Year 911. Zancrest Dukedom.
Under the bright rays of his 9th summer in this wondrous world filled with living nightmares and dark manifestations of everything filthy, the young prodigy of the shadowed lotus— an unprecedented anomaly bearing the dignified ashen hair of heroes and the purple eyes of kings, gracefully swung a wooden sword in a dance of intrinsic magnificence that declared to this world the beginning of its shifted future.
One, two, five, twenty— an infantry of casualties fell onto the cold ground as his sword rose high to the heavens in a stage littered with dozens of his battered adversaries.
His sole silhouette— young, unassuming, immature— stood victorious with a poise belonging not to a mere child, but a warrior, a beast hidden beneath an innocent skin.
"Nice job, Lux!" Several voices cheered, tone adorned with adoration and awe.
"Unbelievable…"
An elderly man, eyes wide and jaws hanging agape, uttered in utter bewilderment. His towering physique slightly trembled, muscles bulging as his instincts took over his senses. Goosebumps, strands of his hair— slicked back, sharing the same gray shade as the child, draped over his forehead, sticking with sweat.
"That child… he did it."
The Duke Zancrest, [Louis Von Zancrest II]— a man renowned for being a fearsome warrior, stood speechless.
"See, Father?" Liam said with pride.
Beside the Duke was his other children— The heir, [Liam Von Zancrest], and the Shrift twins, Silk and Gill— who contrary to their father, carried an expression of genuine excitement witnessing their little brother's indomitable strength.
"Lux already possesses this much power this early in his life. It is quite saddening as his brother, but I've long since accepted the fact that he's already surpassed me at my peak."
Liam initiated a discussion, bragging and boasting— arms outstretched to frame his brother, whose very silhouette radiated excellence. There was no bitterness in his words, his tone exuded unfiltered joy, bordering on reverence.
A proud brother who has enough awareness to realize his brother's potential, and a broad perspective to not allow his hubris to hinder that flourishing bud.
Adorned in the official regalia of their clan— a pristine, ivory-white three-piece militaristic attire tailored elegantly with golden trimmings, and a matching half-cape worn on one's left shoulder. His long, frivolous hair, tied in a loose knot that draped over his right shoulder, fluttered in the air, each strand waving at the rhythm of the cool afternoon breeze.
"And soon, he'll overcome even you, Father." He declared, eyes brimming with confidence.
Liam slightly tilted his head, fingers brushing the hilt of the dagger in his waist. Golden earrings dangled from both sides, glinting with soft light as it hummed with a definite ring. Delicate and tranquil— the dignified proclamation of his blood and status as the next in line.
"Don't you agree that it would be a grave mistake to name me as your successor when there clearly is a more qualified candidate, overlooked simply for being born late?"
"But… that would mean that you, my firstborn, will lose your right to inheritance."
"I do not mind at all, Father."
Liam took a step back and gracefully bowed.
"All I ever desire is for our house to flourish, our people to prosper, our nation to rise even greater heights— one that would forever revolutionize this world." He proclaimed with a smile— passionate and brimming with optimism.
…cunning, too.
"And to realize that vision, our dear Lux is—"
"Please do not use me as an excuse to slack off."
A voice, young and slightly breathless, cut him off, leaving cold sweat dripping— a troubled expression in place of the mischievously scheming face he held before.
Liam turned towards the source, his confident inflection wavering ever-so-slightly.
Footsteps grew closer as the boy of the hour, the child who demolished an entire infantry of armed veterans with nothing but a wooden sword, marched to their side with not a single scratch or graze in sight.
He wiped the sweat off his forehead, a smile of composure twisting from his subtle lips as his warm gaze settled on his family.
"L-Lux, I'm simply stating the truth." The older brother said with a shifty gaze.
"The Zancrest house would prosper to unfathomably advanced degrees under your rule in a manner that it will reach under mine." He proclaimed dramatically.
"I… I have no idea what this slacking off you're referring to." He muttered to himself, scratching his chin.
"Oh, surely, you jest." Lux retorted, completely dismissive of his comment.
"That prosperity you speak of would expand exponentially if it were Brother Liam who holds the reins." He countered, flashing a knowing look— somehow resembling a viper on hunt.
"Like hell I'm gonna let you dump this on me"— it felt like his eyes were saying.
"Even if I am marginally superior in terms of strength in combat, Brother is far more adept in territorial management and bureaucracy— the most important skill for a Feudal Lord to have, don't you agree?" He added, humbly arguing.
"It is embarrassing to admit, but I would be, at best, a mediocre leader if I were to be chosen."
"Lux…" Liam muttered, astonishment and disbelief etched across his face.
"If you were to say that yourself… Then Father, who struggles to complete his already lessened tasks on time, would seem even less competent than a nine-year-old child."
"Yes! That's exactly the point!" Lux declared without hesitation.
"You are far more adept at handling political affairs than I am. You are an individual with great power, despite what you may say, and the achievements you've accumulated in your 17 years in this world more than justify your appointment to that position!"
Lux spoke like a bard reciting a legend. His tone, his gestures, magnified in a way to further romanticize his brother's tale.
"And most importantly of all— and frankly, in an astonishing miracle that no sages could explain— despite your insufferable, at times, downright deplorable attitude, you somehow remained beloved by our people."
Lux laid out his side of this pointless argument, his voice— vigorous with passion, carried both admiration and an unwavering conviction… though the last one didn't seem like a compliment.
"That is precisely why it would be a greater mistake for me to inherit the Duke's title!" He boldly proclaimed in front of the heir.
"We don't want a history of mediocrity to repeat itself, now do we?"
Lux finished with that obnoxious one-liner, however, Liam refused to relent his stance.
A venomous viper versus a relentless cobra.
The brothers continued their discussion like seasoned philosophers— each word returned with a sharp rebuttal, each point countered with a logical argument. They bickered with smiles on their faces, lost in their own world of verbal warfare, stood before their proud father as they meticulously, intricately, thoroughly dissected each and every flaw of the current system— leaving no stones unturned, all in order to raise the other's worth as the rightful successor.
However, this heartwarming (?) display of brotherly love, while intellectually stimulating for those who could actually understand the non-nonsensical jargon exiting their mouths, unintentionally delivered a crushing blow to their father's already fragile dignity.
Silently. In a dark corner of the barracks, the fearsome Duke seemed to have aged decades, fidgeting with his fingers like a child— crumbling, both figuratively and literally, under the weight of their words. His very presence seemed to be withering into dust with each passing second.
"Umm… Liam. Lux."
Silk's gentle voice rose above the tension, her concern evident as she stepped between them hesitantly.
Her hair draped over her shoulder, cascading to her hips in an unbroken stream of rich, golden threads. Clad in the same white uniform, her cape featuring frills rather than a smooth linen— she radiated an air of grace and sincerity.
"Maybe you two should leave it at that… the Lord Zancrest is already…"
Her silver eyes glinted with uncertainty, sneaking glances to both sides, unable to do anything as casualties began to pile.
"No… it's fine, Silk…"
The Duke's voice was barely above a whisper. His expression, one of absolute defeat.
"I'm just an incompetent lord anyway…"
Louis whimpered, shoulders exaggeratedly slumped like a wilted flower.
"I'm a numbskull. Just a piece of trash with muscles where my brain ought to be. A lumbering oaf who does nothing but force his responsibilities on his more capable subordinates…"
He stared longingly out the window, where the bland walls and a rather disinterested pigeon welcomed his self-deprecation.
"I should have known better than to speak out of turn, considering how utterly useless I am."
Silk was too late.
Irreparable damage has already been dealt.
"Forgive me for being this incompetent…"
"Ahh! No, please don't say that! That is not true in the slightest!" Silk protested in panic.
"All of us— the loyal servants of the Zancrest Dukedom, acknowledge that the Lord is trying his hardest in his own…unique way…"
Her voice cracked slightly.
Flustered, her hands flailing haphazardly as if trying to physically reconstruct the Duke's shattered dignity back together.
"It's just… uhh…"
She struggled, grasping desperately for the right words, eyes darting frantically in search of a hint.
"Come on… think… Oh! Yes, that's it!"
She exclaimed, reaching an enlightenment— a triumphant finger pointing skywards.
