I collapsed to the marble floor, feeling blood drip from wounds which refused to stop throbbing, my heartbeat thundered, each beat caught in my throat as I found myself forcefully dragging myself to the next enemy.
With another strike, the final battered demon perished as I shattered his core. My feet trembled, as my breathing quickened, my senses dull.
The air reeked of death, heavy and suffocating, as if the very walls of the castle were steeped in blood. The ancient stone groaned under the weight of endless battles, tremors from both within and without rattling its foundations. Screams of soldiers and demons alike rose into a wretched symphony—a cacophony of death that clawed its way through the air, drowning all else in despair.
The demon race had finally lost it...they had launched a full scale war, catching us off guard, the negligence of our actions had brought us to such a point.
The destruction of the dragon race...and we couldn’t stop them, they had come prepared.
My breath caught in my throat, jagged and sharp, as my eyes widened in unrestrained horror as I felt a massive energy signature beam from outside as it disappeared suddenly.
Everything felt like a nightmare, one far too vivid to be unreal. The grand throne room—once a testament to the majesty of dragons—lay in utter ruin. The floors were cracked and split as if cleaved by some frenzied beast. The walls groaned in protest under the relentless blaze that consumed them, the flames licking hungrily at everything they could touch. The proud, towering pillars, toppled one by one with earth-shattering crashes, similar to the dropping of my heart from the witnessing this scene.
I finally gathered some strength and moved my gaze to the far end of the destruction, amidst the smouldering chaos, I saw her. My mother—but struggling.
Her golden eyes glinting with warmth and concern even as they brimmed with pain. Her wheat-blonde hair fell in soft waves down her back, a delicate contrast to the crimson pooling beneath her as a gruesome wound dripped blood from her abdomen. She was on her knees, her hands trembling as blood trickled from the corner of her mouth. The sight made my stomach churn violently, a nauseating blend of despair and helplessness clawing at me.
My body refused to move now after continuing to fight for hours, against many strong enemies, I didn’t even have the strength to drag myself to her, or even crawl anymore.
My eyes moved to the grand doors, hoping for father to walk in with the same smile he always had. But, he was the one who had risk everything to send me to protect mother.
I turned and saw mother’s eyes, even when she had been dealt wounds worse than mine, the concern in her eyes never once shifted from me.
My heart sank into a void of despair so deep it felt as though it would never resurface again. The mighty dragon race—dragons of the Astrionyx—now reduced to this.
I barely had time to process the devastation before a sound, faint at first, reached my ears—footsteps. Slow, deliberate, and drawing nearer—the sensation was similar to a nightmare I never could have imagined. I turned, forcing my gaze away from mother, and saw him. A demon.
No...it was him. The demon, father had just saved me from and then had engaged in combat with. One of the generals of the demonic army; Ashmedai.
His shoulder-length raven hair clung in singed, dishevelled strands to his face, and his stature, though imposing, bore the hideous scars of the battle—burns and wounds that hissed as they healed, skin charred black, his body regenerating with every agonizing second. His robe hung in tatters, but my focus was pulled lower, to his hand.
Clutched tightly in his grip by its hair was a head. A severed head.
Blood dripped in slow, sickening streaks from its slackened mouth, fresh and glistening in the blaze’s unforgiving light. My eyes locked on it, uncomprehending at first, my mind desperate to reject what I was seeing. But there was no escape. My mouth quivered, as I forced my body to move, my teeth greeted as pure despair streaked from deep within me. An emotion so raw and heavy, that I felt like turning my head away, but couldn’t.
I felt everything fall apart, feeling a despair so thick that it clawed at my heart. I wanted to shout, to scream, to tear this one demon apart even if I would die right now. Having no concern for the ramifications later.
My knees threatened to give way. My breath came in ragged gasps as I struggled to hold onto any semblance of control. A weightless, numbing shock coursed through me, cold as ice yet sharp as a blade. My heart hammered against my ribs, screaming for me to move, to act, but my body refused to obey.
And then the tears came. Unbidden, uncontrollable. They streamed down my face in hot, stinging trails as despair wrapped around my chest like thorny vines. Words trembled on my lips but refused to form no word how much I struggled. There was nothing to say—no words strong enough to bridge the chasm of grief and fury that yawned inside me on the loss of My King, seeing my father’s severed head, and the man who had done it stand in front of me while I couldn’t do anything.
