"Sweetness, what happened?" Mephistopheles helped Zophiel sit on the floor and rest his back on the wall.

Zophiel coughed drops of a golden liquid and arched back when Mephistopheles lifted his shirt, checking what was making it wet. He heard loud gasps coming from their mouths and felt Mephistopheles's hand tremble when he lifted it to his chest.

The wound was horrendous. Whatever was afflicting the angel was visibly spreading through his veins, turning some of them purple. Three sharp and precise cuts were oozing the golden liquid. When Mephistopheles's hand accidentally touched it, Zophiel whimpered and quickly removed his hand from there.

"It's infected," Mine stated, approaching the angel. "And it's poisonous. His wound is oozing not only blood but half of the poison as well," he touched Mephistopheles's hand, taking it away from Zophiel.

"Then, what do we do?" Mephistopheles asked, his voice slightly trembling.

"We need to take the poison out of his body," Mine replied, slowly tapping the surrounding affected area. “We have to act now, or it will reach his core,” he said, his voice tight with worry.

Zophiel was hallucinating again so there was no way Mephistopheles could ask him anything about the blade or if that demon used more than the blade. The thing was that wound was caused by none other than Asmodeus's blade, the ancient Poisonous dagger the Sin carried with him wherever he went.

As Mephistopheles examined the wound with Mine, he remembered the legends of Asmodeus's blade. It was forged by the esteemed blacksmith from Heavens and given to him before his fall. When he arrived in Hell, the weapon was dull and useless, but the King made sure to make it work with his blessing and infused the blade with a piece of his scales and Asmodeus's.

Asmodeus, the avatar of Lust and one of the Princes of Hell had mastery in poison and pheromones' control, be it for pleasure, be it for pain and death. The blade could be enhanced if Asmodeus used his pheromones, and it turned the cure almost impossible if he did so. Also, this addition created a self-destruct dynamic between the poison and the pheromones. If one was removed, the other would destroy the victim's core immediately.

The death was sure, and the victim could choose between a slow or quick death, both agonizing. That was Mephistopheles's principal concern.

"Sweetness, don't sleep," Mephistopheles patted Zophiel's cheeks, who struggled to stay awake.

Mine touched Zophiel's hand, and a diamond pattern formed on the back of his hand. Still, all he could do was make his fever lighter and identify what was inside his body.

"He has… some sort of ominous poison in his veins and a black fog around him, but it's limited to him," Mine frowned, taking his hand away from Zophiel. "They're tied together, but I don't know what it is… and I'm weak after the outburst…" He worried, looking at Mephistopheles.

"Then my concern was true," Mephistopheles voiced, his hands trembling as he caressed Zophiel's cheeks, trying to keep him awake.

"… it's a mix of poison and pheromones," Addai said, approaching them. "It's an unfair attack. My mother taught me how to deal with it," he looked at Zophiel, who was still hallucinating.

"Then…?" Mine looked at Addai, concerned.

"I can take both from him," Addai crouched next to Zophiel. "Mr. Zophiel," he took the angel's cold hands, "I'm resistant to the poison of all sorts, and I can help you, but I need you to handle it. It won't be painless," he said, and the angel looked at him, weak and pale.

"…" Zophiel lazily blinked, trying to find Addai between the illusions. "Go ahead," he replied, but he didn't know to who he was talking or what that command was for.

Addai looked at Mephistopheles, whose expression was as pale as Zophiel, and the demon nodded. Mine tore a piece of his sleeves and scrunched the sheet into a roll, placing it on Zophiel's mouth and holding his hands. Mephistopheles made sure Zophiel would look only into his eyes and nowhere else.

At first, it was okay. Zophiel had felt pain before, but then it turned unbearable. It felt like being torn apart or stabbed countless times with a scorching blade. That brief time, he recovered his consciousness, and what a terrible time to be sane. When he attempted looking downwards, Mephistopheles held his face, avoiding him to look.

"Focus on me, Zophiel," Mephistopheles said, trying to not be too concerned.

Zophiel only made grunts of despair, but Mine held his hands so he wouldn't move too much while Addai did what needed to be done. His methods were not very approved by Mine, who also looked away as he heard the noise of organs being stirred along with the blood. Despite this and Zophiel's desperate grunts of pain, Addai was focused on whatever he was doing.

The pain was turning unbearable, and the piece of cloth in his mouth wasn't enough for him to somehow relieve the excruciating experience. His head throbbed from too much biting, and his teeth started hurting. He felt his mind go back and forth, spinning, until Mephistopheles's voice turned mute, and the lights went out.

But the pain finally subsided, and he exhaled, relieved.