Belial was a strange and troubled teenager. After Auntie Miseria stabilized their minds enough for them to lead different lives, both Hecate and Belial underwent noticeable changes.
Well, it wasn't so much changing as it was revealing their true selves.
Hecate grew more ambitious, mischievous—even sadistic. She delighted in causing trouble and enjoyed pushing people's buttons.
In some ways, she reminded Belial of Klaus.
Belial understood that Hecate was, in fact, mimicking Klaus.
When a person is subjected to extreme trauma, abuse, or helplessness, they often begin to adopt the traits or behaviors of the most powerful figure around them.
She was doing it to avoid feeling powerless.
Belial knew his sister wanted more from life—freedom, power, influence—so no one could ever cage her again.
At least he was glad she was having fun.
They were strange kids.
Even their names were strange.
Hecate was named after the goddess of magic, witchcraft, the night, the moon, ghosts, and necromancy.
Belial didn't know why their mother had chosen that name—and he never would, since she was dead.
As for his own name… it was the name of a devil, meaning "wickedness" or "worthlessness." Belial was the deceiver, the devil of lies, and guilt.
He never understood why he had been given such a terrible name. Did his mother hate him?
He would never know.
But the truth—one even Belial himself refused to fully acknowledge—was that he wasn't wicked.
In fact, Belial had a soft, kind heart.
He wasn't like his sister, who radiated confidence and ambition. Hecate burned with purpose. Belial… didn't.
He felt irrelevant. As though his life truly was worthless.
He lacked the boldness she had. He wasn't powerful or driven. He wasn't like Klaus, who desired the world at his feet. Or Isaac, greedy and brilliant with money. He wasn't like Noah, who would do anything to protect his family. Not Tatiana, narcissistic and dazzling, nor Diego, who brimmed with endless fighting spirit.
He was just an Awakened boy—a quiet, troubled boy.
Surrounded by all these brilliant, larger-than-life people, Belial often felt like a shadow in their light. And sometimes, he wondered if he even deserved to stand beside them.
He sighed, sitting at the edge of the Ivory Tower, staring out into the empty sky.
Oh—right. It wasn't called that anymore.
Now, it was known as the Lawless Tower.
He didn't fully understand why the members of Ascendancy called it that, but he had a feeling it had something to do with Klaus. The man did hate rules made by others, so the name made sense in a strange, rebellious way.
Belial had already spent two months in this place. And he did like it, truly. Klaus and the others had been taking care of them—maybe even accepting them as part of their own.
But still, Belial couldn't shake the unease that clung to him.
He wasn't sure where his life was going… or if he even belonged here at all.
He glanced at his hand—electricity crackling between his fingers. White, raw, and brimming with volatile energy, ready to tear everything apart.
Such strength…
He shook his head.
"It doesn't matter... I don't want to hurt anyone else."
He muttered the words to himself, almost like a prayer. But then a voice called out from behind him.
"But people will hurt you. And the only way to protect yourself... is to hurt them first. Get rid of those foolish thoughts. It'll be better for you."
Belial stayed quiet for a long moment, the bitterness in his voice clear when he finally replied.
"Why do people have to hurt each other, Klaus?"
Klaus walked up beside him with a crooked grin and ruffled his gray hair.
"Because humans are disgusting creatures, Belial. All we ever do is want—more and more. We're never satisfied. We destroy everything, even ourselves, just to feel powerful for a moment."
Belial didn't know what to say to that. Klaus's words felt too bleak, too nihilistic—but his cheerful smile told a different story. Klaus wasn't lifeless, nor was he a true nihilist. To him, those things weren't tragedies… they were just facts. And he simply didn't care enough to mourn them. He was just laughing at his fears of life, death and everything else.
"How so?" Belial asked quietly.
Klaus's smile widened—but with that scar stretching across his face, the expression was more petrifying than friendly.
"Well," he began, "humans have always drawn energy from nature. We were slow at first, but a few centuries ago, we hit a breakthrough. Technology surged forward. Advancement bloomed... and people began destroying nature—the very world we live in—just so they could live comfortably."
He paused, then added, "And comfort is nice. But there has to be a line. Because the moment we run out of resources, all that comfort? Gone."
Belial nodded slowly, his expression thoughtful.
Above them, the Tower continued to drift through the sky, parting clouds as it floated along like a fortress between worlds.
Klaus watched the boy in silence for a while, then sighed and lit a cigarette, the ember flaring in the wind.
"Don't you want to go to school?" he asked casually. "I mean, Hecate couldn't care less—she's got her little crew here. But you... you're quieter. Friends can be a good thing, you know?"
Belial considered it for a moment, then shook his head.
Friends?
No one could ever relate to what he'd been through. He couldn't talk freely with people who hadn't seen the things he had. He wouldn't even know how to act normal around mundane kids.
"I don't need friends," he muttered. His voice dropped lower, softer—almost uncertain. "I want... I don't know what I want."
Klaus took a slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling smoke into the wind. His expression softened.
"Friends make life worth it, kid. You don't have to go out looking for them. There are already people here who care about you—who want to be your friends."
Belial didn't look at him. Not because he wasn't listening, but because he didn't know how to respond. He lacked the experience... the belief that such things were even meant for him.
"And who would those people be?" he asked quietly.
Klaus chuckled, drifting lazily into the air, reclining midair like he was lying on an invisible bed—hands behind his head, cigarette still perched between his lips, orbiting around the boy like a teasing satellite.
"Well, for starters... there's me," he said with a grin. "Then there's Auntie Tatiana, Cassie, Driver... Uncle Diego, who—by the way—is very curious about what happens if your lightning collides with his fire."
He smirked.
