The Demon Lord Is An Angel
Chapter 119: Comforting A Friend

Chapter 119: Comforting A Friend

It didn’t take long for Kir to finish his business in town.

The Adventurer’s Guild clerk turned out to be an early riser, and enough villagers remembered what an angry Bridget looked like to treat Kir as politely as he treated them.

Still, coming into town was a reminder to Kir that Darlbridge was a town for humans, and he held some sympathy for the skinny, orcish clerk who looked like he didn’t get out of the pub - which doubled as the inn - much.

Kir’s mistake after arranging his message was leaving Amarena alone at the pub while he went to the blacksmith.

Believing all Guild members had to be warriors, Amarena had proceeded to engage Arcca - the clerk - in a series of misunderstandings that wound up with her challenging him to a duel by ale. Kir was unfortunately roped into paying for their duel with the small amount of funds he got selling off the dead adventurer’s weapons and a couple of magic items from the bottom of the dungeon.

At least he got his message out before the day drinking began.

By Kir’s guess, Norneau would be an hour ahead in daylight, so with luck, he’d have his answer around the afternoon at the latest.

So it was with some surprise that he returned home to find himself with a full day ahead and nothing else to do.

It was with even more surprise that he noticed he was alone in the house.

Where had Noir, Sam, and Stella gone?

After a quick stop at the kitchen to wash his face, Kir decided that he needed a bit more rest than he’d gotten. And so he climbed the stairs to his room.

As soon as he laid down, however...

"Ow!" One of his pillows suddenly exclaimed, and Kir shot to a seat.

Noir had been lying in his bed, his fluffy mane of black curls blending into the shadow between a couple of Kir’s pillows. Kir had lain on top of him.

"I am so sorry," Kir grimaced, hoping it hadn’t been one of his horns that stabbed his friend. "Are you okay?"

"It’s alright," Noir said, sitting up. The shag of fur that ran down the sheep beastkin’s shoulders and chest had yet to start curling again. Underneath, he was chocolate-skinned with softly defined muscles, his wooly hair framed perfectly by the little curling horns on his head.

"I didn’t know anyone was here," Kir said, pink rising under his olive-gold skin.

"Ah. Sam went for a walk, so I asked Stella to follow them... since she can fly I figured she could do so quietly." Noir swallowed and looked from Kir to down at the bedsheets.

An awkward silence followed.

"I should... go..." Kir said.

"Wait!" Noir suddenly reached, placing his hand on Kir’s. "Please stay... I know it’s been difficult. I know the last thing Sam said to you probably hurt but... I don’t blame you. And I don’t think they blame you either... not really... None of us could have known-"

Kir turned, smiling reassuringly. "I wish I could have done better... Maybe thought to trade for some healing potions or... or something..."

Noir shook his head. "None of what they had at the outpost would have helped Namosa or Caroon... Potions that powerful cost an arm and a leg, which is why they’re beyond the reach of most people." He pulled his hand away from Kir’s. "Would you be willing to just... sit with me for a bit? Everyone’s been so strange..."

Kir thought for a moment before pushing himself onto the bed. The softness and sag were just as he remembered, perfect for keeping his tail comfortably in the middle - which had been why Noir had wound up hidden.

"Would you like a hug?" Kir asked sincerely.

Noir’s eyes met Kir’s for a moment before he swallowed and nodded. "I... I would, actually..." He shifted to come closer, awkwardly pausing to pull up the blanket but unable to shift it far thanks to Kir’s weight on top. "Sorry... I’m not dressed under here..."

"Noir, I’ve sheared you. A little nudity doesn’t bother me," he opened his arms and accepted Noir’s small, warm body against his, resting his chin on the smaller man’s wooly locks. His hands moved to Noir’s back, pulling him in until they were chest to chest.

For a moment Noir shuddered against him, until finally relaxing, getting his breathing under control as he simply rested his head against Kir’s arm, with only the occasional shudder.

It took a long while for Kir to realize that the tiny, crawling droplets he felt on his arm were tears. He started to draw his hand along Noir’s back, rubbing it gently as he encouraged the man to let out his feelings.

Minutes passed, and eventually Noir looked up. "Thank you," he said, rolling a bit to lay on his back. "Gods... I thought... I really thought we’d finally gotten away..." he let out a long breath.

"You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to," Kir said.

"No... I need to," Noir said, sniffing heavily and wiping his eyes. "I was such a fool... I knew that Carroon wouldn’t go in chains; not again. And Namosa..."

They talked.

For a long time, Noir spoke to Kir about what the Black Sheep had been through. What they’d really been through. Years of blood and toil. Years of escape attempts and betrayals, of friends who were forced to choose between their own lives and those of their fellow slaves.

Kir held Noir’s hand through most of it, asking the occasional question. Telling Noir when he was being unrealistic or when he was taking on blame that wasn’t his.

Then, when Noir finally ran out of things to say, Kir embraced him again.

