Ashmedai
I moved through the endless corridors of the palace, each step echoing in the still air as I traced the familiar path forward, my mind under deep contemplation.
I moved at an adequate speed, my face covered by a frown as I looked around the palace.
The ancient tapestries that lined the walls loomed above me, each one a testament to the triumphs of His Majesty. They told the story of battles won, the blood spilled for our race, the Excidiums. In one tapestry, His Majesty stretched his arms wide, radiating light, a messianic glow falling over our people, depicted as followers on their knees, hands clasped in reverence, their expressions of awe forever woven into the fabric.
To distract myself for what was to come, my gaze flitted from one tapestry to the next, moving past the intricate needlework and down to the polished floor that gleamed under the glittering lights of ores and gemstones embedded in the ceiling.
Each step I took cast shadows along the runic patterns carved into the walls, ancient symbols that pulsed faintly, reminders of our magic and the power that fortified this palace.
A strange restlessness pulsed within me—a tightness, a surge. Not nerves. No, this was anger, raw and untampered, simmering as I clenched my jaw and fought to control my breathing.
How could I have failed him? After all the planning, resources, and time spent orchestrating the perfect strike upon the orcen realm, I was returning empty-handed to My Lord, with nothing to show but the stinging reminder of defeat hanging to my being. My first failure in years, my first report that would carry not the taste of victory but the sour shame of defeat—I had not once heard or tolerated the word of defeat since I was given the title of Dragon Slayer and becoming the leader of the Seraphims.
And worse, my frustration only grew more as I remembered that it had been a human who had killed Ankewelt, a Noros descendent—he had been nurtured since a young age, wasting an unimaginable amount of resources on his upbringing—, and derailed everything.
I stopped mid-step, a scowl darkening my brow. A human? The report from the spies clearly claimed it was a human who killed Ankewelt. But why would a human be in the orcen world at all? How could they even get there? As far as I knew, humans didn’t have the means to traverse realms. They didn’t yet possess the technology to perform something like this?
Could another race have facilitated this? The possibility gnawed at me, though I dismissed it as quickly as it surfaced. No, our intelligence had shown no signs of collaboration so far.
The talks of collaboration with the humans did surface within the tri-Union assembly of the three races at times, but it was just baseless talk at the moment, their opposition was still against the idea to bring another race to the alliance.
I took a steadying breath, the throne room coming into view ahead as I felt each step grow tedious.
Passing through the arched entrance, the guards immediately recognized me and stepped aside, each lowering their gaze into bows as they pulled open the towering gates. Inside, the throne room sprawled vast and intimidating. The other Seraphim knelt on the floor—one still missing like usual—, their heads bowed in silence. I joined them, moving past my peers until I was directly before the throne itself. I knelt, almost pressing my forehead to the cold, unyielding stone floor.
“Long live, Lord Agares,” I murmured, the words instinctive on my lips.
"Raise your heads." His voice was calm, with an edge of ice that sent a chill through my core. Even his casual words held the weight of command, every syllable sharpened and deliberate.
I looked up and met his gaze, a shiver tracing down my spine as I knelt spellbound.
Lord Agares, the embodiment of our race’s might and ambition the one who had safeguarded his kind when the ash’ari deemed us for annihilation.
He always appeared unbothered by anything, but today, there was something off-putting about him, he seemed almost...annoyed
His eyes, dark and ancient, stared into me with a scrutiny that felt almost tangible, as though he could unravel me entirely with a glance. I felt the blood in my veins freeze, my body unable to break away from his gaze. I could barely breathe, each second stretching into eternity as his expression remained unreadable, his focus entirely on me, like judgment was befalling me.
“Your Majesty…I…” The words caught in my throat. I had come prepared to beg, if need be, to accept whatever punishment he deemed fit for my failure. If he wished to strip me of rank, of privilege, I would accept. If he wished to end my life, I would bow my head and accept that too.
"Are you all aware why I’ve called you here today?" He asked, his voice deceptively light, almost casual, though his eyes roamed over each of us, settling on Amon, then Amanises, Enyo, Visseyit, and finally, back to me. The room was silent, the stillness amplifying the tension. No one dared to speak, but we all clearly knew it wasn't yet time for us to share opinions.
"Ashmedai," he continued, his tone almost… amused now for some reason. "What do you have to say for your failure, dragon slayer?"
My breath caught in my lungs, and for a split second, I felt the blood drain from my face. He already knew. Somehow, through his vast network of spies or powers beyond our comprehension, he knew of the mission’s collapse in the orcen world already. The defeat. He didn’t need me to report back at all.
