"So," Frey said. "What would you have me do about it?" The Lich raised an eyebrow. "Why didn't you tell me any of this the first time we had this conversation. I can leave that shack behind now. I have a reason to leave Gwen, but she'll think I left her like everyone else." The Lich nodded. Frey went to say something else, but he froze. His face paled. Even a human as idiotic as him had realized the meaning behind the Lich's words. "Although she has a new family now...She has people who will take care of her." Frey slowed his pace. When the Lich kicked him, he barely reacted. "And I'll never see her again or I'll bring that danger right to her doorstep." The Lich nodded. "So that's it? I'm supposed to just never return?" The Lich nodded. "Then what am I supposed to do now?"

"You tell me," the Lich said. "Are you so incompetent that you can't even imagine what you'd do on your own? You don't have anything you want to-" the Lich's eyes went wide. He dashed ahead, pushing Frey out of the way. In front of them was the end of the cramped tunnelway. The light from the Lich's light crystal illuminated the remains of a battle from long ago.

It was a giant pile of corpses from both demons and humans alike. The flesh had long since withered away, and the bones had cracked. Around the pile, driven into the ground like gravestones, were dozens of rusted and broken weapons, some still in their sheaths and others but a handle. The Lich got on his knees and pulled everything from the pile. Bones turned to dust after smashing into the stone. Weapons were ripped from their place in the stone. Frey stood behind him with an eyebrow raised. He alternated his gaze between the corpses and his unconscious group members which the Lich had left behind.

'Found one,' the Lich thought as it kicked a horned skeleton to the side to reveal a long, rusted shaft of a spear jutting out of the ground at an angle almost parallel to the ground. While it wasn't the best spear out of the pile, nor was it the weapon in the best condition, the Lich had another reason as to why he took so much care in pulling it out of the ground. He simply couldn't afford for this spear, the only intact demonic weapon, to break.

Over a century ago...

"So what was this foe?" Doevm asked after his weekly sparring session with Arthur. He sat on the side, restoring the cracks in his body with ribbons of dark magic. "That you had so much trouble with back at that swamp?"

"Honestly," Arthur said while wiping himself down with a towel. "I don't remember anything besides running and fighting. The people who found me said I walked up covered in blood from behind the infirmary but there is nothing behind there. It's like when you dream and you wake up and you can't remember it." Doevm stared at him. "Oh right, forgot about that." Arthur scratched the side of his head. "Maybe a better analogy for you is when you have a feeling of deja-"

"I get it, continue."

"W-well," Arthur stuttered. "I think their leader had a spear. It had some kind of red aura around it that made him stronger. A lot of them had auras now that I think about it but…" He held the sides of his head and groaned. "Every time I try to think about that fight, it feels like something is blocking my memory."

Doevm narrowed his flamed eyes: "For living beings in perilous situations, it is normal for one to lose one's memory. Your body is put in such a state of near death that it only focuses on survival. As for the auras, those should be demonic weapons." A magic circle appeared on the ground and a sword appeared. It floated in the air with a red aura around it. "They are weapons that have demons sealed inside of them, or the demon can be the weapon itself."

At this, Arthur's eyes lit up. "So I can get stronger if I get one of these weapons." He cursed. "Now I need to go look for that spear. My sword is…" He held out his half-broken blade. "Not the best."

Doevm shook his head: "You don't want a demonic weapon. For even though you gain strength, you must make a contract with the weapon. It will feast on your emotions and slowly push your mind into darkness. Even you will not be immune." The illusion of a sword disappeared. 'Although I imagine that goddess of yours would intervene if anything were to happen.'

"Then why would someone want one of those things?" Arthur asked. "Oh sorry," he turned around to see Gwenivier, looking bored over in the corner of the library. "It's time for your magic practice isn't it?" She nodded and stood up.

"It's fine," Doevm held a hand. "It actually ties into her first lesson." Hundreds of distinct runes appeared, floating through the air. "Demonic weapons must feast on hatred. This is not inherently bad. Each and every magic in the world are not evil nor are they good. In fact, if a demonic weapon is handled correctly, it may even be a blessing. If one had enough hatred to feed a demonic weapon, it would not force its host to be angry. It would not darken the mind. In return, the demon would grow more powerful."

