《Lightless Flame》


 Chapter 1: The Welcoming

    "Father, You are here!"


    Anzel called out as he sprinted up a hill where a mighty tree stood. He had a pale complexion, and his white hair bounced with every step, his gleeful grin, paired with his beaming blue eyes, was infectious.


    Trailing behind him, an older, well-built man with a distinct long ear, and golden hair, gave chase. His formal, butler-like attire remained pristine despite the sweat dripping from his face and fogged up his monocle.


    It seemed their fun¡ªor rather, the boy¡¯s fun¡ªhad gone on for quite some time.


    As Anzel reached the tree¡¯s shade, a dark-haired man rested beneath it. He was dressed in a jewel-adorned garb and black cloak that danced in the wind. His blue eyes followed the pages of a small book before he shut it as the boy approached.


    "Lord Azarim," Deckard lowered his head, then turned away to pull out a handkerchief, wiping the sweat from his forehead down to his chin. "My apologies, Lord. The young master seemed particularly spirited today, you see. It seems aging truly puts a dent in my well-being."


    "Father, father, please let me stay here with you! I haven¡¯t left the manor in days!" Anzel pleaded, his voice dripping with exaggerated innocence.


    "Not out for days?!" Deckard stepped toward him, his footsteps pressing firmly into the grass. With a mix of strength and care, he adjusted his shirt, then pulled out a different handkerchief than before and gently wiped the dirt from his face.


    "For days, you¡¯ve been sneaking out, despite your mother strictly forbidding it! Your upcoming Welcoming means that you, as the celebrant, should not¡ªno, must not¡ªbe seen in public for three days. And yet, not only had you disobeyed once, you¡¯ve been spotted inside a wine barrel, in the tavern, together with those rascals for three consecutive days!¡±


    His frustration was evident, fumes were out of his nostrils, but before he could continue his lecture, Anzel simply let out an innocent grin.


    "Hehe, soweee, Deckard."


    Then, without hesitation, he lunged at Azarim, wrapping his arms around him and pressing his face into his father¡¯s chest, as if longing for his scent.


    "I missed you, father," Anzel murmured. "Please let me stay."


    Azarim¡¯s hand hovered for a moment before gently resting on Anzel¡¯s head. His fingers brushed through the boy¡¯s white hair, and for a moment, the world seemed to still.


    "Is this what you want?"


    Anzel nodded eagerly.


    "Young Lord¡­" Deckard faltered, his tense posture softening as his tone grew warm.


    Azarim looked at his son¡¯s disheveled state¡ªhis shoes were mismatched, his shirt was inside out, and his pants¡­ were missing entirely.


    "What time will the ceremony commence?" Azarim asked, his voice calm yet authoritative.


    "Lord Azarim, are you considering this? You know how much Lady Angelica values the Welcoming rites. How she values their opinions. If even a single word of this reaches them, it will¡ª"


    "I know," Azarim interrupted, lifting Anzel¡¯s plump face with his hand. "For two years I have been gone. If it is what my son wants, it is the least I can do.¡±


    ¡°Lord Azarim, be rational for a moment. It¡¯s not my wish also to separate the young lord from your touch, however there are some repercussions that need not to be overlooked when he is with you..¡±


    Azarim paused, his whole attention caught by his words, ¡°I know the repercussions, that''s why I was away,¡± Azarim said, with a growl.


    Deckard gulped, hesitating to speak. His palms were moist, and his heart pounded like a beating drum.


    Azarim once chased a Sniberean Leopard for growling at him with a man mounted on the poor animal. After that, he took its fur for recompense. The pair shivered in the snow for hours as he left them with nothing. All because they looked at him funny.


    He is a nutcase. But no one is brave enough to say that to him.


    Nevertheless, orders are orders. Steeling himself he walked towards Azarim¡¯s ear and whispered.


    "A word, Lord."


    Though Deckard trembled, his green eyes locked onto Azarim¡¯s.


    Azarim studied Deckard¡¯s posture from top to bottom. He relaxed his guard before nodding, and lifted Anzel, placing him on his lap.


    Stolen novel; please report.


    Azarim picked up the book that he was gazing through before, and opened it. Anzel¡¯s gaze was immediately drawn to the illustrations.


    He saw a man sitting on a boulder, fishing in a lake of thundering quicksand.


    Azarim flipped through the next and it revealed a warrior wielding a sword imbued with blazing wind, locked in battle with a golden-winged woman whose radiant whips carved through the air.