The demon stepped closer, and my gaze shifted to his face.
Dark eyes burned with an intensity I could only describe as casual cruelty—a hatred that wasn’t born of vengeance or passion but cold, detached purpose—but somewhere deep within his eyes, I saw a glimpse of amusement. It chilled me to the core.
His smirk hit me like a thunderclap, splitting my mind into fragments of rage, anguish, and helplessness.
He cradled the head in his hand like some toy, his gaze piercing through the veil of my despair, leaving me drowning in a storm of emotions I couldn’t control. Helplessness. Anguish. Fury. The flames of vengeance flickered weakly, smothered under the unbearable weight of loss.
No...Father...
Ashmedai’s steps were deliberately slow, as if he found amusement in this scene.
“You will never get what you want,” mother spat through gritted teeth from the side, blood trickling from her mouth. Her golden eyes, once warm and strong, now flickered with a mix of defiance and despair. Her gaze shifted—not to Ashmedai, but to me. “As long as he is there to protect my son, you will never accomplish your twisted desires. You’re merely a shell of a man, never having a true purpose. Even you know, that your existence is purposeless.”
Her voice carried an unyielding strength, yet beneath it lay a fragile, crumbling resolve. Hope lingered there, faint but present. However, Ashmedai merely chuckled, his lips curling into an amused smirk, the cruelty in his expression unrelenting.
“You truly believe that he will come to protect you or your son, Sylvie?” His voice dripped with mockery, a serpent’s hiss taunting its prey. “If he cared enough, he would have already saved Anthirix. But the fact that he didn’t?” He gestured casually, tossing the severed head he held in his hand toward Sylvie. “It speaks volumes, doesn’t it? So much, from so little. But it’s good...seeing you so weak and desperate, it’s a whole new experience. You, the proud disciple he taught, but still crumbled.”
“He will fail you just like he did the Exidiums’ that day.” Ashmedai said with a more serious glint in his eyes.
The smirk on the demon’s face widened. “And doesn’t it seem odd that he isn’t here yet, despite the things at stake? Perhaps he is stalled somewhere. You couldn’t predict that, could you?” The grotesque trophy rolled across the shattered floor, finally coming to rest at mother’s feet. “Even with all your gifts and talents, you still lack many thinks, Mordain’s descendant.”
Mother’s trembling hands reached down—her own pain seemed to vanish as she looked down at father’s head—, and she lifted father’s head as gently as one would cradle a fragile relic. Silent tears spilled down her face, falling onto his lifeless features —his eyes and mouth closed as she cleared the smudge of blood from his face. She hugged his head to her chest, as if, through sheer love and will, she could bring him back.
It was a heart-wrenching sight—her grief was an ocean, vast and overwhelming, threatening to drown me in its depths—something I never could’ve even thought of witnessing. I wanted to look away but found I couldn’t. Something about her, about this moment, anchored me, forced me to bear witness.
“In clear contrast, Mordain was far more...interesting.” The demon spoke, his voice unnerving and amused. “His ability to manipulate time made it seem like the edict was the very extension of his own being. His skilful ways to coax the edict of time even put my insight and understanding too shame. But, that fool, to not have pass down his secret arts to his descendants was his only mistake that brought the destruction of your race today. If you have someone to blame, blame Mordain and yourself—you both could manipulate time, but didn’t share anything regarding the edict, due to the foolish doctrine that he taught you.”
Slowly, mother lifted her tear-soaked eyes to meet mine. There was something in her gaze, something that radiated a faint, inexplicable hope. But I couldn’t grasp it—couldn’t understand it.
“I’m sorry, my child,” she whispered, her voice breaking yet laced with determination. “But you must live on. For the future I foresaw. For the greatness you are destined to accomplish.”
I couldn’t understand the inclination behind her words as I tried to search her eyes but she appeared determined to do what she needed to.
A sudden shift in the air snapped me out of my daze. It was subtle at first—a faint distortion, like heat rising from a scorching desert. Then it grew stronger, the space around mother bending and warping unnaturally. Her mana surged and alongside it the demonic energy in the atmosphere, moving with a will that seemed beyond her, as though some higher power had taken hold.
