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"I cannot kill Vermouth, and neither can Vermouth kill me," the voice declared.
The sound of plodding footsteps followed.
"Thus, the only thing we could do was to erode each other's minds through extreme pain."
The clanking of chains echoed in the air.
"But to me, pain has long since become a nauseatingly familiar presence, so much so that now it feels utterly inconsequential. Pain cannot wear me down because there is scarcely any mind left in me to wear out.
"Vermouth is different, or so I thought. Unlike the essence of Vermouth, he appears almost human in character, as if he is inebriated," the voice continued.
Eugene stood motionless, listening to every sound. The Demon King of Incarceration ascended the stairs, accompanied by these sounds. Eugene, Sienna, and the Saints watched his every movement.
"In fact, Vermouth faltered and nearly fell many times there. Yet, he stubbornly rose again and again to come at me," the Demon King of Incarceration said.
This place was the very heart and pinnacle of Babel. It was the throne room.
"It was not in vain. As Vermouth himself had said, he was... breaking my chains. I could not be killed, and he could not be killed. He was undaunting, and the end never came. So there was no other way,” the Demon King of Incarceration said.
He turned around atop the stairs. He looked down at all who had reached this place, his face breaking into a faint smile.
"We made an Oath,” he confessed.
The numerous chains draped over his back formed a throne. The Demon King of Incarceration sat on the throne of chains he had created.
"I returned the soul of...
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