Hades' Cursed Luna novel Chapter 115

Hades

"I am not doing any training with you until you eat something," she said with her arms folded, her brows drawn in a frown.

"It does not matter," I ground out, looming over. "I am in perfect condition."

She looked me up and down. "You look malnourished," she countered.

I almost reeled back at her comment. My ears were ringing. "Malnourished?" I echoed in disbelief.

"You don’t fill in your workout clothes like you used to," she remarked.

If not for my shock at the observation she had made about my body, I would have smirked at the fact that she just let it slip that she noticed my body. But she was not wrong. The Flux had that effect on my body, especially considering that it had come earlier than anticipated this time and that my appetite had disappeared days before its arrival. The Flux always left me weaker than usual, stripping away muscle mass and energy, though I’d never admit that out loud.

"You’re imagining things," I finally muttered, crossing my arms to block her view of my chest.

She raised a brow, unimpressed by my attempt to dismiss her. "Imagining? Hades, I’ve been sparring with you for enough time. I know what you’re capable of. And I know when something’s off. You’re not hiding it from me. And I don’t even want to pry into what you are hiding. Like I said before, I will not do that. What I will not do is let you train me when you look seconds away from collapsing. Just eat something."

I clenched my jaw, the ringing in my ears intensifying. It wasn’t just her words; it was the audacity. The nerve. The care. She didn’t realize that every question, every accusation, was grating at me in a way it should not have, especially with the upcoming result of the Lunar Sync Index test. If the world was still spinning in the right direction, the LSI test should come out negative, but I know what I fucking heard and...felt.

"This isn’t your concern," I said, my voice low, laced with a warning. It would be better if she backed down and let us fall into the routine that we followed before and pretended like nothing had happened or—changed. But here she was acting like a worried, angry mother hen, and in a sick, almost endearing way, I was a stubborn chick.

She stepped closer, her face tilted up toward mine, a determined spark in her gaze. "It is my concern when you’re pushing yourself into the ground. You’re no good to anyone like this. Especially not to yourself."

I inhaled sharply, my control fraying. "I said it doesn’t matter. Now drop it."

"No." Her tone was stable, and for a moment, I hated her for it. Hated that she could stand there, arms folded, unrelenting in her determination to challenge me, even when I towered over her, even when she knew how dangerous I could be. Even when she had been face to face with the corruption that tore through me and possessed me, she had neither run nor screamed. She stood toe to toe with it, ordering me to fight it. Why?

And if she was capable of being so hardheaded in that situation, how could I make her see reason now?

"You don’t get to tell me what to do," I growled.

"And you don’t get to self-destruct while I stand by and watch," she fired back. "Eat something, Hades. Or there’s no training."

I stared at her, the weight of her words, her stubbornness, pressing against the ache in my chest. She wasn’t backing down, and part of me—damn it—part of me respected that.

"Fine," I bit out, stepping back, though it felt like a concession of power. "But don’t expect me to finish it."

Her lips quirked into a small, victorious smile, and I swore it was the most infuriatingly satisfying thing I’d seen all day.

"Good. I’ll bring something that even you can’t complain about," she said, already out the door.

As she walked away, I rubbed a hand over my face. This wasn’t about the food. This wasn’t about the training. She was testing me, pushing against walls I’d built long before she came into my life.

And the worst part? She was winning.

---

I stared at her, her gaze laser-focused as I reluctantly ate. She had not been lying when she said she would bring something that I would not complain about. The food was annoyingly simple—a grilled steak paired with roasted sweet potatoes and steamed broccoli. No sauces, no excessive seasoning, just plain, functional fuel for my body. A glass of water sat beside it—no frills or indulgence.

It wasn’t anything I’d normally crave, but it was exactly what I needed. Begrudgingly, I picked up a fork and took a bite. And like I expected, it tasted like sawdust. The Flux had a way of stripping everything of flavor, leaving even the most well-prepared meals tasting bland and unappetizing. The Flux dulled more than just my senses—it drained my will, my focus, my strength. But I forced myself to chew, the weight of her gaze on me like an anchor.