Ashmedai’s smug demeanour faltered, his smirk fading as he straightened, his dark eyes narrowing in suspicion. The weight in the atmosphere grew heavier, oppressive, suffocating. Colours began to bleed out of the world, leaving everything around me muted and cold.
“Enough of this,” Ashmedai muttered, taking a cautious step back. His wariness was evident now, his earlier arrogance replaced by a flicker of unease.
But mother didn’t respond. Her focus was entirely elsewhere, her presence shifting, her energy twisting the very fabric of reality as if some higher power assisting her to bring an end to this tragedy. The world around us darkened, long shadows deepening into an all-consuming blackness, soon enveloping the destruction, blood and bodies lying in the throne room. It wasn’t just the absence of light—it was a void, vast and endless, swallowing everything whole, as if the space itself was wrapping on itself and leaping ahead of reality.
“Back then, you succeeded in orchestrating the genocide of those innocents from the Exidium race,” Mother began, her voice a fragile blend of hope and despair, each word sharp enough to cut. Her piercing glare made my blood run cold, and even Ashmedai faltered under its weight as he saw the change happen around him.
His once-imposing demeanour seemed to crumble, his expression edged with reluctant frustration. “But now...” she continued, her tone gaining an edge over the demon, “your hesitation to repeat such atrocities against the dragons betrays your fear and reluctance. You’re no longer the man you used to be. Both ‘he’ and Mordain foresaw this.” Her eyes narrowed to a glare, the faintest smirk of defiance tugging at her lips. “And today, you’ve only confirmed it. You fear the outcome of what lies ahead. You fear us. No matter how much you tell yourself that you are prepared and unbothered, your uncertainty is as clear as your fake bravado.”
A twisted frown replaced Ashmedai’s slack features, his teeth gritted as if mother’s words had been a slap to his face.
But he corrected his expression as he barked. “Anomalies are everywhere, but I have countermeasures prepared for them too. You shouldn’t be too worried for me. This will mark as the end of the dragon race.”
“Will it truly be?” Mother mused with a knowing look of arrogance and pity, her gaze turning to me.
Ashmedai followed her, and his eyes looked almost black from the dark shade of crimson burning in them.
“That is only if he survives,” just as he said the elements in the air jerked, their energy repulsed against mother’s control.
But just as everything unfolded, my vision seam as I felt all the energy inside me disperse, and then, there was nothing. Only darkness.
***
Seo Jiwoo
I woke up to the faint warmth of a flickering fire, the crackle of embers breaking through the silence. My body felt strangely…whole. No soreness in my limbs, no searing pain in my chest, nothing but an unnerving calmness that belied the chaos I’d glimpsed before I lost consciousness.
I sat up slowly, the weight of the world pressing down on me like a mountain the moment I moved. Every thought and memory flickered like a dying flame in my mind, the memories came back in short intervals, like long shadows stretching and obscuring the things when I tried to focus on them.
But there was this unforgiving ache which jerked my mind from the foreign memories of seeing the deaths and, that heart-wrenching memory...the destruction...There was Ashmedai
How could I forget the face of the man who had murdered my own best friend in cold blood? He was the seraph who had killed Han in front of me...and somehow he was the same demon who had been the malefactor of my bond—Mordian and his race.
Ashmedai, the current leader of the Seraphims...
I grabbed my head, the unbearable pain of witnessing those memories pressed heavily on my mind. My mind felt stuck as the realization dawned upon me...the memories bloomed in my mind like shards of glass, scattered and disoriented as I tried to piece them together like a puzzle with missing pieces.
And then it struck me—a sharp, unforgiving realization. The woman I'd seen, she wasn’t just anyone. She was Sylvie Astrionyx. Mordian’s mother. The queen of dragons.
And that head,—that lifeless, mutilated visage—belonged to Anthirix Astrionyx, Mordian’s father.
My thoughts swirled in fractured shards, like light dawning upon the broken pieces—Mordian’s desperation, Aurora’s blood-streaked face, my own hands striking out with power that didn’t belong to me.
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Everything felt amiss, uncertainties enveloped my heart—no...it was fear, desperation and dread.
The faint sound of breathing pulled my gaze to the corner of the room. Mordian was sitting there, leaning against the seat, his back straight and golden eyes fixed on me—his eyes seemed different, mixed with concern, uncertainty and understanding. He looked…fine. No, more than fine. His wounds were gone, his posture as composed as ever. The sight should’ve been a relief,, but all it did was make the knot in my chest tighten further, I pulled my gaze away from him, looking down at the blanket placed over me.
