Death Paradox 💥BAKUDEKU💥

Chapter 28

The Emperor

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Chapter 28

Katsuki was not one to complain—out loud, anyway—but the grinding pace of their overland trek through the Path of the Fallen was beginning to wear even on his considerable reserves of stubbornness. Five damn days. Five long, grueling days on foot, with nothing but traps, monsters, and the godforsaken cold biting through their cloaks. How the nerd, with no magic to speak of and just his wits and sheer human stubbornness, had managed to travel so far alone, so fast, was beyond him. It ate at him, the not knowing, the image of Izuku out there, waiting for him.

The path was a goddamn nightmare, a cursed, winding thing that seemed alive in its cruelty. Every few steps brought another trap—hidden snares, collapsing ice, or some lurking beast waiting to rip them apart. And every damn time, the danger ratcheted up, as if the whole route was designed to grind them down until they either dropped dead or turned tail.

Turning back to find another way wasn't a damn option. Not if Katsuki could fucking help it. Not just because of their deadline but because every moment could be bringing Izuku into greater danger with the demon hunting them now. The thought had burrowed into his brain, a relentless, searing worry that Deku was out there somewhere, possibly hurt, possibly worse. And Kirishima... God, Kirishima. His dragon, his right hand, missing just the same. It was enough to drive him mad.

Not to mention the cold was a special kind of hell, one Katsuki could feel chipping at the edges of his already nonexistent patience. It wasn't just about being cold—it was relentless. It seeped into everything: his boots, his gloves, his damn bones. If not for the simmering heat of his own magic, which he had to strategically release to keep his body warm, he was pretty sure he'd have frozen solid by now. But every kernel he used to fend off the cold was energy wasted—energy he needed to keep moving, to keep fighting, to get to Izuku and Kirishima before something worse found them.

And then there was IcyHot—still sporting those scales—who was a constant pull on his irritation. The prince had told him—reluctantly, as if dragging the words out was its own kind of pain—that during the fight with the demon, his control over the curse had slipped. Just for a moment, but long enough for the damn thing to rear its ugly head and go wild... it was how he managed to fight off the bitch and her minions.

Now, the worst of it had pulled back. Most of the scales were gone, retreating into his skin like a bad memory, but they hadn't vanished completely. The scales on his face had retreated, leaving only a trail around the shell of his years. But there were still dark, jagged patches covering his arm and shoulder, glinting faintly under the pale light as if waiting for their chance to spread again.

It didn't take a genius to see what was going on. On top of everything else he was locked in his own fight, battling that cursed thing back into submission. The royal prick didn't complain, though Katsuki could tell the cold, and the constant strain of the curse, was taking its toll. Shoto was using his fire magic sparingly, careful not to exhaust himself too quickly, but Katsuki could see the flicker of strain in his movements, the way he pulled his cloak tighter around himself when he thought Katsuki wasn't looking.  He was human after all, at least for the most part. The prince was balancing a delicate act—while maintaining enough energy to fend off the traps and beasts that seemed to spring up every time they so much as blinked.

They'd both been forced to lean on their magic to survive the cold, but it was a dangerous gamble. Every ounce of energy spent on keeping warm was an ounce less they'd have to fight off whatever fresh hell came their way next. And given how the Path of the Fallen seemed to actively want them dead, Katsuki wasn't thrilled about running his reserves dry.