The Sword of Damocles? Jeanne recognized the name, but she was confused. That was a story from Greek mythology. Had her Lord simply plucked a name from another world's myths and dropped it here?
Kashchey didn't notice her confusion. He was too busy recounting his tragic experience as a parasite.
"At first, it was fine," Kashchey began. "After this naive girl 'killed' me, I nested in her soul. I was confident I could take her body eventually. All I had to do was tear down everything she cherished until she accepted my ideology."
Talulah frowned. Her suspicion was right: Kashchey had let her kill him back then.
"But then she brought you to that village," Kashchey said, glaring at Jeanne. "The moment you started praying, a strange vibration appeared. It wasn't Originium Arts. That power acted like a deep-fryer for my soul. If I were any weaker, I would have been erased instantly."
He became almost hysterical. "For three years! This woman prayed twice a day, every single day! Every time she did, I was tormented for thirty minutes! If it weren't for my soul-based Arts and my high recovery rate, I would have disappeared long ago! [Ursus Profanity]!"
The trio had to pinch their arms to keep from laughing. The great Evil God was actually this miserable.
"My 'father,' don't forget your... pfft... elegance! You shouldn't lose your composure... pfft..." Talulah teased.
"Talulah, if you laugh one more time, don't blame me for being rude!"
"Hmph, you can't even move. What are you going to do?"
"I'll sing in your head all night so you can't sleep!"
"..." Talulah went silent. She hadn't expected him to go that low.
Jeanne, however, was genuinely shocked. This creature had survived three years of divine intervention? Usually, parasitic demons were terrified of holy power; a simple baptismal chant was enough to exorcise most. For this snake to survive daily prayers was a minor miracle—like a "luck" build character surviving a trip with Joseph Joestar, Leon S. Kennedy, and Nathan Drake.
"Were those five 'Black Snakes' your doing?" Jeanne asked, referring to the assassins who attacked the village.
"Yes. I was at my limit. I hoped to separate you from Talulah. But you killed them all, and I was punished severely that day."
Kashchey shuddered. He recalled a Pillar of Light—or perhaps Fire—that had descended upon him. He hadn't even seen the deity, just the agonizing heat that burned his very essence. That was why Talulah had dreamed of him being tortured; it wasn't a dream, but Kashchey's mental shields failing under the divine assault.
"And what about the sword?" Talulah demanded. "Did you do something else to me?"
"Nothing much," Kashchey replied. "Remember when that Infected attacked Alina and you flew into a rage? I was too weak to do anything but amplify the emotions you already felt. You felt it, didn't you? The thrill of being ruled by anger?"
Talulah felt a chill. If Kashchey hadn't been weakened by Jeanne's prayers, would he have forced her to fight Jeanne to the death? She realized she couldn't entirely blame the snake—he had only used the darkness already inside her.
"You can relax now," Kashchey said, his eyes dimming. "I can't do anything anymore. The Sword of Damocles hangs over my head. If I try to act against you, it will pierce my soul and erase me from existence."
Kashchey looked defeated. He wasn't afraid of failure—as the "Deathless" snake, he had all the time in the world. But Talulah was the perfect vessel: a Princess of Yan, a contender for the Victorian throne, and an Ursus noble. She was the ultimate tool for chaos.
Now, that dream was ash. His survival instinct kept him paralyzed. He hated the light, yet everywhere he hid in the mansion, the sword was there, its brilliant glow a constant warning that his life was no longer his own.
"So, that is my life for the last three years," Kashchey said, spreading his hands to the three girls. "You have broken the curse of the Deathless Black Snake. I have lost... utterly. You can use the title of 'Duke Kashchey' if you wish. I will not use my Arts again. Congratulations on your victory."
Despite his graceful words, the girls could feel the infinite sorrow radiating from him.
"Now... how do you intend to dispose of me?" Kashchey asked, watching them intently.