    Seeing this, Anzel eagerly turned another page. A bustling harbor appeared, where burly men carried cargo to and from massive ships.


    ¡°What is this father?¡± Anzel asked, his eyes widened in wonder.


    ¡°A gift,¡± Azarim handed the book to him, ¡°Is it to your liking?¡±


    Anzel nodded profusely, ¡°Very much.¡±


    "This¡­" Deckard gasped, rushing to Anzel¡¯s side. "An Artifact, Lord? By the gods, Lord, if Lady Angelica knows of this¡­"


    "It is fine," Azarim replied coolly. "I picked it up in Ainstruval, a Cornelian made it. Not a single trace of Pleroma exudes from it. A device purpose for recording images of places I¡¯ve visited.¡±


    He gave Anzel the book and began walking away, "Come."


    Deckard hesitated, his hand twitching slightly. To be or not to be? His words may be true, but still a little caution wouldn¡¯t hurt anybody. And, hell would break loose once Angelica knew of this.


    ¡°If you are doubting my words, feel it. It does not contain the inventor¡¯s pleroma or mine,¡± Azarim doubled down at his disbelief.


    Deckard shifted his gaze between Azarim and the eager child before sighing in defeat.


    "This damn family," he muttered, straightening his tie and brushing out the wrinkles from his clothes.


    "Speak."


    Deckard cleared his throat, his expression turning stern.


    "The Welcoming Lord, is a sacred rite of passage of the Helleans. As the might of Miguelania, they are renowned for their power and strength." Deckard paused, gauging Azarim¡¯s reaction before adding, ¡°It is a ritual where a blessing is passed to their young, by the gods that created them,to solidify their souls.¡±


    Azarim¡¯s gaze drifted toward Anzel, who was still entranced by the book¡¯s images. ¡°Get to the point.¡±


    Deckard bowed, ¡°I have respect and awe in your power Lord Azarim. However, being in close proximity with the young lord could be detrimental and could dampen his growth.¡±


    The atmosphere became heavy. As if the air were solid objects that rested on Deckard¡¯s shoulders.


    ¡°What are you suggesting, Deckard?¡± Azarim said, in a calm voice.


    "Lord, I mean no disrespect, but I must make a request¡ªplease hear this old Arborian out." Deckard bowed even lower, his voice measured yet heavy with concern. "I ask that you refrain from attending his Welcoming. If your Pleroma converges with the divine, we cannot predict the consequences. The boy is full of life, and I cherish my time with him, but he is far weaker than the Hellean children of his age."


    The tree''s crackling of branches was louder than their silent pause. Besides Anzel¡¯s gasping in awe, the two remained at a standstill.


    ¡°I know that this will be hard. Not seeing him on his ascension. For 5 years as a father you have not been present. For simply a cause you don¡¯t have control of. Even the poor young Miss Angelica, pleaded for another way, any way for her son to feel his father¡¯s warmth, but there was no other way.¡±


    Deckard stood, and placed a firm hand on his shoulder, ¡°Lord, accept his old man¡¯s plea, hmm.¡±


    Azarim glanced back at Anze;indeed he was gleeful. He brushed Deckard¡¯s hand and assured him.


    "This will be just a moment.¡± Asarim said calmly. ¡°Return now, and tell Angelica. I will be bringing our son home.¡±


    Deckard¡¯s expression fell.


    ¡°Very well.¡± He nodded and walked away until his figure gradually disappeared into the lush trees from a distance.


    Azarim turned his attention back to Anzel.


    The boy¡¯s blue eyes reflected the image of a man standing atop a mountain, feeling the fresh breeze against his face as he gazed down at a city below. Bustling carriages rolled by, warriors eager for battle passed through, and life thrived beneath him.


    7 years ago he was expecting nothing as he laid his feet into these lands. Now here he is. Caring for someone.


    Azarim¡¯s thoughts drifted to his own childhood¡ªwhen he, too, was a young boy with black hair and blue eyes, running through grand halls with his brothers and sisters.


    They would race to claim a seat in the lap of a man they admired. But he was always too late. The seats were taken.


    Then, the man with a blurry face would lift him up and place him on his shoulders.


    A small smile flickered across Azarim¡¯s face.


    But the memory shifted. To a scene he had purged out of his mind.


    A white tree¡ªmassive and sacred¡ªsplit in half, burning with a lightless flame. Blood stains on his hands. A child, a familiar face, lay lifeless in his arms.


    He shook his head, forcing the memory away.


    Stepping closer, his shadow enveloped Anzel.