"I have nothing to say in my defence, Your Majesty. I am prepared to receive any punishment you see fit for my failure to acquire victory as you envisioned." I kept my voice steady, every syllable laced with sincerity. I didn’t dare look away from his gaze.
To my surprise, a faint smile tugged at his lips, though it was no less chilling for its subtlety. Confusion sparked in me, but I kept my expression neutral.
"You need not worry, Ashmedai," he said, his voice layered with something I couldn’t quite decipher. "This result was already within some of my expectations. From the start, I anticipated that this mission was likely to fail. There’s no need to apologize. Rather, you have played your part brilliantly in this.”
A surge of disbelief rippled through me, though I kept it tightly leashed, giving only the faintest nod in acknowledgment. He had known? Known we would fail, yet he’d sent us forward, let me lead the effort with utmost confidence in victory? I couldn’t help but feel a sting of resentment, though I buried it quickly.
"But," he continued, his eyes fixed on me with a penetrating intensity, "I still want to hear the report from you, Ashmedai.”
His word were solemn, but I saw his gaze turn to Visseyit for the fraction of a second, then back at me. “Go ahead."
Swallowing my unease, I kept to my knee and began the recitation. I recounted every detail of the plan, every step we had taken, the conjuring and summoning rituals, the traps we’d set, the initial successes—and then the details of the attack, how it had all gone wrong. I spoke of Ankewelt’s last stand, how he’d faced this human intruder, and of the brutality with which Ankewelt had fallen, unable to match the strength that none of us had anticipated.
His Majesty’s brows prickled so subtlety, that even I was sure if it happened or not. I went over to the fact that the human had used some power, some flame—an unknown form of magic—which had destroyed everything it touched, a work of annihilation.
The words felt hollow, each sentence a reminder of the ruin I had wrought upon His Majesty’s grand designs. But through it all, he listened, his expression as impassive as stone. When I finished, I awaited his reaction, prepared for whatever judgment he would cast upon me.
His Majesty’s smile widened into a darker grin, his eyes gleaming with a baleful amusement that made my pulse stutter. He tilted his head, his gaze fixed intently on me. “But that’s not all, is it, Ashmedai?”
His gaze went to Visseyit again and the demon peer of mine raised his head and spoke. “Is there anything, Your Majesty?”
“This next piece of information may be concerning for you as well, Visseyit.”
Visseyit frowned, as he looked at me and my gaze went back to Lord Agares. “Go on, Ashmedai. Say it!”
I swallowed hard, my mind racing to anticipate his meaning. He wanted me to acknowledge it—to say it out loud. “Yes, Your Majesty,” I replied, my voice barely steady. I hesitated, the words caught in my throat. “The human defeated Ankewelt and his subordinates... but according to the reports, sightings of a dragon were observed near Tseige fortress, and afterwards Esparossa, once the facts were confirmed.”
Gasps and murmurs echoed behind me, the Seraphim stirring in confusion. I glanced at Visseyit, who remained stoic, unaffected by the revelation, but I knew he was affected too, in his own way.
He had been one of the many demons who participated in the war of the broken oath. He was there when the dragons were annihilated, together with me and Lilith and the previous Seraphims.
“It wasn’t just any dragon, was it?” Lord Agares’ smirk vanished, his voice a blade of iron now, and I felt a vice tightening around my throat, leaving me breathless and uncomfortable.
I managed a shallow nod, forcing myself to keep my facade of composure. “The dragon who aided the human… the one we believed perished alongside his race. The dragon you yourself thought you had killed. Anthirix and Sylvie’s offspring—Mordian—still lives, dragon slayer.”
I froze, shock crashing over me in waves even now. I knew I had killed him—or had I? When I searched my memories, I found only a thick haze, a blur that refused to sharpen, an unsettling fog that clouded the final moment.
Why couldn’t I remember??!
“Enough,” His Majesty waved a dismissive hand, breaking my trance. “For now, do nothing further against the orcen world. It seems they’ve shifted the odds in their favour, with the help of a human and a supposed dead dragon. If Mordian is still alive, then it means he might have already made contact with ally races. It could be dangerous to pursue the orcs from now on. Ashmedai, pull back our main forces from the orcen world, but leave the spies.”
A sinister chuckle filled the air, echoing with his amusement. “Things finally are getting interesting.”
“Your Majesty,” I began, unable to mask the plea in my voice. “I ask for another chance. Allow me to go there myself to complete the mission.”
