17 Interlude: The Lover

…

Years ago, walking amongst the destitute and downtrodden, I had searched for a gem. An honest, pure soul that strived for an honest, selfless goal. Hoping beyond all hope, I walked among the infirm, the childless, and the parentless searching for a spark of brilliance to call my own. A brilliant, transient soul to shape and form into magnificence. An innocence that can never be altered, that would always be mine.

Instead, I came across a man stumbling on the edge of insanity, clothed in dirty rags, and dying in an alley given wide berth. Curiosity led me astray from my path, and though the warmth of love born of charity did little for me, it did more than trysts and nights that pervade my existence. I ventured where no one else dared to go, offered my aid, and… I was firmly, solidly rejected.

"A bitch… taking advantage of the helpless?" Words that had never been aimed upon me by a mortal left his mouth in a weak whisper. His eyes looked upon me, yet there was no sign of lust or love. In them I saw absolute longing, irreconcilable anger, and unyielding will. Insane, half-starved, and exhausted… he saw through me and spat upon my face. "You make me sick. Do me a favor and go die."

No matter how I returned, the result was always the same. Nothing resulted in a different outcome. Food, money, and clothes were all cast aside. Any offered shelter, a single room, an entire home, and a villa were all rejected. No matter what smile, face, or personality… the rejection, the scathing words, and the same titles issued forth from his mouth.

Liar, trickster, fake, trash, and other degradations all came from him upon all my personas. No matter how kind, charitable, or personable… never did he accept anything I offered. He would accept copper coins covered in spittle, but not the gold I offered. Took to beneath porches instead of rooms or homes I purchased. Consumed scraps from gutters instead of food I'd made myself.

Days turned to weeks, and nothing I did progressed.

He drove me mad, and I lashed out upon him.

After I struck, a smile came upon his dirty, beaten face that stilled my heart.

"So, this is the real you." Slowly, his head lolled as he tried to keep conscious. However, I had been frozen by his smile and the chuckle that escaped his lips. He rose, took the sole, golden coin I offered him that day, and left me behind, kneeling and bloodied hands in the alley. "You always need to be loved? How sad. I should've pitied you from the start."

The next day he went into the dungeon and began his rise to success.

Instead of a pristine, growing, and transparent gem… I had come across a charred, unchanging, and chipped piece of metal.

Yet… yet…. Beneath it all was one part of what I had searched for, a single, shining piece made brighter by the hatred that surrounded it.

Adherence, reverence, and unflinching pursuit to the truth. No matter how painful the truth, or comfortable the lie, he would only accept, from himself and from others, what was undeniably, irrevocably, and completely… genuine.

Every spiteful word, angered growl, and dismissive gesture had been… true. Not borne of an addled, spiteful mind, but despite it.

Since our very first meeting, he demanded veracity and honesty.

I wanted, needed, had to have more of it.

More of his hatred, anger, and dismissal from him.

I needed him to loathe me, to spite me, and feel nothing but hatred for me.

That anger, loss of calm, and liberation of lashing out… I had to have more of it.

Days and weeks of denial of release, culminating in a single moment where he would once again smile, reject me, and leave me wanting, needing, and begging for more.

I never wanted it to become friendship, delight, or acceptance. He needed to continue showering me with his revulsion. I had to have it and more. I wanted him to leave me…

Stunned,

Breathless,

Insensate,

…and toss me aside.

That feeling of emancipation from lashing out, followed by the knowledge that I was well and truly reviled, unwanted, and detested… had been rapturous.

He needed to come after me, at the height of my power, and crush everything I held to my name. No more and no less, he had to annihilate all my protections, lay low my servants, and hold me at his mercy.

Just as I had struck against him after a few short weeks of spite, he needed to show me that I am nothing more than a pitiful, obsessed, and manic woman pleading for his attention.

He would be my Demon, and I, the princess alive only because of his benevolence.

Two years, I had watched in bated breath, gathering power instead of languishing in ennui as I had in previous years. I needed to be at my very best. To strike at him with all my might. Nothing less would do. If he defeated me at any less than the pinnacle of my ability, then everything I had done would be useless.

All the while he showed ruthlessness, cunning, and dedication beyond that of any other.

Clothes specially weighted to make him only as fast and strong as a normal man, even as he reached the full potential of a Level 1, worn at all times.

Techniques for both mind and body unseen across the world.

Mastery over magic, transcending the limiters normally placed upon those of his Rank, and only limited by his own investments.

Harvesting of the Dungeon with implacable, devastating efficiency. Curtailing of criminals with threats and beatings. A net of informants across Orario, deals with shopkeepers, and ears regarding caravans moving to and fro the city.

I took everything I saw of him, and used it upon my own Familia, and they grew in power by leaps and bounds.

"Freya-sama, forgive my intrusion." Ottar's voice brought me from my reverie. Ah, the first of my Familia. You've only grown stronger since you've adapted his methods. Once upon a time, that strength would've set my heart aflame, but all that remains are embers. Still, those embers are pleasant enough to warrant a smile. Besides, that newfound strength was borne of his cruelty and viciousness, so I adored it. "Cranel has taken the bait. He has charged into the dungeon, after Hikigaya."