    The boy looked up at him.


    ¡°Father, these places¡­ Have you been there before? Bellthor is huge, but nothing compared to these.¡± His eyes shone in awe. ¡°Will you take me to these places one day?¡±


    Azarim hovered his hand on Anzel''s head.


    ¡°Father?¡± Anzel asked, tilting his head.


    Azarim closed his eyes, snapping the memory away and ruffled his white hair and let out a small smile. ¡°Someday. I will bring you to these places someday.¡±


    ¡°Oh, oh, I¡¯ve only heard stories from Uncle Leon about different lands, about how their foods and women are much different in¡­ Bi-Bibiryan Godu? I can¡¯t remember the name, but Father, was that it?¡±


    Azarim¡¯s smile disappeared as soon as it was out, his brow furrowed, and his face darkened with disgust.


    ¡°Leon said what?¡± Azarim asked, his voice low and scratchy, carrying an unfamiliar weight.


    Anzel was flustered. He had never heard that tone from his father before. Was it anger? Or deep curiosity? Was he also interested in those women? In the tavern, Leon and his buddies always asked newcomers the same crude question¡ªbreast or butt? Then they would judge the quality of a man based on their answer.


    Anzel hesitated, torn between explaining or retreating. Should he provide a cohesive explanation or ask for forgiveness?


    ¡°Is there something wrong, Father?¡± Anzel asked, his tone low, just enough for Azarim to hear.


    Azarim, noticing his son¡¯s hesitation, cleared his throat. ¡°Ah, no.¡±


    Seeing this, Anzel¡¯s gleeful smile returned. ¡®So, Father is interested.¡¯


    Without a shred of hesitation, with an innocent face and a bright smile, he blurted out, ¡°Father, breast or butt?¡±


    ¡°What did you just say?¡± Azarim¡¯s voice was dangerously low. A sharp pop rang out, followed by the pulsing of a visible vein on his temple. His aura grew heavy, pressing down like a storm about to break.


    Seeing this, the boy was stuck with his smile, ¡®Was he not interested?¡¯


    ¡°What did you just say?¡± Azarim¡¯s voice dropped to a dangerous low. His aura thickened, pressing down like a storm about to break.


    Seeing this, Anzel¡¯s smile faltered slightly. Was he not interested?


    ¡°Father? Are you mad?¡±


    Azarim immediately composed himself, his aura settling. ¡°No, I am not.¡±


    ¡°Then why do I feel like you are?¡±


    Azarim¡¯s expression darkened. ¡°It is your company... they will pay.¡±


    Anzel jolted, dropping to the ground and clutching Azarim¡¯s leg tightly. ¡°Are you mad about what Uncle Leon and the guys said?¡±


    ¡°No, I am not,¡± Azarim repeated, though his furrowed brow and clenched jaw told another story.


    "Father, no! I¡¯m sorry. If I knew, I wouldn¡¯t have said it. I just... I just wanted to share stories with you." Anzel¡¯s voice wavered, his eyes brimming with unshed tears. ¡°Because I missed you.¡±


    The dam broke. Tears streamed down his cheeks.


    Azarim froze. His body ached at the sight, and his mind raced. He knelt down, pulling a handkerchief from his coat and pressing it against Anzel¡¯s face, but it was instantly soaked. He flipped through the book, stopping on a page where herds of wild animals stampede across golden sands¡ªnothing. He patted Anzel¡¯s head repeatedly, but that, too, was of no use.


    With no other options, he resorted to a method that had once worked on him.


    He picked Anzel up and hoisted him onto his shoulders.


    From above, Anzel could see the vast beauty of Bellthor¡ªthe sprawling city below, the rolling green fields, and the mighty trees that whispered with the wind.


    "You know..." Azarim began, his voice calmer now, almost nostalgic. "This is the place where I first laid eyes on your mother. She pummeled a tree¡ªthis very tree¡ªand tackled it while I was resting on its branches. I nearly fell."


    Anzel sniffled, listening intently.


    "She scolded me for being here¡­ and then turned her anger on me. She was such a flame." Azarim¡¯s voice softened, a rare warmth in his tone. ¡°I am sorry, Anzel. I acted without thinking.¡±


    Anzel wiped his tears, nodding as he hiccupped. "Oum... oum..." He struggled to speak through the last of his sobs. "But I only said those things because... I wanted to share something with you, Father."


    Azarim sighed, lowering his head in shame. "I know. I¡¯m sorry that I didn¡¯t realize it sooner."


