Slowly, Helios turned to face him. With every inch that Dante saw more of his friend, the image of the man he thought he knew gave way to that of a monster. Helios looked as if he had stepped straight out of a nightmare — or worse: a particularly brutal horror film.
His lab coat was soaked in blood from top to bottom, not in random splatters, but as if someone had forcibly dunked him in it. His face hadn't been spared either — fine, dark droplets streaked across his cheeks, forehead, and chin. Only his bright green eyes remained untouched, clear and sharp.
He appeared calm. Too calm. The composure in his stance stood in stark contrast to the gruesome scene surrounding him. Yet something in his gaze betrayed his agitation. Whether it was nervousness from being caught in the act — in the middle of torturing someone — or the aftershock of what he had done, Dante couldn't tell. Maybe he didn't want to.
One thing was certain: He would never see Helios the same way again.
And yet, there was that small, annoying voice inside him. One he would have loved to ignore. Had Helios always been like this? Hadn't he tried to kill Dante once, without hesitation, using his own poison? Hadn't he just as coldly driven a knife into his chest — not out of hate, but out of calculated necessity? Maybe the monster had never been hidden. Maybe Dante had just never truly looked.
Helios leaned against the blood-smeared metal table, but his hand slipped slightly on the slick surface. He barely caught himself. A faint tremor ran through his fingers.
"Dante," he said quietly, almost inaudibly. He looked… startled. Unsure. And maybe, just maybe, a little worried. It seemed like he had to physically tear his gaze away from Dante before turning to Spider. His voice shifted back into its usual tone — cool, controlled, almost clinical. "What took you so long?"
Spider shrugged, as if he had no explanation either. "That stupid 'no-killing pact' of ours slowed us down quite a bit," he said with a raised, mocking brow. His gaze drifted to the wheezing, whimpering researcher lying on the table. He smirked. "So? Did you have fun?"
Helios snorted. "I was working," he replied unconvincingly. He cleared his throat. "At least now I know where we need to go next."
Dante said nothing. He just stared at him. His thoughts were racing, but none of them made sense. Inside, he was nothing but chaos.
"Want me to put him out of his misery?" Spider asked suddenly, almost casually. "You look like you could use a break."
"Forget it," Helios snapped. "We have an agreement."
Spider glanced at the half-dead man. "Well, he already looks pretty dead to me."
Helios glanced over his shoulder. "I didn't hit anything important. Well… at least nothing vital."
Spider chuckled quietly. He looked at the researcher and gave him a friendly slap on his battered shoulder. The enemy cried out in pain. "Did you hear that? I mean, I'd die if someone went for my family jewels."
Helios rolled his eyes. "Cut it out with those stupid jokes."
"Why did you do it?" Dante suddenly blurted out. He clenched his fists, suppressing the anger rising in him. Helios cast a brief glance at Spider and gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head.
Right, as long as Spider's here, I need to be careful not to let anything slip. Who knows what would happen if Spider found out about my immortality? He'd probably sell that info to the highest bidder. Dante snorted quietly. Yeah, he could absolutely see him doing that.
"Because our friend here sang like a canary, and now I more or less know everything that's going on in this facility," Helios replied. He gave Dante a meaningful, almost warning look – a silent Don't say anything stupid.
Dante stared at him. So Helios had done all this… for him?
His gaze drifted to the researcher, who was now lying on the table whimpering, a shadow of his former self. Nausea rose in his throat. He'd seen so much. War. Murder. Cruelty. More suffering than any one life should ever have to endure. Still – this sight hit him harder than he'd expected.
Was this his fault?
Had he pushed Helios into this role?
A dull, gnawing guilt spread in his chest. But then he shook his head inwardly.
No…
No one tortures a person like that just because they were pushed into it.
Dante looked away. He didn't want to see this. He didn't want to understand what had happened here or why.
Helios limped toward him slowly, slinging a small bag over his shoulder.
Whatever was inside it clinked softly.
Dante didn't move, even though Helios was clearly in pain. It wasn't until he got closer that he saw the small wounds hinting at a fight – a shallow cut on his cheek, the ripped shirt at the upper arm, the foot he couldn't put weight on, and the split lip.
