Chapter nine: A Clash of Arrogance

Eve found herself at a crossroads, a moment of hesitation that led the teenagers into her humble mechanical shop. It was a decision born of a nagging sense of connection to the troubled pair seated at her and Ludachel's dining table.

Questions hung heavy in the air, lingering like a shroud over the room. The thought of erasing their memories and casting a tracking spell crossed her mind, but an unexplainable urge stayed her hand, compelling her to uncover the truth behind their association with Ludachel.

As Eve observed the expressions of anguish on their faces, a surge of haste welled within her. Something significant had unfolded last night, leaving a trail of unanswered questions in its wake. Ludachel, her entrusted charge, was missing, and these adolescents seemed to hold a key to unravelling the mystery.

Resolute in her quest for knowledge, Eve's gaze flickered between the two young strangers, her eyes betraying a her suspicion.

Unspoken words lingered on the tip of her tongue, as she leaned forward in her chair, yearning to break free and unravel the enigma.

The weight of responsibility bore down on her, a reminder of the sacred duty she bore as the silent guardian of Ludachel, the chosen deity of death.

"Who are you people and how do you know my son!"

Eve's piercing gaze bore into Brain, demanding answers that he found himself unable to provide. The weight of guilt and remorse pressed down heavily on him, choking his words and leaving him at a loss. He averted his gaze, unable to meet her scrutiny, feeling the burden of his abandonment of Ludachel weigh heavily on his conscience.

Unexpectedly, it was Rin who found her voice amidst the tension, her words trembling but resolute as she sought to explain their brief encounter with Ludachel.

"We don't really know him, we had just happened to meet him last night because of our... our best friend J-Jax. He invited Ludachel to a party outside gate 12, and Ludachel showed up."

The memory of Jax's tragic fate and Ludachel's sudden transformation hung heavily in the air as she recounted the events of the previous night.

Rin's voice quivered with emotion as she described the chaos that unfolded at the party outside gate 12, the emergence of Ludachel's mysterious powers, and the subsequent onslaught of Deathtems and her suspicions of the city's purposeful slaughter.

Rin continued, her voice laden with emotion wiping her makeup smudged face, "After Jax was killed by a Deathtem, Ludachel did something, it's like he transformed, emitting an acid-eating blue mist that eradicated the Deathtems attacking everyone. It was when Ludachel fainted, soldiers arrived, reopening the city gates and started shooting and capturing survivors."

As Rin's account unfolded, Eve's expression remained vacant, her features set in a mask of restrained intensity. The revelation of Ludachel's unlocking of his abilities and his pivotal role in the night's events seemed to stir something deep within her, a glimmer of recognition clouded by shadow.

Silence descended upon the room as Rin's narrative came to a close, the weight of unspoken truths hanging heavy in the air. Eve's darkened gaze held a blend of concern, suspicion, and something unreadable that flickered in the depths of her green eyes.

Eve, her tone measured but tinged with urgency, "This is no ordinary turn of events. Ludachel's powers are awakening sooner than anticipated, and his actions bear grave consequences to the cosmos. It now begs the question, mortals, where is he now?!"

"Mortals?" Rin questions as she raises her eyebrows before Brain interjects.

He takes a deep shuddering breath, Leaning his head in his hands as he whispers the guilty truth, "I'm so sorry, we… We left him behind.

——— ——— ——— ——— ———

As the weight of Ludachels existence comes to the curious attention of a darker entity, deep into the sweltering heat of the demon realm, where the air hums with oppressive force, a moment of grim endurance unfolds within the shadows of a forbidding prison.

Black blood, thick as night, beads and drips from the stalwart form of an imprisoned demon.

Motionless, he withstands the relentless lashings of a demonic guard, his skin flayed until silvery bones gleam beneath the wounds, yet not a sound escapes his lips, the only sound was of air cracking like thunder and chains scraping against the ground.

"You may be beyond death, but a semblance of pain, a mere whimper or cry, wouldn't go amiss. It dulls the entertainment when your screams do not accompany my strokes," the guard taunts, ceasing his brutal tirade only to carelessly flick his whip to the side, sending droplets of dark blood across the stone walls.

The guard strode cautiously towards the shadowy figure chained in the cell, the flickering candle casting a dim light on the prisoner's back that dripped of flesh. With a firm grip on the prisoner's hair, the guard jerked his head back, only to be met with a gaze as dark as the room itself and a bored expression on the prisoner's pale face.

