As Alastor and Zestial sat in a lavishly decorated side room, the conversation between the two powerful figures had taken an unexpected turn-one of civility. Over the past several minutes, the two Overlords had shifted politics to a surprising discussion about tea varieties.

Alastor, his ever-present smile gleaming, leaned back in his chair. "You see, there's nothing quite like a good Earl Grey to start the day. The floral hints paired with a strong, robust body-it's quite invigorating!"

Zestial, sitting with perfect posture, raised a brow at the mention. His tone remained composed, "Ah, thou doth speak highly of such a blend. I, however, wouldst argue that the finest teas are oolong-complex in both flavor and spirit. They art not as bold as thy Earl Grey, but they offer a depth that lingers upon one's senses."

Alastor chuckled, twirling a finger in the air as if considering the merits of Zestial's point. "A fair argument, old friend. Perhaps we'll have to settle this over a tea tasting sometime."

The sound of a door creaking open pulled both of their attention toward the hallway. Spawn and Carmilla emerged, walking side by side. They weren't smiling-neither of them ever did-but there was a calmness between them that hadn't been there before.

Alastor was the first to rise, his smile widening as he clapped his hands together. "Ah, there you are! So, have things been... resolved?"

Zestial stood beside him, his powerful presence filling the room as he observed the pair with a more restrained curiosity. "Hast thou reached some manner of concord, then?"

Carmilla and Spawn exchanged a brief look, both seemingly on the same page without the need for words. It was Spawn who spoke first, his tone low and measured. "Yeah. We came to an agreement."

Alastor's eyes gleamed with curiosity, though his smile remained unchanged. "Oh, splendid! Care to elaborate on the terms?"

Carmilla crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe, cutting in with a cool, commanding voice. "It's simple. He keeps the weapons he took. In exchange, he'll provide me with some... support in the coming days."

Spawn gave a curt nod, as if to confirm her words. He wasn't interested in offering any more details than necessary. The deal was done, and he was ready to move on.

Alastor's smile faltered for just a split second, the tiniest crack in his otherwise unshakable facade. "Support, you say? How intriguing."

Zestial, ever the pragmatic one, nodded approvingly, though his tone remained cautious. "If such an accord brings forth peace, then 'tis well. But let us hope 'tis honored by both parties, for alliances forged in Hell are oft tested."

Spawn simply grunted in acknowledgment, while Carmilla shot a glance at Alastor. "I'll make sure it holds, Alastor. I have no reason to doubt him as long as he keeps his word."

"Of course, of course," Alastor replied smoothly, his smile returning in full force. "I'm just pleased that we avoided any unnecessary... complications."

With that, the tension in the air lessened ever so slightly, though the gravity of their new arrangement was far from lost on anyone in the room. Hell was not a place for trust, but for now, they had reached something resembling a truce.

Alastor clapped his hands together once more, ever the showman. "Well, it seems our work here is done. Shall we celebrate with a fine cup of oolong, or perhaps Earl Grey?"

Zestial quirked a brow at the comment but remained composed. "I wouldst indulge, though there be matters at hand which must command mine attention."

Carmilla and Spawn shared a final, knowing look before she turned toward the other Overlords. "We're done here. Let's keep things moving."

With that, the meeting came to a close, and as the group began to disperse, there was a shared understanding that while this chapter was resolved, the true tests were still to come. In Hell, nothing ever stayed peaceful for long.

As Spawn and Alastor made their way out of Carmilla's headquarters, the contrast between the two couldn't have been more pronounced. Alastor, ever the showman, turned on his heel just before the door, bowed with a flourish and giving a wide, theatrical bow.

"Always a pleasure, dear Carmilla! Until we meet again, I trust you'll be in excellent company with our new... friend," he said with a wink, his voice dripping with mock sincerity.

Spawn, however, said nothing. He simply gave Carmilla and Zestial a brief nod-just enough to acknowledge their presence but nothing more. Without a word, he turned and followed Alastor out, the sound of his heavy footsteps echoing in the hallway.

Once they were gone, the room fell into a contemplative silence. Zestial watched the door for a moment longer, his arms crossed and his ancient eyes thoughtful. He finally turned to Carmilla, his voice a deep rumble. "Thou hast done well, my lady. To come to such an accord with Spawn... 'tis both wise and most revealing of thine character."

Carmilla, still standing by the window, didn't respond immediately. Her gaze lingered on the horizon, where the city stretched out in all its hellish chaos. After a few moments, she turned to Zestial, her expression unreadable. "There's far more to Spawn than I initially thought," she said quietly, her voice lacking its usual sharpness.

Zestial raised a brow, intrigued by the weight of her words. "Thou art not oft one to be surprised. What hast thou seen in him that giveth thee such pause?"

Carmilla let out a slow breath, walking back to her desk. She traced her fingers along the surface, deep in thought. "He's not like the others here, not even like the other soldiers we've seen fall into Hell. There's something... broken about him. But that's what makes him dangerous. He doesn't fight for power or territory. He fights to survive. And there's nothing more dangerous than someone who's got nothing left to lose."

Zestial nodded, his face thoughtful. "A soul driven by survival alone is indeed a formidable force. Yet, it seemeth there is more thou perceiveth than mere desperation."

