Capítulo 23: A Bet of the Century
Nero walked through the quiet streets, the soft glow of the setting sun casting long shadows on the cobblestone path.
He had just left his mother, Abigail, after another visit to check on her health and vent his true feelings.
Though frail, she still carried the warmth needed to calm his heart.
His expression was unreadable, as always, but his thoughts churned beneath the surface.
The ritual he had performed with Mereoleona was in his mind.
The connection he now shared with her was undeniable—she was partially a Quincy now, though nowhere near his level.
Nero was the special case, after all.
The truth of his bloodline, revealed through the memories he had lived during his awakening, weighed heavily on him.
The Silva, Vermillion, and Kira families—all descendants of Jugram Haschwalth, the man who carried the last remnants of Yhwach's power.
Nero was the culmination of that lineage, and the awakening of those ancient powers made it clear: the possibility of ascending to Yhwach's status and further was not just a dream.
It was a very real possibility.
As he walked, lost in thought, the world around him seemed distant.
But just as he was about to turn down a quieter path, something tugged at his attention—a small figure running toward him.
A child, no older than five, suddenly clutched his leg, her tiny hands gripping tightly as she sobbed. "Mister Magic Knight, please help! My papa is dying!"
Nero looked down, his sharp blue eyes meeting the tear-streaked face of the little girl.
Her older sister stood a few steps away, frozen in fear, her wide eyes darting between Nero and her younger sibling.
The girl seemed terrified of what his reaction might be.
For a moment, silence hung in the air. The people nearby, who had been watching Nero pass from a safe distance, now stopped entirely, holding their breath.
This wasn't the type of scene they expected from the cold noble known for his unfeeling demeanor.
Nero knelt, gently placing a hand on the child's shoulder. "Where is he?" he asked simply, his voice calm but firm.
The girl hiccupped through her tears, pointing toward a nearby alley.
Her sister gasped, clearly shocked by Nero's willingness to help, but said nothing.
Nero rose to his full height and nodded. "Lead the way," he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.
The small crowd that had gathered watched in stunned silence as Nero followed the children, his cold, untouchable aura momentarily softened by his actions.
---
Nero walked through the cramped alleys of the capital's outer region, where houses leaned on one another like broken soldiers and the air smelled of damp earth and despair.
The child led him through the maze, clutching his hand tightly, her small fingers trembling.
Her sister trailed behind, her steps hesitant, eyes wide with disbelief at the noble walking through their slum.
People watched from the shadows, their stares mixing fear and curiosity, but no one dared approach.
Nero paid them no mind.
He didn't care for their whispers or their gawking.
"This is my house," the girl said, pointing to a crumbling structure that seemed barely able to stand.
Nero stepped inside, the wooden floor creaking beneath his boots.
The air was heavy, the scent of sickness and decay thick in the room. A man lay on a straw mattress, his skin pale and slick with sweat.
Beside him knelt a woman, her face gaunt and her eyes hollow from crying.
The child who had brought him clung to her sister, their tiny hands entwined as they stared at the man who seemed more myth than noble.
"Please, my lord! Don't take my children! We're trying to repay the debt, I swear! I'll give anything—myself, my soul—but leave my children alone!"
Nero silenced her with a single look.
His red glowing eyes locked on hers, their glimmer enough to strip her of any further words.
He moved closer to the man, his eyes glowing faintly as he peered into the dying body.
The truth was apparent within moments—an aggressive tumor fed on the man's magic, devouring him from the inside.
A disease that no normal healing magic could undo.
"You've spent everything trying to save him," Nero said bluntly, his voice cold and devoid of sympathy. "And failed, because it's beyond anything ordinary."
The woman's hands trembled, her frustration bubbling over. "Then why are you here?!" she cried. "To tell us what we already know? To take more from us?"
Nero ignored her outburst, his mind drifting elsewhere as he gazed at the dying man.
This... This is where it begins.
Yhwach started this way why couldn't he?
His thoughts returned to the blood ritual he had performed with Mereoleona.
That ritual had connected them, and now he understood the potential within it.
His grimoire materialized in a flash of silver light, its pages glowing faintly as if responding to his thoughts.
A single blank page began to shift, words forming across it in flowing script.
The spell wasn't something he had known before—it was new, birthed from the culmination of blood, lineage, and his vision for what could come.
Nero's lips curled ever so slightly as he read the incantation aloud, his voice steady and commanding.
"Raise the silver crest, the endless dawn, the boundless circle that lies in shadow.
The ashen root, the burning chalice, the crystalline vein, the bloom of Adnyeus.
What is given is my soul,
What is sown is your rebirth."
The words filled the room, an oppressive weight settling over everyone present.
The grimoire's light intensified, and threads of silvery energy began weaving through the air, descending onto the man's dying body.
The man convulsed briefly as the tumor within him disintegrated, its magic repurposed and reforged by Nero's power.
His skin regained color, his breathing grew stronger, and his eyes slowly opened, filled with clarity.
Nero's grimoire snapped shut, the light fading as he stood and turned to the woman.
"He will live," he said curtly.
The woman, too stunned to speak, clutched her children tightly as Nero walked out of the house without another word.
The weight of what had just transpired hung heavy in the air, leaving the family to undeetand the miracle— that happened in front of them.