"It's just that things tend to go a lot smoother when you're not involved!"
She beamed, radiant and victorious. Every syllable rang, tolling the bells of sincerity— a hymn like the trumpets of angels. She spoke with such confidence, so absolute it felt as though she had just prophesied salvation.
"..."
The silence was deafening.
"Pfft…!" A snickering voice chimed in, tone laced with amusement.
"That wasn't exactly helpful."
Silk's twin sister, dressed in the black rendition of their formal attire watched the scene unfold with mild— no, profound entertainment.
{Author's Note: I'm also wearing the same.}
The golden child's kindness had backfired spectacularly.
Her attempt to console the already crippled Duke had instead dealt the devastating finishing blow. An act of brutal manslaughter that firmly nailed the coffin shut on his ravaged, desecrated, and thoroughly obliterated— self-esteem.
"Hahaha~ Don't be so down, Father." Liam added casually, gently caressing Louis' back.
"It's not like this is anything new, right?"
The bastard whispered coyly, eyes softened with warmth. His voice lacking of any malice, stating these words as if it were merely a matter of fact— twisting the proverbial knife even further.
"W-Well, that aside…" Silk chimed in, trying to somehow derail the conversation from this downward spiral.
"I also believe that Liam is the most qualified to be the next Duke."
Deciding to… help, quote on quote— her twin followed her lead.
"Agreed. Brother is a snob, but he is unexpectedly responsible with a sensible outlook."
Gill stepped forward, standing beside Silk.
Her posture was lax, almost indifferent, her voice smooth and calm like a toddler's giggles— a stark contrast to her uptight sister.
She wore her uniform loosely. A rebellion against the rules— missing a tie, her collars slightly crooked, and her buttons undone until the third one. Her silver hair, tinged faintly with black and gray at the tips, was tied in a loose sidetail draping over her shoulders, bound with a braided cord of silver and gold threads— a quiet symbol of their bonds and lineage.
"As frustrating as it is to say, he is a genius gifted with a natural ability to lead people." She said with a playful sigh.
"…or more like, brainwash them with that princely look of his." She mumbled under her breath.
"And also," She perked up, raising a finger.
"If not given a task to devote himself to, he would inevitably… and immediately head to the taverns to flirt with random women."
Gill's eyes narrowed like sharpened daggers, its pointed gaze locking with Liam's.
"…just like the other day."
Hands trembled.
Breaths hitched.
Eyes widened.
Gill casually dropped a nuke.
This innocently passing comment, five words of absolute doom, shifted the mood from a tense but friendly one into an atmosphere fragile like welded glass— where each word uttered could engrave one's death sentence.
Eyes gathered around her, then to the heir.
The silver gremlin slyly looked at her brother with sadistic eyes as if she was staring at some utterly disgusting filth, as she did not fail to mention this fact with a nonchalant, yet chilling tone. Her smile carried an innocence unfit for the crime she'd just committed. Her glowing amber eyes, smoldering like magma on the verge of erupting— unblinking, merciless, and frighteningly gleeful.
The very embodiment of karma itself, haunting him for his sins.
"Wha—!!! Gill! Don't say that in front of fat—"
"Ho-hohh~" came a deep, guttural chuckle.
"I believe it is my first time hearing this." The Duke cracked his knuckles.
"So when you ditched the meeting, saying you were out to gather valuable information… that was what you were doing."
The once-sloppy eyes of their aging father sharpened into a deathly glare. His lips curled into a smile, far too wide to be comforting. Large veins bulged in his wrinkly forehead, squirming like writhing serpents, mirrored in his rugged hands as slowly they balled into a fist, creaking with restrained fury in every twitch.
"...uhm… F-Father, that's umm… l-let me explain first— HMMPP!!!"
With a grip tighter than an adamantium vice, Liam's face was engulfed by his father's metallic palm. And before he knew it, they were out of the training grounds— with him dragged along like a sack of potatoes, flailing helplessly in his father's merciless grasp.
The last thing etched in his memory was a brief glimpse he got in between the slits of his father's mechanical fingers.
Those gritting fangs grinding with an unsettling crunch, bloodshot eyes glinting with primal horror— the infamous wrath of the gentle Duke once known across the battlefield as the [Ashen Ogre of the Iron fist].
A monster he once again, awakened.
The other three, along with the soldiers, collectively watched in silence as the white and gold streaks his clothes fluttered in the air, faded from their sight— unmoving, unfazed.
Not long after, a loud, glass-shattering scream echoed through the entire estate. Followed shortly by thunderous explosions and an eerie silence that told them of the unfortunate fate that befell the future Duke.
Without a word, Lux, Silk, Gill, and the soldiers brought their hands together in unison, closing their eyes in solemn prayer.
Wishing Liam— may he find peace wherever he may be now.
…
He's not dead, by the way.
"Lord Lux." One of the soldiers called.
"Thank you for humoring our request." He uttered in a deep raspy voice, eyes conveying genuine thoughts in his words.
"This crushing defeat of ours shall serve as undeniable proof to those arrogant fools in the council, and an appropriate goal for my men to strive for." He leaned slightly forward, a wide grin peeking behind his burly beard.
"Though I doubt it held much interest for someone of your caliber."
[Baal Dass]. The current captain-commander of the Besiegen kingdom's knight order.
A dark-skinned figure hulking thrice the height of Lux, bearing the girth of a hippo, limbs built like a giant ape, and a bloated belly that was just as massive as his frame. He possessed a prominent presence that commanded both admiration and fear— in more ways than one.
His armor heavy, reinforced, seasoned, and yet, it remained as one in the best condition— each crack and blemish in its gleaming silver surface a reminder of his exploits. Its overlapping parts clashed, clinking as he moved— the distinctive crimson cloak of the captain-commander draped over his shoulders, trailing behind his broad silhouette like a battle flag.
Despite his sheer bulk, added to the collective weight of his gear, which could've easily toppled a boar, he was deceptively agile— moved like a ranger with the body of a tank.
An inhuman feat befitting of the obsidian plate hanging around his neck.
Also, shockers— he's bald.
"No, I am the one who ought to be grateful." Lux replied, shaking his head.
"This challenge has been a great learning experience for me."
It truly is... You have no idea how much it did.
"Just having the opportunity to observe the movements— experience the refined skills of such strong opponents firsthand, I have been enlightened about many things during this mock battle. Thank you very much."
Lux's eyes glittered with gratitude, lowering his head in a display of his sincerity.
"And to be honest…" He paused, hesitant.
"I have underestimated your capabilities. Please, do forgive me for such disrespect."
"No, please raise your head, young master!" Baal scrambled, flailing his hands around the child gently like a gardener to a delicate flower.
"It is our utmost honor to be of any assistance for your grace!"
The fallen knights shouted, proclaiming in unison. They marched before the young lord, raising a salute before kneeling in reverence.
"Many of us have grown complacent with our skills! This defeat has been a great wake up call!"
Kufufu… go on, praise me more…
"You guys…" Baal muttered.
The captain-commander smiled, his beastly projection melted into a serene disposition like an elderly man at peace.
.
"Well then. It is regrettable, but it is time for us to depart for the capital."
Baal's gazed strode longingly at the beautiful land of this region. His breath long, deep— reminiscing, contemplating. The sound of clinking metal and heavy footsteps rumbled through the firm soil as the figures of the knights lined up, preparing to exit the estate gates.
"As for my earlier proposition, I hope you keep it in the back of your mind. Give it some serious thought." Baal uttered with a sense of certainty.
"We will be waiting for a positive response in six years time."
And with that, they departed.
"By the time you reach the age of maturity, we would like to recommend you as a candidate to be the next captain-commander"— huh…
Being nominated by the current head of the order himself, and having the actual feat of besting the royal knights in combat— albeit only mock. It would make my goal of being acknowledged by the higher-ups much easier to achieve.
Not that I have any interest in taking that position since the protag will soon take it, anyway…
Nonetheless…
Kuhuhu~ it went even better than I thought.
At first, I've speculated that it will take at least a decade of grueling training for me to access, let alone unlock my potential and utilize this body to the point that it was in the game. But as it turns out, seems like I'm even more of a prodigy than I gave myself credit for— having reached the pinnacle of [Luxion]'s established power in merely four years through constant torture.