Helios seemed to have been through a lot on his way here. When the younger man finally reached him, he clung to Dante, breathing heavily.
"I have a rough idea of what they did to you," he said so quietly that Spider couldn't hear. There was a silent apology in his eyes.
Spider, occupied with the researcher, paid them no attention.
Helios grabbed Dante's collar and tugged it slightly, forcing him to meet his gaze. Dante let it happen.
"Dante. He wouldn't tell me anything until I tortured him," Helios continued in a whisper. "I have their substances, and I know where the files are. I also know where we can find the final ingredient. It's all within reach."
So Helios had really done all of this just for him? But instead of feeling relief, Dante only felt worse. He didn't know what to believe. All of this confused him—the memories slowly resurfacing, the scene before him, the guilt gnawing at him, and the regret over his decision not to kill anyone.
If he had agreed to just take out anyone in their way, maybe all of this would've turned out differently. Maybe a different mindset would've made this hit less hard.
If Spider had tortured this researcher, Dante probably wouldn't feel half as bad.
It would've been easier to push the blame onto someone like him—someone who had no qualms when it came to violence. But that wasn't what had happened.
Dante closed his eyes, took a slow breath, and forced himself to focus on what mattered: the mission. If he lost control now, he'd endanger everything—and everyone. Too many of his comrades had died for a single careless mistake.
So he swallowed his anger, even though it burned hot in his gut. He pushed away the sickening feeling of helplessness, just like he blocked out the sight of the tortured man—whose whimpers stabbed at his conscience like needles.
Gently, he brushed a finger over Helios' split lip. Helios flinched at the touch and squeezed one eye shut in pain.
"I want to know exactly what happened here," Dante said quietly. There was still anger in his voice. He cast a quick glance at Spider. "Without him overhearing everything."
Helios looked like he wanted to say something—but he only nodded.
"We still have to go one level deeper," he said at last.
Spider approached them.
"Well, at least you didn't kill this one," he said with a mocking tone. "Can't imagine how our big guy here would've flipped out if you had."
Dante's anger now turned toward Spider. He pushed Helios away—more roughly than intended—shoved Spider aside, and walked over to the researcher.
The man was trembling, his eyes wide with panic, pleading. Dante drew his combat knife, knelt down, and looked him in the eye.
"I'm sorry," he murmured. Then he struck.
A clean cut. Quick. Merciless. But human.
As the life left the man's body, Dante didn't feel relieved. But it was better than the slow death Helios had subjected him to. With his own hand, Dante had ended it. Taken part of the guilt upon himself.
But he wouldn't have let the man die like that—not for anything in the world.
No one deserved that.
Even if the researcher had likely been one of those responsible for making him immortal.
He wiped the blood from the blade on his pants, sheathed the knife, and walked back to Helios. His gaze cooled as it dropped to Helios' foot. He wouldn't get far like that.
"You can't walk, can you? Get on my back. I'll carry you," he said—his voice colder than he meant it to be.
He didn't wait for a response. Instead, he knelt down, grabbed Helios' arm, and gently pulled him onto his back. Helios let out a sharp hiss as his injured foot was inevitably jostled into a painful position.
Without a word, Dante stood up and started walking.
"Well, well," Spider said behind them. "Looks like our big guy just broke his own rule. Does that mean I get to start killing again too?"
"Shut up, Spider," Dante growled without turning around.
Spider chuckled quietly, as if that was exactly the reaction he'd expected. Then he turned his attention to Helios, who lay breathing heavily on Dante's back.
"So, what exactly are we looking for?" he asked.
"A substance—and I want some of their records. It might take a little time." Helios explained, directing his words to Spider. "Can you check if anything's waiting for us at the stairs?"
Spider sighed. "I'll be right back."
And with that, he vanished—his footsteps fading into the darkness of the corridor, accompanied by the soft crunch of dust and rubble beneath his boots.
A moment of silence settled over them. Heavy. Tangible. Only the steady sound of their breathing remained.
"Dante?" Helios finally asked, barely audible – more a breath than a voice.