But out of concern, I looked again, the guilt still so fresh as it stabbed at my heart. The broken memories of my actions replayed inside my mind like a nightmare.
“Mordian,” I managed, my voice hoarse and hesitant. “You’re…okay, right?”
He tilted his head, his expression unreadable, but there was this warmth in them which I found alien. “I recover quickly due to my dragonic constitution,” he smirked. “But still not as quickly as you.”
Then silence stretched. I clenched my fists, staring down at my hands, half-expecting to see them dripping with the destruction I couldn’t quite remember. “I don’t know what happened,” I whispered, my throat tightening. I wanted to apologise, ask for forgiveness from my bond on what I’d done to him, but...would he forgive me? “I can’t—pieces are missing. But I know it wasn’t me. Truly, it wasn’t. The last thing I remember is Amanises trying to take a hold of me.” I said with a knot of desperation forming in my throat.
Mordian didn’t answer immediately. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm, but there was an edge of something softer, something almost gentle to reassure me. “We were tested.”
I looked up sharply. “Tested?”
He nodded, his gaze steady but distant, as if recalling something beyond my understanding. “The one who took control over you in that moment was, Primordial”
I gasped in confusion and perplex.
Why? Why would Primordial take over my body? But the question which shrouded my mind was; why would Primordial manifest after such a long time?
I can join the points that he must have manifested to help us against Amanises...but then, why do I remember Mordian and Aurora being thrashed around?
But according to Vestustima, he hadn’t shown himself after the ancient war, he became a ghost in the long tapestry of history. No one remembers him—nothing about him.
Suddenly, Vestustima’s warning echoed inside my mind like a sharp jolt of lightning. He had told me not to trust Primordial...to doubt him.
But my attention went back to Mordian as he continued, feeling my clear confusion through our link.
“Primordial took over you to help us against Amanises, true, but he had a different motive in mind. He wanted to test us both. It wasn’t just about survival—it was about conviction. Determination. He wanted to see how far you’d go to protect those you care about. And, perhaps, to what lengths you’d allow yourself to grow stronger, even at the cost of control.”
I stared at him, my breath catching. “What are you saying?”
“That it wasn’t a failure,” Mordian said simply. “Not for you. For me, maybe. But not you. I think, even I got to learn somethings through battling Primordial.” His lips quirked in something that could’ve been amusement, though it barely registered. “Perhaps it was my test, and I passed.”
I shook my head, the weight in my chest growing heavier even as Mordian tried to assure me. “No,” I said. “You don’t understand. I let him in. I couldn’t stop him, Mordian. When I activated Ruler’s Authority, even then I was unsure if I would be able to win. But back then, it wasn’t just Primordial forcing his way in—I opened the door for him willingly. I didn’t fight back, or even tried to resist. I gave up control deliberately, knowing I wouldn’t be enough to defeat Amanises.”
Mordian’s eyes softened, just slightly. He stood and crossed the room, his movements deliberate, calm. When he stopped in front of me, he crouched down, his gaze level with mine. “You think I don’t understand?” He asked quietly, his tone levelled, eyes just as calm and intelligent.
I blinked, startled by the unexpected shift in his tone.
“You’re wrong, Jiwoo,” he said. “I understand better than you think—our time together may have been short, but we seem to have grasped each other’s nature and thoughts.” Mordian’s eyes deepened in understanding as he continued. “You didn’t fail. You made a choice—an impossibly hard one—perhaps one that even I never would’ve been able to make. You did what you thought you needed to do. And it wasn’t weakness. It was strength.”
I felt a faint wave of something wash over me through our mental link—soothing, like a balm over raw wounds. Mordian didn’t say anything else, but the gesture spoke volumes.
My throat tightened further, I chewed the inside of my cheek for a moment, tears stinging the corners of my eyes. “But what if it wasn’t strength?” I whispered. “What if it was desperation? What if…what if it happens again? What if I lose myself completely next time? What if I willingly let myself be drowned by the intoxication of this power.”
I leaned back on the bed I laid in, my hands trembling as a memory floated to surface in my mind, my arm striking Aurora as she tried to protect Mordian, her desperate face, tears streaming down her face.
