Destructive pin— Death Thrust
Zephyr stormed through the grand hallways of the Demios estate, his muttered curses echoed against the polished obsidian floors.
"Freaking red-haired bastards. Calling me it? That self-important heir-prince wannabe… tch." His hands were in his coat pockets, head low, steps heavy. "Enjoy your meal?" he mimicked mockingly. "I'll enjoy spitting in your soup next time."
He turned a corner without thinking.
"This whole bloodline thing is trash anyway. Black flame? More like black egos. Bunch of clowns prancing around in robes, thinking they're gods because their ancestors married his sister—"
He didn't realize he had crossed out of the main building and wandered toward the edges of the estate until his feet began crunching over twigs and dirt rather than marble. His rant slowed as the cool air of the forest brushed against his face. A path stretched ahead, lined with tall willows and bone-white lanterns.
Zephyr blinked, finally taking in his surroundings. "Wait… the hell am I?"
He didn't realize he had crossed out of the main building and wandered toward the edges of the estate until his feet began crunching over twigs and dirt rather than marble. His rant slowed as the cool air of the forest brushed against his face. A path stretched ahead, lined with tall willows and bone-white lanterns.
Birds chirped softly overhead. Sunlight filtered through the canopy, painting the moss-covered floor in patches of gold. He was still within the estate boundaries—he could see the edges of the protective sigils glowing faintly on the trees—but far enough that he could no longer hear the servants or feel the oppressive pressure of his relatives' judgmental stares. He sighed and looked at the sky, what he saw made him fall on his butt.
"The hell wrong with this world".
The sky wasn't blue, not today. It was a bruised violet, the color of twilight deepened a hundredfold. And across this unnatural expanse, etched in firelight, blazed a rune. Not a simple symbol, but a sprawling, complex glyph that seemed to writhe and shift even as he watched, its fiery purple-gold lines pulsing with an inner light. It wasn't a straight line, but a sweeping arc, like a celestial river of molten gold flowing across the heavens. Stars, even in the daytime, peeked through the inky purple clouds that gathered below, their light swallowed by the immensity of the rune above. It felt less like a marking and more like a living thing, a celestial script written in the language of gods, a prophecy burning across the firmament. The air crackled with unseen energy, a palpable hum that vibrated in his bones, a silent testament to the power contained within those fiery strokes. He could see the clouds clearly despite his blurry vision.
He sat there dumfounded. "How the hell is there still white light". Despite the unusual color the daylight was the usual white thin color back on earth.
He stood up and was about to bolt back when the sound of metal slicing the air caught his attention.
Whssh—shhnk!
He pushed for a moment until he heard the soft grunt of his maid.
His body moved quietly on its own, curiosity outweighing logic. He ducked behind a thick tree trunk and peered through the branches.
There, in a clearing of perfectly even grass, stood her.
The maid who stood by his side when he woke up, the maid who offered to wash his back, although he didn't allow he felt regret, how couldn't he, he was a man after all.
She moved like a shadow, her body flowing through each motion with surgical precision. In her hands, twin blades danced like silver ribbons, carving arcs of controlled destruction through the air. Her expression was calm, but each strike screamed lethal efficiency.
She was training.
Hard.
Zephyr leaned slightly forward, watching her in fascination. Her uniform—trimmed in black and red—was lighter than usual, fitted for mobility. Sweat clung to her brow, glistening in the soft sunlight as she twisted mid-air, bringing both blades down with a fierce crash that splintered a nearby training dummy into ash and bark.
"…Damn," Zephyr muttered. "So she really is a monster."
She paused suddenly, turning in his direction.
He jerked back.
Too late.
"You can come out now," her voice rang clear. Calm. Commanding.
Zephyr sighed and stepped out from behind the tree, brushing leaves off his coat. "Uh, hey. I swear I wasn't stalking you. I was just walking and… got lost. Emotionally. And literally."
The maid dropped on one knee. "Am sorry for not recognizing you, young master."
"It's okay nothing to apologize for". Zephyr replied he didn't see what the big deal was he mainly walked up on her.
"You can continue, don't mind me". He said to her. She hesitated for a moment before resuming her training, but her movement were stiff as if she was not used to being gazed upon while training.
Looking at her dance a hazy memory surged, he suddenly remembered when he trained with his twin sisters, he fought with a scythe and from the hazy memory he was good at it.
'Scythe like hell I will use that to fight, I am gonna to be the sword sovereign'. He always loved sword fight and hell was he going to give up the one chance of using it. He continued to look at her training but it got boring quickly, she kept hacking and thrusting and hacking.
"This is pretty boring, show me something cool". He said to Serena. She looked at him for a moment, she didn't say anything just took her stance.
Zephyr leaned back against the tree, the wind tousling his red hair as he kept his eyes fixed on the clearing. The air was still for a moment—almost reverent—until she moved again.
Serena.
His battle maid… or rather, handler, as he'd begun to think of her.
She drew one of the twin curved blade from her back and exhaled slowly.
Then she whispered.
"Destructive Pin—Death Thrust."
Her foot shifted an inch. The air shimmered.
And then she vanished.
Zephyr's heart jumped as a tearing sound cracked through the forest. A shockwave pulsed outward, flattening grass and scattering leaves. He shielded his face, squinting just in time to see her reappear twenty meters ahead, her blade buried deep in the trunk of a reinforced steel dummy reinforced with clan-grade enchantments.
The metal tore apart like paper.
A second later, black flame erupted from the blade's point of impact, screaming outward in a roaring inferno. It surged like a living creature and screamed like one too— it screamed like a pig being slaughtered, claws of shadowy heat lashing at the earth and reducing the dummy—and the surrounding area—to molten slag.
The black flame roared across the clearing, carving a jagged path through the training dummies. Zephyr stood frozen beneath the arching trees, watching Serena with wide eyes.