Pain.
Sebastian had known pain. Suffered it. Reveled in it.
But this was something else.
Death Scythes were on a whole different level.
It couldn't be called pain. Calling it pain would be trivializing it. It surpassed pain.
He would know. He had nearly lost his arm to the red Shinigami's Scythe. It had remained numb for well over a week.
He couldn't put words to this pain.
Sheer agony radiated out from where the Scythe pierced his chest. From his sternum to his shoulder bones. From his shoulders to his elbows. His elbows to the tips of his very fingernails.
The Master looked horrified.
When Sebastian opened his mouth to yell for the boy, only blood came out.
They were falling. He would survive, but the Master would die of the impact.
And then, somehow, the boy's hand was in his.
He twisted, turned around.
The Demon's Cinematic Record began to unfurl.
The Master was tucked against his chest.
The entirety of this Contract danced before his eyes.
Three years gone in seconds.
They hit the ground.
Pain.
But the Master was unharmed.
Agony.
The clicking of shoes.
"Sebastian!"
The Master howled his name.
He had to answer.
"You are very loud, Young Master."