    Anzel wiped his face with his sleeve, finally calming down. "It¡¯s okay now, Father."


    A brief silence settled between them before Anzel hesitated. "Do you want me to stop going to the tavern?"


    Azarim glanced up at him. ¡°Do you want that?¡±


    Anzel immediately shook his head.


    ¡°Then no,¡± Azarim said, trying to reach up and ruffle his son¡¯s hair but failing due to their height difference.


    Noticing this, Anzel ducked his head down just enough for his father to reach.


    Azarim smiled, running his hand thr


    ough the boy¡¯s white locks. ¡°Just be mindful.¡±


    Anzel beamed brightly.


    "Do you like this?" Azarim asked.


    "Yes! Very much!" Anzel grinned, his excitement back in full force.

 Chapter 2: Belthor

    As the pair entered the gates, the guards were immediately met with Anzel¡¯s bright smile. He waved his hand wildly, grinning at them. They responded, but the moment their eyes landed on the man carrying him, their expressions dropped¡ªdrained of all color, as if their very souls had been ripped from them.


    They walked past the stunned guards, who stiffened like statues before clenching their fists against their chests.


    ¡°Welcome back, Lord Azarim!¡± they exclaimed in unison.


    Azarim gave a curt nod, his gaze sharp and piercing.


    ¡°When did he return?¡± one of the guards muttered under his breath¡ªjust loud enough for his fellow guards to hear, yet still audible to the boy.


    ¡®Are they as excited as I am that Father is back?¡¯ Anzel wondered. ¡®They seem unusually formal.¡¯


    As they stepped inside, gone was the lush greenery that once surrounded them, replaced by towering white-slab buildings. The peaceful silence of the outskirts was long gone, overtaken by the deafening clamor of city life. Voices echoed in a cacophonous symphony¡ªmerchants shouting, townsfolk haggling, and carriages rattling along the stone-paved roads, carrying goods from who knows where.


    It was a familiar sight for both of them¡ªBellthor, a bustling hub of commerce and the last stop before venturing beyond the great wall that protected them. The Rheuk.


    As they walked, Anzel waved at the merchants, recognizing both their faces and names.


    ¡°How did you know I was back?¡± Azarim asked.


    ¡°Hmmm¡­ Uncle Leon told me,¡± Anzel replied, deep in thought¡ªonly to suddenly slap a hand over his mouth. ¡°Oh! I wasn¡¯t supposed to say that.¡±


    ¡°How did he know?¡±


    ¡°Father, I can¡¯t say. He told me it was our secret,¡± Anzel pleaded.


    Azarim grunted.


    ¡°But, but, Father! It can also be our secret too,¡± Anzel said with a cheeky smile.


    Azarim halted, his gaze falling on a nearby apple stall. The merchant jolted upright, his face pale with visible sweat.


    ¡°L-Lord Azarim, young Lord Anzel¡­ H-How may I help you?¡± he stammered.


    ¡°Father, Joral¡¯s apples are the best in Bellthor! Yesterday, he gave me one¡ªit was sooo good! Sweet, not like the bitter ones.¡±


    ¡°Is that so?¡± Azarim murmured.


    ¡°You flatter me, young lord,¡± Joral said, rubbing the back of his head. ¡°If you¡¯d like, I can give you a whole bunch, just like that. A gift to celebrate Lord Azarim¡¯s return.¡±


    Without hesitation, Joral grabbed a basket and began filling it with apples, carefully scanning for any imperfections before presenting it to Azarim.


    Azarim pulled out a coin purse, letting a gold coin drop into his palm.


    ¡°No, I¡¯ll pay,¡± he said, stretching out his hand.


    A gold coin? For apples?


    The surrounding crowd froze, staring at him as if he had lost his mind.


    ¡°Was it not enough?¡± Azarim asked.


    ¡°Oh, no, no, my lord! Please, consider this a personal gift,¡± Joral insisted, gently pushing Azarim¡¯s hand away and closing his palm around the coin.


    With a respectful bow, Joral handed over the basket. Azarim pulled out an apple and handed it to Anzel, who wasted no time sinking his teeth into it.


    And with that, they continued their walk.


    "About that secret?" Azarim asked.


    Anzel mumbled something incoherent between bites. ¡°Hmm fer, e an ve it, u n I.¡±


    "Finish chewing before you speak."


    Anzel quickly swallowed. "Father, let''s have a secret¡ªyou and I."


    Azarim sighed but nodded. "Okay, it''ll be our secret."