Or rather… decades of valuable experience and rigorous trials, should I say?
Battling fearsome demons and abyssal horrors straight out of a hellish mythology. Subjugating reality's nightmares— titans of primordial calamities. Countless hours, days, decades drowned in blood, sweat, and tears.
And devastating failures that brought ruin to thousands upon thousands of lives.
I once lost my arm, devoured by a mutated basilisk born from a faraway dungeon. Another time, I was a dying orphan— molested, broken, forged to be a merciless gladiator forever fighting in the pits of hell.
I acquired swordsmanship— from crude tactics to refined blades. I was engulfed in magical constructs, bathed in the sensation of an ancient sage's boundless mana. I have traced the feral instincts of ferocious beasts— bared fangs and talons instead of feet and fingers.
Even the upbringing of a proud king and the genius of a warlord.
That is what built the foundations of this might.
The peerless sovereign.
The omniscient prophet.
The indomitable warrior.
And the wicked worldview of a rotten trash.
All of them, echo within me.
A whisper in the unwavering thread.
A shadow beneath the unfaltering light.
A harbinger. A messenger. An incarnation.
I possess all these memories within me— contradicting, resonating… maddening.
I am an abomination born of their shattered fragments. The vessel of wisdom, and dreams long perished… perhaps an insignificant parasite or maybe, the wielder of fate itself?
With this gift, I am…
"Invincible."
"Hm, Lux?"
The wide silver eyes of my dear sister, Silk, adorably peered from my side. A look, unbearably innocent and curious, asking for clarification like a toddler first learning about the world.
"What's invisible?"
"Eh!? Ah, no, I was just thinking about how their strengths are… uhh… visible just from the way they carry themselves." Lux stuttered.
"I want to strive for that… or something?"
"Is… that so?" Silk slightly tilted her head, placing a finger on her chin.
"I'm not sure I fully understand what that meant, but if Lux says so, then I suppose the knights lives up to their reputation."
Silk smile brightly— saintly, one might even say.
How embarrassing!!!
I let my inner monologue slip out like an edgy teenager again! Kuhhh…! She doesn't seem to have heard the most cringy parts, but still... Argggggggggggggghhhhhh~~~!!!
"Y-Yes, they were truly formidable fighters." Lux started to yap, trying to cover his mistake.
"Had I made even one mistake in my judgment, I'm sure it wouldn't have been me who is standing victorious right now."
"I see. But you won, haven't you? That is amazing." Silk continued to glaze him up.
A short pause. Awkward silence.
"N-Now, it's starting to grow cold. Let's go back inside, shall we?"
As the gates shut closed, the children of the Dukedom returned to the manor, reinvigorated with fiery dedication to better themselves for the future of their nation~ Happily ever after.
Fwoo~ I should be more careful with my words—
Blurred and faint, yet vivid and conscious— a horned silhouette hidden beneath a crimson veil.
Something familiar. Something attached. Someone veiled in a shifting mist— neither ethereal nor arcane. Something else. Something more fundamental… something soulbound, intricately woven under a curtain of obstruction.
An integral piece of the grand design— misplaced by the false Gods.
A sensation crawled up my spine, pulsating in my veins— an icy whisper that seeped into my very bones like a phantom's touch. It came from afar, beyond the dreadful peaks of the southern border. Mobile. Constant… Closer and faster.
A lingering trace of mana, familiar to my senses, yet not to my mind.
No, not just that.
Even now, I can feel it—
An unmistakable demonic trait.
Yet, this presence. It's different.
Smaller. Weaker. A child, seemingly.
A demon in a human country is nothing but trouble. However, at this scale, there should be no issue leaving it to the knights.
But… this fluctuating energy—
It's resonating with mine.
Hmm, curious… I'll have to investigate that thing later.
It might just be the missing piece in my equation.
[Soul Archive]
The awakened ability of a hero— a curse bestowed upon one of the main pillars of ToA.
A singular anomaly— the root of all that follows.
A unique skill forged in the bloodied image of the unholy serpent, the very [First Sin]. An opportunistic beast— foul, profane, vile and utterly odious. Whispers, both tender and malicious, gnawing at the very foundation of morality's conscience.
A skill— simple and straightforward, born of the corrupt, honed not through trials, but the warping of the world's searing abyss.
Inexorably wrong, and yet, unfathomably broken.
Glutton.
A trait of the Devourer.
Consume, feast upon people's memories, assimilating it to oneself— consuming their skills, twisting their wisdom, swallowing their techniques and instinct. Pillaging even their personality, ideals and virtuous anchors.
Strip their soul of their essence, siphon every bit that made them into the archives of the beast.
A blasphemous transgression resulting in an utterly world-breaking singularity, constantly evolving with each fragment— claiming the unblemished potential to unravel legends, defile saints, and blossom into the realm beyond godhood with nothing but… a mere touch.
…Or so it was intimately explained in the lore of that game. But it's a bit— no, a whole lot more inconvenient than advertised.
I feel scammed.
If I were to describe it in dweeb-man terms, I'd say it works more like Plunder (akasotO uuY) combined with a self-inflicted (Tsukuyomi) with a not-so-slight (Kotoamatsukami)— whose intensity depends on the user's mental capacity.
Worst case scenario, they'll lose themselves and go batshit crazy.
It is unfortunately, not much of an (All for One) type of cheat as the user have no control whatsoever over the assimilation process.
I'm a bootleg [Rise Kyota], basically.
As soon as it activates, the Archive implants my consciousness inside their memories, reliving every single step they went through.
From their birth to the present.
All their emotions, trauma, and trials.
Everything that makes them themselves, I am required to experience myself.
It's one of those horrible deal package where I feel like I'm talking to one of those completionist asshats— always yapping about not skipping even one cutscene.
If I am interested in their expertise in cooking, I need to experience their sad backstory!
How many times they peed themselves in their sleep. How they're once vegan that ate monster meat and said it doesn't count. Their bittersweet first crush and how they got friend-zoned for their best friend. Their disgusting sexual preferences, and experiences with inter-species **********—
Every single fucking detail of their miserable lives!
I just want their bloody skills, damn it!!!
I have received enough emotional damage already that I thought I went with the [Greed If] route.
I have, in essence, lived through at least a hundred years' worth of experience through the eyes of others— a myriad of differing philosophies, endless struggle, devastating loses, and the sweet, sweet taste of eventual triumph.
I've only archived living people, so I don't know what will happen if I use it on a corpse.
Those strongly distinct personalities, drastic and some extremist mindscapes each permeating through mine in a muddied pot of unstirred chaos— just waiting to explode.
And as one would expect of such reality warping ability, it comes with a hefty price.
These experiences— [Fractals] as I call them— are not limited only to mental recollections. Instinctual habits, muscle memory, and all notions of physical exertion is also translated— in a fucking instant.
Your mind matures, but not your body.
After going through decades of fractals in the span of a split second, these impulses are injected into my body all at once. This harsh recoil caused by abruptly exiting the spatial trance of a bounded illusion is fatal to one's life, especially for a child's body.
It's like an all-you-can-eat buffet, but you have to swallow everything at once.
{Author's Note: This is why you read the fine print.}
I, for one, was bedridden for a whole month the first time I awakened it— And that was against my younger brother, who's three years apart.
Just imagine what that strain was like when I, jokingly, used it on my father who had essentially lived his life on death's doorstep, being a mainstay figure in every battlefield.
"Is this too much exposition?" The young lunatic pondered upon his writing.
"Hmm… I thought I'll dedicate a paragraph or two exaggerating the details of my ability, but I've already filled two whole pages talking about it, and it still only covers the general function."
Luxion sat still, restless. He gently sways his head, balancing a quill at the bridge of his nose.
"Uhhh~ an info dump this early in the story is too boring, isn't it?" He mumbled, brows furrowing.
"I certainly wouldn't want to read this long-ass exposition if I am to be the reader."
Lit by the luminescent aurora of the translucent amber lanterns tracing the architectural ridges of the room's ceiling, the young prince leaned back on his chair as he stared skyward, pondering how to compose the prologue of his diary-turned-biography novel.
