Rise of the Rejected Deity from Chaos-Chapter 81 - 80: The Demon’s Submission

"My Lord," the demon breathed, his voice barely a whisper, his wide eyes warring with emotions as they stared into Seiya’s gaze.

But Seiya was too far gone in his rage to care for the demon’s words—or the desperate way he looked at him. His foot pressed down mercilessly, pinning the demon beneath him, while his staff hovered high, ready to descend at any moment.

One of Seiya’s arms hung limp at his side, paralyzed and torn by injury. His shoulder, which had burst open like searing embers, was slick with blood, though steam still curled from the wound. Blood streaked down his forehead, dripping into his red-stained gaze. His once snow-white hair was matted with dirt, and his eyes, cold and gleaming, held the faint traces of blood. From the gaping hole in his chest, a steady trickle of blood dripped onto the demon below.

His face was tight with rage, his grip steady—ready to end it all in the next breath. The initial reason he had started the duel in the first place had long since slipped from his mind.

Not far away, Hayne lay motionless, his vision a dim blur. His strength had ebbed to the point where even the act of keeping his eyes open was a battle he was about to lose.

Through the fog of his fading consciousness, he strained to focus on the two figures before him. His lips parted, and with a breath that barely left his throat, he called out to Seiya.

Seiya, blinded by wrath, couldn’t hear the low desperate calls of Hayne—or so it should’ve been since Hayne’s voice was too weak and his body too far gone. But…. like a cold breeze slipping through the chaos, his dying whispers reached Seiya’s ears just as he was about to bring his staff crashing down upon the demon.

Seiya’s gaze flickered to the side. His bloodied eyes landed on Hayne, whose own had just slid shut. Only then did the weight of the situation return to him—the reason the duel had begun at all.

No matter how much he wanted to erase the demon from existence, Seiya was not one to dishonor the grounds upon which a duel was fought.

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His gaze darkened as he turned back to the demon. "Do your part."

He lifted his foot and stepped back, granting the demon the chance to fulfill his end of the bargain.

For a long moment, the demon did not move. He remained sprawled atop the rubble, staring blankly at the empty air above him, as if still reeling from something unseen. His breath was shallow, his lips parted ever so slightly. And then, with the tone of before, he whispered once more, "My Lord…"

It was only when Seiya’s voice cut through the silence that the demon seemed to snap back to himself.

"Don’t make me repeat myself," Seiya said coldly, his eyes boring into him.

The demon’s gaze snapped to Seiya’s, his expression unreadable. Then, in a blur, he moved—his form shifting so swiftly that, in the next instant, he was kneeling before Seiya. One knee crashed to the ground, his head bowed so low it nearly touched the dirt.

"My Lord," he said again, but this time, his voice quivered. His head dipped lower with each breath, as if he feared lifting it even an inch.

Seiya remained still, his face impassive as he peered down at the demon. Though puzzled, he assumed this strange reverence stemmed from the fact that the demon had lost the duel and he had spared his life.

Seiya’s voice came again, cold and steady. "Heal him."

The demon stiffened. His head snapped up, his gaze darting between Seiya and Hayne before immediately lowering again—as if he no longer dared to meet Seiya’s eyes.

"Yes… yes… if you would permit me to rise," the demon stammered, his voice urgent yet hesitant.

Seiya’s brow twitched in irritation. Three times now he had given the same order, and yet the demon continued to stall, wrapped in some incomprehensible hesitation. His patience thinned.

"Heal him," Seiya commanded once more, his voice like a blade of ice.

A shudder ran through the demon at the sheer force behind Seiya’s words. His head snapped up in a panic, and without another moment’s delay, he rushed to where Hayne lay. Stretching out his palm, a vial materialized within it—a clear glass phial containing a liquid as transparent as water.

Uncorking it, the demon poured its contents onto Hayne’s chest, letting it seep into the gaping wound. Immediately, veins of faint shimmering light spread across the torn flesh, knitting muscle back together, stretching new skin over the once-fatal injury. Within moments, the wound was gone—without a trace of ever having existed.