“Didn’t I already tell you to let it go?” His words were cold, final.
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I bowed deeply, murmuring an apology, though frustration simmered beneath my submission as my mind raced.
His Majesty’s eyes narrowed, an edge sharpening in his gaze as he leaned forward, his voice carrying a grave authority that resonated through the hall as all the Seraphims—me including—shuddered. “We need to change our perspective of this war,” he declared, “especially now, with the addition of these two new participants. The presence of a ghost dragon and a human capable of defeating an entire battlegroup cannot be overlooked.”
I remained silent, taking in the weight of his words. There was no denying it: these recent developments would demand a shift in our strategy.
Was this the reason why His Majesty had warned us previously? I felt enlightened as I stayed quiet.
“We cannot allow a single failure to push us back.” His tone hardened, underscoring the severity of his command. “Instead, we must make full use of this opportunity. You will get several opportunities to prove yourself, Ashmedai.” His gaze bored into me. “But,” his tone grew frigid, “forgiveness is something I lack. Do not disappoint me again.” But his words felt directed at all of us.
I bowed my head, a renewed determination seeping into my veins. “Yes, Your Majesty. I will not fail you. Thank you for your benevolence."
“And one more thing,” he continued, his voice descending to a measured, cold whisper. “Keep an eye on this human. One who can dismantle an entire battlegroup by himself is not to be underestimated.”
I swallowed, nodding resolutely. “Understood, Your Majesty.”
Lord Agares let a pause settle over the room before giving his final command. “All of you—rise.”
One by one, we stood, our heads still slightly bowed in reverence as he regarded us.
“You are dismissed.” His words marked the end of the assembly, but I left with a heart weighted by purpose, my mind already racing through the implications of his orders.
Just as I turned to leave, His Majesty’s voice halted me mid-step. “Ashmedai, remain.”
I immediately paused, turning back to face him, and his gaze, sharper than before, held an unspoken intensity. “It seems it’s time we bring Lilith back into this game. I have give her enough time for much relaxation.” he said, a faint smile touching his lips. “She is an excellent strategist—one whose cognitive capabilities I acknowledge. Go to her dominion and let her aid you in the next phase of this war. There are certain... tools I have entrusted to her that will prove useful to you.”
I inclined my head, acknowledging his order. Lilith’s involvement was unexpected; it wasn’t often that His Majesty relied on another’s strategic prowess.
But it was true. Lilith was someone that even I was wary against. Like Visseyit, I'd never been able to properly figure her out—what she thought, what motives she had.
He paused, his gaze drifting past me for a heartbeat before he spoke again, almost in a murmur. “You truly are amusing, Shun.”
The name struck me sharply, my thoughts grinding to a halt. Shun? I hadn’t heard it before—not here, not among our ranks. Could it be… the human? Or someone connected to him?
I held back my questions, bowing once more, but I made a mental note to investigate this Shun. If His Majesty had acknowledged him, then perhaps I had stumbled upon a critical piece in this game—a clue I’d sought for so long.
“Understood, Your Majesty,” I replied, my voice steady.
“Go,” he commanded, his gaze already shifting, as if my presence had become a mere afterthought.
***
Amanises
As we stepped out of the throne room, quickly and quietly, I cast a glance back. Ashmedai was held back by His Majesty at the final moment, his broad back framed in the narrowing view of the doors as they slowly swung shut behind me, the guards bowed and then went back to their prior positions.
Ahead, Enyo, my senior Seraphim, strode with effortless grace, her black veil like a starry curtain that only hinted at her infamous beauty. I walked alongside her, feeling small in her presence, though she said nothing like usual—but I knew well enough, that each word she spoke held a severity of its own.
Her eyes were forward, never deviating from her path, while her heels clicked softly, each step drawing an almost invisible arc in the air, as if her every movement was a spell designed to enchant and sway.
Visseyit trailed off in another direction, a quiet smirk on his face, as though he had found something amusing in the middle of this entire mess. But my attention kept returning to Enyo, the woman who could bring demons to their knees with a glance. In the demonic realm, she was feared for her lethal allure, a siren's call that not even the sturdiest souls were immune to. It was no wonder that even now, she was know as the alluring demoness.
“Amanises, come along with me,” she commanded, her voice low and laced with something soft and dangerous. The words slipped out of her mouth like silk, her plum-coloured lips barely moving.
It wasn’t an invitation but rather an order. Her tone held a sway that made it impossible to refuse, so I nodded and followed her. She led me down a dimly lit corridor, toward the chamber that held the portal.
