Despair grew a light smile.
A feigned smile.
One that had no chance of tricking Ixion.
With a warm tone, Despair 'kindly' demanded:
"Hand her over."
Ixion drew Dia into a princess carry, her hat slipping off her head, letting her thick hair cascade freely.
"I'm afraid I can't do that. At least, not until you answer so questions of mine."
Despair's smile vanished as he looked left and right.
"Well, then. Why don't we relocate? I don't think it would be good for either of us if I'm spotted."
***
Ixion found himself sitting in a temple of so forgotten god.
Despair's thralls surrounded the place as wards.
Ixion humd and tapped his foot while he leaned against a faceless stone statue.
"Alright, you can have Dia back if you… Hmm… Tell everything. All your juicy secrets. First and foremost — where have you been? And how can you evade my detection?"
Once again, Despair's face remained stoic as he stood in front of Ixion.
"Just hand over the girl, Ixion."
Ixion's smile dropped.
"Or what? Going to kill ?"
Despair marched over to the side of the room and picked up a mounted candle.
"Kill you? You know I can't do that. But I'll torture you, flay you, pour acid on the wounds."
'Until I succumb to your hex, huh?'
That's why Dia had said he'd never kill him. He had no reason to.
Despair held up the candle and looked at Ixion.
A mont later, Ixion's soul and vessel felt the agony of being torched.
He felt the pain of his eyes lting. The flesh of his head was lting and sliding down his body. His skin was withering and shrinking until all the moisture had left.
His lungs desperately tried to keep his body moving, but soon there was no more fresh air.
Ixion began to feel the pain of suffocation.
His body felt incomprehensibly light. Like he was floating in his soul form.
If he felt this pain through his [Defiance] defense…
'The others he inflicts this on have it amplified at least sixfold.'
Ixion groaned, then laughed:
"Enough with the illusion, my friend. I thought we ca here for a peaceful negotiation."
Despair recalled the illusion and set the candle on a pew.
"Peaceful negotiation? Is that why your filthy hands are gripping her soul?"
Ixion was still agonized by lingering phantom pain.
"It's just insurance."
Despair sat down on the pew opposite the candle. He sighed, scratched his cheek, then mumbled:
"Well, what is it you want that's reasonable?"
Ixion chuckled.
"Reasonable? What does that an?"
Despair sighed lightly.
"Enough jokes, Ixion. I don't have ti to play. I'll allow one question. Then give her to ."
Ixion looked down at the beautiful woman in his arms.
"'What' is she? And why do you need her so bad?"
Despair exhaled through his nose, then said:
"A replica."
Ixion laughed.
"Replica? Of what?"
Despair looked at Ixion inhabiting the body of Gwen, and spoke evenly:
"The key."
All asure of exuberance instantly erased from Ixion's face.
'Sloth made no ntion of this…'
Was Despair defying Sloth's will?
If so…
'She would have known and already adjusted to it by the ti she approached .'
Or Sloth left it out when directing Ixion.
'But why would she leave out sothing so important?'
Ixion swallowed, then said:
"You think I'll just hand her over after you tell that?"
Despair put his hands on his knees and pushed, standing back up.
"I was afraid you'd remain difficult. I really didn't want to have to threaten you, Ixion."
Despair gripped the wooden pew with one hand as he calmly stared down Ixion.
'Argh!'
Ixion felt the pain of his legs being chopped off. When his body tumbled over, his arms snapped and shattered under his own weight.
The terrible agony of being scraped upon unforgiving terrain — rocks and bones.
Then, lying alone, slowly waiting for it all to end, only for his skin to start peeling.
First, his shins.
He felt the pain of a crude knife slipping under his skin. Then, with one cruel tug, it was ripped off entirely.
His naked leg t the air, and all the toxic dust and particles freely basked in his blood.
Next, he felt the pain of being chopped into bits and reassembled.
His neck tied to his ankle. His forearm lded to his head.
Yet, he never died. He felt the soul-crushing pain of it all and lived.
When Ixion regained self-control and dispelled the illusion, he was face-to-face with Despair.
Ixion grit his teeth and said:
"That wasn't nice."
Despair had a calm look on his face, then said:
"You think I don't know what's under the throne room? It's what drew back, after all. How would you like for to expose your little secret?"
Ixion tried to hide it, but his face instantly grew pale.
'Already?!'
'He already knows about it?!'
Despair plucked the girl from Ixion's hands. An action Ixion mounted no defense against. Not that he could if he wanted to.
His body was still in shock.
The chilling, terrifying man showed his back to Ixion and walked away. Despair stopped at the large double door and cast a glance over his shoulder back at Ixion.
Despair, holding Dia, looked back at Ixion.
"Don't you dare follow ."
As the door swung closed, Ixion was wrapped in another illusion.
His back was endlessly whipped.
Tears flowed from his eyes as he pleaded for it to stop. Finally, a chance to escape.
He took it.
He clawed at the lock and shattered it with a stone. Then dug his hands into the grass and pulled up. His nails felt like they were scraping off as they dug into the soil.
'How unpleasant.'
Ixion snapped from his trance and began after Despair.
Through this short encounter, Ixion rembered well why he hated the bastard.
The bastard who sought liberation through suffering.
Not that Ixion was all that different in that regard, but the suffering he'd cause was much less obscene.
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