The atmosphere in the pocket dimension shifted as Aunt Kahari began to explain the intricate web of secrets surrounding Nathen’s lineage. "Your parents were part of the Court of Owls," she started, her voice tinged with a mixture of nostalgia and sorrow. "It’s a group of people selected by the seven rulers to work as secret spies, tasked with handling Level Omega threats."

Nathen frowned. "But the Grey Owl said my parents were working for a secretive order that protected the legacy of Surtur."

Kahari chuckled. "Oh, so you met the old bird. Whatever he says isn’t always accurate."

Gobo, still recovering from his shock, muttered sarcastically, "There goes my 250 coins."

Nathen’s curiosity deepened. "What about my last name, ‘Albrich’?"

Sahaqiel, now seated at the table, spoke with a grave tone. "Your last name comes from your great-grandfather, King Irmen of Khanriya."

Nathen's eyes widened. "King Irmen? What happened to my parents?"

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Kahari sighed; her gaze distant. "During a mission, your parents, Jack and Lola who was pregnant, assisted by a young, handsome man with seductive eyes—my “ex-husband" Akhil—went to Mount Emu to investigate an anomaly. Akhil was obsessed with the story of Asmoday and his brother Surtur."

Sahaqiel interjected, "As they reached their destination, they discovered that Asmoday's soul was still alive. It corrupted Akhil’s soul. Your mother gave birth to you during the mission, but Akhil attacked your father. Jack sacrificed himself to protect you and Lola. You went missing until now, and finding you is a blessing."

"Akhil now calls himself Abigale and commands an army known as the Underdogs," Kahari continued.

The room fell silent as Nathen processed this revelation. His lineage, his lost parents, and the formidable enemies he now faced—all of it was overwhelming.

---

Meanwhile, in a dimly lit chamber, Abigale stood before a towering statue of Asmoday. Abigale was a figure of dark elegance, his form radiating a sinister allure. His long, raven-black hair cascaded over broad shoulders, framing a face of perfect symmetry and cold, piercing eyes that held a smoldering intensity. His attire, a blend of ancient armor and modern design, clung to his muscular physique, accentuating every powerful line of his body. He exuded a magnetic aura, an embodiment of both beauty and danger.

"When will you take Irmin as your vessel?" Abigale’s voice was a velvet whisper, laced with anticipation. "I need to prepare the ritual to remove Irmin's soul."

The statue of Asmoday seemed to pulse with dark energy, and a deep, otherworldly voice echoed through the chamber. "Soon, Abigale. I can’t wait to kill my brother."

Abigale’s lips curved into a wicked smile. "Then the world shall witness the true power of Asmoday. And I will stand by your side, a harbinger of your wrath."

He turned away from the statue, his cape billowing behind him as he strode through the dim light. The Underdogs, his loyal followers, watched in awe and fear as their leader moved with lethal grace. Abigale was not just a commander; he was a force of nature, a storm waiting to be unleashed.