    "Uncle Leon said he knew you were back. He said you and he share a special connection¡ªan unbreakable bond so strong that not even the gods could sever it." Anzel nodded as if he completely understood the weight of those words.


    Azarim raised an eyebrow. "Huh?"


    "Is that true, Father?"


    Before Azarim could answer, chaos erupted ahead.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.


    A massive chicken stood defiantly in the middle of the road, blocking all traffic. Surrounding it were muscle-bound men attempting to restrain it, while mages in robes chanted incantations in a tongue completely foreign to Anzel.


    Then, with a sudden burst of wind, a figure shattered a window, soared through the air, and¡ª


    SLAM!


    ¡ªbashed headfirst into a stone wall.


    The dust settled, revealing a white-haired man groaning as he clutched his head, blood trickling down his forehead.


    "Oh, Acting Master, you''re here!" one of the handlers called out in relief. "What should we do? If we don¡¯t deliver this on time, the lady will be furious!"


    The man¡ªLeon¡ªgritted his teeth. ¡°Ugh, my head¡­¡± He pulled his hand away, only to find it soaked in blood. Then he snapped.


    ¡°WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!¡±


    From the crowd, a tall, slender woman stepped forward. Her golden hair gleamed under the sunlight, and her violet dress shimmered with magic. Pointed ears framed her sharp, unimpressed features.


    "Wake the fuck up, Acting Master Leon." She leveled her staff at him. "Heal up and get that Braken to Angelica."


    Leon groaned, wiping the blood from his face with a flick of his fingers. A faint glow enveloped him, sealing his wound instantly. His crimson eyes, now fully visible, gleamed with irritation. His ear twinkled with piercings, and his ring-covered fingers flexed in annoyance.


    "Oh, Yvette. Still salty about Garad choosing me as Acting Master?"


    Yvette rolled her eyes.


    Leon turned to the nearby mages, pointing an accusing finger. "And you lot¡ªwhy the hell are you acting so casual about me flying through the air from a wind spell? Do you see that shit every day? Have you all just gotten used to it?"


    The mages answered in perfect unison. ¡°Yes.¡±


    Leon facepalmed.


    "Where''s Olov?"


    "Outside."


    "Talon?"


    "Outside."


    "Wern?"


    Yvette groaned. ¡°For the gods'' sake, they¡¯re all outside! There¡¯s no one here to delegate your tasks to.¡±


    Leon smirked. ¡°But you¡¯re still here, Yvette. You must really love me, huh?¡±


    Yvette responded with a loud "Huak-Tuah!" and spat on the ground, her face twisted in pure disgust.


    "It seems I didn¡¯t hit you enough." Yvette pointed her staff at Leon, an orb of wind swirling to life at its tip. "Let''s take that overinflated head of yours and file it as an incident report."


    "Oh yeah? Wanna bet?" Leon''s eyes gleamed in anticipation.


    "Uncle Leon!"


    The moment they heard Anzel¡¯s voice, both combatants dispelled their Pleroma, the lingering sparks of magic fading from their eyes. Their smiles faltered, however, the instant they saw who was carrying him.


    "Azarim."


    Yvette stormed toward him, immediately trying to pry Anzel from his grasp, but the boy clung on stubbornly.


    "Hi, Auntie Yvette! Want some apples?" Anzel grinned, holding out a half-eaten apple without a care in the world.


    Yvette barely glanced at it before her gaze locked onto something far more pressing.


    "His pants? You let him walk around without pants?" She shot Azarim with an accusatory glare, but the man remained utterly unfazed. "Did it ever cross your mind how Angelica would react if she saw this? You''re hopeless. Wait here."


    Without another word, she turned on her heel and marched off toward the tavern. A few guild members called out to her, but she silenced them with a single sharp hiss, sending them scattering like startled pigeons.


    Meanwhile, Leon turned his attention to the newcomers, swiftly delegating the task of removing the giant chicken to the Manor. With that settled, he called up the guild¡¯s carriage and left them to handle it their own way.


    "No wonder I saw the old man scurrying back to the Manor without this twerp."


    ¡°Uncle Leon, Father¡¯s back,¡± Anzel said proudly.


    ¡°I can see that, you little shit. No need to be so dramatic.¡± Leon leaned in closer, lowering his voice. ¡°Besides, why did he even come back? If someone had just stayed the hell out of it, my sister and adorable nephew would¡¯ve been a whole lot safer.¡±


    Anzel¡¯s smile faltered, his expression turning awkward. Azarim, on the other hand, remained unreadable. A thick tension settled over them like a heavy fog. Sensing the shift, Leon gave Azarim a light shove, laughing as if to brush off the moment. Then he turned back to Anzel, flashing a grin.


