the oath of vengeance

The night was cold and unrelenting, the moon a pale sliver in the sky as Díkē stood at the edge of the Aegis estate. The grand walls that had once been his home now felt like a prison, a monument to the lies and betrayal that had shattered his world. The ruby in his palm pulsed faintly, its glow a steady reminder of the power he now wielded—and the darkness that threatened to consume him.

Calian and Seraphine stood beside him, their presence a silent reassurance, but even they couldn't quell the storm raging in his heart. The words of his father and the venomous lies of his sister echoed in his mind, each one a dagger twisting deeper into his soul.

"You've brought shame to this family," the Duke's voice had thundered. "Magic is a corruption, a stain on the soul. I will not have my son tainted by it."

And Lyra—Lyra, who had always been the golden child, the heir, the one who could do no wrong—had smiled as she tore him down. "You're nothing but a weakling who got lucky with that ruby. And now you're trying to drag our family's name through the mud."

Díkē clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms. The anger that had been simmering inside him now boiled over, a seething, uncontrollable rage. He had tried to prove himself, to earn his family's respect, but they had rejected him. They had cast him aside like he was nothing.

"I'm done," Díkē whispered, his voice trembling with fury. "I'm done trying to earn their approval. If they want to see me as a monster, then I'll give them a monster."

Calian stepped forward, his expression grave. "Díkē, vengeance is a dangerous path. It will consume you if you let it."

Seraphine nodded, her piercing eyes filled with concern. "We are bound to you, Summoner. Your pain is our pain. But we cannot follow you down this road if it leads to destruction."

Díkē turned to them, his eyes blazing with a fire they had never seen before. "I don't care if it destroys me. I'm tired of being weak, of being cast aside. If they want to see me as a threat, then I'll show them what a real threat looks like."

He raised his left hand, the ruby glowing brighter as he focused on the storm of emotions within him—the anger, the betrayal, the burning desire for revenge. The air around him grew heavy, charged with an electric tension, and the ground beneath his feet began to crack.

"Summon," Díkē growled, his voice low and guttural.

The ruby's glow flared, and the runes on his arm lit up, their light spreading up to his shoulder. The air grew colder, the shadows deepening as a figure began to materialize before him. This knight was different from Calian and Seraphine—taller, darker, his armor a deep, blood-red adorned with jagged, blackened edges. His helmet obscured his face, but his eyes glowed with a malevolent red light, and in his hands, he held a massive, serrated greatsword that seemed to pulse with dark energy.

"I am **Lord Malachar the Vengeful**," the knight said, his voice a deep, resonant growl. "Bound to the Knight's Heart and sworn to serve your will, Summoner. But know this—my power is born of vengeance, and it will consume all who stand in your way."

Díkē felt a surge of dark energy coursing through him, the ruby's glow intensifying. He could feel Malachar's power, raw and untamed, and it resonated with the anger burning in his chest.

"Good," Díkē said, his voice cold and unwavering. "You're exactly what I need."

Calian and Seraphine exchanged a glance, their expressions filled with unease. "Díkē," Calian said, his voice firm. "This path you're choosing… it will change you. Are you certain this is what you want?"

Díkē met his gaze, his eyes blazing with determination. "I'm done playing by their rules. If they want to see me as a monster, then I'll give them a monster."

Malachar's eyes gleamed with approval, his voice a low, menacing rumble. "Then let us begin, Summoner. Your enemies will tremble before us."

---

As Díkē turned away from the estate, his heart heavy with anger and betrayal, he felt a strange pull—a whisper in the back of his mind, faint but insistent. It was as if the ruby was guiding him, leading him toward something ancient and powerful.

He found himself drawn to the family crypt, a dark, foreboding structure hidden deep within the estate's grounds. The air was thick with the scent of decay, and the shadows seemed to writhe and twist as he approached. The crypt was a place of reverence, where the founders of the Aegis family were entombed. But it was also a place of secrets, of forgotten truths.