---
Nero stepped into his personal room within the grand Kira estate, the faint scent of alcohol hitting him immediately.
His sharp eyes scanned the room, and it didn't take long to spot the culprit.
There she was, Mereoleona Vermillion, lounging on one of his chairs with an empty bottle in hand, surrounded by what remained of his prized stash of rare, high-grade alcohol.
Her fiery hair matched the smug grin plastered across her face as she raised the bottle in a mock toast.
"You're back. Took you long enough," she said casually, leaning back as if she owned the place.
Nero's impassive face remained unchanged, but inside, he was a grieving man.
His rare collection—some bottles acquired through delicate negotiations, others through infiltration missions in the Spade and Heart kingdoms—was nearly wiped out.
Mereoleona seemed unimpressed by his lack of reaction, narrowing her eyes. "Not even a flinch? Tch. I was hoping to get something out of you, Nero."
His gaze lingered on the empty bottles before returning to her. "You expected me to react over something as trivial as this?"
His tone was cool, detached, but internally he was crying up a storm since many of them were no longer produced.
Mereoleona clicked her tongue, clearly disappointed. "Tch. You're no fun. How can you stay so stone-faced all the time? It's unnatural."
He crossed his arms, his tone laced with confidence. "It's not unnatural. It's discipline. You can't elicit a reaction from me. I am the peak of stoicism."
Her brows shot up, and a mischievous glint sparked in her eyes. "Oh, really? The peak, huh? Sounds like a challenge."
Nero's eyes narrowed slightly, but he gave her no further reaction. "It's not a challenge. It's a fact."
Mereoleona shot to her feet, the sudden motion making the few remaining bottles clink.
She took a step toward him, standing close enough for him to feel the heat radiating off her. "Fine, then. Let's make it a bet."
Though wary of her unpredictable nature, Nero didn't see how she could possibly break his composure.
His stoic demeanor was as much a part of him as his bloodline.
After a moment's pause, he raised a hand, calm and unbothered. "Bet."
Her smirk widened as she clasped his hand firmly. She leaned in close, her lips almost brushing his own as she whispered, "You'll regret it, Ner~."
Nero didn't even blink, his expression remaining as neutral as ever. "You're paying me back for all the alcohol you drank," he replied flatly.
Nero stood stoically, hand still extended after making the bet, his expression unyielding. Mereoleona, however, suddenly groaned in frustration.
"Ugh, you would bring that up!" she snapped, scratching her head furiously.
Her fiery hair ruffled even more, adding to her frustrated demeanor.
She turned her blazing eyes toward him, half-annoyed and half-defeated. "I was hoping you'd forget about that little detail."
Nero's gaze didn't waver. "I forget nothing, especially when it comes to my possessions," he said flatly, glancing briefly at the mess she had made of his prized collection.
Mereoleona stomped a foot, pacing back and forth. "Damn it! Do you know how boring those other kingdoms' drinks are? Yours were perfect. How was I supposed to resist?!" She threw her hands up dramatically, then jabbed a finger at him. "You should take it as a compliment, Ner~"
He raised an eyebrow ever so slightly, though his face remained as impassive as ever. "If you think flattery will replace my collection, you're mistaken. You'll repay me."
"Fine, fine! I'll pay you back. Eventually," she grumbled, folding her arms and glaring at him like an angry lioness.
Then, as if remembering something, her smirk returned.
She leaned toward him again. "But first, I'll win this bet. Don't think you can outlast me, Mr.Peak of Stoicism~."
Nero didn't even blink. "You'll lose," he said, his voice calm and resolute.
Her grin widened, showing teeth. "We'll see, Ner~."
Though his exterior remained as composed as ever, Nero couldn't help but feel an air of impending chaos around her.
Still, he'd made the bet, and now it was a matter of principle.
If she thought she could break him, she was in for a long and fruitless battle—or so he believed.
---
Asta and Noelle had returned late the previous night, exhausted after their mission to save the children.
Now, as the sun began to set, the soft light of dusk filtered through the room.
They lay beside each other, a warm silence between them, their clothes long discarded in the heat of the moment.
Noelle was the first to wake.
At first, she was surprised by the peaceful feeling of being so close to Asta, the warmth of his body against hers.
Her mind briefly lingered on the events of the night before, her face suddenly turning beet red as memories flooded her.
She quickly turned her head away, her breath caught in her throat as she tried to steady herself.
"We .... really did ... that?" she muttered under her breath, half in embarrassment and half in wonder.
Her heart raced as the weight of what had transpired started to sink in.
Asta, still half asleep, stirred beside her, oblivious to her growing embarrassment.
He lazily rolled over to face her, his messy hair falling across his face as he yawned.
"Good morning, Noelle," he said, his voice still groggy from sleep.
Noelle blinked, her face flushed deeper as she quickly pulled the blanket over her to hide herself.
She tried to keep her tone steady.
"Good... good morning, Asta," she stammered, unable to meet his eyes.
The silence lingered for a moment before she finally spoke again, her voice softer.
"We should probably... get up soon. It's already late."
Asta nodded, completely unaware of the storm of thoughts swirling inside Noelle's head, and the two of them began to quietly gather themselves.
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