A violent crash echoed against the entrance door, yanking Darfredon brutally from his sleep. He jolted upright, eyes wide, breath short. His senses were blurred, his mind still clouded… He did not understand what he had just experienced.
It had not been a vision.
Nor a premonition.
Not a divine illusion.
It was… something else.
Something unknown.
A dream.
He had never had one. Angels do not dream. Not in Paradise, nor in Hell.
He had heard of it before—a vague word picked up from the minds of mortals—but never had he relived a fragment of his past so vividly. This was not an illusion… but a memory. The last one. The memory of his fall. Burned into his soul like a scar.
He tried to sit up. His body felt both foreign… and disturbingly human.
- Get up, vermin! You have five minutes to get ready.
The voice thundered through the door—dry, authoritative. Darfredon grimaced, still shaken. Was this real… or another trick of his wounded mind? He answered in a hoarse voice, dripping with contempt.
- Who dares speak to me like that? Have you still not understood that I am more powerful than all of you?
A coarse laugh answered immediately. Then another—lighter, almost mocking. Then the door burst open. Two guards stepped in briskly.
One of them—a massive man with a familiar voice—strode forward and violently seized him by the throat.
- Well, well… I think our little insolent needs a proper lesson.
- I completely agree with you, Agrippa, the other sneered as he pinned Darfredon's arms behind his back.
- Here, take this, you filthy bastard!
Three blows slammed into his abdomen. Brutal. Precise. And yet… Darfredon burst out laughing. A deep, mocking, almost bestial laugh.
- Muahahaha… Muahahaha! You miserable little angels… Do you really think that by torturing me like this, you'll get anything out of me? I will never beg to save my soul. And don't count on me to betray my own. I will tell you nothing about the demons. Nothing.
The two guards exchanged a look—both irritated and perplexed.
- Do you understand anything he's saying, Agrippa? He's talking about demons…
- No idea, Opiter. This guy's lost it. Demons… seriously? He thinks he can scare us with some imaginary band of rebels?
- Yeah. This one's completely mad.
- Doesn't matter. Even if they did exist, they won't save him. We have the blessing of our Gods. Nothing can touch us.
Agrippa punctuated his words with three more blows, even more brutal. But Darfredon, far from complaining, was still laughing—his teeth stained red with blood.
- Is that all you've got, Agrippa? You're barely tickling me. Oops… were you really trying to hurt me? Sorry… Your Gods must be sleeping in.
- What's so funny to you?! Agrippa growled furiously, smashing another punch into his abdomen.
- Muahahaha! It's not my fault if you're tickling me. Oops! Were you really trying to hurt me? I'm sorry! Your Gods must have abandoned you, you poor thing.
Darfredon shot back, spitting a bit of blood, a smile on his lips. He savored every insult, every provocation, despite the furious stares of his tormentors.
The two guards were seething. They had only one desire: to make him pay for his insolence once and for all. But they held back. They knew this prisoner belonged to Crassus… and no one wanted to provoke their Master's wrath.
Darfredon kept taunting them, delighting in the sight of their clenched fists and throbbing temples.
- Oh… I'm sorry! Maybe your miserable Gods haven't abandoned you after all. Maybe they're just… pathetically weak.
- How dare you blaspheme our Gods?! Agrippa shouted, raising his fist to strike again.
But he stopped dead. A shadow had just formed beneath the doorway.
Death's shadow.
- What is going on here? a deep, authoritative voice asked.
At once, Agrippa lowered his arm. Opiter released Darfredon, who collapsed to the floor, on his knees.
- Explain to me why our guest is on the ground, Death demanded as he slowly entered the room, his face closed and stern.
- He showed us disrespect… and he insulted our Gods. We merely corrected him, Master Crassus, Agrippa replied, dropping to one knee.
- And you, Opiter? Do you have anything to add?
- Yes, Master Crassus. He said he would tell us nothing about their attack plans… and that he refused to help us defeat the demons. I believe he is part of a rebel group. I fear they may come to free your prisoners…
As Opiter spoke, Darfredon struggled to his feet. Death stepped closer to him, a venomous smile curling his lips. He knew Darfredon had just experienced his very first dream… and that his mind was still wavering between memory and reality.
