11 Ash and Bone
[𝐆𝐫𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐬, 𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝, 𝐒𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞]
"This is…"
When Morgan imagined war the first thing to appear in her mind was a bloody battlefield filled with screams of pain and anger. It was a sigh she never wished to see, even now the only reason she was here was because she wanted to help.
The army nearly one hundred strong she was a part of was split into two main groups. The back line and front line were the only real specification given to them—a purposeful decision as none knew a rat's ass about teamwork—and Morgan was in the former.
Maybe it was because she was so far in the rear that she had the time to properly understand what was happening around her. The splattering of blood filled the air admits the wild laugh of their opponent—the rest long since defeated or gone—who personified the title of Destroyer.
Despite the best attempts of their leader—the Sitri patriarch Serfun Sitri—their army was being slaughtered at a rapid rate. Entrails flew in the air, screams were cut short, and eyes rolled all around the battlefield encased in bloody remnants of flesh and bone.
Morgan desperately wanted to puke, she wanted it so much that she could feel her stomach doing somersaults inside her. But she couldn't, not because she stopped herself but instead because she didn't have the time.
Ihaben the Destroyer had another title, the Mother of Development. It was a horribly contradictory thing but the fact of the matter was her birth did create an era of innovation rarely seen in history.
Her personal trait was—even when compared to others of its kind—extremely simplistic. Magic Nullification was its name and absolute nullification of all things magic was its game. It didn't matter the potency, the type, or even the energy used she was resistant to it all.
"Weak! You've all gotten so weak!"
Cackling like a fool Ihaben swung a headless corpse at Serfun Sitri, a wall of boiling water manifesting before him in a flash. His output wasn't quite at her level but it wasn't far off either and his magical expertise made him quicker to cast than even her.
Ihaben was, in many ways, a reminder of a bygone era. She rose to prominence in the latter half of the civil war—her age placing her just below the current Satans—and made a legend crafted in blood and rubble.
She wasn't allied with either side, rather it could be said that she was on nobody's side but her own. She destroyed, devoured, and slaughtered as she pleased so much so that her odd appearance was said to be a direct manifestation of that.
Long black and green hair reached all the way to her shapely rear and her fierce olive green eyes filled with so much glee that a child would be envious almost made her seem like an enviable woman.
But that impression was quick to crumble. Her vile green skin—the supposed sin manifested—was tainted with blood and her black tanktop was adorned with bits of flesh and blood much like her violet pants.
"Peace does that to you."
Calmly replying to the woman's shouts with such an apathetic gaze that Morgan even doubted he was even a human, Serfun seemed to be exerting as much effort as one would while taking a leisurely stroll.
Despite that, it was undeniable that Serfun was the paramount piece in this war. Water flowed through the air all around the battlefield, his magical influence sparing those faced with death as well as saving civilians all around them.
"Peace!? That's a load of shit, you geezer! We're devils, aren't we?!"
It was flawed logic and Ihaben had no intention of hiding that fact. Despite the words spewing from her lips her eyes showed a twisted sense of amusement, one that belittled her excuse to the extreme. She didn't have a cause, she just killed because she wanted to.
The earth cracked for miles as Ihaben stomped her foot onto the ground, her center of gravity lowered before she rocketed forward. Soaring through the air at Serfun the Destroyer reared her hand backward, a premonition of disaster crossing Morgan's mind.
Raising her hand she gathered energy like never before—so much energy that all the devils around her combined couldn't hope to rival it—and compressed it into a small sphere the size of a tennis ball or smaller.
The sphere of immensely condensed demonic energy spun wildly in her grasp, the spin giving it an extra dose of power. Perhaps it was because it was a high stress situation—the first in her life of such a scale—but she surpassed all limits that previously blocked her path. In this moment, she cast this simple yet complicated in a thousandth of a second.
The bullet of demonic energy left only a blur in its path, the wind parting ways as a sonic boom ravaged the battlefield. The attack may not be her most destructive but its penetrative power was unrivaled. Not even somebody like Noel could get away scot free!
But, unfortunately, nullification was absolute. Ihaben didn't even spare the attack a glance, the shooting star that approached her disappearing mere inches away from her thick skin without even a drop of blood to show for it. She was the mother of magical nullification and its apex, even an attack of that level is nothing to her.
There was only one result of her attack, one fatal mistake that she didn't account for. With eyes widened with surprise Serfun's attention was diverted, his magic slowed by a fraction of a second as his teleportion circle flickered around him.
