CHAPTER 3 — The Sin That Wanted Me Dead
Twelve years.
That was the exact amount of time Hell needed to decide Caelum was no longer a child.
The air in the underground courtyard was thick with ash and heat. Columns of black stone rose around him, carved with ancient marks—battle scars from wars no one remembered anymore. The ground was cracked, as if it had been struck again and again by forces no ordinary being could survive.
Caelum stood at the center.
He had the body of a human teenager: tall, lean, muscles defined by relentless training. His face wasn’t demonic. No fangs. No red skin. No warped eyes. From a distance, he could easily be mistaken for a serious human—almost noble.
Only one detail betrayed him.
A small, dark horn growing from the right side of his forehead.
He kept it covered most of the time. Not out of shame.
Out of strategy.
Twelve years among demons had taught him one simple truth:
Showing less power was always safer than showing it all.
“Again,” the voice in front of him ordered.
Caelum moved.
His body flowed with absolute precision. No wasted steps. No wasted turns. No wasted weight. Every movement was clean.
Efficient.
Lethal, if necessary.
His opponent was a large demon, covered in scars, with arms like tree trunks and a heavy mace resting against the ground. One of the many “trainers” the demon realm had assigned him over the years.
Caelum attacked first.
Not with brute force.
With calculation.
He slid to the side, avoided the downward swing, and answered with a short cut aimed at the side of the demon’s neck. The blade stopped a centimeter from hardened skin.
Silence.
The demon growled, irritated.
“You could’ve killed me.”
“I know,” Caelum replied.
His voice was calm. Controlled.
There was no challenge in it.
Only fact.
The demon stepped back, watching him with an uneasy mix of respect and resentment.
“Enough for today.”
Caelum lowered his sword.
He didn’t smile.
He didn’t thank him.
He never did.
As he left the courtyard, he felt eyes digging into his back. They were always there—young demons, veterans, soldiers, servants. All of them staring at him the way you stared at something that shouldn’t exist.
Human.
Demon.
Mistake.
He had learned to live with that.
What he had never learned…
Was trust.
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His steps echoed through stone corridors as he returned to his quarters. Unlike most mid-ranking demons, Caelum had a room to himself. Not as a privilege.
As isolation.
The demon realm didn’t know what to do with him.
And that made him dangerous.
When he entered, he closed the door carefully and leaned his back against it. He shut his eyes for a second, controlling his breathing.
Twelve years.
Twelve years of tests.
Twelve years of hostile stares.
Twelve years of failed attempts.
Because he wasn’t the first.
The first assassination attempt had happened when he was five. “Accidental,” they had said. A beast released too close to his cell.
He killed it with a stone.
The second came at eight. Poison in his food. He survived because his body didn’t react the way they expected.
After that, the attempts became subtler.
More organized.
And today—
Today, the air felt different.
Caelum opened his eyes.
Something was wrong.
Not a vague feeling.
A cold certainty.
The kind he used to have right before an ambush in human training.
He pushed away from the door slowly.
The silence was too clean.
Too perfect.
He took the sword resting against the wall and stepped forward.
Then he felt it.
A presence.
Not one.
Several.
Caelum turned.
The impact came without warning.
A brutal force slammed him into the opposite wall. The air ripped out of his lungs. Stone cracked beneath his back when he hit.
Before he could react, a figure appeared in front of him.
A demon.
Tall. Lean. No heavy armor. His eyes shone with sharp, dangerous intelligence. In his hand was a black blade that seemed to swallow light.
“Too slow,” the demon said.
Caelum rolled aside just in time. The demonic sword cut through the space where his neck had been a heartbeat ago.
His heart hammered.
So it’s today.
He didn’t ask who had sent them.
He didn’t need to.
Three more figures stepped out of the shadows, closing the room.
“Clear orders,” the first continued. “The Sin of Envy doesn’t want risks anymore.”
Envy.
The name fell like a sentence.
Caelum clenched his teeth.
Of all the Seven Deadly Sins, Envy was the worst one for him. The one who controlled spies, assassins, infiltrators.
The one who hated anything he couldn’t control.
“I suppose I was never his favorite,” Caelum said, rising to his feet.
“You don’t exist to be liked,” another replied. “You exist to be eliminated.”
They attacked together.
Caelum moved.
The room erupted into chaos. Steel crashing, stone breaking, air split by impossible motion. Caelum dodged the first strike, blocked the second, spun, and drove a kick straight into one attacker’s chest.
The demon flew into the wall.
But didn’t fall.
They’re good.
These weren’t ordinary soldiers.
They were elite assassins.
Chosen by one of the Sins.
That meant only one thing.
They weren’t testing him.
They were sure they could kill him.
Caelum stepped back.
His breathing stayed steady.
His mind stayed cold.
Don’t show everything.
A rule he had repeated for years.
But he also knew something else.
If I don’t raise the level… I die.
The assassin with the black blade attacked again, faster this time—fast enough to cut the air itself. Caelum blocked, but the impact drove him back several steps.
Blood.
He felt heat bloom along his side.
One of the demons smiled.
“There it is,” he said. “So he bleeds after all.”
Caelum didn’t answer.
He closed his eyes for a brief moment.
And decided.
Fine.
The pressure inside his body shifted.
It didn’t explode.
It didn’t spill.
It simply…
Released.
The air around Caelum turned heavy. The torches trembled. Shadows stretched unnaturally across the walls.
The assassins stopped.
“What is this…?”
Caelum opened his eyes.
His gaze hadn’t changed in color.
It had changed in intent.
He stepped forward.
One step.
The nearest demon tried to react—but it was too late.
Caelum appeared in front of him in a blink and drove his sword into his chest with precise, surgical force.
The body dropped without a sound.
Silence.
The other two retreated instinctively.
“That wasn’t in the reports,” one muttered.
“Envy underestimated something,” Caelum said calmly.
“Me.”
They attacked again—desperate now.
This time, Caelum didn’t give ground.
He destroyed them.
It wasn’t a wild slaughter.
It was fast.
Efficient.
Terrifying in how clean it was.
When the last one fell, silence returned.
Caelum stood still, breathing slowly, sword lowered.
Demonic blood stained the floor.
He looked at his hands.
They weren’t shaking.
First real decision.
He had crossed a line.
And he knew what that meant.
It didn’t take long for the door to open.
The old demon entered, studying the scene without surprise.
“So Envy made his move,” he said.
Caelum didn’t respond.
“You’re not dead,” the old demon continued. “That will irritate him.”
“Let him be irritated,” Caelum replied.
The old demon watched him with renewed interest.
“Now everyone will know you’re a threat.”
“I always was.”
The old demon smiled faintly.
“The Demon King wants to see you.”
Caelum lifted his gaze.
“I figured.”
“Before that,” the old demon added, “there’s a mission.”
Caelum already knew which one.
“Asteria,” he said.
The silence confirmed it.
“At sixteen,” the old demon continued, “you will enter as an infiltrator into the academy of the human kingdom.”
Caelum’s heart hit hard against his ribs.
Lyra.
“And if I don’t return?” Caelum asked.
The old demon studied him.
“Then you will have served as a distraction.”
Caelum nodded slowly.
There was no surprise.
No fear.
Only absolute determination.
Because for the first time since his death…
The path back to her was open.
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