Annoyed, the guard disguised his displeasure with a joke. "Good, still awake. I thought you may have lost consciousness, your royal hi-"

Before he could finish, the echo of descending footsteps interrupted him. The guard turned back to the prisoner, a smirk forming on his face. "Looks like Daddy's here to end your little time-out just when things were getting interesting," he chuckled.

"Get him up," a commanding voice resonated as the footsteps drew closer.

With a disapproving click of his tongue directed at the man in formal attire, the guard released the prisoner from his restraints and pushed him up against the wall, only to be overpowered as the prisoner loomed and pushed back, pinning him with a menacing hold, claws pricing his skin.

Leaning in closer to his ear, the prisoner said in a chilling grated whisper that sent a shiver down the guard's spine. "No need to be sad, my friend. We share a certain fondness for pain. You like it, yes? You do, hahh don't you? Well, so do I, even more than you know."

Stunned, the guard slumped to the ground as the prince drew back, a wicked grin revealing his sharp canines. "Enough, Your Highness. The king summons you. Best not to test his patience further," the man outside the cell urged impatiently.

Turning away from the guard, the prince sauntered towards the man named Vincent, nonchalantly stretching as his injuries miraculously healed themselves as if he were never Marred in the first place. "Always ruining the fun, Vincent," he teased with a hint of mockery. Tilting his head innocently as he peered down at Vincent.

"Lead the way. Let's not keep Father waiting," he added, a sinister glint in his eyes as he followed his fathers servant.

In the shadowed corridors leading to the ominous throne room that loomed with a dark atmosphere by the thick stone structure. Pain, the first Prince of Solomon marched ahead of Vincent. Every eye in the court watched his blood-streaked figure with a mixture of awe and apprehension, the months of captivity leaving him clad only in his own dirt and dried blood. Despite his dishevelled appearance, Pain exuded an air of defiance as he ascended the podium that faced the throne, gazing unflinchingly at the king seated upon it.

"What brings about the honour of my presence here today?" Pain's voice rang out boldly, cutting through the tense silence that gripped the room.

Gasps and whispers swept through the demonic council above, while the king's hand visibly tightened on the armrest of his throne. A moment of charged silence passed before the king's laughter filled the chamber, a foreboding sound that seemed to echo off the stone walls.

The atmosphere crackled with unspoken tension as the confrontation between father and son that would with no doubt unfold.

The demon king sighed from his throne, his imposing presence filling the chamber. "Do you comprehend why you are imprisoned, my son?"

His appearance was a striking contradiction to his title, clad in regal attire that melded with his long, straight hair. Two ebony horns protruded from his head, a testament to his ancient lineage.

The prince sneered, a mirror image of his father save for his towering form that surpassed even the most formidable demons, and his horns stained a deep crimson. "To atone... for my perceived transgressions against the throne, my lord," he quipped sarcastically, a mocking bow accompanied by a flick of his lengthy onyx tail.

"No, it was to impress upon you your insignificance. Despite our blood ties, you lack the responsibility of rulership. You are but a youngling who fancies himself a monarch. Know this, before you entertain notions of plotting against me... boy, my renouncing will not hinge on your deeds but the ancient forces who bestowed this title upon me, beings far more aged and stronger than even I." The king declared with an icy glint in his fully blackened eyes, as he continued his address.

"In the primordial dawn, where the tapestry of existence was woven, there existed a formless void. From this abyss emerged Sheriphem and Sheriph, titanic gods whose mere presence birthed the cosmos. They were the very essence of light and shadow, two halves of a whole that brought balance to the nascent universe.

Sheriphem, transcendent in her brilliance, embodied luminance itself. Her celestial glow breathed life into the cosmos, bathing all in a radiant warmth that kindled life in the frigid expanse. In stark contrast, Sheriph shrouded himself in murky shadows, his presence a velvety darkness that whispered of the

Mysteries of the realms beyond.

Their union was an exquisite balance, a harmonious interplay of opposites that birthed a multitude of children. These divine offspring bore the unmistakable imprints of their godly lineage—those in Sheriphem's image donned hair as radiant as starshine and eyes that gleamed like gold-tinged dawn.

Conversely, the children bearing Sheriph's essence exuded the mystique of the night, with locks as dark as the void that birthed the universe and eyes as deep as cosmic voids, harbouring unfathomable secrets.

Yet, with the passage of time, a rupture surfaced, as profound and vast as the void itself. The children of light and shadow inherited not only their parents' visages but their inherent natures as well. An invisible divide materialised, a tacit acknowledgment of the distinctions that set them apart. Brightborn sought solace in their kind, as did those birthed of shadow. A once unbreakable family bond frayed under the weight of unspoken differences.