Carmilla looked up, her gaze meeting Zestial's. "He's got depth. There's pain there, buried under all that violence. I don't know what his story is, but whatever happened to him in life-it's still haunting him. And that... that could be useful."

Zestial considered this for a moment, then gave a slow nod of understanding. "A man with such ghosts may indeed prove useful... if he be directed wisely."

Carmilla smiled faintly, but it wasn't a smile of triumph. It was a smile of someone who knew she was playing a long game, one filled with unknown variables. "I don't intend to control him. I don't think anyone could. But if I can align his goals with mine, at least for now, we might just get through this without tearing each other apart."

Zestial gave a low, approving hum, his eyes glinting with a mix of respect and admiration. "Thou hast always been a master of balance, Carmilla. To see beyond thine own desires and act with such foresight... 'tis what maketh thee truly formidable."

Carmilla chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Flattery will get you nowhere, Zestial."

"'Tis no flattery," Zestial replied, his tone genuine. "Merely truth."

The two of them stood in silence for a moment longer, both aware that the real battles were yet to come. But for now, they had gained a new understanding-of each other, and of the unpredictable force that was Spawn.

As Alastor and Spawn stepped out of Carmilla's headquarters, the tension of the meeting dissipating into the hazy, infernal air, there was an itch in Spawn's mind that had been growing ever since he first arrived in this version of Hell. It wasn't just the strange power struggles or the odd cast of characters he'd encountered-it was something deeper, something he couldn't quite place but that gnawed at him more each day.

His heavy steps echoed on the ground as they walked, and though Alastor continued to chatter, weaving in his usual theatrics, Spawn wasn't listening. His thoughts had already wandered elsewhere. Finally, he stopped, his mind made up. Turning to Alastor, he cut through the demon's rambling with a low, gruff voice.

"I've got something else to take care of," Spawn said. "You can head back without me."

Alastor paused mid-sentence, raising a curious brow. His grin never faltered, but his eyes glimmered with intrigue. "Oh? Off to settle more... pressing matters, are we? Well, I can't say I'm surprised! You do seem to attract trouble, my dear friend."

Spawn glared, but said nothing in response. Alastor, with his usual flamboyance, gave a dramatic sigh and swept his hat off in a grand gesture. "Very well! I'll leave you to your mysterious business, but don't keep me waiting too long, hmm? It's dreadfully boring without some excitement!"

With a final flourish, Alastor turned and strolled away, humming a jaunty tune as he disappeared down the street. Spawn, watching him go for just a moment, let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Now alone, his focus shifted to the task at hand.

It had been gnawing at him since the first day-Callister. He still hadn't gotten a straight answer from the man, and there was something about the way Callister operated that didn't sit right with him. Spawn wasn't one to let things slide, especially when there were too many unanswered questions in this already twisted place.

With a clear purpose, Spawn set off to find Callister once again. He knew that dealing with him wouldn't be easy-nothing in Hell ever was-but he was done with playing along with vague deals and shadowy figures. If Callister had something to do with his being here, or if he knew more than he let on, Spawn was going to get to the bottom of it.

His cape billowed as he moved through the streets, the dark energy swirling around him as he made his way deeper into the city. The closer he got, the more determined he became. Callister had answers, and Spawn wasn't leaving without them.

Spawn had been wandering the streets of Hell for what felt like hours, his thoughts a storm of anger and confusion. Ever since he'd found himself in this cursed place, something had been nagging at the back of his mind-a feeling that someone or something was guiding his steps. Tonight, that suspicion had finally pushed him to seek out the one person who might have answers.

Spawn had finally tracked Callister down, finding him in the same dim alley he always seemed to linger in. The old man stood against the wall, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips, his demeanor calm as if he had all the time in the world. As Spawn approached, his heavy boots scuffing the ground, Callister's eyes flicked up without surprise.

"Al," Callister greeted, his voice casual, as if they were meeting for a regular chat. But Spawn wasn't here for small talk.

"I know who you are," Spawn growled, the shadows swirling around him like an angry storm. "Your name isn't Callister. It's Cain."

There was a pause, the silence between them heavy. Cain-Callister-simply sighed and took a drag from his cigarette, blowing out the smoke before speaking again. "Took you long enough to figure that out," he said calmly, as if this had been expected all along.

Spawn's eyes narrowed. He'd encountered the name Cain before in his own world, back when he'd met Nicholas Cogliostro-the man who had once been a Hellspawn like him. But something wasn't adding up, and it gnawed at Spawn. "I knew a Cain before," Spawn said, his voice low and dangerous. "He was a Hellspawn like me. Someone who fell into darkness and fought his way out."

Cain's lips twisted into a sad smile, his eyes distant. "A version of Cain, perhaps. But not me."

"What are you saying?" Spawn asked, his frustration clear in his voice.

"It may be perhaps that there is a Cain in your world. Perhaps there is one in all worlds... yet they all have different pasts." Cain answered.

"What are you trying to say?" Spawn said, clearly tired of the circles he was talking in.

"I am Cain, yes... But in this world, the name bears so much more." Cain said, his tone heavy with the implication of what he was saying.

Spawn paused for a moment, and it was then that he understood what it was the old man was saying.

"Wait... do you mean to tell me that-"

"Yes." Cain said, looking Spawn dead in the eyes. "I am that Cain. The first to commit a deadly sin... the sin of violence. Against my own flesh and blood no less."