Gazing at the man with eyes filled with equal parts horror and despair Morgan watched, no burned, the image of her commander flying into the distance, dust and buildings shooting into the air as though an explosion had gone off.
"Haha! See?! You geezers have gotten rusty!"
Gloating without remorse Ihaben held her spoils of war into the air, the forearm of the Sitri patriarch dripping blood onto her ecstatic face.
[𝐅𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐧, 𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝, 𝐓𝐞𝐧 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐏𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐫]
The war had just begun and yet it had already divulged into the most chaotic situation Amaris had ever had the displeasure of seeing. The bloodshed was hardly surprising, the terror in the air long expected, and the faltering determination a guaranteed fate.
Amaris had prepared herself for situations like this, she studied every facet of history—for both devil and all others—and yet she didn't expect the scope of the situation that had unfolded before her very eyes.
When it had begun, everything was within her calculations. Yultran the Puppeter was well known for his 'hobby' of making people his puppets—it was where the name came from after all—so the army of citizens marching toward them was unsurprising.
And yet, within a meager ten minutes, all hell had broken loose. Friend and foe were indistinguishable after Yultran had taken their own forces under his control and morale was at all all time low due to the pleas of the civilians turned puppets.
"Amaris! Snap out of it!"
The normally warm and welcoming tone of Melaina was tainted with solemnity as she swung the lantern in her grasp to and fro. With every movement of her wrist, the swarm of ghosts and undead would maneuver through the battlefield, their enemies losing ground just as quickly as they lost it. They were at a stalemate and they hadn't even met Yultran.
Breaking free of her worries at her mother in laws shout Amaris doubled her efforts to stop this horrific war. Black flames—her Longinus' adaption to her negative emotions—glowed in her mirrors before shooting forward like walls of flames.
These flames of hers weren't like the Phenex clan's flames of absurd heat nor the flames of the sun that purified all evil but instead the exact opposite. They were flames that cursed the foe with every fiber of their being, the flames desperately clinging onto their opponent much like Amaris once clung to her anger.
Compared to the other forces, those attacking Fraton were few in number. Falbium had wonderfully planned around the individual strengths of their opponents and yet it seemed to be all for naught.
Half of their forces were under the control of Yultran who merely watched from the other side of the screen he had created for no reason other than to irritate them to no end. Truly, it felt like they were puppets playing out a war for a childish emperor.
Among the six, Yultran was the eldest, and thus much of his tale had been lost to time and the specifics were widely debated. But there was one thing, one eerily familiar event, that the man child was known for.
The Disaster of Lilith was the greatest act of terrorism in devil history—soon to be second Amaris was sure—and it was caused by none other than Yultran. The man child had lived in the era of the first Satans—an era commonly associated with fear and forceful domination—which he vehemently denied.
As an act of rebellion, he destroyed half of Lilith, slaughtered hundreds of thousands, shattered the reputation of the Four Great Satans, and escaped without harm for over fifty years. He was, before today, the greatest terrorist ever seen. All because he didn't like how stuffy his era was.
"Melaina Bifrons correct? I've heard plenty about you y'know. I've heard songs so wonderful spun about your strength. Unfortunately, it's quite underwhelming. Where is the pizzaz, the drama, the angst? You have no talent for showmanship!"
Leisurely laying upside down on the throne of civilians he created for himself Yultran did not make concentrating on the battle easy as he rambled on and on endlessly. Befitting his mentality, Yultran was a childish man.
With silky blond hair styled elegantly, an adorable face accompanied by slightly chubby cheeks, and a mischievous look in his amber eyes commonly found in troublesome children. His attire was odd, consisting of a white suit littered with all kinds of tributes toward playing cards. He looked less like a puppeteer and more like a jester.
"Sorry to say! But I don't like your sense of humor either."
Swinging her lantern with impressive might Melaina's weapon ruthlessly destroyed the head of a former ally of theirs. The puppets could come in two forms, the dead and the alive. Most were alive but the number of dead grew with each second that passed, a tragedy and blessing mixed into one.
{Amaris. How many of those flames can you make?}
Desperately trying to mask the look of surprise that crossed her face at Melaina's voice suddenly appearing in her mind Amaris tried her hardest to respond in turn. It was a thin string of demonic energy, one so thin that even the wind threatened to break it.
