Chương 127: He was always a pawn
The underground chambers rumbled with the distant thunder of explosions tearing through the Central Capital above. Zavaikal's senses returned slowly, pain pulling him from unconsciousness. He lay sprawled on the scorching ground, the heat blistering his back. His head swam, but fragments of memory pierced through the haze—the shattered mirrors, the glowing patterns on the ground, and the cataclysmic activation that unleashed Iblis.
Groaning, he forced himself upright, clutching at a jagged stone protruding from the wall for support. His gaze fell to the ground, where shards of broken mirrors reflected his twisted, sweat-streaked face. Then, his breath caught. His reflection was wrong. His hands trembled as he snatched a shard to inspect himself closer.
"My eyes…" he whispered in disbelief.
His once-golden eyes were now black as the void—eerily identical to his brother's. Horror crashed over him like a tidal wave. Clutching his head, he staggered back, muttering curses under his breath.
"He robbed my powers! My soul!" he roared, the bitter truth hitting him like a dagger. His fingers clawed at his scalp as he tried to make sense of the unbearable reality. His shaking hand came into view, and his heart plummeted.
It was black. The creeping curse crawled up his arm, consuming him inch by inch. Fear distorted his face as realization struck him again. "I was nothing but a sacrifice," he whispered, his voice heavy with dread.
Rage replaced his fear. Snatching a torch from an iron sconce, he stumbled toward the staircase that spiraled upward. The air was heavy and reeked of rot, choking him with every breath as he ascended.
The steps were littered with the remains of nobles and guards, their corpses charred or decayed. Some had been reduced to ash, others twisted in their final moments of agony. Zavaikal's lips curled in a bitter sneer. These were the very people who once mocked and belittled him. Now they lay lifeless.
"Vlad," he muttered, scanning the bodies for any sign of his father, the Tzar. But Vlad was nowhere to be found. A terrible truth began to dawn. "He sacrificed them all to release Iblis."
Each step was heavier than the last, and the spiral felt endless. Finally, after four hundred steps, Zavaikal reached the exit. Pushing the door open, he stumbled into the open air, and what greeted him was a hellscape that made his heart sink.
The sky was a swirling maelstrom of red and black, embers drifting on the breeze like fiery omens. Flames engulfed the once-magnificent Central Capital, turning it into a charred wasteland. He stood frozen, the scale of the destruction overwhelming him.
Dead bodies littered the streets—nobles, guards, civilians, enemies. The blood of the fallen ran in streams, dyeing the ruins a deep crimson. Cries of orphaned children and grieving mothers echoed through the smoke-filled air, mingling with the acrid stench of burning flesh.
Zavaikal pushed forward, his mind reeling, when two Amanécerian soldiers spotted him. One fired a shot, the bullet tearing into his leg, while the other charged at him with a blade. Ignoring the searing pain, he drew his sword and felled them both with brutal efficiency. Bloodied and panting, he pressed on, limping toward the imperial palace.
But the sight that awaited him made his stomach churn.
The Spider Lily Palace was gone. The grand seat of power, with its intricate architecture, was now a heap of blackened ruins. Flames still licked at the debris, and the stench of burnt flesh was unbearable. The barrier around it was completely destroyed.
"My palace…" Zavaikal's voice cracked in despair. "Everything is gone."
A faint whimper drew his attention. A wounded garron, still strapped to a damaged carriage, struggled to break free. He hurried to the beast, calming it with hushed words before untying its harness. Mounting it, he spurred the garron into a gallop, weaving through the chaos as flames and smoke swallowed the city around him.
The streets were a war zone. Soldiers clashed in desperate combat, muskets roaring and blades ringing out amidst the chaos. Some turned their weapons on him, but Zavaikal pressed forward, determined to reach the Imperial Palace gates.
When he arrived, two guards blocked his path, muskets raised.
"Get out of here, imposter!" one barked.
"How dare you point your weapons at royalty?" Zavaikal snarled, his voice thunderous.
"Royalty?" the other scoffed. "Don't insult us. Leave, or we'll shoot you down!"
A voice cut through the tension. "What's going on here?"
General Draco emerged from the shadows, his sharp gaze sweeping over the scene.
"General! This man claims to be royalty," one guard stammered.
Draco's eyes narrowed as they landed on Zavaikal. Recognition flashed across his face. "Your Highness?"
"Draco," Zavaikal said, his voice heavy with exhaustion. "It's me. Open the gates."
Draco nodded without hesitation. "Open the gates," he ordered.
The guards paled, immediately lowering their weapons and falling to their knees. "Forgive us, Your Highness!"
Zavaikal ignored their pleas, shooting them a glare. "I'll deal with you later," he growled before entering the palace grounds.
Draco followed closely, his expression uneasy. "Your eyes…"
Zavaikal's jaw clenched. "That damned Iblis!"
"The demon lord is with the Tzar," Draco murmured.
Zavaikal froze, his blood running cold. "My father... with Iblis?"
Draco nodded grimly. "The demon lord commands authority now. Not even the Tzar can stand against him."
"Take me to them!" He barked.
Draco sighed and obeyed his command, leading him to the conference hall. The war did not affect the main building of the imperial palace. It's grandeur still intact amidst all chaos.
As they neared, Zavaikal caught snippets of conversation.
"Our army will strike at the human realm tonight. The barrier between the three realms have been purged. Amanécer will surely be bound to take the bait," came Vlad's voice.
" Do whatever it takes to conquer both realms," rumbled another voice, deep and thunderous.
Draco kncoked at the door and announced Zavaikal's arrival.
A chilling rough voice answered the door.
"Let him in."
The doors creaked open and a grotesque for radiating immense power greeted him, his thunderous voice sent shook Zavaikal's core.
"My son." Vlad greeted him, his tone devoid of all warmth egged him greatly.
Zavaikal clenched his fists, bitterness consuming him. His schemes had failed, leaving him nothing but to be a pawn.
"So the seal bearer survives," Iblis said, his grin malevolent.
"Impressive."
Zavaikal shuddered under the weight of his words, his rage mingling with fear as he faced with horrifying truth. He had been nothing but a mere tool from the beginning.
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