    ¡°I¡¯m joking, I¡¯m joking. No need to get riled up.¡± He clapped Anzel on the shoulder. ¡°So, what did he give you, kid?¡±


    Without waiting for an answer, Leon tugged at Anzel¡¯s shirt, inspecting him as if expecting to find something of interest. His gaze flicked down briefly before he pulled back with a snort.


    ¡°So, nothing?¡±


    ¡°Actually¡­¡± Anzel whispered to Azarim, motioning for him to let him down. Azarim complied, lowering him gently.


    Once on the ground, Anzel gave him a knowing smile. Azarim hesitated for a moment, confused, but then he noticed Anzel silently mouthing something¡ªthe book. Understanding, he reached into his cloak and pulled out a small, worn book, handing it over.


    Anzel took it with a proud grin, hiding it behind his back. ¡°Are you ready, Uncle Leon? Close your eyes first.¡±


    Leon smirked and turned around. ¡°Call me when you¡¯re ready.¡±


    ¡°All right¡­ one, two, three¡ª¡±


    Leon turned back and saw the book. A plain, old, small book. He raised an eyebrow. ¡°Is this it?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s magical! Look¡ªflip through the pages,¡± Anzel said excitedly, standing on his toes as he held it out to Leon.


    Leon took the book and did as instructed, flipping through the pages. Moving images danced across them with remarkable fluidity. His eyes narrowed in recognition.


    ¡°A craft of the Cornelians¡­ The quality is impressive, the detail¡ª¡± He paused, glancing at Anzel. ¡°Wait, is this really it? Do you even like this, kid?¡±


    Kneeling down, Leon opened the book again, studying it more closely. After a moment, he let out a short chuckle.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t magic,¡± he said. ¡°Watch closely¡ªobserve the image from left to right, and slow down as you flip. See? It¡¯s an optical illusion. Fixed images stacked together give the impression of movement. I could fetch you a better gift if you wait¡ª¡±


    Before he could finish, Anzel¡¯s tears fell, his gaze fixed on the pages as Leon wobbled the book. Azarim stepped forward, snatched the book from Leon¡¯s hands, and turned his back to him, blocking his view.


    ¡°Stop crying.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not crying,¡± Anzel said, sobbing even more.


    ¡°If you¡¯re worried that I lied about what I said, rest assured. I have my own plans, and I know they won¡¯t disappoint you.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡±


    Azarim nodded.


    ¡°Hey, asshole!¡± Leon grabbed his shoulder.


    Azarim turned around and said calmly, ¡°Be still.¡±


    A chilling sensation ran down Leon¡¯s spine. The air thickened, pressing down on everyone around them. Their bodies felt heavy, as if their hearts were about to be crushed. Leon jolted backward, staring at Azarim, who only grinned.


    ¡°Finally.¡±


    Azarim stood up, pulled out a towel, and wiped Anzel¡¯s tears. Without elaborating or a single word, he picked the boy up and began walking away.


    ¡°Where did that Azarim go?¡± Yvette arrived, holding a pair of small pants in her hands.


    ¡°Gone.¡±


    ¡°Why? Is he seriously taking Anzel looking like that?¡±


    ¡°Who knows. He¡¯s a weirdo¡ªdoes whatever he wants.¡± Leon shrugged.


    ¡°If I ever see him again, he¡¯s dead,¡± Yvette muttered, gripping the pants tightly.


    Meanwhile, the crowd that had witnessed the whole exchange facepalmed. But with a side-eye glance, Leon silently warned them: Please don¡¯t tell her. If any


    one says a word, there will be a visit to the carpenter for their exact coffin measurements.

 Chapter 3: Moment of Promise

    It was better to walk away.


    Azarim forced the thought into his mind. His body burned with barely contained fury, control hanging by a thread. One more word, one more insult, and he would snap. And then¡ªwho knew what would happen?


    Just for one day, master yourself. This is for him.


    He exhaled sharply, shifting his focus to the child riding on his back. The boy was beaming, oblivious to the storm raging within Azarim.


    Ahead, the manor loomed in the distance. It stood apart from the rest of the neighborhood¡ªa grand structure surrounded by sprawling land. Jagged metal spikes lined its walls, guarding the neatly trimmed lawns. At its center, a fountain bubbled, catching the glimmer of flickering lights.It had two structures, a grand mansion and a nearby tower, connected by a bridge.