"Acquiring these fractals, however, does not guarantee being able— the ability to— a complete— damn it, grammar!"
Frustrated, Luxion crossed out the whole sentence.
"It does not guarantee successful replication of their skills and talent as the physical vessel is still required to possess the necessary attributes that the original owner exhibits." He wrote with finesse, finally finding his groove.
"Which means that so long as I do, I can steal any and all that this world has to offer."
He lifted his pen, surprise stretching in his expression. Even he was surprised by how smooth that final push went.
"Yep, that should be good enough for now. I'll sneak in the other details as the story progresses."
Luxion carefully closed the journal, clipping a crimson bookmark imbued with the word— [Raven], attached with a feather adorned with the vibrant colors of the eternal flame.
"Hahhh~ I'm spent…!"
Luxion lay down, his thoughts running around in circles as his eyes felt heavier by the second.
"I fooled around with that mock battle too much. Should've finished it more quickly. But then again… I can't afford to just one-shot them because they might label me as a threat and make me a subjugation target instead."
He buried his face in his pillow— soft, warm, comfortable. A luxury he made sure not to take for granted ever since he came to this world.
"I guess, I'll… just sleep it off."
It was late at night. The mystical trail of the crescent moon was already past halfway in its path. Outside, there were faint rustling, likely from the maids and servants of the house whose days start and end while darkness still looms over their insignificant heads.
As for the future overlord?
It was time for the nap, his yet to be developed vessel necessitates.
Staying up late at night immersed in fantasies— a true symbol of the Neet that he truly is.
Donning a goofy [Brock Knee] eye mask, he lies flat on his belly, permeating to the mattress of his fluffy bed like melted ice cream— sinking deeper into slumber.
{Author's Note: Haha! Get it? Brock, like "broken". Cuz Haara crippled him in the Chuunin exam and haven't been relevant ever since—}
It's just a joke, please don't cancel me.
{Author's Note: Being politically correct is difficult.}
"Lazy breathing… 11th form… Dead fish—"
"Big Brother!"
A loud voice exploded, simultaneous to his door being busted open like it was the FBI hunting down a pedophile.
[Lenard Von Zancrest].
The third son of the Zancrest Dukedom, destined to be one of the most brilliant minds in this world, and eventually, the next Duke himself— if events proceed as the game dictates it to.
He bears a striking resemblance to Lux in appearance, so much so that they are often mistaken as clones of each other by outsiders. Though, his personality developed to hold traits more similar to Liam's frivolous, carefree, and slyly charming demeanor.
That is how it was supposed to be, but…
"Please train with me today!"
Wooden swords in hand, he approached his brother's bedside with an enthusiastic smile, awaiting a positive response.
His eyes glinted with overflowing excitement, his adorable humming brimming with endless energy equal to a loyal dog playing with its owner. His posture showed no signs of lethargy despite the ungodly hour. Not a single indication of dread and drag in his exaggerated movements.
He is disciplined and motivated— not a hint of that projected persona in sight.
…Let me sleep, you little shit.
"I have been working really hard, diligently practicing the things brother taught me before the training camp! I even managed to match a knight trainee in a mock combat! And I actually finished ahead of everyone else in my batch— second only to your historical record that was enshrined magnificently in their institution!" Lenard proudly reported, voice demanding of a headpat.
"So please, praise… me— hmm? Brother?"
Lenard tilted his head.
Then, as though enlightened by an angel's prophecy, he eagerly flipped the thick white blanket of the queen-size bed, expecting to see his brother resting beneath— only to discover that it was already empty.
"Hng!? Brother!? Where did you go!?"
His purple eyes darted around the room like a frantic cue ball, before launching a full-blown search like a military dog sniffing crack.
He checked under the bed— nothing.
Toilet— nothing. Outside— nothing.
He searched through every nook of the walk-in wardrobe, beneath Lux's working desk, inside the flower vase by the window, between the cracks on the wall, even on the ceiling and under the carpets— just in case his brother had somehow mastered an advanced form of hide and seek, and is playing a prank on him.
Nothing.
Not a single trace of him, save for dust and spider webs clinging to the corners.
"Achoo~!" He sniffled, rubbing his irritated nose.
Then, as if struck again by divine revelation, his expression brightened.
"Ah! I see how it is!" He exclaimed.
"Brother must have already left to train! Yes, that must be it! As expected of my outstanding brother! Please wait for me! I'll catch up to you soon!"
With renewed determination, Lenard dashed out of the room, leaving behind what could only be described as the aftermath of a miniature hurricane.
What a weird one, that child is— Gah! Close the door when you leave, goddammit!
Lying peacefully in bed was Luxion, who was gradually fading into deep slumber, having deactivated the invisibility spell he instinctively casted on himself.
Why is he like this…?
He was supposed to be a more serious character. What in the world happened to that twerp for him to be this rowdy— yawn~!
I'm… really sleepy...
Luxion snuggled into his pillow, firing a wind bullet to shut the door close as he curled into a ball, wrapping all of his 143-centimeter body in the consuming warmth of his mint green, Gight Mai 100% wool blanket.
{Author's Note: The white blanket is also an illusion.}
And as he snored for the first time that day, the morning sun rose from its sleep— while he fell into one.
"Good night… Blanche." escaped a drowsy whisper.
"[Trance]."
"I've finally found you, Big brother!"
A high-pitch war cry, vigorous and determined, erupted from a shaking bush. It echoed through marble pillars and concrete walls as the ashen head of its source poked out from the leaves.
"Prepare yourself!"
A child leaped out of said foliage, arms raised high to the clouds like a beacon connecting the earth and heaven. The shadowed vignette of the wooden sword nestled in his tiny hands briefly blurred by the blinding rays of the sun, creating an invisible strike, however short it may be.
"HYAAAAA— eh...?"
Midair. Midshout. Midmotion. He faltered, expression twisting into bewilderment.
To his utter shock, the open back of his brother, whom he'd been quietly targeting, suddenly vanished into thin air, fading into a blurred haze… replaced by the smiling figure of Silk, who, mere moments ago, was standing beside Lux.
It was he who was blinded.
Ambushed by unseen hands.
"What just— WAHHH!"
Before he could react, Lenard's world rolled upside down, hands hanging below his head, feet swept clean off the ground.
He blinked and finally realized.
His brother's left arm, only slightly more toned than his, wrapped loosely around his waist, confiscating the wooden sword as Lenard was restrained without much effort— carried like a spoil of a hunt.
Then, he noticed.
His right arm… It was injured, covered in sullied bandages that still seemed fresh.
"Not bad. But, it's a hundred years too soon for you to land a hit on me, young man!" Lux playfully teases, tone carrying a slightly condescending chuckle.
"Also, if you're launching a sneak attack, do it quietly, or there's no point in you being stealthy."
Lux gently put him down, dusting him off.
"I couldn't see your movements at all…" The child mumbled, fidgeting with his fingers.
His shoulders slumped, hands trembling, falling silent as his downcast gaze began to blur— glittery as quiet sobs escaped his lips.
"Ah…" Both his siblings thought.
Was that too much—
"Amazing! Truly brilliant, Big brother!"
Lenard flared up like a rejuvenated phoenix. He shivered at the overwhelming presence of his genius brother. He was silent because he was trying to compose himself. He shed tears, not of frustration or consuming envy, but of awe and utter astonishment.
"I swear on the name of our ancestors to dedicate myself more to training! And strive to be just like father and my dear brothers!" He declared, much too enthusiastically for this time of the day.
"And as such, please teach me how to do it!"
Lenard straightened his posture. A hand on the chest, the other on his back— he gracefully bowed. Though his knees were shaking, a clumsy sign of his inexperience in this formal setting.
"Ah, hello there, Silk." Lenard casually greeted.
"Were you able to follow brother's movements?"
Silk simply smiled. "No. Not at all."
.
"Pushing yourself to new heights is admirable, but promise me not to overwork yourself, okay?"
"Yes, Big Brother!" An instant answer.
"[Rest is just as important as the training itself] and [Moderation is the key to a strong consistent foundation]— I still clearly remember every single one of your teachings!"
"Yes, that's good to hear."
Lux placed a hand on Lenard's head, gently running his fingers through his brother's soft hair.