Dante remained silent. He didn't want to talk. Not now. Not here. His thoughts were a tangled mess of anger, guilt, doubt – and somewhere deep beneath it all, maybe even understanding. But not yet. Not for a long time.
Helios sighed softly, almost in resignation.
"You're the only one," he said at last. "At least, they don't know about you. They still believe their experiments failed. They don't know it worked. They don't know you exist."
A wave of relief rushed through Dante's body.
Thank God there weren't more like him.
Helios rested his head against the back of Dante's neck.
"You'll be normal again soon," he promised quietly. His voice sounded a little strained. "I… I'm sorry it had to happen this way. I didn't have a choice."
Dante bit his lip and stayed silent.
If he answered Helios now, he would probably forgive him for everything right here in this dim corridor. But that was exactly what he couldn't – and wouldn't – do. Not here. Not in this moment. Not without having been given an explanation for all of it.
So he kept silent and ignored Helios.
And Helios, too, said nothing more. He let Dante carry him in silence.
___
On the next level, they didn't expect much more than storage rooms, a few rooms where researchers sat at their desks analyzing things. They found test subjects. Living and dead. There was a huge laboratory with so many tables that it felt to Dante as if they had stumbled straight into a mass production facility.
He wasn't used to such scale. Helios's own lab was small, almost intimate – just like the level where his assistant Theo worked.
Perhaps that's exactly why this place felt so oversized, so soulless.
Helios had been packing up various things now and then. By now, both Dante and Spider were carrying small bags filled with materials. Since they had left Helios's victims behind, he and Helios hadn't exchanged a single word.
Now, he and Spider were standing guard while Helios sat in the archive room, going through various documents. Dante could imagine better things than standing guard with Spider. Fortunately, the unbearable guy was, for once, keeping his damn mouth shut.
It also gave him the chance to make sure Spider didn't find out exactly what kind of research had been conducted here. He had asked once, but since he hadn't gotten an answer, he didn't seem particularly interested.
Money really is everything to him, Dante thought with irritation.
But as they stood there waiting for Helios to finish whatever he was doing, Dante's thoughts didn't stop for a single second. The image of Helios in that room felt burned into his eyes.
Questions weighed heavily on his soul—questions he wasn't sure Helios would even answer. But if Helios wouldn't answer them, then maybe Spider would. Even if he had no desire to talk to him. Spider had hinted that he knew things about Helios from before Dante's time. Maybe that included things about Helios's personality.
He closed his eyes for a moment, mentally going over the questions he wanted to ask and preparing himself to deal with Spider.
"How did you two meet?"
"Hm? Got curious after what just happened?" Spider asked with amusement, and Dante immediately regretted his decision to bring Helios up with him.
Ignoring Spider wasn't an option, though. He needed information, and the waiting was eating him alive. He wanted to understand what was going on in Helios's brilliant mind.
Dante sighed. "Yeah."
"You're way too stiff, big guy," Spider laughed softly. "Let me think. We met around six years ago—when I was hired to kill him."
Dante raised an eyebrow at him. "Why am I not surprised that that's how you two met?"
"It was love at first sight," Spider said dreamily.
"Bullshit," Dante snorted. "How much did he offer you?"
"Aaaaw, you're such a buzzkill!" Spider replied, mock-offended. Then he grinned darkly. "He offered me quite a bit. But the real reason I spared him was something else entirely."
Dante sighed. Spider clearly wanted him to ask, so he did.
"Then what was the reason?"
"His eyes."
"His eyes?" Dante's voice was skeptical.
"He wasn't afraid, you know?" Spider said conversationally. Then he looked at Dante with curiosity. "You two seem pretty close. He has that scar on his thigh. Do you know it?"
Dante nodded. He'd seen it when he helped Helios shower. At the memory of that night, his ears grew warm again. He quickly pushed the rising feelings aside.
This wasn't the right place or the right time.
"That one's mine," he said with pride in his voice. Spider leaned casually against the wall, as if telling an amusing anecdote. "He wasn't afraid. Not even a hint of it. He was injured. I already had him. He should have been whining, begging for his life, the usual crap. Instead... he was calm. Composed. Like someone who had already seen through the world. Even when I pulled the knife from his thigh, even when I held it to his throat—he didn't flinch. He laughed. And offered me more money."