Across generations, the gulf widened. Love and kinship waned, yielding suspicion and discord. The celestial offspring, unified as one, splintered into factions. From this divide arose a fundamental truth—light and darkness, when divided, engendered the notions of good and evil. The universe, burdened by this tragedy, fragmented.

The fabric of cosmos cleaved into three dominions: the luminous domain of the celestials, born of Sheriphem's brilliance; the shadowed realm of the demons, hewn from Sheriph's darkness; and the intermediary realm where Sheriph and Sheriphem held court, beyond their descendants' strife.

This midpoint realm stood as a tragic reminder of a bygone era—a unified cosmos where light and shadow danced in eternal balance.

This chapter of creation, inscribed upon the stars, recounted the sorrowful saga of the divine races' estrangement. Yet within its verses lay a concealed optimism that one day, the progeny of Sheriphem and Sheriph might bridge the chasm their forebears inadvertently wrought. Do you now comprehend, my son, the true insignificance of your stature?"

Pain's demeanor remained unchanged, a mask of indifference concealing the storm within, despite his father's attempt to impart wisdom. The demon king's confidence wavered for a fleeting moment before he softened his gaze, preparing to continue his admonition, "Do not sul-"

Before the king could finish, Pain's voice cut through the air, tinged with an eerie calmness that belied the simmering defiance beneath the surface. "Your words hold no sway over me, dear father. In fact, I must confess, I may have dozed off momentarily amidst your lecture.

What does it matter if I am deemed insignificant in the grand design of the universe? Your doubts and decrees are as fleeting as the wind, for I, hidden in the shadows of those who preceded me, bide my time.

Mark my words, ancient one, a day will come when the cosmos itself will echo my name in the dance of fate. And on that day, you, my dear father, will find yourself flattened beneath the heel of my well-polished shoe."

A stunned silence engulfed the chamber, the weight of Pain's bold proclamation hanging heavy in the air. The demon king's features contorted with a mix of astonishment and indignation, his aura crackling with suppressed fury as he struggled to process his son's audacity and reign in his temper.

The courtiers and council members whispered amongst themselves in hushed tones, the tension defining as they witnessed the unprecedented challenge to the king's authority. Pain stood tall, his gaze unflinching, a solitary figure amidst the sea of murmurs and wary glances.

With a steely resolve, the demon king composed himself, his voice laced with a dangerous calmness as he addressed his defiant son, "Your arrogance knows no bounds, Prince of Pain. You tread a perilous path with your empty boasts and hollow threats. Remember this, child of my blood, power is not claimed through idle words but through deeds that shake the very foundations of existence."

The king's words echo through the chamber, cutting through the lingering silence like a blade. The air crackled with tension, the confrontation between father and son reaching a critical juncture. As the demonic court held its breath, awaiting the next move in this high-stakes exchange, the fate of Pain, the prince who dared to defy his father, hung in the chamber.

"Am I merely a spectacle for your grand displays of authority, or is there a purpose to my presence here?" Pain's grin was tinged with triumph, knowing he had succeeded in provoking his father.

The demon king, momentarily forgetting the tension that had gripped the court, reclined on his throne with a wicked gleam in his eye. "If only your wit matched your impertinence at all times," he jested, tapping a clawed finger against his jaw.

"I sensed a surge of power unlike any other recently. It was a force so potent that even I felt a shiver of fear run down my spine," the king continued, his tone serious. "The origin of this power emanated from a nascent universe saturated with ancient magics. I had originally been keeping a close eye on it since its abrupt creation, such a phenomenon would not merit my interest, but what caught my attention was the peculiar nature of this world. Life flourished within it the second it was made, histories and destinies woven into existence as if they had always been. The very soil pulsed with the essence of gods, and so I have kept a vigilant watch over this realm since then. I sense that the celestial beings are concealing something profound under the guise of their creations, and I task you, my son, to uncover the truth disguised as a humble human."

"And why would I entertain such a task?" Pain scoffed, his arrogance unyielding.

"Because it presents an opportunity for the recognition you crave so desperately," the king replied, his gaze piercing and unwavering.

The prospect of unravelling the mysteries of this universe and earning the acknowledgment he coveted sparked a flicker of intrigue in Pain's eyes, a cunning glint betraying his interest. The promise of power, recognition, and the chance to delve into secrets hidden in the celestial realm set the stage for a daring undertaking that would test the prince's cunning, strength, and resolve in ways he had never imagined.