"Noah worries about you more than he lets on, and Isaac? He keeps flashing you signs to gamble. Which means he probably likes you more than he likes most people."
Belial blinked, stunned. He frowned and looked up at Klaus.
"Why would a bunch of adults want to be friends with a kid?" he muttered, awkwardly avoiding eye contact and folding his arms over his chest like he needed to shield himself.
Klaus's smile froze. A vein popped on his forehead.
Without warning, he flicked Belial's forehead.
Except… Klaus didn't hold back.
Belial was launched off the floating tower.
"Aaaghhhh!"
He screamed as the sky spun wildly around him.
What the hell?! Is he insane?! That wasn't a flick! That was a damn cannon!
I'm going to die! The Chain Isles are right below… If I land on Iron Hand Island I'm definitely going to be a smear on the pavement—
Wait... Diego's burrito was actually pretty good...
Huh. I've been screaming a while now…
Shouldn't I have landed? Or... you know… been crushed by now?
Belial cracked one eye open—then blinked in confusion.
He wasn't falling anymore.
He was floating, suspended midair like a confused balloon.
Hovering above him, Klaus had one finger pointed at him and was laughing so hard he could barely stay airborne.
"Did you have fun, screaming like a little bitch? Kekekekehahahahahah!"
Belial's eye twitched.
His shock turned into pure outrage.
"Let me down, you bastard!"
Klaus chuckled, shaking his head as if refusing an invisible request.
"Alright, kid. Time for a lecture."
He floated a bit closer, still pointing at Belial suspended mid-air like a scolded balloon.
"Friends make life good. They're the scaffolding that holds up everything else. Life doesn't just get more bearable—it actually becomes fun. They give you a sense of meaning, purpose, security... even self-worth. Do you know the single biggest predictor of happiness?"
Belial blinked.
"It's not money. Not power. It's how connected you feel to others. Crazy, right? A lack of connection can actually shorten your life. Messes with your health, your mind... everything."
He paused, noticing the thoughtful look in the boy's eyes. Then he sighed softly and spoke with more warmth.
"So give friendship a chance, kiddo. You don't need to go around begging people to like you. Just be genuine. Show some interest in others. Let them know you. Don't hide away because you think you're too different."
Klaus grinned—just a little. Despite the scar, there was warmth in it.
"The human brain is hardwired for connection. Wanting friends doesn't make you weak. It makes you human. And believe me... there are people who would be glad to have you in their lives."
He pointed down.
"You just gotta meet them halfway."
Belial stayed quiet for a long moment.
His face was still, expressionless—but there was a quiet sorrow etched into his features. And then, something shifted. A flash of emotion stirred in his stormy gray eyes. It wasn't something Klaus could easily name. Anger, maybe. Desperation. Or something deeper—something wounded and painfully human.
"It's not that simple!" Belial suddenly snapped, voice strained and cracking.
"All of you… you're so special. Unique. Powerful. You shine like stars and I—"
He faltered, fists clenched.
"I'm not like that. Sure, I can pretend to be part of it. I can act like I belong, like I'm your friend… but is it real? Or just some role I'm playing so I don't get left behind?"
He looked away, biting down on the shame building in his throat. His voice softened, but the self-loathing behind it only grew sharper.
"I wish... I wish I was someone special too. Someone people remembered. Someone who walked into a room and made others feel something. Someone who mattered."
His shoulders slumped, as if the weight of those words had finally broken through.
"But instead, it feels like I'll always be a bystander... Watching everything from the edges. And I don't know how to change that..."
Klaus watched the boy quietly, a flicker of genuine surprise crossing his face. Huh. So the kid could open up after all.
He chuckled under his breath and gently pulled Belial toward him with a flick of his fingers, making him float closer through the air.
Belial kept his eyes down, refusing to meet his gaze.
Klaus grinned and extended his hand.
"Take it."
The boy stayed still—stubborn as ever.
Klaus rolled his eyes with a sigh, keeping his hand outstretched.
"You little shit... Fine. Be dramatic."
He paused, his voice softening with something almost paternal.
"But it doesn't matter. I've already made my choice—I'm taking responsibility for you and Hecate. That means you're mine now. You're one of my own."
He reached forward, grabbing Belial's hand firmly, pulling him just enough to make their eyes meet.
"So I don't care how far you fall. I'll still reach for you. That's what friends do—they drag each other back up. Even if they have to crawl through hell to do it."
His grin returned, a little crooked, a little scarred, but warm all the same.
"So stop wasting time with all that 'what if' crap. Go have some fun. Laugh a little. Life's already enough of a joke—so why not laugh back? What's the point of living if you're too scared to enjoy it?"
Belial looked up at him slowly, his storm-gray eyes narrowing with a flicker of genuine curiosity.
"Klaus... are you an absurdist?"
Klaus's grin froze mid-smirk.
Of all the things the little gremlin could've latched onto from that heartfelt speech... that's what he picked?
"...So that's what you focused on?" Klaus muttered, eye twitching. "Not the friendship, not the part about choosing you, not even the bit where I said I'd crawl through hell for you. No, no. The philosophical label. Damned brat."
Belial blinked, a little unsure. "...Well, you did say life's a joke and we should laugh at it."
Klaus pinched the bridge of his nose with an exaggerated groan.
"Yes, yes, congratulations, you're a philosopher now. Next you'll be quoting Camus and asking if Sisyphus was smiling. Want me to get you a scarf and pipe too?"
Belial cracked a very faint smile—tiny, almost imperceptible, but it was there.
"…Maybe."
Klaus glanced at him and huffed, amused despite himself.
"Alright, Absurdist Junior. Let's go find your sister before she decides to lob a bomb into someone's garden again."
"She did that last week."
"...Of course she did."