Spider's gaze grew a little distant as he thought back to the moment he first met Helios.
"He caught my interest. I've never come across anyone who was on the brink of death and still had such a defiant look in their eyes. Besides, I don't much care where my money comes from."
Dante was silent for a while. He knew Helios well by now—or at least he thought he did. The young man was calm, calculating, rarely rattled. He had only let his mask slip in extreme situations. When his loved ones were killed. When he himself was on the verge of losing everything.
Otherwise, Helios was a mix of easygoing nonchalance and ice-cold rationality. Calculating, controlled—yet approachable in his own way.
The longer Dante thought about him, the clearer it became that he hardly knew the person behind the façade.
He ran a thoughtful hand through his brown hair.
"He was fourteen at the time," Dante finally said quietly. "How could he already be like that at that age?"
"Good question. He doesn't talk much about his past. But what I do know is that he learned to defend himself early on. He's been living with death threats and assassination attempts for what feels like forever," said Spider.
Dante sighed. "A life under constant threat changes you."
He wanted to know when the last time was that Helios had truly been himself—or at what point his life had changed so drastically.
"Life and death go hand in hand for Helios," said Spider cryptically.
"What do you mean by that?"
"What I said. He's been making medicine for what feels like forever. Along with the assassination attempts, he's seen more death than the average citizen ever will," Spider grinned. "Even some assassins haven't seen as many corpses as he has. Though a former soldier might've seen about the same."
Spider glanced at him sideways.
"Where were you stationed, anyway?"
"I'm a mercenary, not a soldier," Dante replied firmly.
How did Spider even know he was a former soldier?
"Oh right, my bad. You were a mercenary. So? Where have your travels taken you so far?"
"You still haven't answered my question, Spider: How many people has Helios killed?"
"If you really want to know what happened and why he is the way he is, maybe you should talk to him yourself." Spider gave him a dark, knowing smile. Then he yawned. "How long is he planning to hang around in that archive?"
"No idea."
Helios had been in there for what felt like forever. No sounds, no signs that he'd be done anytime soon.
"I need to move or I'll fall asleep. Wait here while I go check things out. We still need to figure out how we're going to get out of here. It's strange anyway—only four guards have passed by the whole time we've been waiting."
"Okay."
Spider looked at him with amusement. "No words of encouragement? No hopeful farewell for a joyful reunion? That hurts, you know."
Dante snorted. "I think you can take care of yourself just fine. Just don't take too long."
"Don't worry, I am the shadow itself," said Spider, and with that, he took off, leaving Dante alone with his thoughts.
Finally.
Since they had found Helios again, he hadn't had a second alone. He still didn't know what to make of all this. How he should feel about it, or how he was supposed to deal with it—if at all.
The conversation with Spider had raised more questions than it had answered.
Dante leaned against the wall and briefly checked the hallway before exhaling and returning to his thoughts.
How long had Helios been pursued by assassins?
Helios had been fourteen when he met Spider. His body hadn't shown many wounds or scars when Dante first met him. So he must have been well protected in the past. Or maybe it was thanks to Spider that nothing serious had happened to him over the last six years.
Which would mean his current injuries were entirely Dante's fault.
But even though the guilt returned, it wasn't as overwhelming as the fact that he had seen Helios torturing someone.
Would he ever be able to look past that? Or at least come to terms with it?
Damn it—why was it hitting him so hard in the first place?
Because he had fallen in love with Helios.
He knew that Helios often acted coldly and calculated. He knew how he approached problems, and he had seen time and again how relaxed he was in dangerous situations. He was never truly reckless. He didn't take risks he couldn't handle, and even the torture seemed to have been done only to help Dante.
How many times had Helios killed him? Without batting an eye, and with a kind of enthusiasm that wasn't even normal in the name of science? How often had Dante ignored the signs until now?
But still, beneath the cold, calculating surface was a human being with feelings, someone just as shaken by traumatic events as anyone else.
Dante ran a stressed hand through his brown hair.
None of this was getting him anywhere. He had to talk to Helios about it—even if he had no idea how to go about it.