The Nephilim, sits on a weathered log amidst the whispering trees, focusing on the task of polishing his demon-blood sword. The blade gleams with an otherworldly sheen under his careful ministrations.

Aeshma, the formidable Demon God of Wrath, approaches him with purpose in his step. "If you continue to fiddle with your sword in such a manner, you risk dulling its edge," he warns.

"I am merely applying a light coat," he replies, his gaze returning to the sword in his hands.

As Aeshma settles down across from him, setting his mace against a nearby tree, he calls for the Nephilim's attention. "Kalthus,"

The half-demon, slightly annoyed, pauses his polishing. "Yes, master,"

"We must discuss your ongoing mission. How do you find yourself regarded by the Queen of the Massagetae?" Aeshma inquires.

"She has honored me with the title of top general. The people's respect... or perhaps fear, serves as a testament to my authority," he explains, a hint of satisfaction coloring his words.

"Good. Have they divulged any information regarding the cup?" Aeshma presses on.

"They guard their secrets well, but I will try my luck to the far deserts in the west. The Egyptians may hold the key or possess artifacts of similar power,"

Before Aeshma could respond, a new presence made itself known.

Asto Vidatu, the Demon God of Death, appears with a quiet intensity. "I see you two are still drawn to the filths of nature."

"Well, if it isn't the mage with a high nose" Aeshma mocks. "We had to clean up your mess."

Demon God of Wrath points towards a neat stack of scrolls and books.

"I appreciate the effort. What caused such a ruckus to pursue?"

"We had an intruder. He saw everything, and even took some valuables we missed." Kalthus responds.

"Well, that is surely a nuisance." Asto Vidatu, the elder demon mage, remarks.

"He learned about the chalice; you need to do a better job at hiding such clarified information." Kalthus challenges.

"Know your place half-blood," the demon mage spouts.

Aeshma stands tall and glares down at Asto Vidatu. "Kalthus is right. You exposed our secrets because of your incompetence."

The demon mage lets out a derisive scoff and rolls his eyes. "Very well, I sincerely apologize for my slight mishap. Who was the culprit that scattered away?"

Kalthus reveals, "Spero of the Red Sand."

Asto Vidatu's eyes spark. "Ahh, the boy of Verethragna, well how did a valuable target escape your grasp?" he scorns.

"He had in his possession... the Ring of Solomon."

"Preposterous!"

The Demon God of Wrath confirms. "The boy is right; I saw that retched insignia with my own eyes."

The demon mage paces. "This is highly unfortunate. We can't approach him with that tool around his finger... hmm...we will have to either hope he fails to control the power or is corrupted by it."

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Aeshma informs, "I will relay the message to him later."

"Now, Kalthus, anything else worth reporting?" the mage asks.

Kalthus continues, "He was able to hold his own for a while. He blocked some of my powerful attacks, he has remarkable swordsmanship. He was even able to inflict damage on me.

Aeshma steps forward, "AHA remarkable!"

"He has Verethragna's angelic energy protecting him."

Asto Vidatu stops pacing, "I see why he has such an interest in this mortal."

Kalthus falls silent for a moment, contemplating his next words before breaking the silence once more. "Not only that, but I saw the darkness within. Just when I thought he was on the brink of death...a disturbing force released...I've never felt such a deep sensation. A slight bit of worry...fear even...flashed in my mind...I sensed the unknown...the presence of chaos itself."

The two demon gods exchange a glance filled with concern.

The demon mage replies, "It seems we truly came across an interesting specimen. We must keep a careful eye on him. Until he finally decides to stop playing with his food."

Aeshma hisses at the suggestion of patience, eager to pursue their target without delay. However, they all agree to continue their evening as usual, resuming their activities as Asto Vidatu carefully sifts through the pile of his belongings, inspecting their conditions.

.....

On a gloomy, cloudy day in the kingdom of Anshan, the people gather at the central plaza to mourn the passing of their beloved king, Cambyses. Amidst the somber atmosphere, a sense of anticipation hangs heavy in the air as whispers of the future swirl among the crowd. Cyrus stands by his grieving mother, offering her comfort and strength in the face of their loss. As the advisor takes to the podium, the gazes of the kingdom fix upon the young prince, who was soon to be crowned the new King of Anshan. With a steady voice and a determined gaze, Cyrus accepts the mantle of rulership, his speech echoing the resolute words he had once spoken to his soldiers on the battlefield. The crowd erupts into cheers and applause, As the ceremony concludes, Spero makes his way through the crowd to meet Nazanin. She rushes to him and envelopes him in a warm, tight hug.

"I'm so sorry to hear about your father," she says sincerely.

"Thank you," Spero says as he drags his feet.

Nazanin looks down and checks his posture. "So, what's next for you and your brother?"

"We will have a meeting with all of the generals soon, but we will most likely continue with our plans. This won't stop us."

"Alright, well I'm glad to see you pushing through." She remarks with a sincere smile.

Spero and Nazanin weave through the crowded streets, the air was alive with whispers of the recent news. The townsfolk's hushed conversations carry hints of secrecy and mention of Spero alongside the news of the king's demise. Despite the mixed reactions from the onlookers - some curious, some indifferent - Spero presses on.

Nazanin catches snippets of these murmurs, prompting her to stop and face Spero. "You know... I've never been inside of the palace before."

Spero, caught off guard by her confession, furrows his brows before a playful grin spreads across his face. "I can give you a personal tour."

With a bold move, Nazanin reaches out and clasps Spero's hand and together, they set off towards the grand palace.

.....

Cyrus rides in on his stallion to a quaint village nestled at the foot of a towering mountain range [https://img.wattpad.com/566e9bf3615b035f18a506a7ca795c89f05dc253/68747470733a2f2f73332e616d617a6f6e6177732e636f6d2f776174747061642d6d656469612d736572766963652f53746f7279496d6167652f6b53516b74546b4c64465f6a6c673d3d2d313531313933353736362e313831656437643937366366346231343637353634393234333831302e6a7067?s=fit&w=1280&h=1280]

Cyrus rides in on his stallion to a quaint village nestled at the foot of a towering mountain range. As he dismounts his steed, the villagers pause in their daily activities to look in awe at the visitor. Cyrus confidently strides towards a humble hut. With a firm knock on the weathered wooden door, it creaks open, revealing a warm interior filled with the scent of home-cooked meals and laughter. Two figures emerge - a compassionate woman with gentle eyes and a rugged man with a weathered face. They envelop Cyrus in a tight embrace.

"Oh, my look how much you've grown!" the woman exclaims.

"I've been the same for over a century, Mother," Cyrus replies with a hint of humor dancing in his eyes.

"Oh, my boy, how are you Agradates...I mean Cyrus?" the man stumbles over his words.

"No worries, Father, both of you may always address me by that name," Cyrus reassures them with a smile.

Cyrus settles in and recounts the news and how he is the new King of Anshan. His adoptive parents listen with rapt attention, showering him with praise and sympathy for the losses he has endured. Cyrus finds solace in the unbreakable bond he shares with these two who have been his pillars of support throughout his journey. In the face of challenges ahead, he takes comfort in knowing that in his adopted parents' humble abode, he will always find refuge and unwavering love.