"You can join me in my training tomorrow. So for now, join us for a little while."
"Hm? Is something happening?"
"Yes, Mother is preparing some pudding in the kitchen. Let's eat it together."
Lenard's eyes practically glowed, vibrant pupils glimmering like the hymn of distant stars coalescing in two orbs of pure innocence.
"Pudding! I love it!!!"
The ecstatic child repeatedly chanted.
His beaming smile grew wider and wider as he was draped on Lux's shoulders.
"By the way, what were Silk and Big Brother doing before this?" Lenard asked, hands on Lux's cheeks, his large, round eyes peeking down like a curious monkey.
"I've searched for you since early this morning, but I couldn't find you at all."
Cheeks puffed, Lenard pouted.
"…what's with this adorable creature?" Lux thought behind a blank stare.
"I was performing my usual task as the Duke's chancellor, and that's when I met Lux on his way back from his morning jog through the Myriad cliffs." Silk explained, her smile gentle and words simple, yet thorough.
"I… see?" Lenard replied, slightly tilting his head.
"Big Brother ran through those big mountains in that short while?"
"Only at the shallow parts." Lux corrected.
{Author's Note: It's been 2 Hours since the last scene.}
Lenard's eyes trailed off Lux's face and onto his gear— long cloak draped over a fitted top and plain trousers. Monotone in color, purposefully designed simple to maximize mobility and a engage a wide range of motion. It bore several tears and scratches. Underneath which, were wounds and swelling— horrible at a glance but seemingly insignificant if his brother's demeanor was to be the judge.
What sort of training has he been doing all this time? Alone, and with brutal intensity enough to inflict such grave injuries.
Why was he enduring such punishment?
How does he not waver?
It only fueled his already overflowing admiration for his brother, who remained humble despite his great strength, ever diligent in his craft and desire to chase perfection— adhering to a strict resolve, gaining scars, proof of his constant efforts every single day without fail.
[A conceited genius is the most foolish.]— one of his beliefs and ideals.
The proverb to alter his fate.
This is the side of his brother that led the young Lenard to strive towards greatness, trekking the path of the sword, rather than the quill he was once destined to wield.
"But, why didn't Big Brother say anything?" Lenard inquired, curiosity in his tone.
"Hmm? Well, about that. I departed when it was still very much dark. The servants weren't even awake at the time, and I felt bad to bother anyone just to see me off." Lux stated, a lilt of hesitation coiled his voice.
"Besides, the people in this house seemed to have grown numb to my shenanigans already… Nattre didn't even act surprised anymore when I brought back a Red Bull earlier."
"That's not something you should be proud of! I was worried about you, you know!"
Silk interjects, tone furious and reprimanding. Though her pouting face reminded Lux of a gluttonous squirrel's cheeks— more so endearing rather than threatening.
"Also, the Duke was enraged when someone reported that you went missing."
That one was actually scary.
"Tsk…! Bastards!"
"Language!" Lenard tapped Lux's mouth.
"Who the heck is it this time…?"
Was it Treu? Did Mother send that old maid to spy on me again? Maybe Stumm... or Nattre— is that why she's conveniently at the doorway when I came back?
"Silk, won't you be so kind and tell me who that someone is?" Lux asked politely, eyes darkening as a grim smirk formed on his lips.
"Looks like I need to have a talk with them… personally."
"Go ahead. I'm listening."
Silk brushed her hair over her ear. With a playful stride, she leaned slightly towards Lux, gazing at him silently with a shy smile…
Her eyes weren't smiling.
Quickly catching on the hint, a deep disgruntled sigh escaped Lux's lips. His nefarious look turned sour, the corner's of his eyes drooped to being more docile, like a tamed husky nervous of a scolding.
"Urrrgghh… so, you've finally betrayed me." Lux exasperatedly grumbled.
"Why did you have to do that, Silk? Now I have to deal with that Father. You know how troublesome he is when he's like that."
"Remind me again why the Lord had begun acting like that?" Silk sarcastically retorted.
"…ahaha."
"And what do you mean, finally!? As if I'm some sort of slithering vermin."
"Well… I've been quite an arse to you lately— you know, begging you do my tasks for me, having you go to important meetings in my stead… making you eat my carrots." Lux muttered shyly, slightly embarrassed.
"So I just thought payback is coming eventually."
Lux let out a dry laugh, eyes dim, his expression contemplating. Cold sweat streamed down his neck as they walked, the image of a long sermon awaiting him already painted in his mind.
"No, I didn't really mind doing any of those." Silk paused, eyes firm with honesty.
"But it is your fault for sneaking out without leaving even a single note." Silk uttered with a cute pout.
"You should've told someone… tell me, at least."
"But you and Gill were still sound asleep."
"Wake me up." She said sharply. A command, more than anything, bearing no hesitation.
"Wake Gill up. Slap her if she won't rise. I wouldn't mind… I'd have even thanked you for waking us up early."
Which part was that "I wouldn't mind"…?
"Even if you say that…" Lux continued to argue, stumbling under her pressure.
"I can't just afford to do that, can I? It would be extremely inappropriate to enter the room of two maidens in the middle of the night without permission—"
"I permit you."
"…"
Silence settled between them. The chirping of birds perched on the still air as Lux, halted in his steps, stared at her bewildered— still processing her words.
"Now you have no excuse not to tell me next time." Silk claimed, raising a reprimanding finger.
"Besides, we are siblings."
She tilted her head slightly, leaning forward to level with her brother's eyesight. She lifted her hand, gently caressing Lux's back— a quiet reassurance and proof of their bond.
"It goes without saying that I trust you enough to enter our room and not do anything weird— especially for reasons like this."
Lux thought of defending his case further— a few more excuses to shake her off his tail.
However, a single glance on Silk's silver eyes, oozing with warmth, compassion, and genuity, told him of his chances in winning this argument— already on the negative.
"…understood." Defeated, he weakly conceded.
Possessing such an intimidating presence to subdue a grown ass man into submission using only words is quite the terrifying trait for a 14-year old girl to have.
Satisfied, Silk patted his head.
Then, her hand slid past the folds of his cloak, brushing against his side in gentle concern before settling on his right arm.
Beneath the haphazardly wrapped bandages, uneven in both placement and tightness, as though frantically applied by someone inexperienced or one hindered in mobility— his flesh was alarmingly deformed. Splotched with red— blood hardened into clustered streaks. Bumps exist where it shouldn't. Between the frequent gaps of the gauge, gnarly shades of purple, at times, nearly pitch black, marred his fair complexion.
The less experienced third son may have been fooled into relief by Lux's nonchalance, but her keen eyes are not to be easily deceived.
She understood the gravity.
"Gill and Liam have returned from their errand." She spoke quietly, softer than the serene rustling of the air— Her words meant only for him.
"I'll have her look at these wounds, so remain within the manor for today."
"Thanks…" Lux replied with a tired smile.
"Sorry for making you worry all the time. I'll try not to do it again."
Lux said nothing more, but the air around him seemed to soften. He understood her sentiment. He appreciated her presence— acknowledge her support in a rare moment of vulnerability.
"Hahh~ I wonder how many times I've heard that line already." Silk playfully commented.
"…I've never promised anything."
"Yes, yes, I know. It's fine, I'm used to it. You wouldn't stop even if I begged you to, anyway." She murmured with a humorous chuckle, her strained eyes betraying her teasing lilt.
"Just… don't overdo it, okay?"
Lux sheepishly smiles. A knowing expression.
"Yeah… I'll try my best."
There was no conviction in his tone. His demeanor offered no reassurance of a pledge, only a hopeful ideal left to fate's unknown judgment.
"Hey, you two— ah, you're also here, Lenard?"
A young girl's voice reached their ears. Light, sweet, serene, like a tolling bell through a bright new morning.
They turned to see her, standing by one of the mansion's marble pillars, waving casually. The golden sheen of her eyes reflected the garden's bloom, their luster unchanging— placid, almost unreadable. Her frilly silver dress danced along the soothing breeze of summer. Her cascading hair frames her figure in an ethereal glow— salient yet obscure.
"Hello, Gill! What's up?" Lenard greeted with all the energy in the world.
"Pudding's done." She declared plainly.