A demon guard was stationed there, and as we approached, his expression faltered, cheeks flushing as he caught sight of Enyo’s veiled face. He looked dazed, utterly captivated, before jerking himself out of his stupor and fidgeting to operate the portal controls. The room thrummed with energy as the portal sparked to life, a sheen of oily light coating the panel until it shimmered like liquid glass.
Enyo stepped through without hesitation. I moved after her, feeling the familiar rush of crossing through the portal—a push, a pull, the world blurring and bending around me.
When I blinked, we had arrived at our destination: a dimly lit chamber, sparsely decorated,—the pungent smell of something sweet in the air—but distinctly belonging to the demon realm. A demoness awaited us near the entrance, wearing a formal maid’s attire, her horn gleaming under the faint glow of the portal’s fading light. Her grey eyes seemed to hold a hollowness, a void that was almost unsettling.
“Welcome, Lady Enyo. Lady Amanises.” The maid’s voice was respectful, subdued, and she inclined her head as she addressed us. Enyo gave her a quick nod, gesturing for me to follow.
I gave the head maid a glance, her head still bowed as I moved through the entrance along Enyo.
I couldn’t hold my curiosity any longer. “Why have you invited me to your dominion, Enyo?” I asked, my voice low but firm, trying to mask the mix of curiosity and uncertainty I felt.
She glanced back, her crimson eyes flickering as they met mine, just briefly. “As your former mentor, I have the right to stop my disciple from doing something…unwise.” There was an edge to her tone, though her voice remained casual, as if she was speaking about the weather.
I bit my tongue, resisting the urge to argue. Enyo was not someone who could easily be swayed, and I knew that pressing her would be like fighting the current of a roaring river.
I may have spent limited time with her, under her tutelage, but I had never been able to figure out my mentor. She was egnmatic...but strange.
Soon we entered a corridor within her mansion, each corner a silent testament to her influence and power. Rich, crimson carpets muffled our footsteps as we walked, and tapestries decorated the walls, woven with ores and rare minerals that glinted under the sparse light, casting fleeting reflections like ghostly apparitions. This place was still the same as before, exaggerated and extravagant.
She paused for a moment, letting me catch up beside her, then said, “Come along, Amanises. There is something I want to share with you.” There was a note in her voice that hinted at something beyond the ordinary—a weight that seemed to press down on each word she spoke.
I nodded, matching her pace. As we walked deeper into her mansion, I couldn’t help but wonder what Enyo intended.
We entered Enyo’s private quarters, the room where I had spent countless hours under her strict tutelage. Nothing much had changed since the last time I’d been here. The desk was still positioned by the windows, where the curtains danced lightly in the breeze, casting shadows on the floor.
Stacks of books filled the shelves with neat precision, and a pair of sofas sat across from each other, separated by a low table in the room’s centre. A few additions caught my eye—a new artifact gleaming with mysterious runes and a few martial manuals resting on the shelves. But as Enyo gestured for me to sit across from her, I put my curiosity aside for the time being and settled into the sofa.
With a fluid motion, she lifted her veil and set it aside, revealing her face in all its arresting beauty. Under the dim light, her flawless skin glowed, her crimson eyes shimmering with a gaze that seemed to hold more secrets than she led on. Her lips, the colour of ripe cherries, curved ever so slightly as she regarded me, and her dark, glossy hair spilled over her shoulders, framing her face in a way that only amplified her allure. She crossed her legs, leaning back with an unhurried grace, and I noticed the subtle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed deeply. Just then, a knock came at the door, and the maid from earlier entered with a tray of refreshments.
The maid moved with quiet efficiency, pouring a glass of wine for Enyo and handing it to her before offering one to me. She then placed a selection of other refreshments on the table, bowed to Enyo, and slipped out of the room, leaving us alone once again.
I waited, silently observing Enyo as she sipped her wine, seeming to savour each taste. She leaned back further, crossing her arms in a relaxed, almost contemplative pose. Her crimson eyes studied me, a faint smile playing on her lips, and she finally broke the silence.
“On one of my expeditions a few weeks ago,” she began, her voice smooth and slightly teasing, “I found something interesting in the ruins I went to investigate. Would you care to know what it is?”
I narrowed my eyes, unwilling to indulge her game. “Enough with the suspense, Enyo. Just tell me why you called me here?