Everything felt so real, yet at the same time like a dream. Blurry, like wading through a fog
Mordian placed a hand on my shoulder, firm but not heavy. “You won’t,” he said, his voice steady with confidence and trust. “Because you’re not alone in this. And...” his expression changed, a slight smile pulled at his lips. “I promised to bring you back if something like this happened. I upheld my part of the promise—and will do even if you were to loss control in the future. So, now it’s your turn. Trust me.”
I looked up at him, searching his face for any trace of judgment, but all I saw was quiet understanding. There were no accusations in his words or gaze. The weight on my chest didn’t lift completely, but it shifted, just enough for me to breathe a little easier.
“I don’t know if I can forgive myself for what happened—what I did to you and Aurora!” I said.
“It may been your body who took the actions, but it was Primordial’s intent behind them,” Mordian said simply. “So don’t blame yourself. But, even if you do, remember how you felt at that moment. Keep moving forward, Jiwoo. That’s how you’ll find your answer—and, you don’t have to shoulder everything alone, you can rely on me.”
His words settled over me like a blanket, heavy but comforting. I nodded slowly, though the turmoil inside me hadn’t disappeared. It would take time—maybe more than I had. But for now, I clung to Mordian’s quiet assurance, the faint flicker of hope he offered in the midst of my despair.
And maybe, just maybe, that was enough for now.
After a few minutes which went in silence, Mordian briefed me over the things which have been going on after the attack led by the Seraphim Amanises. How the reinforcement had taken care of the different demons whom had arrived alongside side her.
I found one part most intriguing, that the war-goddess, Beatrix, herself had arrived in the orcen lands to fight against the demon’s assault, giving as a much better chance at victory.
I learned shortly after that it had already been a few days since the sudden invasion, and how much damage my body had sustained from Primordial’s manifestation.
So, it was Primordial who had given me this system. Mordian shared important information regarding his conversation with Primordial, recounting every details carefully.
After a few more minutes, our conversation was disturbed only when the door of the quarter opened.
The wooden door jarred against the cobblestone floor as I saw Aurora enter, and just as her eyes fell over me, she lunged herself forward and wrapped her arms around me.
Her grip was firm, slightly tighter, as if uncertain that I might wisp away if she didn’t hold on strong enough. I patted her back, feeling my face slack as I felt her warmth against my skin, and I heard her whimper.
Her arms unwrapped around me, as I saw tears spilling down the sides of her face, feeling her body quiver. Her cheeks red, as she looked at me with concern.
But my eyes went to her right cheek, where a bandage remained, and I could clearly see the swelling around her skin below the bandage.
I felt a twisted wave of guilt hit me like a hammer, as I remembered how she had gotten this wound. I brought my hand close to her cheek, as I caressed it gently with my fingers, Aurora’s eyes turned soft and caring as I couldn’t help but feel my heart turn heavy.
“I’m sorry, Aurora.” That was all I could say, until she shook her head and cleared the tears falling down her face, as a bright smile returned to her features.
“No,’ she replied with a gentle and cheerful tone. “I’m glad you’re back.”
I took out an evernight elixir from the inventory and handed it to her. She seemed reluctant at first but I forcefully placed it on her palm.
“Don’t waste these potions. Aren’t they supposed to rare. You should save them. My body is fine, and the swelling will get better in a few more days.” She retorted.
I looked at her with softened eyes, feeling both guilt and relief wash over me. “What’s the point of saving them if I can’t use them when it matters most? And don’t worry, I still a good amount of stock left.”
She nodded in agreement after a few seconds, as she chugged the potion in one go as I saw the swelling on her face subside considerably, but the reddish skin still remained.
After a few more minutes passed on, three of us made simple conversation, about the aftermath of our battle, how Beatrix had come to the orcen world with a team of skilled mages to counter the assault of the demons. Then after they had briefed me about the more important matters, I finally decided to announce about our departure to the next trial.
I looked at them both, Mordian and Aurora straightened after seeing my serious expression. “I think it’s about time we moved to the next trial. Our work here is done, the war has been won, the orcs have found their freedom, so it’s best if we leave to our own tasks. The tide has shifted, giving the orcs enough time to stabilise themselves for any future threats.”
