To Tempt A Saint

The battlefield stretched endlessly, littered with the remains of warriors who had fought for power, glory, or simply survival. Broken swords jutted out from the ground like gravestones, and the air was thick with the metallic tang of blood. Somewhere in the distance, a dying man groaned, but no one paid him any mind.

Amidst the wreckage, Honu stood calmly, his hands tucked into his sleeves as if he were discussing morning scripture rather than the fate of a man marked by sin.

"Wrath and Greed," he intoned, eyes fixed on Nine, "are the only essences that arise naturally on the battlefield. The others…" He paused, his voice lowering slightly. "They wander, waiting. They choose their hosts based on the strength of their desires."

A gust of wind rustled the torn banners around them. Honu's gaze sharpened.

"So, what is your desire?"

Nine tilted his head, as if seriously considering the question. In truth, he had a lot of desires—warm food, a soft bed, maybe a lifetime supply of liquor.

But none of those seemed relevant here.

"Tricky," he finally said. "I don't know."

Honu exhaled, looking like a man who had been cursed with patience but was rapidly running out of it.

"You mentioned her earlier," he pressed. "Who is she?"

Nine's expression cooled instantly.

"None of your business."

"This person might be able to help you garner an essence."

"Nah." His voice was firm, his shoulders tensing just slightly. "I don't want her dragged into this mess."

Honu studied him for a long moment before sighing through his nose. Then, as if speaking to himself, he muttered,

"Lust."

The word landed like a stone thrown into still water.

Nine's body tensed, his grip tightening around the hilt of his sword. His expression remained blank, but the air around him grew sharp.

"You saying I should use her body?" His voice dropped into something lethal. "The fuck, monk?"

Honu's hands shot up. "No! It's Lust that spoke to me."

Nine scoffed. "You and your visions again."

"I'm serious." Honu held his gaze, unwavering. "Someone—or something—spoke to me. And the person in my foresight, the one meant to wield Lust's essence… is you."

Nine's jaw flexed.

"No."

Honu inhaled deeply. "No matter which essence you take, it will change you. But Lust—Lust offers something different. A timeless ability to control desire itself. The longer it inhabits you, the stronger you become."

Nine's lips curled in something between a smirk and a snarl.

"And the less of me remains."

Honu didn't argue. He only studied Nine's face before speaking again, quieter this time.

"If you reject it, you'll struggle against it forever. But if you accept it—"

"I won't destroy our life together," Nine interrupted, voice dropping into something cold and absolute. "Especially her. Not for this. Not for anything."

The weight of his words hung between them.

Then, without another glance, Nine brushed past Honu, knocking their shoulders together deliberately.

"Lust has already chosen you," Honu called after him.

Nine didn't stop walking. He only raised a middle finger.

"You are the savior! The sacrifice! The saint!" Honu's voice rang across the battlefield ruins. "To contain it, you must embody the ways of sin!"

Nine clicked his tongue. "Bastard." He had hoped—however briefly—that this adventure might lead to something new. Instead, it was turning out to be an even bigger headache than he expected.

"Then you take it, you stupid baldy."

And with that, he leapt off, leaving Honu standing there, watching his retreating figure.

Nine barely had time to enjoy his dramatic exit before a sharp shift in the air caught his attention.

A soundless whisper of movement. The faintest ripple in the wind.

Then—

Assassins.

They descended from the trees like silent phantoms, forming a tight circle around him.

Nine's hand rested lightly on his sword. He didn't need to count—he already knew he was outnumbered.

Of course.

Factions thrived in places like this. Lone warriors were easy prey, and Nine was practically gift-wrapped in his current state.

His mind ticked through the possibilities. Fighting was possible—but exhausting. Running? Not an option. Once these people locked onto you, they didn't stop.

His fingers curled, about to make his move—

BOOM!

The ground shook.

Something—or rather, someone—crashed into the middle of the assassin formation, sending bodies flying like scattered leaves.

Nine barely had time to react before he caught the unmistakable gleam of sunlight bouncing off a perfectly smooth, bald head.

A smirk tugged at his lips.

"Took you long enough."

Honu dusted off his robes. "You were struggling."

"I was strategizing."

"You were surrounded."

"You are bald."

Honu exhaled. "Shall we?"

Without another word, the fight erupted.

The assassins attacked in fluid, coordinated strikes, their blades flashing like silver streaks. Nine and Honu moved like storm winds, their attacks and defenses seamlessly interwoven.

The ground shook beneath their movements.

"I might die today," Nine muttered.

"You won't," Honu responded.

Nine whistled, sidestepping a flurry of thin blades. "I really can't die that easily, huh?"

Without hesitation, he kicked Honu's back—hard—using the momentum to launch himself forward.

Honu stumbled mid-step, barely avoiding the opponent's sword. "You ungrateful—!"

"Head!" Nine shouted.

Honu, scowling, ducked. Nine's sword sliced through an assassin's throat in a clean arc. In the same motion, he pulled a dagger and plunged it into another's leg.

Honu took the opportunity to grab Nine's collar—

And punched him.

Nine punched back.

They shoved each other apart just in time to dodge a fresh wave of poisoned needles.

Nine raised his hand, and his sword snapped back into his grip, deflecting the projectiles midair.

"Fuck you!" Honu snapped.

"No, fuck you!" Nine shot back.

"Fuckers!" an assassin snarled before tossing a small pouch to the ground.

Smoke exploded instantly.

Nine's eyes narrowed. "Poison!"

But Honu was already running.

Nine cursed and bolted after him.

The chase was brutal. Assassins moved like shadows, relentless in their pursuit. Honu suddenly veered toward a rocky outcrop, skidding to a halt. He knelt, pressing his hands against the ground until—

A hidden entrance.

"Inside," he ordered.

Nine hesitated only a second before diving in.

The underground chamber was dimly lit. Another Buddha statue gleamed at the far end.

Nine stared. "How many Buddha statues do you monks have?"

Honu smirked. "Thousands."

Nine exhaled. "Stop acting like a devoted disciple."

"Stop acting like a jerk."

Silence.

Nine sighed. "Back to Lust. Explain."

Honu clasped his hands. "The essence called itself 'The Fallen.' And it called you… The Saint."

Nine frowned. "The Fallen?"

Honu nodded. "Once an archangel, but cast out from the heavens. A name stood out in my research."

He took a slow breath before uttering,

"Lucifer."