{I can release roughly a city's worth right now but they wouldn't have nearly as much power if I spread it so thin.}
The confident smirk that crossed Melaina's face disappeared in a flash but Amaris and Yultran had seen it nonetheless. Humming in amusement Yultran did not attempt to stop them, his silence remaining strong as he took the spectator's route.
{We don't have much time so listen closely. I'm going to pull out somebody above my pay grade to wreak havoc. In the meantime, you find Yultran and pull him inside the mirror dimension.}
{Is that safe?}
The Bifrons' clan trait was one of extreme versatility purely because of its inhabitants. It was called Gatekeeper because it was a metaphorical gate to the souls of deceased devils both old and new. As such, its value would only increase over time.
As the inspiration of Inferno, it similarly held seven floors—hellscapes is the more accurate description—and Melaina had access to the fifth among them. The fifth floor was infested with powerful individuals from head to toe so Amaris struggled to imagine those on the floor above much less when not under Melaina's delicate control.
{Nope. But we'll all die whether I do it or not at this rate so it's worth a try.}
As unhelpful as that was, it was more than enough to convince Amaris. Ceasing her attacks and blotting out the anguish of her allies Amarish ignored the outside world. Tracking Yultran down wasn't in her skillset so she had to take a more brute force method.
Hundreds if not thousands of mirrors appeared throughout the city, the light bouncing off the reflective surface acting as her eyes. She couldn't see him in the normal sense but she knew the trajectory the light followed to reach him. That was more than enough.
Opening her eyes Amaris couldn't help but falter faced with a gigantic spectral dragon ravishing the battlefield. It was an impossibility manifested, a dragon with devil blood—or more likely the other way around. The dragons were prideful species, there was no way they would allow their blood to be diluted. Amaris wasn't sure if it was truly an impossibility or a monstrous Bune but it didn't matter.
Draconic flames scorched the battlefield, the scent of burnt flesh attacking his senses as this once pristine city became a true hellscape. The demonic dragon was a monster, its size easily over thirty meters, and its eyes a fierce crimson. If this was a Bune, she was happy the clan had declined to such an extent.
She wasn't aware of the demonic dragon's origin but then again, it was unlikely anyone but the first generation or two of devils would. Among the seven layers of the Gate of the Dead Melaina was at the Realm of the Talented, the highest level ever reached. Beyond that was the Realm of the Forgotten, monstrosities whose names have been forcefully removed from history.
Now that she was aware of what was happening around her, Amaris found it much harder to focus on her task. The ever present screams of her enemies and allies alike were horrifying, nightmare fuel in its purest form.
"Amaris!"
The hurried shout of Melaina broke her out of her downward spiraling thoughts, her mind filled with horror rivaled only by her determination. Clasping her hands together almost as though she was praying she made a cube of resplendent light between the veils of her palms.
It was difficult, more so than anything else she had done before, but that was to ensure her opponent remained trapped. She wasn't sure how they had done it but everyone knew that the six had been trapped in an alternate reality, if she didn't consider that she'd be a fool.
Creating a realm large enough to contain roughly three blocks just to be safe while also keeping into a barely an inch by inch cube was beyond strenuous but she endured and she could feel herself growing as a result.
It was likely she was imagining it but the nearly omnipotent power she felt flow through her that made her feel like she was above all living things was certainly present. It was a familiar feeling and yet this time it served to help her.
She felt as though she could see 𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘦 as though her existence had been raised to its upper limits for just a moment. For a split second, the thought of her oddly considerate crush and his special eyes crossed her mind before she discarded it. She could ask later.
"ᴛᴇʀʀɪᴛᴏʀʏ ᴏғ ɪɴɴᴜᴍᴇʀᴀʙʟᴇ ʀᴇғʟᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴs"
The words spilled from her lips without her knowing, the unfamiliar feeling of power settling with each syllable. It felt as though she had once more ascended or rather she had consolidated her ascendance. The feeling of unlimited control was addictive.
Her barrier spread with a speed she had never managed before and its size and durability were incomparable to anything she had ever created before today. Her intention was to take three or so city blocks away but instead…
"I'm taking half the city."
It was slightly unnecessary to make the declaration but Amaris was feeling a tad bit more confident if the stoicism and disdain in her eyes were anything to go off. She had managed this extreme power but her Longinus was still too much for her to handle carelessly.
Regardless, it was undeniable that the risks were well worth it. Despite taking half the city she flawlessly avoided both ally and enemy alike as not a single soul entered her barrier besides herself and Yultran.