Mordian nodded in agreement, as Aurora looked reluctant of what I might say next. Her expression seemed hesitant to say something, but before she could say anything I said.
“So, when should we depart?” I asked for suggestions from them both.
“I’m coming with you two!” Aurora said back finally, her words and tone determined as her eyes looked at me with conviction. “Even if you tell me not to, or that it’s dangerous, I still want to accompany you two. I know you told me that my family might be waiting for me, but I don’t want to miss this chance. From fighting in this war alongside the others, I learned that no one is safe from the devastating that the demons are trying to bring. So, I need to grow as strong as I can to protect the people I care about—and from this war, I’ve realised just how powerless I am. I couldn’t do anything to save you or Mordian.”
I seem to smile over her words, and Aurora seemed confused on my behaviour, as I spoke with a knowing look on my face. “That’s why I’m asking you both. Any suggestions, Aurora, of when should we depart?” I inclined my head as Aurora seemed almost dumbfounded by my agreement so easily.
I knew this choice was selfish, and perhaps my greed may put her life in danger, but I wanted her to come with us. She had also travelled with us, and helped un in dire situations.
“After we are done with the final affairs in the orcen world, I think we can leave in four more days. That is more than enough time for all of us to thoroughly prepare.”
Mordian and I both nodded in agreement.
***
Ashmedai
The atmosphere in the throne room was as oppressive and commanding as ever. The air was heavy, crackling faintly with an aura of power that seemed to emanate from the towering figure seated upon the throne. I stood amongst the other Seraphim—Amon, Enyo, and Visseyit, but Amanises was not amongst us—each of us rigid and silent in our deference. Yet, the absence of one was glaring. Lilith, as usual, hadn’t attended. It was beginning to feel intentional on her part, though none of us dared to voice it in this particular moment.
As one, we bowed deeply, greeting our king with solemn reverence. “Long live Lord Agares,” we intoned, our voices uniting as one.
His Majesty’s gaze swept over us, his expression unreadable as his eyes lingered on each of us. Finally, he turned his attention to Enyo. His voice, though detached, carried a strange thread of empathy—a rare trait for one so distant—which made me uncertain. “I believe you must have already realized why Amanises is not amongst us today.”
The silence that followed his words was deafening. Enyo stood tall and composed, her elegant posture exuding a sense of unwavering grace. Her crimson eyes shimmered faintly under the dim light of the throne room, betraying none of the turmoil she may have felt beneath her serene exterior. Even as the topic of Amanises’ death hung heavily in the air, Enyo’s demeanour remained poised, her expression unreadable.
But suddenly I caught a slight shift in Enyo’s posture—a faint tightening of her jaw—but she bowed deeply, her expression composed as if that change had never occurred.
“And, Enyo,” His Majesty continued, his tone still calm, “the weight of her death may be concerning for you, as her mentor.”
Enyo’s voice was steady when she spoke, her crimson eyes fixed on the ground as they rose slowly, just enough to be on the same level as Lord’s Agares’s boots. “Your Majesty, I warned Amanises about the ramifications of her actions. I advised her against rashness, knowing the consequences she might face. But, whatever they were—even death—she had to learn to accept them. She may have been my disciple, but she was a full-fledged Seraphim, one acknowledged by His Majesty.”
Her words, though delivered with precision, carried an undeniable weight. There was no doubt Enyo felt the loss, even if she wouldn’t allow herself to show it.
I watched His Majesty closely as he leaned back in his throne, his lips twitching slightly as though he found some amusement in her response. If it pleased him, he masked it well. “Still,” he said, his tone calculated yet oddly thoughtful, “you have my condolences. As her mentor, losing a disciple is no simple burden to bear.”
Enyo straightened, her face betraying nothing, though the tension in the room seemed to shift. His Majesty’s eyes bore into her, his words deliberate. “You both might not have spent much time together, but she was one of your comrades—all of yours. Amanises was an aspiring demoness, full of potential—promise—…but her future was stolen from her.”
He paused, his gaze drifting momentarily, his voice softening with an almost imperceptible melancholy. “A pity.”
The finality in his words left no room for rebuttal. The room grew still, the weight of his judgment settling over us like a suffocating shroud. None of us dared to speak, yet the air between us seemed to hum with unspoken thoughts. I wondered what Amanises had done to warrant such an end and by whom, but that answer remained as elusive as Lilith’s absence. For now, I kept my silence, my head bowed, as the Demon King’s gaze turned to his next subject.
