. Just the two of them.

So she leaned in closer.

"My, a love letter…" she murmured. "I never pegged you as the romantic type."

Damon forced a smile, though it was weary and tired.

He lifted the paper slightly, looking at the two words he'd written.

I love you.

This was meant for his sister.

But Abellona had seen it, and she clearly wasn't leaving anytime soon.

She didn't have a chair to sit on, so she moved to the table instead, sitting close. Too close. Her form blocked his view, forcing him to lift his face slightly to meet her red eyes.

"I don't believe in romance," Damon said quietly. "Or… I didn't. But suppose it exists…"

His voice was low. Calm.

Abellona's gaze never left him.

"After having your way with me, you better believe in romance, Damian."

Damon chuckled faintly.

Right. That name.

The one he'd given her when they were fighting Ashcroft. He hadn't wanted her to find him afterward, especially since he'd groped her in more ways than one and seen parts of her no princess would ever forgive being seen.

She wouldn't let that go.

He would've said something shameless.

But this time, Damon stayed quiet.

Now that he was writing this letter, his death felt more and more real. It wasn't something distant anymore, something theoretical.

It was here.

He could see it.

And that was why he understood.

The cult spreading wasn't the goal anymore, it was collateral momentum.

This mattered.

Damon was no longer accelerating hate because he wanted victory.

He was letting it burn because he wouldn't be here to see the aftermath.

That was colder than ambition.

That was resignation, weaponized.

Behold a man with nothing to lose.

And for some reason, that realization stirred something faint in him.

Melancholy.

Abellona watched him for a while, then sighed.

"You know… after you stole my ring and my dignity, attempted to fake your death, among the long list of things you've done, I thought that if I ever found you, I would do terrible things to you. And you'd probably try to deflect."

She glanced down, her eyes softer now.

"I remember the man who arrogantly faced Ashcroft, the Demon Lord of Domination. The man who feared nothing. He told me many things, some of them lies, but when he was sincere… he moved me."

She clenched her hand slightly.

"He convinced me I could be more than Abellona of Destruction."

Damon smiled faintly.

"I'm glad I could be of help."

Her fist tightened.

"He also made me agree to pay him billions of zeni," she added flatly. "And that man who loves money would never forget to collect."

Damon shook his head.

Right.

She still owed him money.

Oh well.

He wouldn't be needing it where he was going.

She lifted his chin with a finger, forcing his gaze up. Her red eyes met his dark ones.

"I've spent most of my life on the battlefield," she said. "I've seen the faces of soldiers when they stop caring—when the passion dies and the flames in their hearts go out."

Her gaze flicked to the letter.

"Some of them write letters to their loved ones, thinking a piece of paper can absolve them of their selfishness. It doesn't. It never does."

Her face tightened.

"All it becomes is a violent memory of who they were."

She forced her hands to steady, though they trembled.

"You're not the first suicidal person I've met. You won't be the last. But…"

Her voice cracked just slightly.

"Now that it's happening to someone I care for… it hurts a lot more than watching comrades I fought beside waste away and give up."

Damon didn't know how to feel hearing her frustration.

He'd seen that same expression before, on Lilith's face.

"I never really believed in living," Damon said quietly. "We weren't asked to be born. We're products of this world against our will. Some of us just have it worse than others."

He glanced at her.

"And frankly… it gets tiring."

He exhaled slowly.

"If you're here to tell me to live because the world is beautiful or some shit like that, you're wasting your time. My death isn't because I'm afraid to live."

His eyes hardened.

"It's my way of giving the middle finger to the divine. To fate. It might seem pathetic to you, but to me, it's my last scream against the ultimate oppressors."

She bit her lip.

"You're mad."

He shook his head.

"No. I was just never sane."

His mind was made up. Begging wouldn't change it.

So she did the opposite.

"How cowardly," she spat. "So you're afraid of losing, so you tap out. Too scared to finish the game you started, because it looks like you'll lose."

His brow furrowed.

That hit a nerve.

She looked down at him.

"If you die now, you won't escape responsibility. You'll just leave it to lesser hands."

She crossed her arms.

"You run away and leave your troubles to others. How noble. You must be really good at running away."

Damon's gaze hardened.

She'd struck something raw.

Did she really think anyone could win against the Unknown God?

No one could.

That thing wasn't made to lose. It wrote the rules and could change them freely.

This wasn't defeat.

This was defiance.

Abellona stood.

"Now that you're dying, I guess there's no need to pick up where he left off. And here I thought we had a future together."

Her voice turned ice-cold.

"Good luck. I hope you die less painfully—no, on second thought, I hope you suffer a slow and agonizing one."

She turned to leave.

"Oh, wait. I need to take something before I go."

Damon turned—

And she grabbed him.

She kissed him forcefully.

Then pulled away.

"I'm not even with you yet," she said coldly. "But if you live, I'll get even."

She left.

Damon closed his eyes.

A single thought passed through his mind without hesitation.

He squeezed the letter—

And it dissolved into ash.

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