บท 129: What happened before-pt1
The air in the Wahrheit Imperial Palace was suffocatingly thick with tension. Zavaikal stood immobilized, caught between the fearsome presence of Iblis and the imposing figure of Vlad. Iblis's venomous words sliced through the silence, igniting a tempest of emotions within Zavaikal. He dared to lift his gaze toward Iblis, but careful not to meet the cursed red hollows for more than four heartbeats.
"Form a contract with me," Zavaikal declared, his voice steady despite the storm within.
Vlad, stunned by the audacity of the proposal, stepped forward to intervene. However, Iblis raised a hand, halting him mid-step.
"Let's hear him out," Iblis said, a sinister grin spreading across his face as he brushed his long, silver-streaked beard. Obediently, Vlad stepped back.
"You need a medium," Zavaikal continued, desperation sharpening his tone. "I want your powers. It's a mutual exchange—a win-win for both of us. I offer you my body."
Silence enveloped the room as Iblis tilted his head, contemplating the proposition.
"And why should I?" Iblis sneered. "I already have a far more loyal and useful servant."
Zavaikal faltered, his resolve shaken. This was his final gambit, his last chance to reclaim a position of power—to rise above Vlad.
With a gesture, Iblis summoned a shadowy figure. From the darkness emerged a man, his height nearly equal to Iblis's own.
"Erebus's messenger?" Zavaikal stammered, recognition and disbelief battling for dominance in his expression.
The figure stepped forward and bowed, acknowledging only Iblis.
"You're probably wondering why a mere servant of a lowly lord stands here," Iblis mocked, savoring Zavaikal's evident confusion. "Jafar, enlighten them."
"As you command, my lord," Jafar replied, his voice smooth and deferential. Straightening, he began to speak.
"I am the other half of Iblis."
The revelation struck Zavaikal like a physical blow, leaving him speechless. His thoughts reeled, dragged back fifteen years into the past while he subconsciously worded them.
Fifteen Years Ago....
"Erebus, you're not really planning to go to the Central Capital, are you?" Jafar called out, watching the young Erebus prepare for his journey. The boy, barely a teenager, stood resolute, his newly forged sword and supplies packed tightly.
Lilith and Mina hovered nearby, their eyes filled with unspoken worry. Erebus did not turn to face them.
"I know you're going after Asmodeus," Jafar pressed, his words striking a nerve.
Erebus flinched but remained silent, his determination unwavering. "It's none of your concern," he replied coldly before stepping out of the house.
The siblings stood frozen, a maelstrom of emotions swirling in their hearts as they watched Erebus join a merchant caravan bound for the imperial capital. Their helplessness was palpable.
"What do we do now, Jafar?" Lilith sobbed. "Asmodeus left us, and now Erebus. What did we do to deserve this?"
Jafar clenched his fists, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "We wait," he murmured, the weight of his words grounding them all.
Years passed. By the third winter, Jafar had risen to prominence as a merchant. One evening, as he discussed plans to expand his business into the Central Capital, Lilith questioned his intentions.
"Are you going to look for them?" she asked.
Jafar's silence was answer enough. Lilith placed a reassuring hand on his.
"Don't worry about us. We'll manage. Just promise me you won't come back empty-handed."
With her blessing, Jafar left at the start of the fourth spring, his heart set on finding Asmodeus and Erebus. Upon reaching the capital, he built a reputation not only as a trader but as an information broker, discreetly investigating his brothers' whereabouts.
One spring day, the city's streets erupted with cheers. Jafar, peering through the guild's window, spotted a grand procession. A novice merchant's voice broke his reverie.
"Master! Look, it's the new crowned prince!"
Jafar's heart raced as he glimpsed a familiar face atop a roofless carriage.
"Asmodeus?" he whispered, his chest tightening. Without a second thought, he rushed outside, startling everyone around him.
Ignoring their murmurs, Jafar followed the parade to the sacred mountains. There, he witnessed a solitary figure—bandaged and battered—kneeling before a grotesque entity.
"Warrior Erebus, eh?" the announcer's voice echoed mockingly. Jafar's heart shattered at the sight of his once-proud brother being ridiculed.
The announcer's tone shifted to formal authority. "For his service, we bestow upon Erebus the title of Margrave and appoint him overseer of the northwestern frontier, Stygian."
The nobles snickered, their disdain barely concealed.
"Stygian? Isn't that a wasteland?" one whispered. "A den for the exiled and forsaken."
Jafar's fists clenched as he silently vowed to uncover the truth behind his brothers' fates and reclaim the family that had been torn apart.
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