But Visseyit, ever curious, dared to break the silence. His voice carried a cautious edge, his question directed at the throne. “Your Majesty, forgive my boldness, but, no such foe should have existed in the orcen world capable of killing Amanises—despite the youngest of us all, she still had the title of Seraphim. How could she be killed off so easily? Who could have been strong enough to end her life?”
I turned to Visseyit, his question grating against my own rising curiosity. He was voicing what I had wondered since the mention of Amanises’ death, though I couldn’t help but feel a pang of annoyance at his audacity to ask outright. I shifted my gaze back to Lord Agares, awaiting his response.
The Demon King tilted his head slightly, his eyes glinting with a rare flicker of amusement. Then, a smile—a genuine one, unnervingly out of place on his otherwise stoic visage—bloomed across his lips. The gesture was so foreign that it sent a cold shiver down my spine. “It wasn’t just any enemy,” he said, his voice low but deliberate.
He leaned forward slightly, his gaze sweeping across us as if savouring the moment. “The one who ended Amanises could be considered an old friend. Yet, at the same time, he’s someone with whom I’ve shared the longest accursed relationship. He is not to be underestimated, and if he chose to manifest and involve himself in that battle, then perhaps… he had no other choice but to.”
The words lingered ominously in the air, their weight pressing down on us. I found myself unable to resist the pull of my curiosity. “Who is this enemy, Your Majesty?” I asked, my voice steady despite the apprehension curling in my chest.
His Majesty’s smile widened, his tone almost playful yet laced with something far darker. “None of you were even born when my animosity with him began,” he said. “He is my oldest friend, but we’ve also been locked in a game of cat and mouse for millennials. He is the oldest being to have ever existed beside me—someone I consider the greatest threat—obstacle—to my path, to my ambitions.”
The room fell silent as his words sank in, every Seraphim standing motionless—I found my breath pulsed as I felt wary founding Lord Agares’s serious tone.NMy chest tightened at the implications, my thoughts racing as he continued.
“His name has already disappeared from the world. Not even rumours of him remain. That’s how long his existence has been forgotten. He was given many names by many people as the ages passed: Inevitable, the Creator, the God of all creation and life, Progenitor. But the one name he settled on, and was remembered by is; Primordial.”
I felt the weight of the name settle in my mind like an immovable boulder. It was a name I had never heard, yet its significance was undeniable. The room remained steeped in silence, the gravity of his words suffocating. I glanced at Visseyit, whose usual smug demeanour seemed muted, and then at Enyo, whose ever-calm expression betrayed nothing. While Amon seemed untouched, but his eyes seem to give away his uncertainty over the mention of Primordial.
But Lord Agares wasn’t finished. His smirk deepened, and his piercing gaze found mine. “But you shouldn’t worry about him,” he said, almost dismissively. “He’s already a ghost—a relic of a bygone age. He’s not much of a threat anymore. He’s merely clinging to straws, making a last desperate attempt to retaliate against me.”
His shallow laugh echoed through the throne room, reverberating off the walls like a chilling wind. I furrowed my brow, confusion and unease swirling within me. The king’s mirthful expression only seemed to mock my thoughts, as if he could see the turmoil in my mind.
“Primordial and Mordain had been the only two individuals in all of history to have ever made things difficult for me. Their deadly combination was envying. Their unpredictability and strength made it hard for me during the ancient war.”
I remained silent, yet inwardly, I could not shake the feeling that there was far more to this so-called ghost than His Majesty was letting on.
Lord Agares chuckled, his voice low and edged with that infuriating wryness. A hint of a smile played on his face, the kind that spoke of amusement at my expense. "In a way," he mused, "we are old friends who have shared a long and arduous relationship of strife. Holding each other by the throat for so long that even time appears worn." His words, casual yet cutting, felt like a blade turned blunt from overuse—still capable of drawing blood but now carrying the weight of familiarity. I scoffed, though I couldn’t deny the truth in his statement. Enmity like ours was as much habit as hatred.
He rested his cheek over his hand as he ordered. “It seems like the tides will be shifting in their favour, so I think it’s about time we make a better effort to push back.” His face turned indifferent just as before.