She let out a soft sigh, as though disappointed in my impatience, her gaze carrying a flicker of pity that sent a chill down my spine. Enyo always had a way of making me feel like a stubborn child. But I was used to it by now; it was her way of maintaining the upper hand.
Without a word, she stood, moving quietly to her desk, and returned holding a small wooden box, placing it in front of me. “This is an item I discovered in the ruins,” she said, her voice low and deliberate. “It contains a potent energy signature, something that could strengthen the core and help a demon grow significantly in power. Its energy isn’t mana, nor is it demonic energy—it’s something foreign, but extraordinary. Its a form of life-force, but something unknown. I have already tested it for safety.”
I arched a brow, feeling a mixture of intrigue and suspicion. “Why give me something this valuable?”
Her smile widened, a glimmer of genuine amusement sparking in her eyes as I felt conflicted. “Consider it a graduation gift for reaching the rank of Seraphim. Of all the demonesses I’ve trained, you’re the only one to achieve transcendence. I admit, Amanises, I do dote on you a little.” Her smile turned mischievous as she watched my expression shift, noting my discomfort. “But it seems you’re not too fond of that, are you?”
I felt an awkwardness settle over me but said nothing, merely nodding as I let her words wash over me.
Enyo took another sip of wine, her eyes glinting with something between fondness and challenge. “Before you venture into the orcen world, it’s wise to stabilize your power further. Your crimson eyes are still new, and demonic energy can be fickle at this stage. It may turn volatile if you’re not careful.” Her gaze drifted to the box, a subtle nudge, inviting me to open it.
Hesitantly, I picked up the box, feeling its weight in my hands. “What makes you think I’ll even go to the orcen world? Lord Agares has forbidden it.”
A subtle, knowing smirk played on her lips. “Amanises, I may have been your mentor for a short time, but I am no fool. I wouldn’t have invested in your training if I couldn’t understand you. From the way you looked in the throne room, I knew you’d choose to defy orders if it came to that.”
I said nothing. She had seen through me, as she always did. Instead, I offered her a defiant smile. “Perhaps you’re right. And don’t you think Ashmedai’s title of ‘Dragon Slayer’ has been his for far too long? Maybe it’s time for someone new to claim it. We need a new dragon slayer.”
Enyo watched me with a hint of surprise, though her expression quickly softened into something more contemplative as she took a slow sip of her wine.
“And if I go now, it hasn’t even been three days since their victory. They’ll still be licking their wounds clean. It would be the perfect opportunity to slip in, find the dragon and the human, and bring their heads back as a trophy for Lord Agares.”
She placed her glass down, folding her hands in her lap. “Amanises, I admire your ambition as the youngest among us, but I urge you to see things with a touch more caution. Bite off more than you can chew, and it’ll be your own throat that suffers.”
I squared my shoulders, meeting her gaze. “I understand, Enyo. But I’m no novice anymore. I am a Seraphim, a crimson-eyed, and I’m more than capable of handling the ash’ari. You needn’t worry.”
Her eyes softened, though she remained cautious. “Very well. Do what you feel is best, but be prepared to face the consequences of your choices, that, at the very least I can advice you as a peer and a mentor.”
She spoke calmly, but I felt the weight of her warning hang in the air like a shadow. Enyo was rarely wrong about anything, and the unease she planted in my mind lingered as I held the box tightly.
I slowly opened the box, and a brilliant, amethyst-hued white light spilled out, casting shimmering patterns across the room. The object nestled inside was a sphere, not much larger than a marble, yet it pulsed with a shifting energy that felt as if it could fill entire worlds. Its surface seemed to ripple with layers, like countless rings folding into one another, a mesmerizing, living puzzle that hinted at hidden depths. I carefully lifted it, feeling a surge of raw untampered power just from holding it, a concentrated core shaped elixir smaller than my palm yet brimming with extraordinary potency.
“Thank you,” I said, my voice soft with genuine gratitude.
Enyo watched me intently, a small, enigmatic smile playing at the edges of her lips. “Use the elixir well.”
I felt the weight of her words settle over me. She continued, her crimson eyes almost reflective, as though seeing beyond this moment. “Amanises, remember this: power like this isn’t a gift. It’s a test. Strength isn’t proven by what you wield but by what you endure in pursuit of it. The strongest among us learn not to command power but to listen to it.”
Her gaze grew distant, then softened as she looked back at me. “Let it strengthen you, not consume you.”
As I absorbed her words, the core in my hand pulsed once, as though echoing her sentiment. I couldn’t help but feel that, in her own way, she was passing down something much more valuable than just a powerful relic.