Hayne’s breath hitched. Slowly, his eyes fluttered open, staring up at the demon above him. His fingers trembled as he reached for his chest, running them over the smooth, unblemished skin. There was no pain or wound, only exhaustion weighed upon him.

"You just need to rest now," the demon’s voice cut through the haze, cool and emotionless.

A demon’s voice was the last thing Hayne wanted to hear upon waking. His body tensed, and in the next instant, his gaze shot toward Seiya, memories of the battle rushing back to him.

Seiya sat against a slab of rubble, his breath shallow, his head tilted back as fatigue pressed down on him. His injuries—his torn shoulder, his open chest wound, the blood staining his body—all sent a sharp ache through Hayne’s heart.

"Sei!" Hayne sprang to his feet, his exhaustion forgotten as he scrambled to his side. His hands trembled as they hovered over Seiya, afraid to touch him—afraid that even the lightest contact might cause him more pain.

From a distance, the demon watched in silence, his expression quite unreadable as he scrutinized the damage he had brought upon Seiya. His eyes, however, held a weight of regret as they lingered on Seiya’s battered form.

Stepping forward, he once again lowered himself onto one knee. Extending his palm, he materialized another phial—the same as before. His head remained bowed as he presented it.

"Please, my Lord," he murmured, voice steady but laced with reverence. "Take this."

Hayne, standing nearer to the demon than he liked, flinched and instinctively edged closer to Seiya, his heart hammering in his chest. The proximity of the demon unsettled him, but even more so, the way the creature knelt and addressed Seiya with unwavering deference.

His fearful gaze darted between the two, confusion clouding his thoughts. Why was this demon—one powerful enough to bring Seiya to the brink of death—kneeling and calling him ’Lord’?

Seiya lifted his head, his bloodstreaked eyes locking onto the demon’s bowed form, not uttering a single word.

{Oh, for the love of—just take it already! I’m so stressed here!} Ibyu’s exasperated voice rang inside Seiya’s mind.

Seiya finally reached out, taking the phial from the demon’s grasp. He uncorked it and tilted it over his shoulder—only to clumsily spill the entire content in one go. He had intended to use just a small portion, saving the rest for the gaping wound in his chest, but his hand faltered at the last moment.

Seiya blinked mechanically at his own clumsiness, watching as his shoulder, once mangled, restored to perfection.

The demon, seeing his ’Lord’ react to his own clumsiness at dumping the entire potion on a single wound, immediately materialized more phials. He gripped them by their necks, clinking them together as if to reassure Seiya.

"It’s fine, my Lord! I have more." His voice held something akin to pride—almost joy—as if eager to be of service.

Without waiting for permission, he stepped forward. "Then, if you’d allow me…"

Uncorking the phials, he poured their contents over Seiya’s wounds, allowing the transparent liquid to cascade over him, seeping into every gash and cut. Seiya was quite literally bathed in the healing potion.

The potion worked instantly. Seiya’s wounds vanished, leaving only the blood that stained his skin and clothes as evidence of the battle.

Satisfied, the demon took several steps back, creating a respectful distance between them once more.

Once again, the demon lowered himself onto one knee with grace, his head bowed in solemn reverence.

"My Lord," he began, his voice a steady whisper, laced with both tranquility and deep remorse. "Failing to recognize you is a sin worthy of the harshest punishment." His gaze remained fixed on the ground, as if unworthy of meeting Seiya’s eyes.

Seiya and Hayne remained motionless, trapped in silent bewilderment as they watched the scene unfold.

"And for overstepping my bounds… ignorantly inflicting such pain upon you…" The demon’s voice did not waver, only growing quieter, more resolute. "I, Kaeliyus, am prepared to atone with my life."

At the utterance of that name, Hayne’s blood ran cold. His hand, which had been resting on Seiya’s shoulder, fell limp, his fingers numb. His breath ceased, eyes widening with sheer horror.

He had been so distraught and overwhelmed by their situation that his mind had failed to process things properly. The demon mentioning his name, combined with the devastation surrounding them—only then did Hayne realize— sending chills down his bones.

They were after all, in the presence of Kaeliyus, the infamous demon known wide across nations to bring about nothing but severance and destruction.