Ah, yes, Bell Cranel. A mortal with no sign of distrust in his soul, the earnest, honest goal to become a hero, and whose life has been tempered with loneliness and melancholy. An orphan searching for a family. Unmarred by reality, growing in power, and ready to trust and believe in every person's goodness.

The innocent, pure, and unblemished soul that would soothe and rescue me. The balm to soothe the barbs, welts, and burns. The gentleness that I knew I could never get from Hikigaya, would all come from Cranel. Smiles, laughter, and gentle caresses… the very opposite of what I wanted from the other, he would give me.

Standing side-by-side, Hikigaya teaching Cranel, I could see the future that lay in store for me. One would give me his love and affection, and the other his hatred and anger. What I wanted against what I needed. The gentle purity bound by melancholy, accompanied by unrelenting adherence to an ideal borne of suffering… would be an elixir that would forever lock me into an eternal cycle of two extremes.

With the two of them, the flames of my heart will never cease, only to be brought to greater and greater heights.

Seeing them together, contrasting, interacting, and growing off one another… nearly had me break all pretenses and take them both.

However, I knew better.

Patience, planning, and preparation are the keys to the paradise I wanted.

"Oh?" It took me a moment to reply. I quelled the thoughts that threatened to overtake me. Still, as I spoke, I noticed that I was breathless. No matter. Ottar has beheld me in this state before. He had been its cause many times, as are all those from my Familia. "Has he called for aid?"

"None, Freya-sama." Ottar answered dutifully. Ah, his love is still as apparent today as it was when we first met. There is no jealously in his heart, to either of the two who have captured me so completely. My finest adventurer is as strong in love as he is on the battlefield. Still, the same can be said of all the strongest in my Familia. "Cranel has done as instructed, he has also used the grimoire we left for him to find, and the weapon made by Hephaestus is in his possession." Ottar's tone held a note of respect that made him all the more beautiful. "He will meet with the minotaur I have Tamed and armed, face his fear, and defeat it soundly."

"And what of the Loki Familia?" I inquired, even though I knew that my Familia would not fail me. "Will they arrive to see him safely?"

"Wallenstein, Alf, and Deimne are all near the Dungeon." Ottar reported without qualm. A part of me was thrilled to have so much information. All gods and goddesses adored gossip, but none ever thought to use it as a network. A few misbegotten strays paid with coin, bread, and lodgings suffice as eyes and ears across the entirety of the city. "Loga, the Hiryutes, and Landrock are all scouring areas close to the Guild-approved pathways. I have arranged it so that Hestia-sama shall contact them soon, and they shall bear witness to Cranel's feat."

"As they should, an Adventurer of hardly a month killing a minotaur… such a feat needs credible witnesses." The idea sent a shiver down my spine. I had not believed that such growth would be possible, even underneath Hikigaya's tutelage, but those who I had watching them both had my full trust. Undoubtedly, they had said, he had a skill that allowed him to grow at an exceptional rate. Cranel would've grown rapidly without Hikigaya, yet beneath him… there was no doubt in my mind that he was far stronger than anyone believed. After all, in his search for his teacher, he had cut his way to the Middle Floor only to be stopped by Wallenstein herself. "Hmmm… what of Hikigaya? How has he fared since his awakening?"

"Helun reported to me that Hikigaya has engaged the Adolescent Dragon in earnest."

"We awoke him from his slumber not even an hour ago." My heart stilled, my breath caught, but words still escaped my mouth. My body stood without my own volition, and I walked toward the mirror. I paid for its use with my own body, yet without hesitation I used its divine power to look upon the impossible man I had sealed into one of the first results of my affection for him. "How could he-."

He was burning alive.

Skin and outermost muscle burned.

The cloth shirt he wore was bound to him, fused upon his skin, and still alight.

Yet, he stood calm and composed, no trace of fear in his eyes, before a dragon already missing an eye and one of its limbs.

"His throat is burned, he cannot chant." Ottar's voice was distant. All I could do was look upon the man who caught me so completely. "The dragon will not allow him to imbibe the potions. How will he… ah, of course."

Hikigaya withdrew the pittance of medicine I had given him, held the twin glass vials of healing concoction, and crushed them both against his burned throat. Fresh blood was spilled from him, injuries caused by his own action, yet I watched as the lesser remedy acted with speed as quick as the finest.

"Too quick for even the monster to react to." Dull, faint words reached my ears. "The stray cuts from the glass will even send more of the elixir into the needed area."

Ottar's admiration was faint to my ears.

I could only watch, listen, and bear witness to the man who I wanted to absolutely and thoroughly conquer me.

Every word of his chant made my heart skip a beat and every step caused it to still.

My chest ached in yearning.

I could only hope for the blissful agony to last forever.

As his skin, flesh, and body mended under his own ministration, he strode implacably towards the enemy I had set upon him, and his eyes were gelid, savage, and adamant.

Ready to crush the enemy before him.

I needed those eyes upon me.