"Amaris!"
Melaina was no exception. The plan had been quite clear even if unspoken, Amaris would bring both herself and Melaina into the mirror dimension to battle Yultran. Unfortunately, Amaris chose a different option.
For a moment their eyes made contact as the barrier manifested around them, a conversation quickly shared between the two. Amaris had no intention of bringing Melaina into her territory from the start even without her newfound arrogance. The black flames that inhabited her realm weren't something she had the energy to spare Melaina from.
"Sorry."
For a moment, the real Amaris shined through as her stoicism melted away to reveal the apologetic smile she often wore. Finally closing around her, the mirror shimmered for a moment before vanishing in the blink of an eye. In its wake was only a barren wasteland hundreds of meters deep where the rest of the city once stood.
Just like that, Amaris and Yultran disappeared.
[𝐌𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐬, 𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝, 𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐋𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫]
Thirty minutes. That was how long the forces under Zekram had wandered through the poison before they finally found the stronghold of the Plague Doctor and the Immutable. In that time, none had fallen but it was only a matter of time.
They had only just found their opponents and yet they were exhausted and weakened. If there was any saving gracing in this accursed place, it was that the center of the battlefield was unusually empty, entirely devoid of poison.
"Don't let your guard down. It's a trap."
There was little logical basis in his words but Zekram was so confident that those under him couldn't help but agree, their vigilance enhanced once more. It was a common strategy used by Vartes and Nufrien back when they were first running around spreading chaos.
It was natural to assume that Vartes would restrain his poison around his brother and upon entering their stronghold that assumption would seemingly be proven correct. In truth, however, the poison surrounding them was more a trap for the strong than the barrier people assumed.
In the air, there was an imperceptible—scentless as well as tasteless—poison that would kill them all before they even knew what was happening. It was common knowledge back in the day but after seven hundred years it was hardly known at all.
"Zekram! It's been so long! How have you been you old tool?"
Sauntering down the stairs with a friendly grin splitting his lips the Plague Doctor had no reservations in approaching their group. With every step he took a vile scent reminiscent of rotting corpses and copious amounts of blood grew stronger.
Unlike one would assume from his infamy and scent Vartes was actually a very kind looking man. His dark green hair was styled in a long ponytail and his mismatched colored eyes—black and green respectively—and though his attire was that of an odd bodysuit adorned with pipes glowing an ominous green it didn't detract from his face.
Yet, no matter how kind his smile the killing intent spilling from him and the thick green demonic energy spreading from him ruined his impression. He was a monster and no matter how much he masked himself as a saint he could not hide that fact.
Cutting deep into the ground red flakes emanated from the trail of pure destruction that emerged from Zekram's hand. Glancing down at the floor for a moment Vartes stopped, his lips inexplicably curling up even further.
"Don't approach me, you bastard."
Zekram wasn't one to speak such crass words but his patience ran thin when faced with Vartes, the man who stole his family from him. His wife had been killed by this man's poison and that wasn't all he lost to this monster's poison. He would never forgive Vartes.
"Alright, I'll stay back. Don't get your undies twisted old man."
Amicably laughing as though the tense atmosphere was nothing but a dream Vartes raised his hands above his head, green mist spreading from his palm as his grin twisted into a disgusted smirk that took pleasure in their widened eyes.
Bursting from the ground was another man nearly identical to Vartes, the only difference being their attire and the black hair atop his head. Wielding a large glaive the man—Nufrien—swung it with ease, blood soaring into the air as corpses fell to the earth.
Without wasting a second to instruct his forces Zekram moved, a tornado of crimson destruction fluttering around him in the time it took for Nufrien to kill another group of his subordinates. All it took for the Immutable to escape was a single leap, the crazed smirk on his face infuriating the first Great King to no end.
"Who are you going to sacrifice this time old man?"
The effect Nufrien's grin had on Zekram was nothing compared to the bastard's words. Seven hundred years ago, Zekram had been the one to capture these two just as he would do today. In that battle, they ultimately succeeded but the loss was great.
"Don't bring up my son."
With a voice dripping with hostility, the crimson tornado surrounding Zekram moved forward, the poison surrounding them drawn in and destroyed without fail. Seven hundred years ago Zekram and his son alongside a force twice as large as this one attacked these two twins.
In the end, Zekram and a fraction of his forces were all that remained. Unfortunately, his son wasn't among them. The battle of that day was horrible and a memory that Zekram would have liked to forget but he had prepared for a day exactly like this.
