That's... actually kind of honest. Brutally honest. But at least you're not lying to her, I guess?}

'I'm lying about everything else. The least I can do is be straightforward about not being romantic.'

{That's a terrible philosophy for manipulation.}

'And yet here we are, with a demon general interested in spending more time with me. Seems to be working.'

Oscar grumbled internally but didn't push further, and Jack returned to his spot in the barracks as the fortress settled into its evening routines.

------

The next morning Jack stood from his position against the wall, Oscar held loosely in his grip, and started walking toward the exit.

Around him, other demons were beginning their own morning routines, but no one dared to approach him.

{So, today's the day we kill Someone?} Oscar asked, his mental voice carrying anticipation. {Finally! I've been stuck in a vault and carried around for walks, but I haven't actually stabbed anything yet! Do you know how frustrating that is for a weapon designed specifically to kill demons?}

'We'll see.'

{What do you mean "we'll see"? You've been planning this! The parchment, the observation, all of it was leading to this!}

'Plans change. Stay flexible.'

{That's not ominous at all. I feel totally confident in your leadership right now.}

Jack ignored the sarcasm, moving through the fortress with purpose.

The flesh factory stood in the eastern section, and if he was going to kill Loryn, morning was the best time to make something happen.

The demon would be working, focused on his creation processes, potentially isolated in the deeper levels where the experiment was contained.

The plan was simple.

{You have that look. The one that says you're calculating something but not sharing. I'm your weapon. I should probably know what we're walking into.}

'Loryn's death. That's all you need to know.'

{Oh good. Vague and mysterious. My favorite. Any chance you'll tell me about the parchment's purpose before we get there?}

'No.'

{Fantastic. I love surprises.}

Jack was halfway to the flesh factory when a demon appeared in his path.

The demon's eyes carried that particular emptiness that came from serving someone more powerful, personality grounded down to nothing but obedience.

"Jakar," the demon said, his voice flat and emotionless. "Master Pho requests your presence. Immediately."

Jack stopped, his mind immediately racing through what he just heard.

'Why now? What triggered this? Does he know something? Did Rynath report something? Did someone see me at the cave?'

{This is either very good or very bad.}

"Lead the way," Jack said, his voice carrying none of his internal concern.

The messenger turned without another word and started walking toward the fortress's central section.

Jack followed, Oscar held casually but ready, his awareness expanding to track every demon they passed and every corridor they turned down.

The route led deeper into the fortress than Jack had been before, past the sections where the generals maintained their operations.

This was Pho's personal domain, where the demon lord controlled his territory from the heart of his power.

{Okay, deep breaths. Well, you breathe, I don't have lungs. But the sentiment stands. This could be fine. Maybe he just wants to chat. Talk about the weather. Discuss your career prospects. Nothing threatening at all.}

'He doesn't do social calls.'

{I was trying to be optimistic! Sue me for having hope!}

The temperature dropped as they approached the throne room, frost forming in the air with each step.

The walls here were pure black ice, polished like a mirror, reflecting distorted versions of Jack and his guide as they walked.

Massive doors stood at the corridor's end, runes carved deep into their surface glowing with pale blue light.

The messenger pressed his palm against the ice, and the doors swung inward with that grinding sound that seemed to accompany every important entrance in Pho's fortress.

The throne room stretched in all directions with pillars of black ice that supported the structure.

And at the far end, elevated on a platform of frozen steps, sat Pho.

The Deathfrost Demon looked exactly as Jack remembered from their first meeting. Three meters tall, skin the color of ancient ice, blank white eyes that somehow conveyed absolute focus despite their lack of pupils.

Frost formed in the air around him constantly, creating a visible aura of cold that made the already freezing room feel like the heart of winter itself.

The messenger bowed deeply, then retreated, leaving Jack alone in the throne room with one of the most powerful demons on Floor 24.

{Okay. Stay cool. Well, cooler than the room, which is impossible, but you know what I mean. Remember how you acted before. Confident and unafraid. You challenged him to a fight last time and he LIKED that. Stay consistent.}

If Jack hadn't given Oscar a run down on their way to the cave he wouldn't have known all this information.

Jack walked forward, his boots making soft sounds against the ice floor, and Oscar held loosely in his grip.

He didn't bow, didn't show deference, just approached the throne with the same confidence he'd displayed during their first meeting.

Pho's blank white eyes tracked his movement, and something that might have been amusement flickered across the demon features.

"Jakar," Pho's voice carried across the chamber like ice cracking on a frozen lake. "You've been making quite the impression on my generals."

"Have I?"

"Loryn thinks you're his perfect student. Kaedor believes he bought your loyalty with a cursed weapon. And Rynath..." Pho paused, something in his expression suggesting he knew more than he was saying. "Rynath has taken a particular interest in your capabilities."

{Oh no. He knows about the walk. He definitely knows about the walk.}

"They each offered something different," Jack replied, his voice flat. "I'm still evaluating which offer has the most value."

"Smart. Take your time, assess your options, and make an informed decision." Pho leaned forward slightly, his presence seeming to grow heavier. "But that's not why I summoned you."

Jack waited, saying nothing.

"You carry Oscar," Pho continued, his blank white eyes fixing on the spear. "A weapon that should kill any demon who touches it. Yet you wield it without consequence. And when you stood before me days ago, you challenged me to a fight."

The temperature in the room dropped further, frost spreading across the floor in crystalline patterns.

"Most demons who challenge me die screaming. But you... You weren't afraid. You looked me in the eyes and offered to test whether size matters." A smile curved Pho's lips, cold and sharp. "I appreciate that kind of confidence. It reminds me of someone."

{Please don't say his brother. Please don't say his brother.}

"You remind me of my brother," Pho said, and Jack felt Oscar's internal groan echo through his mind.

"Cho had that same fearlessness. That same certainty in his own capabilities. He challenged me constantly, pushed me to be stronger, refused to bow to anyone including me."

The irony was so thick Jack could taste it. The armor covering his body was made from Cho's bones, crafted from the very demon Pho was comparing him to.

And Pho had no idea.

"Where is he now?" Jack asked, keeping his voice neutral.

"Dead," Pho replied simply. "Killed in combat. But his strength lives on in memory. And in you, perhaps."

{This is the weirdest conversation I've ever been part of, and I've been a sentient weapon for decades.}

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