First Demonic Dragon



It was early the next morning after Lillian's resurrection. 

Abaddon was currently in the training room, practicing his martial arts against nothing but thin air. 

Despite showing no signs of sweat or exhaustion, he'd been at this for a few hours already.

He could not take his mind off of the request he'd received from his grandfather, nor the scene from earlier where Lillian almost kissed him.

Both were entirely different events, but for some reason they were equally exhausting. 

For starters, he knew full well just how much his grandmother meant to Helios and his mother.

And as someone with wives of his own, Abaddon could only imagine how his grandfather felt when he lost her, as well as the lengths he would have been willing to go to to get her back.

But as he'd told the golden dragon earlier, he wasn't sure if he could actually resurrect Rhea Draven. 

To even begin to attempt such a thing would mean that he'd have to die again, and he couldn't do something like that for another month and a half. 

And even then, he had no idea how to navigate the afterlife and find his grandmother.

Lillian had always been watching over him, and as a result she found him as soon as he died.

But he had never seen Rhea, and he wouldn't even know how to search for her.

However even after hearing all of that... Helios still seemed unwilling to lose this chance and refused to accept no for an answer. 

He wouldn't even take back the affinity stone that he'd given his grandson, and remained adamant that he would release Seras as well when the job was done.

'The nerve of that scaly old bastard... dropping such an arduous task on my shoulders when my mind was already in disarray...'

"What kind of martial art is that, father?"

Abaddon nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard a voice from behind.

He was so preoccupied with training and other thoughts that he had completely missed the moment when his son entered the training hall, which appeared to be quite some time ago.

Apophis was leaning against the wall with his hair tied into a ponytail and wearing nothing but dark pants.

He had come here to train as well, but after observing his father's movements he was so captivated that he could do nothing but watch. 

"Ah... How long have you been there, my son?"

"Thirty minutes or so."

"Right..."

Abaddon was glad that Apophis was not some sort of enemy, or else he could have lost his life just now. 

"It's called Wing Chun." Abaddon explained. "It was one of Satan's favorite martial arts, and I think that it is beginning to become mine as well."

After eating the king of wrath, Abaddon immediately inherited every martial art that Satan knew.

But more than that, he also inherited his philosophies surrounding combat.

"It looks strong... and somehow graceful."

"Ha! Do you think so?" Abaddon said with a laugh. 

Despite what Apophis was seeing, Abaddon knew that his executions so far had been off to say the least. 

His mind was too clouded, and as a result his training had begun to pay the price.

"I believe that I understand what he meant now... when he challenged me to lay down my weapons..."

"Father?"

"Satan may have been a bloodthirsty lunatic but at his core he was also a true martial artist... To him fists were a tool for violence, but they were also a means to convey your will, your emotions, and your ideologies to your opponent. 

He had transcended weaponry, and become the ultimate weapon not only because he was knowledgeable, but because his fists were always at one with his mind and spirit. Someone like that... could never have been defeated with a mere sword..."

Abaddon noticed that the room had gotten quiet once again, and he realized that he had accidentally rambled on.

"Ah, forgive me, my son. I've said some useless things."

"Not at all."

Apophis finally moved from his place on the wall and came to stand directly in front of his father. 

"I believe that I have observed enough to act as an adequate sparring partner. Maybe I can understand your words a bit better like this."

Abaddon smiled helplessly and bent his knees a bit while tightening his thighs and loosely holding out his arms, the signature stance of Wing Chun. 

Apophis soon did the same, and the both of them were locked in a standstill, each one seemingly daring the other to make a move first.

Eventually, the imoogi decided to strike first and started off with a simple jab.

Abaddon shifted his son's blow just a bit so that it could slip past his body and he countered with a hook aimed for Apophis' jaw. 

The use of simultaneous offense and defense makes Wing Chun a very fast paced martial art, and Apophis was admittedly unprepared for the speed at which actual combat took place compared to the simple practicing of moves he saw earlier. 

Pow!

Apophis suffered a clean blow to his jaw, but surprisingly he was able to continue going with only a 0.5 second delay. 

After suffering that first attack, Apophis made adjustments to his speed so that he would not be caught off guard again and by now the two were embroiled in a decent back and forth spar. 

"I believe I understand what you mean now..." Apophis said as he blocked another punch from his father and returned a chop of his own. 

"Your hits are empty... like your focus lies elsewhere."

Apophis' astute observation caught his father entirely off guard, and as a result he was unable to deflect the attack aimed for the side of his neck. 

"Is this about Ms. Lillian?"

"...No..."

Abaddon brought a knee right up to his son's abdomen, but Apophis deflected it at the very last second with his own leg, and punched his father directly in the ribs.

"Mothers are right, you are a bad liar." 

Abaddon gritted his teeth in frustration and upped the speed and intensity of his blows just a bit. 

However, Apophis seemed to have no real difficulty in matching the tempo, and just like his father he displayed a frighteningly fast learning speed.

Before Abaddon realized what happened, Apophis had kicked him hard in the stomach and forced a separation between them. 