    Beyond the gates, shadows moved frantically against the glow of chandeliers. The entrance stood wide open, waiting for the flood of arriving guests.


    They spotted Angelica near the entrance, gesturing sharply as she barked orders. Even from a distance, Azarim could see the exhaustion in her movements¡ªyet she refused to slow down.


    Azarim set Anzel down and took a good look at him.


    Yes. No matter how he looked at it, his pants were still missing.


    This would not end well if she saw him like this. Two years apart wouldn¡¯t soften the blow. Blood would be spilled.


    The boy, realizing the problem, quickly covered himself, cheeks burning.


    ¡°Is something wrong, Father?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Azarim replied, already shrugging off his cloak. He draped it over Anzel¡¯s shoulders. ¡°Do you want to see real magic? No tricks this time.¡±


    Anzel¡¯s eyes lit up, his head nodding furiously.


    Azarim smiled. He straightened, took the boy¡¯s hand, and stepped toward the gate.


    ¡°Shall we?¡±


    The moment he spoke, his cloak shimmered, turning translucent. It wrapped around him like mist, bending the light, making his body blend into the surroundings. He glanced down¡ªhis hand was seethrough against the pavement.


    Together, they stepped forward, slipping silently inside.


    Tables stretched from left to right, welcoming them inside. A massive chandelier hung overhead, casting a golden glow across the hall. Above it, etched into the ceiling, was a symbol of the Helleans¡ªthe wolf. There was a proverb, No bond is stronger than a family bathing in the blood of their enemies.


    Azarim scanned the room for Angelica, but she was nowhere in sight. He guided Anzel toward the halls, but before he could take another step, the boy slipped from his grasp.


    Anzel darted toward one of the tables, snatched a chicken leg, and took off.


    Deckard, noticing the theft, immediately spun into action. His sharp gaze fell on the servants.


    ¡°Was it always like this?¡± he demanded.


    ¡°No, sir,¡± one replied.


    ¡°Then care to explain why there¡¯s a piece missing?¡±


    Anzel chuckled as he strolled away, flashing Azarim a mischievous nod while happily munching on his prize.


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    Azarim opened the door.


    The room was overflowing with toys, yet none had been touched. Some remained sealed in their boxes, others still wrapped with ribbons, as if waiting for an owner who had never arrived.


    Anzel shrugged off the cloak and raised his arms, wordlessly asking to be carried one more time.


    Azarim lifted him without hesitation, walking toward the bed. As he stepped forward, he noticed a loose floor slab¡ªmost likely the reason the boy had slipped through unnoticed earlier.


    Gently, he laid Anzel down.


    ¡°Tomorrow will be different,¡± Azarim murmured. ¡°You won¡¯t just be welcomed by me or those you know¡ªbut by this world.¡±


    Anzel¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°Does that mean I can come with you?¡± He grinned, clutching the blanket Azarim had placed over him.


    Azarim chuckled softly. ¡°Someday. But for that to happen, you need to rest. You¡¯ll need all the strength you can get.¡±


    He placed a firm yet gentle hand on the boy¡¯s forehead.


    ¡°Now¡ª¡±


    ¡°Please don¡¯t leave me again, Father.¡±


    Azarim froze. The words struck deep.


    For a moment, he said nothing¡ªthen, he rested a hand on Anzel¡¯s head and ruffled his hair.


    ¡°After this,¡± he whispered, ¡°never again.¡±


    He leaned in, pressing his forehead against his son¡¯s. ¡°Now, my son¡­ sleep.¡±


    Anzel¡¯s breathing slowed. His small body relaxed, his expression at peace. Within moments, soft snores filled the room.


    Azarim lingered, watching him for a while. Then, with a quiet exhale, he stood.


    He had waited years for this¡ªto hold his son, to speak with him, to feel his warmth. It was familiar, like Angelica¡¯s, yet different. In Anzel, he saw a reflection of himself as a child.


    Azarim closed the door and took a moment to gather his thoughts.


    "Well, how was he?"


    Angelica¡¯s voice was smooth, but her silver eyes burned with curiosity. Her slender figure leaned against the wall, pale skin shimmering like scales beneath the dim light. The contrast of her white hair and the small horns protruding from her forehead made her look both ethereal and dangerous. Dressed in a petticoat that hugged her curves, she studied him, framed by eyelids dusted in a fiery orange hue.


    "Aren¡¯t you supposed to be busy?" Azarim asked.