Díkē stepped inside, the heavy stone doors creaking open as if they had been waiting for him. The air was cold and damp, the walls lined with ancient carvings and faded tapestries. At the center of the crypt stood a massive statue of a hooded figure, its face obscured by shadows. In its hands, it held a scythe, the blade gleaming with an otherworldly light.

Díkē felt a shiver run down his spine as he approached the statue. The whispers in his mind grew louder, more insistent, until they formed a single, clear voice.

"You have been wronged," the voice said, its tone cold and unyielding. "You have been cast aside, betrayed by those who should have protected you. But you are not alone. I am with you."

Díkē's breath caught in his throat. "Who… who are you?"

The voice chuckled, a low, menacing sound. "I am the one your family has forgotten. I am the one they fear. I am **Death**, the eternal judge, the end of all things. And you, Díkē Aegis, are my chosen."

Díkē felt a surge of power coursing through him, the ruby's glow intensifying. He could feel the presence of Death, ancient and unyielding, and it resonated with the anger burning in his chest.

"Aegis Diabolo," Díkē whispered, his voice trembling with awe. "The founder of our house… he was your saint."

The voice chuckled again, its tone filled with dark amusement. "Indeed. Your family has forgotten their roots, their connection to me. But you… you remember. You understand the truth. Will you embrace it?"

Díkē clenched his fists, his resolve hardening. "Yes. I will."

The statue's eyes glowed with a malevolent light, and the scythe in its hands began to shimmer. "Then take this, my chosen. Let it be a symbol of your oath."

The scythe dissolved into a cloud of dark energy, which swirled around Díkē before coalescing into a long, jagged sword. The blade was black as night, its edge gleaming with a faint, icy light. Díkē grasped the hilt, feeling a surge of power coursing through him.

"This is **Reaper's Edge**," the voice said. "A weapon of vengeance, of death. Wield it well, my chosen."

Díkē felt a surge of dark energy coursing through him, the ruby's glow intensifying. He could feel the power of Death, ancient and unyielding, and it resonated with the anger burning in his chest.

"Thank you," Díkē said, his voice cold and unwavering. "I won't let you down."

As he turned to leave the crypt, he felt a sense of purpose burning in his chest. He was no longer the weak, cast-aside son of the Aegis family. He was Díkē Aegis, the chosen of Death, and he would make them pay for their betrayal.

---

The Duke stood in the grand hall, his expression dark and unyielding. The news of Díkē's departure had spread quickly, and the household was in chaos. But the Duke's anger was not directed at his son—it was directed at himself.

"He's gone," the Duke muttered, his voice low and filled with regret. "I drove him away."

Lyra stepped forward, her expression one of feigned concern. "Father, you did what you had to do. Díkē was a danger to us all. He chose his path."

The Duke turned to her, his eyes blazing with fury. "And you, Lyra. You lied to me. You betrayed your own brother, and in doing so, you betrayed this family."

Lyra's face paled, her bravado crumbling. "Father, I… I was only trying to protect our family. Díkē is a threat, I swear it!"

The Duke's expression darkened, his voice cold and unforgiving. "Enough. Your actions have disgraced this family. You will be confined to your quarters until further notice."

Lyra's eyes widened in shock, her voice trembling. "Father, please… I was only trying to—"

"Silence!" the Duke roared, his voice echoing through the hall. "Guards, take her away."

As Lyra was dragged away, her screams echoing through the hall, the Duke felt a sense of despair settling over him. He had lost his son, and now his daughter had betrayed him. The Aegis family was crumbling, and he had no one to blame but himself.

---

Díkē stood at the edge of the forest, his eyes fixed on the distant lights of the estate. The ruby in his palm pulsed faintly, its glow a steady reminder of the power he now wielded—and the darkness that threatened to consume him.

"This is only the beginning," Díkē whispered, his voice cold and unwavering. "They will pay for what they've done."

Malachar materialized beside him, his eyes gleaming with approval. "We are with you, Summoner. Your enemies will tremble before us."

Díkē nodded, his resolve hardening. He was no longer the weak, cast-aside son of the Aegis family. He was Díkē Aegis, the chosen of Death, and he would make them pay for their betrayal.

---

**End of Chapter 12**