"Mother's waiting in the garden. Hurry up, or I'll eat your portions too."
She remained composed, tone cool and unchanging. But the faint glimmer in her irises and barely restrained smirk revealed all of her deep, dark secrets.
She was just as giddy as the boys.
"You're not wearing your uniform today?"
"No, I'm off-duty now."
Unlike her prim and strict elder twin, she embodies nonchalance and a carefree attitude. A contradiction to traditional discipline, yet still carrying herself with precision and poise. To most, she will appear as a free spirit guided only by her whims— relaxed, impulsive, and impossibly unpredictable.
But despite this, she's highly competent.
One of the sharpest blades, hidden away within an unassuming scabbard.
Her position as the heir's secretary was not without a fair logic. She was the most deserving, and as such, she now serves as the personal aide of Liam— who, by all accounts, was even more hopelessly slothful than she is.
"Yes, we're coming!" The brothers chorused with unfiltered excitement.
With Lenard on his shoulders, Lux marched towards the garden, leapt over the pathway railings, and strode down the furnished concrete walls as though gravity was nothing but a myth.
It could be dangerous. And in actuality, it is.
But to the siblings, this is simply Lux being his usual self— untamed, brilliant, incomprehensible, and beyond their furthest reach.
"Gill…" Silk whispered, falling into step beside her twin, her voice laced with concern.
"Treat Lux's arm later."
Beckoned by her words, Gill trailed the movements of her brother more closely.
He was nimble, precise, and deliberate— just as usual. He seemed to be precariously moving without reason, going through practiced motions like a trained soldier.
However, subtly, she noticed it.
Imbalance. Faint and insignificant for the naked eye to recognize, but it was there.
The way his right arm moved. He is avoiding its usage unless necessary, shifting most of the stress to his healthy arm, as if bearing a burden he refused to acknowledge… one he knew, but chose to keep the world blind to its consequences.
Whether it be conscious or not.
And upon further inspection, she deduced it not to be caused by a mere accident.
The way it was swollen, the patterns of blood, and the unnatural angle it took as it bled— all of it suggested something else. Something more forceful… more intentional.
She refrained from telling Silk her opinions until she reached a decisive conclusion. Though she knew that her sharp sister likely had her suspicions already— unspoken, but articulated internally.
"Something wounded Lux."
A feat that not even the imperial knight could achieve, and yet… in this random day, against a random foe— he was gravely injured.
Knowing him— truthfulness aside, he would frame it as an unfortunate mistake. A careless mishap, an experiment gone wrong during his training… or the intrusive thoughts in his head.
"Something about hearing voices counseling him? They understand, they talk to him? …How does that even work?"
He will never admit to being overwhelmed by a nameless beast, to the point of having his arm rendered almost irreparable.
It is not ego, but merely his insight.
{Author's Note: It is definitely ego.}
"Perhaps, the true cause lies within him…"
Thoughts ran rampant in her mind, carrying a precarious undertone that she wasn't sure how to mitigate. Her gaze lingered on Lux's barely moving fingers— Her mind fixated on the truth.
Whatever that is, it was buried deep in his shadows where they couldn't hope to reach.
"…Got it." Gill finally replied, voice steady.
Pondering, a single question repeated.
"Just what happened out there… Lux?"
"Brother…"
Lenard, hesitant and unbelievably anxious, called out for his reliable brother through a dreadful whisper. His eyes barely peeking above a barrel's lid, scouring the surroundings like a sewer cat eyeing a suspiciously shiny fishbone.
"Is it really okay for us to be sneaking like this? I don't think Mother would be… impressed."
"No, likely not." Lux grimly muttered, fear apparent in his voice.
"She'll probably strip us of our privilege to add desserts to our meals for at least a month."
Crouched low on one knee, he was swathed in a dark cloak, adorned with all sorts of clutter to make it seem like a discarded tarpaulin— unmoving, silent, and combustible?
Of the three, he was the only one being even remotely stealthy behind these cargo crates.
"You should prepare for the worst, Lenard."
"Gasp! No pudding for a month—!?"
"Shush, you two!" Gill hissed in a not-so-hushed voice, glaring under a hood two sizes too big.
"We'll be found out at this rate!"
Currently, the three siblings were huddled in the middle of a dark alleyway behind one of the larger stores in town, cloaked in all-black garments that neither fit them nor conceal their presence.
No, they are not playing house.
Nor are they pretending to be spies reenacting scenes from the new installment of the hit fantasy novel— Blood Ravens IV. They are not fugitives on the run. They are not exiles banished from the territory. And obviously, they are not here on duty either.
Then why, you ask?
It's to kill time before dinner!!!
And due to a twisted sequence of events— their past time this evening became an impromptu mission to unravel the countless atrocities and misbehavior of their eldest brother as per Gill's spiteful suggestion.
An utterly unnecessary operation is brought to you by her justified, yet still petty, vendetta.
Apparently, Liam had dumped a ledger's worth of paperwork onto her earlier this morning, resulting in Gill having to work on a day off.
And now that she'd finally finished it, she's craving for revenge to stimulate her appetite— metaphorical blood to satiate her thirst for vengeance. Dragging the other two, who were minding their own business, in her little stunt.
{Author's Note: This is a different day.}
However, there is one crucial factor that Luxion hadn't accounted for— one critical oversight that almost ruined the operative before it could begin:
Gill is atrociously terrible at reconnaissance!
Or any field work, besides direct combat, for that matter! Just utterly useless!
Having spent almost half her life doing nothing but paperwork, day in and day out. Her idea of a "covert operation" lies in painstakingly squinting through stacks of documents, and not hiding in shadowy alleys, sneaking like typical burglars.
She has absolutely no idea what it means to navigate real-world missions.
I guess having textbook knowledge doesn't necessarily make you good at executing it, huh.
Luxion groaned, a soft sigh exited his lips— quiet, barely noticeable, but brimming with dread, exasperation… and oddly, amusement.
Man, I really should've gotten Silk involved in this mess even if I have to drag her from father's side… I'm not confident I can babysit these two without our half-assed covers being blown.
Doing this alone is one thing— that is easy.
But three suspiciously cloaked figures, whispering in megaphone decibels, conspicuously plotting, their faces suspiciously clumped together like they were about to jump somebody in a suspiciously secluded corner doing very clearly suspicious things— is obviously, extremely, and undeniably suspicious no matter how you define that word.
Had Lux not layered a script of illusion magic over them, they would've already been reported to the authorities ages ago.
"People of Eisenburg!" A voice, poised and coy, bloomed through the plaza.
"I am but a humble merchant from the Western Capital, the name is Tyde."
In the middle of a bustling intersection beside a grand carriage flanked by an entourage of mercenaries, stood a man with a glittering golden monocle. Adorned in a flamboyant purple suit, a coat that looked as though it had not seen a wrinkle in its life, high-quality jewelry in every possible place he could wear one— and a perfectly trimmed, glorious moustache.
"Noon, three days from today! I, along with my affiliates and the local guild of this lovely town, are planning on opening a public bazaar at the town's plaza!" He boisterously declared.
"There you will find all sorts of products from all corners of Besiegen— common, rare, exotic, everything! And not only that, but even imports from foreign nations, including the northern empire, will be available for purchase."
He struck a pose of opulence, letting his words simmer in the people's minds.
"If it piques your interest, please do come by and check it out."
His speech, brief as it was, stirred up conversation, ignited murmurs, generating a surge of excitement in a blink of an eye.
And before long, it was buzzing.
Most displayed elation and positive anticipation over this rare event. Others, dismissive while still curious. But some, especially among those affiliated with the military and the like, exchanged wary glances— expressions indicating their uncertainty about this upcoming project.
A mixed reaction. Half of which are doubts and justified skepticism.
…And that very vigilance will carry their feet to the venue one way or another.
Very clever.
The numbers will make it seem like a success in the public's eye, creating more talk, and thus, attracting more customers… I see now why he specifically made that announcement here of all places, at this very hour.
That guy is a shrewd one— I like him.
Luxion's eyes slid towards Gill, attempting to probe some answers.
Her gaze was composed, breath even. She didn't seem too surprised about their presence, even acknowledging some of his words. She must've known about this for quite a while now.