Noir accepted the embrace again, before pulling himself up to meet Kir’s eyes. "Thank you... for listening. I know we haven’t known each other long... and there’s a lot you don’t know about me... but I feel... I just want you to know that... I..." " Noir swallowed heavily his face drawing closer to Kir’s. "I really... really trust you."

He pulled back, his ears angling sheepishly, shamefully.

"So please... I know it’s a lot to ask... but please swear to me that what we’ve talked about isn’t a lie... that we’re really going to put an end to the Syndicate," he looked again at Kir, his eyes full of nascent tears, pulling Kir’s hand to his chest.

To the pulse of Noir’s racing heart, Kir spoke.

"With everything I am, I will destroy the Syndicate down to the last slaver. Down to the last slave owner." Something welled within Kir. He could feel his mana shifting, a sensation of power growing within him as he focused entirely on the truth of what he would do.

"I won’t let anyone stop me. No king, or god, or any who would protect slavery on this world..." Without realizing it, his eyes began to glow, their intense violet casting his face in darker shadows. "And I will not be dissuaded. I will oppose Gods, kings, Araqlun, and all who protect that heinous crime!"

The feeling inside Kir swelled. It felt good... like just by speaking the truth of his intent, he could make it so. The feeling pulled on his thoughts and demanded they be shared. Kir willed it. He wanted it. Wanted Noir to know that he would keep his word.

"I swear it, with all my soul-" Suddenly, the feeling that was in his chest surged outward, into Noir.

Kir realized he’d just emitted a massive wave of mana, and he braced himself for the pain that his seals had never failed to enact...

Yet there was nothing.

Only the strange feeling of resonance with Noir. Like they shared something now. Like-

"Kir... what just happened?" Noir stared down at his chest. A mark was there, black against his brown skin, its glow fading beneath the wool on his chest. It resembled...

"I-I don’t know..." Kir’s eyes widened. Had he just... Why hadn’t his seals... He remembered. Remembered those months ago, the magic that was beyond his comprehension... his father’s words, formed right then and there and yet carrying the force of magic... "I think... I just made an oath... A magic one."

"A magic oath? That can’t be... the magic to do that sort of thing is... The best any of the Myriad can do is contract magic, seals... You’d need to be a demon or an angel to do that. A full blood..."

Kir turned away from Noir, standing off the bed. Suddenly, a clatter caught his attention as his third seal fell from its gauge, breaking itself upon the floor and scattering its discs into the cracks.

The sound shocked him. A rush of thought hit him. His ideas about the seals had seemed logical. A test, and perhaps insurance to keep him alive. One had broken, releasing some sort of healing magic when he’d come near death. One had broken when he’d achieved his war form. But this one... this third seal... He’s sworn an oath. An oath on his very soul.

That was not the sort of thing one could have known to test for... not unless...

"Kir... are you alright?" Noir asked. Kir read another question in his eyes, in the way they stared out at the fading mark on Kir’s chest, a broken circle, surrounding the mark of his father’s oath. Are you really a demon?

"I’m... fine..." Kir said. "And I’m not a demon... nor an angel either." Closing his eyes, Kir took off his top and released his wings.

"Four... those are seraphim wings!" Noir gasped.

"Noir... I’m sorry I haven’t been completely honest with you... I didn’t even know I could swear an oath like that until now..." He looked down at one of the glinting fragments of his third seal, unsure if he would be able to find them all.

"I’m... a hybrid. Something between an angel and a demon. Something new... and something that I believe Heaven and Hell would try to destroy if they found out." Kir stored his wings. "I think that’s why I was attacked and sealed... I think... someone’s been manipulating me. Someone who knew I’d make that oath..." Or guessed... He shook his head. "I’m sorry..."

Noir seemed stunned. "Gods, I don’t even... you swore that kind of oath to me... I’ve never..." he touched the hidden mark on his chest. "I won’t betray you. From now until the day I die, I swear I’ll do everything I can to help you."

"Don’t give up your life for me," Kir said. "It’s my oath to you, not the other way around." At least, he thought so. He had no idea how this was going to work from now on. "You shouldn’t just swear your life away like that."

"Says the boy who just swore an oath on his soul to some guy he’s barely met," Noir sat up, crossing his arms. "I don’t have divine or demonic or whatever magic that was, but I can at least keep my word."

Kir sighed. "You’re right... although to be fair my father swore an oath not to harm my moms or me... and we’d only just met at the time."

"Who’s your father again?" Noir asked, running a hand up through his hair. "He sounds like a piece of work."

"Maledict, Duke of Heresy," Kir confessed.

"Gods... the apex of forbidden magic himself. I’m surprised you’re still sane." Noir smirked and shook his head.

"Me too," Kir smiled back. Despite everything... the sorrow and the weirdness, Kir was glad to see Noir smiling again. "But who knows? Tomorrow is a brand new day." He reached up and touched the third empty gauge in his ear.

"Glad we got the obvious out of the way... would you like to lay down again and we can discuss something less dramatic?"

Kir opened his mouth to reply-

Suddenly there was a knock on the door.