"Ooh! Touched a sore spot did we? You must not feel too bad if you brought a scapegoat this time as well. She's young this time isn't she?"
Locking his eyes onto the familiar crimson hair of Rias Gremory, Vartes took great pleasure in watching her eyes widen at the sudden attention. Pointing his hand in her direction a storm of poison erupted from his skin.
"Vartes!"
Shouting in a mix of anger and a futile attempt at distraction Zekram tried to block the attack in his descendant's stead. Quickly spreading the sphere of destruction he had created Zekram grit his teeth in anger, his arms straining against the force of Nufrien's glaive.
"You should have brought more people, gramps."
Playfully taunting the older devil Nufrien ignored the power of destruction sticking itself to his hands and wrapping around his trusty weapon. There was a reason Nufrien was called immutable and it was in the name.
Nufrien was untouchable, unchanging, he was immutable in the truest sense of the word. No damage would harm him, no sword would pierce his flesh, no magic could harm a hair on his head, and not even poison would work on him. He was immortal.
The power of Destruction—the most destructive clan trait—had no effect on him either. Zekram had tried everything he could think of seven hundred years ago and nothing had worked then and nothing would work now. The most he could do was capture the scourge.
Zekram desperately wanted to look away from Nufrien and protect his granddaughter as best he could but he couldn't manage even that. Despite being one of the weakest of the six Nufrien was in the top 20 of strongest devils. He wasn't somebody Zekram could easily ignore.
"…!"
However, Zekram didn't even have to look to know what had just occurred. A beam of concentrated destruction penetrated the poison, shooting through the thick mist in less than a fraction of a second, and crashed into Vartes' chest.
Skidding back a few feet Vartes looked down at his chest in pure surprise, his extraordinarily durable 'uniform' almost entirely ruined. The main systems worked fine but his entire chest was revealed, and his sickly pale skin was revealed to the world.
Zekram had brought Rias only because of Venelana's recommendation and the girl's own determination. In his eyes, she was a talented combatant bordering on the ultimate class but he had underestimated her. She was well beyond that.
"Oh my."
Despite what had just occurred, Vartes had nothing but amusement in his eyes as they bent like crescent moons while his sadistic grin split his lips. Leisurely raising his hand a shield of poison appeared above him, effortlessly dispiring the blast of holy lightning that fell from the skies.
Pointing his hand toward them again Vartes' grin grew as a tsunami of poison charged at his two opponents. Though Rias had managed to break through his poison he assumed it to be a fluke, a mistake born from his arrogance. If not… things will be much more enjoyable.
Creating a large sphere of destruction Rias manipulated its shape into a tall yet thin wall. The destructive shield bent, surrounding the wave of poison, and devoured it, completely destroying his poison with apparent ease all while lightning rained down on him.
"Nufrien. Let's switch it up."
The words from Vartes had an instant effect as Nufrien sent Zekram skidding back and leaped toward his newest opponents. Altering the intent of her destruction Rias made the ball of destruction intended for Vartes into thick chains that wrapped around Nufrien's body.
At least, that had been the intention. His glaive swung nearly faster than Rias or Akeno could react to, the chains destroyed in the blink of an eye without even disturbing his momentum. It was a terrifying show of physical prowess but the pair wasn't concerned. They fought Morgan who could enhance her body to monstrous levels daily, this was nothing.
Encasing her arm in the power of destruction like a tightly fitting glove—a dangerous action considering she wasn't immune to her own power—Rias caught the oncoming glaive. The force continued, pushing her deep into the earth beneath her.
At least, it would have. Using her glove to her advantage her hand dropped down while it stayed in place, destruction dancing in between her fingers as she attempted to pluck out her opponent's eyes.
Even if he was immutable, Nufrien was ultimately a living being. When the fingers approached his eyes, his first instinct would be to defend his eyes whether he liked it or not. Using that opportunity, she'd trap him in chains of destruction to restrain him until Zekram could defeat Vartes with the rest.
"Not bad."
Unfortunately for Rias, she underestimated just how crazy Nufrien was. He didn't flinch let alone close his eyes, her fingers coated in destruction ramming into the wet and soft orbs with a horrific amount of force without result.
Time seemed to slow in Rias' eyes as the glaive that so easily cut apart her destruction approached her with murderous intention. Moving on autopilot Rias attempted to jump away, blood soaring into the air regardless of her intentions.