What a precarious thing to do at this point in time… Liam's idea, most likely.
Still, the Northern Empire, huh… And that Tyde fellow, I don't think I remember him. There was no bazaar in that bizarre manga, and this wasn't an event in the game either.
Luxion's mind fluttered into farther horizons. His eyes, thorough and intent, left not a single trail of this plot point unnoticed.
They shouldn't be involved in this story.
Not this early, at least.
I wonder what that skunk is up to this time…?
[Excelcius]— a militaristic powerhouse reigning over the continent's northern hemisphere.
One of the major villains of the entire franchise, behind only the Demon King of Wraiths, possessing, at most, five [Named] characters that were just as strong, if not surpassing the four cardinal heroes.
Though they shouldn't be able of festering any problem in my timeline…
They haven't made any moves since the truce forged in the last war, five years ago. But as Humanity supremacists, they should still be actively seeking the extermination of all sentient races besides these bipedal sheep.
By any means necessary. All done under the tainted banner of their brand of [Justice].
They're a cult of racist zealots, glorious bastards with shiny swords, unhinged psychopaths willing to resort to brainwashing in order to increase their pawns— though none of those are revealed to the world just yet.
Their nation directly conflicts our country's vision of cohabitation and mutual benefit.
The [Falmuth] to Besiegen's [Tempest].
Gill and Liam are involved so I don't think anything would happen… And if, by the off chance, it does— that in itself, would be fun.
Though, I prefer it not happen now.
That event is coming up, after all—
Amidst the sea of noises in the bustling night town, a certain tone caught his ears.
It was subtle. It was blended. Barely audible.
A tune one will hear frequent enough for it to not register in their ears anymore, while simultaneously being one of the strangest sounds there is— once you've noticed it.
Human ears sure is a fickle.
Though Luxion's might just be special.
It was a whistle, akin to the sound of a flute, but with the range of a clarinet. It pauses. It plays. It drops in timbre, and at times, it peaks in pitch. A single continuous note bearing a short rhythm trickling like droplets on a waterbed.
A message.
This was the code only he and his chosen subordinates could decipher. And somewhere in this crowd, one of them is communicating to him.
Kuhu~ I see…
Luxion's grin returned, eyes sharpening with malicious amusement— quiet, hidden, composed, velveted with the finest venom.
I suppose that confirms it.
"Brother, are you okay?"
Lenard, ever-the-curious-child, prodded, slightly concerned about Lux spacing out.
Odd, since his brother had always appeared level-headed and, almost eerily, aware of his surroundings. His eyes wandered into nowhere— hollow, empty, stagnant— as though his mind was elsewhere, somewhere distant.
It is certainly unusual.
But perhaps he is simply tired?
Lenard remembered his injuries a few days back. Lux brushed it off as nothing significant, and truthfully, it didn't seem anything grave considering his quick recovery.
But questions still lingered in the child's mind.
Why has the amount of bandages in his body increased, now almost twice as thick, even after being treated by Gill's magic?
Was Lux not on perfect health contrary to his reassuring words?
Was he too caught up in himself that he failed to understand his Big Brother's suffering… and blindly insisted on his selfishness—
"Ah, sorry, it's nothing."
Breaking Lenard's train of thought, a voice of clarity rang in his ears.
"Something just caught my eye for a bit."
Lux consoled him, though he could tell it wasn't as effective as he wanted.
However, as that phrase left his lips, he felt a sharp gaze tearing a hole in him like Himawk's tiny knife through Mosshead's chest. Slowly, cautiously, he traced the trajectory of this crushing feeling of disbelief and malice, hanging above his neck like a guillotine suspended by a thread.
And there, he saw it.
Glowing golden gems narrowed into serpentine slits. Her temples twitched, veins popped through her porcelain skin like fissures acting as the prelude for an eruption. Her stern expression showed no hints of being amused in the slightest.
"Umm... Gill?" Lux cautiously cooed, trying to gauge her mood.
"Do I have something on my face…?"
"No…" She uttered— threateningly, thorns coiling her sweet voice.
"I was just wondering. You see, in a place littered with all these adult establishments in every corner… I just became curious, of what exactly did you're eyes happened to get stuck on?"
She's not mad, just disappointed.
Her tone was calm, disturbingly so. Her holy maiden smile— one she was so famous for, was brimming with everything else besides compassion and kindness.
Oh... Shit. That's right.
Gill despises these kinds of places, doesn't she?
Something about being "vile", "heinous", and "disrespectful to the miracle of life" or some saintly nonsense.
She had very little screen time in the manga, and in that game, she was basically a walking fanservice— so fetishized that I kept on forgetting that these twins were supposed to be very pure maidens devoted to their ideals.
…Which only makes it more baffling how she can stomach being with my brother at all.
It pains me to say this, but he's quite the douche.
"Did he teach you anything he shouldn't have?" Gill asked, her voice dripping with creeping dread.
"Did he insert his revolting mindset into your head? Introduced you to those sickening books he hid under his desk? Brought you to some dubious shop in the middle of the night?"
Gill leaned forward, placed a hand on his shoulder, her fingers slowly coiling around his coat, digging into his skin.
"Hey, won't you tell your elder sister honestly…" She whispered in a slow, methodical tone.
"Have that moron's stupidity finally rubbed off to you as well… Luxion!?"
Grabbing him by the collar with a grip that threatened to strangle his breath, the gold glitters of her soulless eyes felt like they would lit him on fire should the next words to exit his mouth not be the ones she's expecting… she's also being obscenely loud.
Tone it down, woman! Weren't you the one who said not to cause a fuss or else we'll be busted!?
Good grief, it's even leaking through my barrier.
"G-G-G-Gill! Wait!" Lux pleaded.
"I'm not even ten years old yet! What horrifying conclusion have you jumped onto!? I'm still too young to think about those kind of things, don't you think!?"
I didn't know she had menhera tendencies… I hope she doesn't become a pain to handle in the future.
"I wonder about that."
"...eh?"
A shiver ran down Lux's spine.
"You wield special powers that transcend everything in history." She stated plainly.
"You possess inhuman skills in combat nearly equal to Father's, an innate intellect on par with the wisest at your young age, and unique insight and creativity surpassing any and all geniuses." She continued, letting out a deep sigh that groaned like the awakening of an ancient beast.
"Common sense does not apply to you because no normal child behaves like you do."
Crap! Being a show-off backfired!
"It wouldn't be that surprising if other aspects of your mentality are more mature for your age as well, don't you agree?"
Lenard, the poor boy who understood less than a quarter of what is happening, was shaking on the sidelines, trembling like a newborn calf— absolutely petrified of the image of an enraged Gill about to beat his brother black and blue.
"Not to mention just the fact that you could perfectly understand what I am implying in the first place… sigh~~~"
Gill sighed deeply.
"I'm saddened, Lux." She conjured a broken whisper— faint, yet menacing.
"I didn't want to do this to you. But if you are going to be defiled by his rotten nature anyway… then, as your sister, I will purify you myself." She said with solemn determination, clutching her other fist.
What… purify?
Why does that sound suspiciously like a pretty word to describe beating the shit out of someone… What the hell is she planning to do!?
"If you have any excuses, you better say it now before its too late."
That shitstain of a brother! It's all his fault!
What will you do about this!?
Gill pressed forward until their noses almost touched.
At this moment, Lux experienced something even his multiple lifetimes hadn't prepared him for.
He was sweating coldly, like a glacier of ice from the farthest poles, profusely like a river— not just mere trickling, but a total downpour.
He had watched catastrophes unfold and experienced countless horrors. He had conquered monsters that compared to humans were like giants on the face of ants, succumbed to despairing phenomena that annihilated civilizations in the span of a night, and most horrifying of all…
He had to… reenact how he and his siblings were conceived by their parents!
Missionary. From behind. Sideways!? They did it on the bed. On the couch. In the shower. In the office, just minutes before a meeting starts!? Even in the kitchen! The dining table!? And on the garden's porch outside!?!?!?
Holy crap, those two were lascivious deviants in their heydays!
Every single detail and freaky kinks they had while making love— all the things parents try to desperately hide, he was forced to recreate.
