章節 65: The Trickster of Hell, Mephisto

Ignoring the hot meal just at the tips of his fingers, Zireael lifted himself up, leaving without another word, casting an expression of darkness beneath the shade of his silver hair.

Noticing the Prince still standing just outside his tent, he paused, slightly amused, "You really will not give up? Head in, you can have my breakfast. I have yet even to touch it."

"You think I wish for your scraps?"

"Call it what you want. It's a free warm meal,"

Pressing on without another word, Zireael began to hover off the ground and into the air. Souring through the skies, and clouds a slumbering echo of freedom filled his mind.

"Zireael, if you do this, you could end up killing everyone." The master, sitting upon his throne hidden within the depts of an ancient realm, uttered with a warning. "You are abusing the power of the weave."

"It is my power. I was born with. It was not passed down, like others' thought. But something that came into life alongside me. I shall do as I please with my abilities."

Zireael peered in a heavy gaze towards the north, where Aurelia lay motionless. He smiled, but only for a second, before pressing south away from the Lake of Reflection towards a mountainous range spanning further than the eyes can see.

Wisping through the air, Lord Zireael fluttered about with the seemingly relaxed icy winds, clenching the vial of ravane within his palm.

He took a breath and looked back towards the north and then towards the azure skies brimming with radiance. Blocking the gaze of the blazing star, he sighed, "Will you force me to summon you? Or will you appear?"

Coming to a halt within the skies, Zireaels's field of vision twisted into that of an endless sea of weave coiling and twisting amongst each other. All of them connecting to a pixilated mesh of nodes. That shimmered with an azure hue.

Lifting his gaze towards a particular dark weave, the air chilled, and the skies grew dark as the abyss. He lifted his finger, shimmering with a silver hue.

"That will not be necessary, Zariel." A cold, chilling, lonesome voice fluttered through the breeze, bringing the rider of death with it.

The trees, rocks, skies, and color had all begun to decay and fade as a swirling tornado coiled like a serpent within the air. Chuckling with a hint of candor and deceit, a being of magnificent and death appeared. He had long obsidian hair, a firm jaw, with a set of lazy eyes that sparkled with vermilion radiance, clad in a black and scarlet suit and perfectly sized shaped crimson cloak that reached his feet.

"Mephisto, at your service, Zariel." He uttered with a smile that wasn't a smile into a slight bow.

"It is Zireael," said Duke Blackwater calmly, yet his heart was pounding, like that of bells, before the man whose lips arched into a devilish smile.

"A name cannot be changed till death is issued. Zariel will be your name, no matter what you do. But you truly didn't have an imagination, did you? They both start with a Z and sound almost the same."

Narrowing his gaze, Zariel's jaw tightened, "Why the connection with Aurelia?"

"Was it not what you wanted? We can promise you, boy. You will not find anything better. After all, she carries the power of the Prince who once reached for the Heavenly Throne." Mephisto uttered casually, peering just towards the north, at the girl resting.

"But why did you cast such a spell? Pay such a price simply to connect us?"

Tearing his gaze from off the sleeping angel, Mephisto arched his gaze lazily upon the silver devil, standing with a fiendish expression. "I have the answer, but it comes at a price." he fiendishly tittered to say, "Give up something, and I shall tell you!"

Zariel scuffed, outraged at the very thought, "Are you mad? You think I need to make a deal with you! A Devil!"

Crackling with heavy laughter, Mephisto's scarlet eyes hummed with life, "But of course, my boy! Nevertheless, I will tell you anyway. Think of it as a freebie. Aurelia, for one, is the spawn of Lucifer Morningstar, and you, my boy. You hold the power none should hold. The Power of the Almighty."

"eh?"

Blasted away by this information, a shudder passed through Zariel like a blade through his skin. Peeling away at his flesh till all that was left was a chill, he felt Mephisto's arm on his shoulder, grinning with his lazy eyes.

"Indeed, boy! I am sure you have heard of him—the True Ruler of the Nine Hells. But what took my interest was you, my boy!

Pushing his hands from off his shoulder, Zariel hovered a safe distance away, "Why the space, my boy? It was, after all, I who sprung you from the depths of hell itself. Should you not be a little grateful."

"Lies! I did so by manipulating the weave! I crafted my own body from scratch after endless cycles!" Shouted the young boy, defiantly feeling his entire world beginning to turn.

"Within the Ninth Hell, none can escape, for it is we who torments you. It is the Fallen from Heaven that will carve you away till all that is left is insanity. While it was your power that allowed you a free passage, I could have easily taken you back.

Circling Zariel, who appeared distraught Mephisto, cracked, "Fear not my boy, I am not your enemy, nay I am your friend. For you see, Aurelia will not live long due to the price of her very existence. I am here to help you and her."

"I do not need your help," Zariel definitely pressed, passing his hands through his sweaty brow and hair; he stood firm.

"A blood moon is upon us soon, boy! And with it will be those of legends and myths. I genuinely wish to see how you will fair in this game that has been rigged in favor of the Gods that govern the laws. Till we meet again," Mephisto waved, vanishing in a whirlpool of death and chaos.

Turning paler by the second, the young lord slowly began to decent from the heavens and onto the land of Alos.

Crossing his arms over his shoulder, a familiar touch of fear and torment clawed at his mind and flesh.

"Damn you all!" Zariel muttered in such a dark tone; the skies themselves began to bleed, with the wails of the dead clawing their way from the depths of hell itself.

'Zariel'