"Is she not going to be my new mother? Grandmother certainly seems to think she is."

Abaddon clenched his fists hard and got back in his stance signaling that he was ready to go again. "No, she is not."

This time Apophis did not budge. 

"Why not? Does father not love her?"

"It is not about that, son... Things are more complicated than love."

Instead of getting into a fighting stance, Apophis sat cross legged on the ground and gestured for his father to sit opposite him. 

"...You are not going to-"

"I am not going to let this go, no." Apophis confirmed. 

Abaddon sighed in defeat before dropping his guard and sitting opposite his son. 

The two sat in silence for several minutes before Apophis tried again to get through to his father.

"Why are things more complicated? It doesn't seem like your feelings are one-sided."

"Who said I had feelings for Lillian?" Abaddon said, in as aloof a manner as possible. 

"...." Apophis stared blankly at his father as he waited for him to stop being so childish.

"...Fine... regardless of my feelings, I have already made a vow to your mothers that I will not take any more wives. What kind of man would I be if I did not keep my word?"

"Yes, but you made that vow before you knew that you could resurrect Ms. Lillian. Can an exception not be made for that?"

Abaddon shook his head as he stared up at the ceiling absentmindedly.

"I despise men who have no self control... If I broke my vow for this, I would become like one of those pigs whom I so desperately loath, and I would rather die than fall that low."

Again, the room fell into a silence and Abaddon thought that his son might have given up. 

But when he looked at Apophis' face, all he saw was disappointment. 

"I had no idea that you thought so little of yourself. Do you truly think that you of all people would fall into such depravity as to become some horndog who is swayed by any woman?

Not only that, but have you forgotten the personalities of my mothers? Because in the event that such a future were to occur, they would no doubt kill you on the spot."

Abaddon blinked several times as he remembered the possessive and nature of his wives that he adored so much.

"My loves... I suppose they would." Abaddon thought with a giddy smile. 

Apophis merely rolled his eyes at his parents' lovey dove nature. 

He knew that this was miles better than the alternative but... it was always slightly nauseating to see them kissing or hugging each other so openly. 

And don't even get him started on the amount of times he had almost caught them in a common area with their mouths somewhere else that they shouldn't be.

"A-Anyway!" Apophis muttered." I think that mothers like Ms. Lillian very much... whether they know it or not, they have begun to treat her the same way that they do each other, and such a thing is rare."

The wives of Abaddon were nice to almost everyone. 

But more often than not they tended to keep others at a measured distance, either by choice or default. 

After all, they didn't want any random woman to think that they had a chance of becoming their sister.

Abaddon grumbled as he realized that his son seemed to have brought up another valid point. "How are you so smart? You surely didn't get that from me."

Apophis showed a white smile with pointed fangs that was eerily similar to his father's. "What can I say? The young are destined to surpass the old."

"Hahahahaha! Indeed!"

The two laughed over Apophis' attempt at humor, and it seemed like the tense atmosphere was finally going to disappear. 

But the imoogi knew there was still more to discuss.

"Are you going to tell me the other reason now?"

"...What makes you think that there is another reason?"

Apophis thought about it for a moment before shrugging his shoulders in defeat. "Instinct?"

"..."

"..."

Abaddon suddenly felt like all of his kids knew too much for their ages. 

He knew that lying would be useless, so he sighed as he recalled the equally important reason why he did not pursue Lillian. 

"I do not feel like I have the right to stand beside her... I was the one who walked her down the isle that day, and gave her to the man who brutalized her until she died... Even if she does not blame me, I do."

Apophis suddenly looked at his father with eyes full of pity. 

He knew from his tone alone that he was truly hurt by what had transpired, and he was likely still traumatized by the day that he found her body all of those years ago. 

"Father... you were a child..."

Abaddon smiled bitterly as he laid on the ground with his face to the ceiling.

"I tell myself that everyday, but it doesn't make me feel better. I continue to feel like I should have done something, anything, so that he was never able to get his hands on her.

Bringing her back to life was the very least of what I should have done. She never should have died in the first place."

Protector wasn't merely a word, it was a title that Abaddon had grown into. 

As such, he had come to define himself by his ability to keep everything and everyone that he loved safe. 

And irrational as it may seem, he harbored guilt over incidents in the past as well.

All of his wives had been through some kind of abuse before they met him, and he secretly regretted every day that he could not go back in time and find them before they ever fell into harms way. 

The only difference with Lillian was that he had actually been there, and if he would have put up a fuss he could have stopped her from dying.

That small change only made his guilt 100 times worse.

Finally, Apophis sighed and tried to speak to his father in a language that he could understand. 

"If you feel guilty about the past, then you should put that much more effort into protecting her in the future.

And as far as whether or not you are worthy of her... shouldn't you leave that up to her discretion?"

Abaddon fell silent, as he had already run out of things to say.

He didn't know if Apophis was right, or even if he was wrong.

His mind was flooded with regrets, uncertainty, and no small amount of heartache.

Before he realized it, his body's exhaustion had caught up to him, and he was drifting off to sleep on the cold floor of the training room.