{Author's Note: They did cosplay too.}
Oh, just imagine the dread Luxion felt when he woke up and saw his mother after that— that sensation in his pants still lingering.
And yet… even then, he's not been as terrified as he is right now.
"I-I-It's not what you think! I have not and will never be like Brother Liam! I vow on the proud name of our family!!!"
Think, Luxion! Think!!!
It was then that the reflective shine of steel briefly blinded his sight. The brilliant rays of heavens descending to save his ass— Salvation!
"That! Look at that shop!"
Lux flailed his arms and pointed at a rather secluded shop nestled between two buildings.
"I was mesmerized by those items!"
The store was run by an elderly dwarf— insanely bearded like most of his kin, built like a stone golem, though quite tall, unlike many. His narrow eyes were almost invisible under a pair of bushy eyebrows, and his shiny bald head was one you could mistake for a crystal ball. His beard was thick, long enough to touch his hips, and white, signifying his advanced age— the wisdom and skills those long years must have brought.
Their eyes met for a second before the owner mysteriously disappeared into the crowd like a dwarven Batman.
"Woah… That sword is amazing…" Lenard whispered, practically beaming.
Bingo!!!
Biting onto his bait, the child's eyes gravitated towards a massive silver broadsword with a grand golden cross-guard placed at the central pedestal. It stood with the size of a grown man. Runes ran along its surface— symbols of a now extinct technology— carved in its sigils varying magical properties that made the weapon a relic of blacksmithing's pinnacle.
It is a weapon of superb quality.
"Dwarven blacksmith…" Gill mumbled, her eyes trailing her brothers'.
Besides the sword, which appeared to be the main attraction in the shop, several items— ranging from weapons, armor, to even accessories— were displayed in a line.
"Those are A-grade armaments, possibly S… That means that dwarf must be…" She pondered.
"But, why is it here? Have I overlooked this district? …When exactly did an artisan of this caliber come to this town?"
Gill's rage wavered as she became immersed in her own thoughts.
"Remember the gear that the imperial knights wore? Captain-commander Baal allowed me to examine them, and they proved to be beyond my expectations." Lux began, his voice was almost childish— projected like an earnest little hero.
"Their durability was nothing short of magnificent. Quality exceeding most, and yet, the way it was crafted was angled just right to not hinder the wearer's mobility like normal armors do." Lux dramatically explained in a tone more sentimental than a play of tragedy.
"Wouldn't it be great if our knights had the same? And just as I was thinking that, I happened to saw that shop. I planned on consulting with him, but it seems like he's quite busy at the moment."
Just one more push…
"If I could do that, it would ensure the protection of our men and save the lives of many more."
He slyly gazed at Gill's eyes, channeling his inner Cell Branel— Innocence, conviction, a pretty fuckin cool one-liner, and an annoyingly righteous smile.
The glimmer in his unwavering amethyst irises conveyed a vision and the unyielding resolve to carve a path regardless of its trials in order for this ideal to one day be reality— this is what he wanted it to convey.
"I see... So, that's what it is."
And convey it must've did because Gill started to tear up shortly afterward.
"I'm… sorry for doubting you, Lux. I shouldn't have assumed… It seems like I am still as narrow-minded as I was before. I need to learn more from you and Silk."
Phew~ somehow manage to bullshit my way out of that… nice assist there, buddy!
"I should have known that the only similarity between you and… that thing is the blood flowing in your veins."
…That's still our brother, you know.
She gently let go of his collar, fixing it before turning her head away. She returned to her post, keeping her downcast eyes on the street acting nonchalantly… or so she might've wanted to make it seem, but— arms wrapped around her knees, posture curled into a ball as she constantly pulled her hood to cloak her flustered face, and adorned with the sulkiest pout imaginable.
It was quite obvious to the brothers that she was desperate to hide her embarrassment.
"Yeah… Don't worry."
Yes… that's right…
I swear I wasn't sneaking glances on your legs when we're training, or admiring how slender your waist is— and definitely haven't thought about how your still yet to be fully developed body is kinda sexy… or how erotic Silk's nape looks when she's tying her hair up in a ponytail—
Yup, definitely not! Never!
"…you sick freak."
I am not into children, I promise!
Interrupting this blissful moment, yet another tune reverberated in his ears.
"You're welcome." it said with a particularly sarcastic tone that made the young master to chuckle, drawing a sharp glare from Gill, who misunderstood that he was instead laughing at her.
Obnoxious bastard…
"Keep investigating. Report immediately if any signs of our targets have surfaced. It goes without saying, but avoid contact with the knights at all costs… I'll deal with that after I finish preparations on this side."
Imparted with this message, he raised his chin and cast a glance through the parting heavens where he gazed straight into the rising moon.
"...and, thanks for the save."
Tapping the black earpiece in his left ear, it released a wave of mana— subtle and thinly permeated, to generate a distinct tune similar to what he just received.
.
"That guy…!"
Shortly after the earlier scuffle, the objective of our mission finally arrived.
Gill, whose face had been cherry red just moments ago, was now… well, it's still red. Though for vastly different reasons.
Seething in unrestrained wrath, she was biting her nails like a crazed lunatic, eyes bloodshot and devoid of light. Her frantic gaze trailed the broad back of an emerging figure— of a man who could only be described as an insult to the concept of fashion itself.
Sporting gawd~awful cornrows that looked like they had been done by someone having a stroke, and a bowler hat that seemed almost as confused about its purpose as the man wearing it. Pink-tinted sunglasses perched on his finely-shaped nose, casting an odd hue over his gaudy— almost demonic outfit, as if to shield him from the shame that should've come with it. His swamp-green sweater sagged over a pair of loose brown trousers, their faded fabric doing nothing to redeem that monstrosity of an appearance.
And as if that wasn't enough.
As the final nail in the coffin, he had the audacity to tie it all together with cowboy boots and a blindingly bright orange belt that spreads cataracts to any eyes that witness it.
Truly, he was a man with less drip than a worm.
Bleerrrghhh~ ughh! Disgusting!
It's giving me ulcer just by looking at him…!
Absolutely no one in their right mind would think that a cracked hobo like this, who seemed like he smoked gasoline since he was in his mother's womb, is in fact, a member of the Ducal house that governs this territory… which made it the perfect disguise for an incognito trip.
Damn! He's despicable, but he's smart.
"The Lord had just scolded him the other day, and yet here he is again… strutting around town in that ridiculous outfit after what he pulled on me this morning."
Ah… She's losing it.
"Hahaha… haha…"
Gill's laugh was strained, her eyes pulsating with murderous intent.
"Honestly, I'm almost impressed by how shameless he is… I wonder what kind of rare metal his skin is made of for his face to be this thick? …Hahahaha… haha…!"
Ah… He's dead. She's gonna kill him… Condolences to you, dear brother.
[Moonlight Butterfly]— One of the largest tavern in town located on the deeper parts of the eastern district.
Adventurers, mercenaries, soldiers, merchants— It is a place where all sorts of people and information frequent and go. A normal pub for most of the day and until a certain hour after twilight, but it also offers other… intimate services beyond the nightly clock.
{Author's Note: It's a Two-Story Building with an open diner on ground floor and private rooms upstairs.}
Delicious food, surprisingly clean environment for a famously short-staffed establishment, and beautiful women of varying races to suit the tastes of different customers— known for wearing the shop's patented perfume, one uniquely sweet like the scent of fresh flowers.
Some, to the point of peculiarity.
A bit too sweet for a tavern that offers no confectionery or honey-based items on its menu.
Considering this sequence of events, guess I can give him the benefit of the doubt and say that he picked up on that thread…
Kuhu~ Impressive, not gonna lie.
"Hey there, sweetie. You're looking as beautiful as a Goddess tonight as well. Mind if I take you out tonight?"
These are the unfiltered first few words to exit his filthy mouth…
The man's got no game.
That lecherous brother of ours really didn't waste any time to start flirting with the servers of the tavern, did he? Didn't even order first. No small talk, just straight down to business. He had a goal, and he pounced at the first opportunity he got.
Unfortunately, that was the last straw that finally made Gill snap.
Even his adamantium balls couldn't save him.
The rest was… well… it played out pretty much as anyone would anticipate it going.