…

The Lich sat down and lay the old, dying demonic weapon across his lap. He closed his eyes and imagined himself in the library that his other half was so fond of. The mana had tangled itself up again, getting caught in knots and pulsing with the body's heartbeat. There, sitting on a single shelf with "Lich's Malice", was a demon in its humanoid form.

The demon's horned head was wrapped in layers of rags. Its once black suit was wrinkled and torn. Its yellowed fangs parted as it spoke in a low, raspy voice: "How long has it been since I've been wielded by someone. How long has it been since I've tasted blood?" He jumped down. His bare feet and barbed tail slapped against the ground.

"I assume you would like to contract with me, is that correct?" He waved his thin, three-clawed hand and a piece of paper, filled to the brim with terms and agreements, appeared in front of the Lich. "I know blood is a cliché but you see I don't exactly have a pen within my rags. If you sign, I will once again become a weapon fit for anyone to wield. My power will be at your disposal. In whatever task you wish to fulfil, whether it be righteous or vengeful, I will assist. Kid, you and I together are going to go places you couldn't even imagine." The Lich grabbed the contract and the demon smiled. "Right down to business. I like it."

"Unfortunately for you," the Lich said. "I am no fool, nor am I one who needs to contract a demonic weapon." The Lich pictured a quill and one appeared in his hand. He read through the contract line by line, altering the agreement to his liking. "You see, I am quite familiar with your kind and the magic you perform. Demons are tricky and deceitful but compared to the humans I have been dealing with for over a decade and a half, your words are nothing more than desperate lies. However, I also understand that you will not accept blatant slavery." His quill traveled across the page and he blew the ink dry. "All demons, no matter what powers or feats they offer, need to feast off human emotions like anger. I propose a different contract."

At this, the demon's eyes narrowed. Its ragged body erupted in a red aura. "I see. Then if that's the case…" He rushed forward. A rusty spear appeared in his hand, which he drove through the Lich's heart. The demon smirked. "I'll just put you through enough torment to make you sign my contract. I'll put you through your worst nightmares. You may have read up on my kind but you are inexperienced, kid. I've been here before."

"I," the Lich said as his body morphed. "am no human, nor am I a kid." Standing where a human child had been was a cloaked figure of bones. Two bright blue flames appeared in its skull. The spear, which had stabbed through his heart, was simply trapped in his hollow, empty ribcage. The Lich reached forward and grabbed the demon by the throat.

"T-The forbidden one!" the demon screeched. Its red eyes went wide. The Lich released the demon, who let his spear go, fell to his knees, and bowed his head. His body shook as much as his voice: "O-our king told us about you. If I had known I never would have-"

"Relax," the Lich interrupted. "I'm not going to kill you." He bent to the demon's level and pushed the revised contract into his hands. "I am here to offer you a deal, a chance of a lifetime. I permit you to raise your head."

The demon raised his head. He reached one shaky hand towards the contract. His pale face regained its color upon reading through its contents. "The host party promises, as long as the party in service agrees to the terms listed, that I…" the demon scrunched up his cracked lips and glanced at the Lich. Trying to hide as much as his scorn as possible, he said, "My name is Larque by the way." Turning back to the contract, his red eyes continued down the page. "So essentially, I will get at least triple the strength I had originally as long as I can eat enough. What does this mean?"

"I'll show you," the Lich said. The room morphed, turning from an endless space with twisted tendrils of mana and endless empty bookshelves to a black room. The only occupants were the Lich, Larque, and a white orb with a crack down the center. The Lich picked Larque up by his ragged collar and hung him over the orb. "Look." The demon sniffed the air and his head turned downwards. He saw everything that the other half was undergoing and what was left of Doevm's humanity.

Larque's eyes went wide. Tears streamed down his cheeks. "I-It's beautiful," he stuttered. "I take it back. This, this is…nightmares are heaven compared to this hell. It's yours. Everything. I'll give you all of my strength."

"Just keep it in check," the Lich said. "If you don't, that thing will kill us both and everything else in this world."

"I'll do whatever you want just let me eat!" Larque tore off his rags, exposing his frail body. Reflected in his eyes, was nothing but hunger for the abyss below. He cackled as he signed the contract before throwing it at the Lich, who pushed him through the crack in the orb.

The other half's screams stopped.