Chapter 63

Immortals

"Pardon me?" Adom's voice was tinged with incredulity as he faced Mephistopheles. The night air around them seemed to still, anticipating the demon's next words.

Mephistopheles, his eyes gleaming with an unsettling mix of amusement and malice, leaned closer. "Adom, my newfound immortal friend," he began, his voice smooth and persuasive, "I speak of a truth far removed from the simplicity of your current understanding."

He paused, allowing his words to sink in, then continued, "As of this moment, I am aware of three other immortals: you, Eldrin, and a barbarian named Bjorn." Mephistopheles' gaze pierced into Adom, assessing his reaction.

"Each of us harbors a vision for the world, a future we deem ideal," he explained, his voice carrying a hint of disdain for the contrasting dreams. "But such diversity in vision breeds inevitable conflict. Bjorn and Eldrin have already united, believing in a shared goal."

Adom processed this, his brain racing with the implications. Mephistopheles watched him, a smile creeping onto his face.

"Despite your current weakness, you hold potential, boy. Potential that could tip the scales in favor of a different world, a better world," Mephistopheles said, his voice laced with persuasive fervor. "Together, you and I could forge a path away from the bleak future you fear."

The air between them thickened with the weight of his proposal, Mephistopheles' gaze never wavering, as if trying to look into Adom's very soul. The idea of alliances, of battles between immortals over the fabric of reality, was a lot to grasp.

Adom had always considered the stories of demons as mere folklore, tales woven to caution and entertain. Yet, standing before an actual demon, those old tales took on a new, ominous significance. Demons, as the stories often warned, were natural enemies of humanity, masters of deception, and manipulation. The skepticism that had once seemed like a distant caution now pressed upon him with immediate relevance.

With Mephistopheles’ offer—or more accurately, his command—hanging in the air, Adom knew he had to tread carefully. The demon’s words, while enticing, were a labyrinth of potential traps and hidden motives. Adom’s instinct was to outright refuse, to reject the dangerous allure of an alliance with a being whose very nature promised betrayal. However, a direct refusal could provoke hostility or further machinations from the demon.

Adom decided on a strategic approach. He would engage Mephistopheles in conversation, extract as much information as possible, and assess the true depth of the demon’s intent. This would buy him time to think, to weigh his limited options, and to devise a plan that would allow him to decline the offer without inciting immediate retribution.

“I must say, your knowledge of other immortals intrigues me,” Adom began, his tone measured, masking the turmoil of his thoughts. “Could you please tell me more about Eldrin and Bjorn. Why have they united, and what vision do they share for the world?”

By posing these questions, Adom aimed to achieve multiple objectives: to glean insights into the broader landscape of immortal conflicts, to understand the positions and powers at play, and perhaps most importantly, to test Mephistopheles’ willingness to divulge truth. If the demon was lying, his answers might still reveal inconsistencies or exaggerations that Adom could use to his advantage.

Mephistopheles’ silence was as calculating as his smile, his teeth reminiscent of a predator’s lethal grin. “I understand your doubt,” he finally spoke, his voice a smooth, dangerous purr. “Humans have always painted us demons as beings of malice and deceit. But consider this: the immortals you speak of, including Eldrin, are not as... lenient as I am. Eldrin’s encounter with you was not random. He was evaluating you, gauging your capabilities. He marked you and then unleashed a Behemoth to test your mettle.”

Adom felt a chill at the mention of Eldrin’s actions. The pieces of a larger, more ominous puzzle were beginning to click into place. His voice steady, yet tinged with a newfound wariness, Adom responded, “Why would Eldrin test my strength in such a manner? If he wished to assess me, why not approach directly, reveal his intentions, and seek to align our causes then?” He continued, “You mentioned earlier that I was noticed because of my association with the phoenix. Is that how you found me? And one more thing,” Adom’s eyes narrowed slightly, “how do you know my name?”

"Eldrin thrives in chaos and calculation, he's a puzzle I've long ceased trying to solve," Mephistopheles confessed, his voice carrying a hint of genuine perplexity. "As for your identity," he gestured towards the shadow raven that materialized from the ether, "my eyes and ears span this realm in various guises."

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He leaned forward, his gaze locking with Adom's. "A disturbance in the ambient Essentia, particularly one as potent as a phoenix’s awakening, sends ripples across the world. Such events do not go unnoticed by those who know how to look." He paused, allowing the gravity of his words to sink in. "Tracking the source led me straight to you, especially after your display of phoenix power in the alleyway."

Adom processed the implications. The thought of being monitored from the shadows, especially since Bennu’s emergence, was unsettling. Mephistopheles continued, "Eldrin likely discovered you through similar means. And that mark he left," his eyes narrowed slightly, "I removed it before it could serve its purpose."

