The ruined city stays silent as they walk, leaving behind the field of demon corpses. Neither of them looks back.
The air smells like ash and dried blood, but there's something almost comforting in the sound of their boots over broken asphalt. It's the sound of moving on.
Dave sheaths his sword with a practiced motion, shaking off the weight of the fight like it's nothing more than dust on his shoulders. He runs a hand through his hair, making the mess even worse, and glances sideways at Heinz.
"After such a warm welcome from my dear brother, I think we've earned ourselves a drink."
Heinz tilts his head slightly, unreadable as always, but the way his hand tightens around that damn watch suggests he's thinking the same thing.
"A beer wouldn't be the worst idea."
Dave punches his arm lightly and steps ahead, carrying that same reckless ease like the world isn't crumbling all around them.
"All right. You know a bar in this shithole world, or are we improvising?"
Heinz walks at his usual pace — calm, collected — somehow managing to look elegant even with the grime on his clothes.
"There's always a place where men drink to forget."
And they find it.
A small bar, half-collapsed, wedged between two ruined buildings. The sign hangs from a single rusted nail, barely holding on, but there's light inside — and right now, that's enough.
Dave pushes the door open like he owns the place, with Heinz close behind.
The smell inside is thick: stale cigarettes, cheap booze, broken dreams. Scattered patrons sit hunched at their tables, the kind of men who've seen too much and lived too little.
The bartender doesn't even glance up when they approach.
Dave knocks his knuckles on the bar.
"Two beers. Cold, if that's still a luxury around here."
The guy — built like a wall with scars all over his arms — gives them a hard stare, mutters something unintelligible, and drags two dusty bottles from a beat-up fridge.
Dave hands one to Heinz and drops onto a stool.
"At least alcohol still works in this world."
Heinz sits beside him, slow and deliberate, studying the bottle before taking a careful sip. One eyebrow lifts slightly in surprise.
"Could be worse."
Dave chuckles, raising his bottle in a lazy toast.
"To not dying."
Heinz taps his bottle against Dave's, the hint of a smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
"To not dying."
They drink in silence for a while. And it feels good.
Not like things are good — nothing is — but for a few minutes, the weight of everything pressing down on them doesn't feel quite so suffocating.
Dave leans on the bar, glancing at Heinz from the corner of his eye.
"So… you always been this good at controlling demons, or should I be worried you're on track to becoming the next King of Hell?"
Heinz sets the bottle down, peeling at the label with his thumb.
"I don't know. Something changed. I felt it. Like…" His brow furrows, eyes narrowing slightly as if searching for the right words. "…like part of me always knew how. I just didn't remember."
Dave nods slowly.
Yeah. He'd felt it too.
That wave of darkness that came out of Heinz… it wasn't just magic. It wasn't just some trick.
It was will.
Like deep down, Heinz had always been able to command the dark — he just hadn't decided to use it before now.
"Great," Dave mutters with a crooked smile. "One egomaniac with a god complex is already too much — and that's just counting my brother."
A rare thing happens then: Heinz laughs. Quiet. Rough. Almost like he forgot how.
"I have no intention of becoming another Axel."
Dave stares at him for a second longer. Axel. That name hits harder than he wants to admit.
He thinks of all the versions of his brother he's run into so far. All of them broken in different ways. Twisted in different colors of cruelty.
He lifts the bottle and drinks deep, letting the burn distract him.
"What do you think he'd do if I showed up in front of him right now?"
Heinz meets his eyes fully this time, those dark irises catching the weak bar light just enough to glint.
"I think he'd try to destroy you. To break you before you can challenge him again."
Dave huffs a laugh, sharp and humorless.
"Good motivation to not get caught."
Silence settles between them again — but not uncomfortable. Just… heavy.
Dave rolls the bottle between his palms, watching the dust cling to the glass, watching Heinz out of the corner of his eye. He doesn't mean to. It just happens.
There's something about him here that feels different. Not just because of what he did out there, with the demons, but something deeper. Something that makes Dave's chest feel tight and restless.
The Heinz he knew in his world was distant. Untouchable. Like he was made of something sharp and cold.
But this Heinz…
This one looks him in the eye when they talk. This one doesn't flinch when they stand close.
This one saved his life without hesitating.
Dave lowers his gaze, lets out a soft breath, running a hand down his face.
What the hell is he doing?
This isn't the time. This isn't the place.
And yet…
He feels Heinz next to him like gravity.
Not pulling.
Holding.
Heinz doesn't say anything. Just takes another sip of his beer, wearing that impossible expression of his — like he's thinking about everything and nothing at once.
But Dave knows.
He knows Heinz feels it too.