Shimon’s Redemption?

The Fractured Saint: Redemption or Ruin?

The first thing Shimon heard was laughter.

Not Nero’s—his own.

Deep, guttural, unholy.

It echoed through the Breeding Crypt, bouncing off the walls slick with sweat, seed, and sacrificial altar. The paladin's body, once broken by age and now reforged in corruption, thrummed with a power he had never known.

He had summoned a demon king.

And lost control of it.

And yet—

Somewhere, buried beneath layers of twisted desire, something stirred.

A memory.

A prayer.

A name.

Shimon Tiresia.

The man he used to be.

The Hypnotic Abyss: A Weapon of Corruption

Nero watched him with golden, half-lidded eyes, his fingers idly tracing the thigh of a bound **** draped across his lap.

"You feel it, don’t you?" he purred. "The power in your veins."

Shimon’s hands trembled.

Not from fear.

From hunger.

The Celestial Bliss had rewired him, yes—but it had also unlocked something.

His hypnotic gifts, once used to banish demons, now pulsed with a darker potential.

"I can still turn this around..."

He could see the threads of will around him—Nero’s dominance, Andras’ chaotic aura, the broken slaves’ submission.

And he could pull them.

Nero’s smirk faltered as Shimon’s eyes darkened, the air around him warping like heat haze.

"Oh?"

Shimon breathed in—

And pushed.

The Duel of Wills: A Standstill of Souls

Nero flinched, the incubus' towering frame locking up as Shimon’s will crashed into his.

For the first time, the doppelganger looked uncertain.

"You—"

Shimon didn’t let him finish.

His low baritone, when he spoke, was not his own—it was layered, echoing, the voice of a saint and a sinner intertwined.

Kneel

Nero’s knees buckled.

Just for a second.

Just long enough to prove it could be done.

"Bullshit..."

Then the incubus snarled, his own hypnotic powers flaring, the sex demon's golden eyes burning like hellfire.

"You dare command me?! I commend your boldness but are you ready to endure the price, heretic?"

The air between them rippled, the spiritual masters' transcendent will clashing beneath the Egyptian Museum's sacred hall, the very stone beneath their feet cracking from the strain.

The breeding sows screamed, clutching their heads as the psychic storm tore through the crypt.

Andras laughed, his wings spreading wide, drinking in the chaos.

"Yes!" the Marquis roared. "Break each other!"

Shimon’s vision blurred.

"W-What? Why am I here!?"

His spiritual realm, the inner sanctum where his soul once communed with God, shuddered.

"Shimon... Thou hast wandered from the light. The fiend of the Eclipse draweth nigh..."

And then—

It collapsed.

The Fall of the Inner Temple

In his mind’s eye, Shimon stood in a cathedral of light—or what used to be one.

The stained-glass windows were shattered, the pews overturned, the altar defiled.

"What a spectacle, did you think all those weeks I spent corrupting you were out of a whim?"

And standing at its center, smirking, was Nero.

"This is what’s left of you," the doppelganger mused, running a finger along the cracked marble. "A ruin."

Shimon lunged, his fists clutching at Nero’s throat—

"DON'T MOCK ME, FIEND!!"

But his hands passed through, the incubus laughing as his form dissolved into dust and shadows.

"Ah, do you see now? I wouldn't even dare take half a step in your soul realm before... I can't believe the main realm had this kind of existence... No wonder humans worship to seek His favour."

The cathedral collapsed, its pillars crumbling, its sanctity erased.

"Too late, Inquisitor."

And when Shimon opened his eyes—

He was back in the crypt.

Nero’s fingers were wrapped around his throat.

And Andras was watching, amused.

The Harvest: Nero’s Ascension

Nero breathed in, the incubus' chest expanding as he drank in the remnants of Shimon’s spiritual realm.

"How tasty..."

The energy coursed through him, his doppelganger flesh rippling, his power expanding.

Andras cocked his head, intrigued.

"You steal from the fallen," the Marquis observed.

Nero’s grin was feral.

"I take what’s mine."

His free hand dug into Shimon’s chest, not breaking skin, but piercing something deeper—his soul.

The once bright, pure paladin's corruption was fully reflected in the dim, tar like substance Nero extracted.

"F-FUCK!!"

Shimon screamed, his back arching, the Abyss Hunter's slender body convulsing as Nero drained him.

"O-Ohmygod! S-Stop this, I beg you..."

The Celestial Bliss in the paladin's veins boiled, his corruption feeding the incubus, his hypnotic gifts now Nero’s to wield.

Andras stepped closer, his talons digging into Nero’s shoulder.

"You grow stronger," the demon king murmured. But at what cost?"

Nero didn’t answer.

He didn’t need to.

The Osiris Ring: A Distant Echo

Half a world away, in the jungles of Myanmar, Stefano’s fingers paused mid-gesture.

The Osiris ring on his hand pulsed, its golden glow intensifying.

Before him, the warlord’s militia lay broken, their bodies twisted in unnatural pleasure, the mercenaries' minds erased by incubus magic.

Stefano smiled.

"Nero…" he murmured, his deep baritone laced with dark pride.

The antediluvian relic flared, images flashing through his mind—

Shimon’s fall.

"OHMYGOD, YESS!!"

Andras’ submission.

"Damn, I've gotta report this to Demon Emperor M##A# as soon as possible."

Nero’s growing power.

"Hehehehehehhehehehehehehhehehehehheeehehhe..."

Stefano’s hazel eyes gleamed.

"Good."

The Osiris Temple was expanding.

The Choice: Redemption or Ruin?

Shimon awoke in chains.

"W-What!?"

Not physical ones—metaphysical.

His youthful body lay sprawled on the crypt floor, the once pure paladin's limbs heavy, his mind fogged.

But inside?

Inside, he was still fighting.

"I won't break this easily..."

A fragment of the man he once was clung to the ruins of his soul, whispering:

"Get up."

"Fight."

"Remember."

Shimon’s fingers twitched.

Nero had taken much—but not everything.

Not yet.

And if there was one thing Shimon Tiresia knew how to do?

It was endure.