Fear tinged with anger coursed through Adom. The idea that he had been marked, manipulated, and then unmarked without his knowledge or consent was a violation beyond words. He couldn’t detect the mark, nor Mephistopheles’ interference in removing it, which troubled him deeply.

Yet, skepticism held firm in Adom’s thoughts. Mephistopheles' words, while plausible, were his alone, unverified and laced with the inherent deceit of his kind. Adom realized the necessity of maintaining a vigilant, analytical mindset. He needed to navigate this conversation with care, extracting useful information while revealing as little as possible about his intentions or capabilities.

Adom maintained a composed demeanor, his tone respectful yet probing. "I appreciate your insights, Mephistopheles. But I must wonder, why seek an alliance with me, seemingly the weakest among immortals? What value do you perceive in me?"

Mephistopheles, with a sly grin, countered Adom's question with one of his own, "Do you understand why Death selected you, Adom?" Upon Adom’s negative response, the demon elaborated, "Death does not choose without purpose. Its chosen are pivotal, each altering history's flow, for better or worse. They have been at the heart of monumental changes."

He then delved into the annals of history, referencing the tale of the Scarlet King, founder of Atlas, an immortal who reshaped realms, and Eldrin, he is the Eldrin of your history books, the legendary scholar, father of runicology, shaping the very fabric of magical society.

Then, with a dismissive snort, he mentioned Bjorn. "As for that empty-headed barbarian, Bjorn," Mephistopheles rolled his eyes, his voice dripping with disdain, "I'm yet to discover what possible use he could serve. I suppose even the muscle-bound oafs of the world must have their day in the sun, eh?"

Adom listened intently, piecing together the narrative Mephistopheles wove, seeing a pattern in the chaos of historical events influenced by those chosen by Death. It painted a picture of a world silently guided by unseen hands, with immortals playing crucial roles in its unfolding saga.

The implication was clear: Adom, chosen by Death, was destined for a role of significance, perhaps equal to or surpassing those of the immortals mentioned. Mephistopheles saw in him not the weakness of the moment but the promise of pivotal influence in the times to come. Or so he said.

Adom, immersed in contemplation, seized upon a thread of the conversation that piqued his interest further. "You mentioned an overlord and something called Quintessence earlier. Can you elaborate on that?"

Mephistopheles' expression shifted subtly, a mix of surprise and contemplation coloring his features. "Odd. The fact that you, a man from the future, are unaware of the overlord suggests that he either hasn’t emerged in your time or the prophecies surrounding him are mere fabrications." The demon's words trailed off, leaving a heavy silence filled with the weight of unsaid implications.

Just as Adom was about to express his confusion and delve deeper into the mystery, Mephistopheles raised a hand to halt the barrage of questions. "Enough, young immortal," he stated, a weary sagacity in his voice. "It's clear to me that you have no intention of aligning with my cause."

Adom tensed, his instincts screaming alarm. His heartbeat quickened, thudding heavily against his ribcage as he braced for what might come next. Thoughts of escape or confrontation raced through his mind, but before he could settle on a course of action, the demon spoke again, his tone unexpectedly calm.

"No need for such tension, boy," Mephistopheles remarked, extending a massive palm towards Adom, his five clawed fingers splayed in a gesture that was oddly pacifying. "Five years. I'll give you five years. During this time, consider my offer. To demonstrate my sincerity, I've concealed your aura from all, myself included. This should allow you the freedom to grow stronger, to fully grasp the extent of your powers."

He paused, letting the gravity of his words sink in, then concluded, "After five years, come find me here, at the very spot where our paths first crossed."

Adom, feeling the weight of the moment, nervously asked, "What if I do not come?" Mephistopheles' smile was enigmatic, his tone unexpectedly gentle as he responded, "I will not compel you, boy. Unlike Eldrin or Bjorn, I value freedom. You are at liberty to choose. Remember, I envision a world where freedom prevails."

Rising to his feet, the demon imparted a final piece of advice, his gaze piercing, "You possess a system, akin to the rest of us. But heed this warning: do not place your trust in it blindly."

Before Adom could digest the words or form a response, Mephistopheles vanished, leaving a whisper in the air, "I'll see you in five years, young immortal." Silence enveloped the space once again, leaving Adom alone with his thoughts and a myriad of unanswered questions.

The stillness was abruptly shattered by Valiant's prolonged scream, "-aaaaaaaagh!" jolting Adom back to the present. At the same time, Zara's eyes fluttered open, her gaze settling on Adom, the only other figure in sight. The scene, now devoid of the demon's imposing presence, was a stark reminder of the reality Adom had to face, punctuated by the normalcy of his companions’ reactions.