"You dodged that? You really have the old fart's blood in you."
With more excitement than a child in a candy shop in his eyes, Nufrien swung his glaive in an arc to remove the blood. Holding her torso Rias tried her best to hold her organs inside her, blood staining her hands and the torn remnants of her clothes.
Using basic fire magic to cauterize her wound Rias glared at Nufrien, determination burning in her eyes. This was far from over, no it was only just beginning. When this ends, it would be her that comes out on top. How else could she reach her goal?
[𝐏𝐫𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐦, 𝐔𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐝, 𝐒𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐓𝐢𝐦𝐞]
"I wonder how the rest are doing?"
The city of Prutim was one of the largest in the area which made it even more shocking to see its current state. A wasteland of ash lay where the city once was. There was no rubble, no people, no life. It was a true wasteland, a barren space where nothing could ever live.
"They're probably struggling immensely or finished already. Worried about the young master?"
In this barren wasteland, there were only three beings alive, each wearing tattered remnants of clothes and covered in dust from head to toe but otherwise unharmed. At their feet was the last corpse of Prutim, a man who screamed royalty for both good and bad.
"I'm leaving."
The third man—a handsome man seemingly in his early thirties with golden blond hair—spat out, his voice tinged with hatred. Flaming wings grew from his back before he flew into the air and exploded into flames and disappeared.
"He should have stayed a while. We haven't seen each other in five hundred years."
Wiping away his crocodile tears the second man wept pitifully. His hair was the same shade of gold as the third, the only difference being his hair was swept back and his eyes were nothing more than slits. Among the two, this man seemed the most suspicious.
"Cyrus."
Warning the second man with a single word the first turned his attention to the side where he could feel his son. It was odd. Nobody could sense the absolute maelstrom of negativity occurring in that place. Perhaps the only reason he could was because the energy was inherently similar to his own albeit altered nearly beyond recognition.
It belonged to an abomination, a monster cursed by fate itself. It was an amalgamation of curses so vile that even the worst sinner would puke. It was a being of darkness tainted with wrath so thick that even he felt like choking.
"He's grown again…"
"Hm? What was that my liege?"
Curiously prying into his employer's thoughts Cyrus was hardly surprised when he received no reaction. Looking in the same direction as his lord Cyrus sensed nothing out of the ordinary. The air was slightly stale perhaps but ultimately it was nothing worth mentioning.
"My liege, you truly are impossible to understand."
Ignoring his lord's thoughts Cyrus once again looked behind him. Everything was distorted like a mirror that had been shattered like a higher dimensional being had pulled and pushed reality as he pleased until it was impossible to understand.
The sky lay on the floor and the ground floated in the sky. Space and time bent under his whims and the heavens quaked under his wrath. The power held by Nicholas Purson was beyond mortal understanding.
"That sounds like an insult."
Kicking the corpse by his feet Nicholas Purson turned away from his son's wrath. His son would be fine, there was no need to worry about anything. Melaina may scold him but their son was stronger than anyone else. He was already approaching the pinnacle, any worries would be unnecessary. Noel wasn't weak, he wouldn't falter here.
"It was sincere praise."
Chuckling to himself Cyrus was excited to hear the reactions of the world once it was revealed that Nicholas Purson was making waves once more. How excited he was to reveal to the world that the one he dedicated his existence to was not the lazy fool people believed he was!
And it all started here. This wasteland of Prutim would act as the basis of his lord's long deserved resurgence. Once again his name would spread through the world like it had all those centuries ago. Finally, his lord was willing to step into the light.
"I suppose I should thank you then Saldun the Royal. You made for a wonderful stepping stone."
How shocking it would be if any were to hear his words. One of the six—the one who wore the Crown of Sin at that—was treated as a mere stepping stone. How surprised they would be should they learn that in only half an hour the Royal had been murdered with naught a chance to fight back?
How shocked they would be to learn of Nicholas Purson's true power.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________________
Hey there, Express_007 here. Hope you liked the chapter.
If I remember correctly, this is the first chapter without Noel which is interesting. Ignoring that though, I'd like your opinion on the six so far as well as characters like Nicholas and Melaina. So far, this has been pretty heavily about developing side characters and I'm curious how popular this 'style' is.
As always, if you're interested in supporting the creation of this novel I made a patre*on. Just look up Express_007 and you should find it easily enough. You don't have to support but it'd be much appreciated.
