Sebastian stood amidst the ruins, his crimson eyes blazing with an intensity that made the very air around him feel charged. The once grand chapel had become little more than a smoldering heap of charred debris and broken stone. The remnants of the cult that had dared to cross your path were scattered, their bodies strewn in chaotic disarray, as though the earth itself had rebelled against them.

At your command, Sebastian became a whirlwind of destruction, each movement a precise dance of death. No one was spared - no one but you. The Faustian contract, marked in the eye beneath your eyepatch, began to glow the moment you tore it off, the dark bond between master and demon igniting a savage hunger within him. A bloodlust that could only be quenched by the utter annihilation of all in his path. His demonic nature surged to the surface, a tidal wave of power and fury that nothing could withstand.

You had been the one to give the order, to speak the words that had unlocked the full extent of his terrible power. It had felt almost surreal - the overwhelming sense of control you held over the situation, the way he obeyed, as though nothing in the world could resist your will. And, when the last of the cult’s forces had fallen, the chapel had been reduced to little more than cinders and bones, an entire army crushed under the weight of his boundless rage.

“My young lord,” Sebastian’s voice sliced through the silence, low and smooth. “It seems you’ve summoned me at a most opportune moment.”

He swept effortlessly into the role of the perfect butler, brushing dust from his lapel as though bloodshed was mere inconvenience.

You could barely lift your head, exhaustion gnawing at you, but you managed to meet his gaze. “Sebastian… we barely made it out alive.”

A faint smirk tugged at his lips. “But we did, my lord.” He lifted your chin, forcing your face into the light. “No matter how dire the circumstances, no matter how twisted the adversary,” Sebastian murmured, his fingertip brushing your eyepatch, eyes gleaming red. “As long as you wear my mark, nothing and no one shall claim you before your time.”

He retrieved your discarded eyepatch, adjusting it carefully in his hands. With slow precision, he folded the fabric and tied it around your eye once more, hiding the Faustian contract from view. His gaze lingered on the patch as if it were an intimate secret, a knowing smirk curling his lips.

Before you could comprehend what was happening, Sebastian’s arm was around you, lifting you effortlessly. One arm supported your back, the other beneath your knees. With a soft exhale, he shifted you so you were sitting in his arm, cradled against his chest like a delicate treasure.

The journey back to the manor felt surreal, a strange calm amidst the horrors you had endured. Every step he took was calculated, unwavering, moving with the same grace that defined him. The night air bit at your skin, but his warmth surrounded you, the world outside seeming distant as he carried you toward the manor.

As the Phantomhive manor's silhouette emerged, the soft glow of its lights promised solace. The entrance doors were just ahead when the other servants appeared. Bardroy, Mey-Rin, Finny, and Tanaka stopped in their tracks, surprised and worried.

“I swear if the Master’s hurt -!” Bardroy barked, storming to the door.

“Master Ciel!” Finny cried, wide-eyed and pale. “We were so worried!”

“M-Mr. Sebastian, the young master-!” Mey-Rin stammered, unable to look away from how you sat so naturally in his arms.

Even Tanaka appeared, his usual calm replaced with worry.

Sebastian broke the silence with his usual smoothness, his tone calm and commanding. “Bardroy, see to the tea preparations. Mey-Rin, help with the cleaning. Finnian, draw a bath for the young master.” He turned his gaze to you, his voice softening ever so slightly, as if the moment between you held special significance. “And I will see to the dinner preparations.”