- I see. Our guest believes himself to be a god… We shall see tonight whether he still feels so clever when he faces his own brother in the arena. I am curious to see which choice he will make: save his own skin… or his brother's?
He paused, then added mockingly.
- A divine dilemma, wouldn't you say?
- Master Crassus… How do you know he has a brother here? Agrippa asked, intrigued.
- Muahahaha! Crassus… or should I say Death. Tell me—how could you possibly know I have a brother? That's a new one! Muahahaha! I have no brother here, and you know it very well.
- Are you unaware of the reputation of the Veturius brothers? Those legendary warriors, trained by Perseus himself…
- Muahahaha! I'll say it again: I have never had a brother here, you petty fallen angel.
Death did not appreciate the tone. He calmly seized Darfredon by the throat, but with terrifying strength. Darfredon stopped laughing, choking, struggling to breathe.
- Listen to me carefully. This is the first… and the last time you mock me. Once your fight is over, you will apologize to my men. Otherwise… I will make sure your suffering lasts longer than death itself.
The two guards, standing back, rejoiced inwardly. They savored the sight. At last, their Master was putting this wretch back in his place.
- That smug look of yours just took a hit! I hope you survive your first fight, because I'm really looking forward to those apologies.
Agrippa added, his tone mocking.
- I feel the same way, Agrippa, Opiter said. Let's just hope he survives his first bout…
Death slowly loosened his grip. While Darfredon struggled to catch his breath, he spoke.
- Now, if you'll allow us, leave us. I will escort him to the arena myself.
- Yes, Master Crassus,
the two guards replied before leaving the room, closing the door behind them.
Death turned back to Darfredon.
- I see your eyes have changed color after your dream. I like it…
The red one, for your demonic side.
And that blue-gray… the last spark of your light.
He stepped closer.
- So? Your first experience as a dreamer… How was it?
He raised a hand slightly.
- No, don't say anything. I can see it in your eyes: you didn't like it.
But this is only the beginning, Darfredon. The beginning of your fall… toward humanity.
He paused.
- And soon, you will finally understand what it truly means… to be human.
Another pause.
- Tell me… what does it feel like to fight against your own brothers and sisters?
If one can even still call that a family…
- You mean the angels? Those weak creatures are not my family.
And my feelings are none of your concern, Death.
And stop reading my thoughts.
- Oh, I'm not reading your thoughts. I'm reading my father's writings. That's more than enough.
Death then placed his hand on Darfredon's back. They vanished instantly.
They reappeared in a dark, damp corridor, its walls seeping with filth. The stench of excrement and misery hung heavy in the air. They passed several empty cells, then reached those still occupied—emaciated silhouettes with hollow eyes, prisoners of despair.
- You want me to fight here? In these catacombs? I expected better…
- The arena is farther ahead. I'm certain the brother of your vessel is already waiting for us there.
Death stopped for a moment, turned slightly toward us… and slipped in, with a crooked smile:
- Vessel, yes. Does the word surprise you?
Don't worry… it already existed in those days.
Well… angels were the only ones who used it that way.
Then, as if nothing had happened, Death turned his gaze forward again.
Darfredon, witness to this strange moment, narrowed his eyes.
- Who are you talking to, exactly?
- To your admirers. Those who read your adventures…
But anyway—I'm quite eager to witness what comes next.
The moment when you face Sextus's brother.
- You really think I feel pity for a human? Even if he is… my host's brother?
- If you say so. But never underestimate your opponent.
They approached a massive door guarded by two soldiers.
- Would you open it, please? Death asked calmly.
- Yes, Master Crassus.
The heavy wooden doors opened with a deep rumble.
- I'll leave him here, Death said.
Darfredon climbed the first steps.
And this time, there would be no dream… no return.
The doors closed behind him.
Death, meanwhile, took another path. He headed toward the upper levels of the arena, to his place of honor. When the crowd caught sight of him, it rose in a thunder of applause.