    "Well, aren¡¯t you supposed to be back six months earlier?" she countered, stepping closer. "Were there¡­ unforeseen circumstances?"


    Azarim looked away.


    Her voice softened, though concern lingered in her gaze. "You¡­ met him, didn¡¯t you?"


    "No."


    "Is it related to him? Oh, come on, don¡¯t make me read you. I¡¯m not a Weaver¡ªI can¡¯t read minds."


    Azarim¡¯s gaze flickered to her face. Even without trying, her mere presence was intoxicating. Her scent alone could make men fall to their knees, ready to surrender everything.


    "I didn¡¯t find him," he admitted. "But I heard a rumor. And I confirmed it."


    Angelica stilled, leaning in even closer. "What rumor?"


    "That he¡¯s with her. The one who burned everything." His voice darkened, fury glinting in his eyes.


    "Azza¡­ look at me." She sat down, watching him carefully. "Do you want to talk about this now or later? If you need an ear, I¡¯m here."


    Azarim hesitated before speaking again. "Angelica¡­ Do you think I¡¯ll become like him?"


    Her expression softened. "Why would you think that?"


    "I don¡¯t know." His voice dropped lower. "Our son¡­ Do you think he likes me?"


    Angelica¡¯s lips curved into a bright, knowing smile¡ªthe very same smile Anzel wore. "Of course he does,"


    Azarim hesitated, then asked, "What does he think of me? Is he afraid of me? What does he like?"


    Angelica chuckled, shaking her head. "Gods, you¡¯re hopeless." She reached out and patted his head with a smirk. "You¡¯re more handsome than I remember. Want me to tell you everything?"


    Azarim nodded, silently bracing himself.


    "Well," she began with a dramatic flourish, "he has my lovely hair, my beautiful face, and my adorable smile. He has my upright attitude, my playfulness, my skills, and¡ªof course¡ªmy muscles." She flexed her arm, even though there was nothing particularly visible, watching Azarim¡¯s reaction with amusement.


    His expression remained unreadable.


    "Well, what did he get from you?" she teased, tilting her head.


    She tapped her chin, pretending to think as she counted on her fingers. Azarim¡¯s stare remained unwavering.


    "Azza," she finally said, grinning, "you are the kindest person I know. Hehe." Her laugh was light and teasing.


    Azarim¡¯s eye twitched, his blood simmering at the remark. He turned away with an annoyed huff, refusing to engage.


    Angelica leaned in, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper. "But I certainly missed you, Azza."


    Before he could react, she pushed him against the wall, her body pressing into his. He barely had time to register the heat radiating from her before she inhaled deeply, her nose brushing against his neck.


    Then¡ªshe bit him.


    Azarim flinched, a quiet, involuntary sound escaping him.


    Angelica pulled back slightly, licking her lips. "Mmm. Still tastes the same."


    Azarim glared at her while she laughed, utterly unapologetic.


    Angelica walked toward another room, trailing a teasing finger, silently urging him to follow. She peeked inside, then shot him a sultry wink before slipping through the doorway.


    Azarim hesitated. His gaze flicked around, scanning for a


    ny onlookers. The hall was empty.


    With a quiet exhale, he followed.

 Chapter 4: A Night to Remember

    Cursed are those who revere them as supreme yet remain ruled by an unknown force. The greatest mystery in the universe: where did Pleroma come from?


    Pleroma¡ªthe boundless fullness of power that permeates the universe. Bestowed by the gods above upon those who sift the dust below, it is both their greatest gift and their greatest shame. Despite their divinity, even the gods would unravel into nothingness without it. Their golden glow would fade into the darkness pit of oblivion.


    Azarim sat alone at a table, his gaze fixed on the arrivals at the door. The tiles rattled as brutes of beastmen, towering giants who stooped to avoid bumping their heads, and various humanoid races filtered in as the chandelier sparkled overhead. Deckard assigned each of them their seats, a handful of guests dressed formally, but most wore whatever they pleased, indifferent to decorum.


    Angelica had a way of forging connections¡ªsome useful, others, in Azarim¡¯s view, nothing but a nuisance. But to her, they were all acquaintances. Perhaps, it might even be fair to call them friends. After all, her family, the House Major of the Helleans, had placed her here, in Bellthor, to govern the land before the gate.


    ¡°Where is my chair?¡± Leon barked, glaring at the table.


    ¡°I¡ªI don¡¯t know, Lord Leon. Lady Angelica was very precise about the arrangements.¡±


    ¡°Then where¡¯s mine?¡±


    Yvette sighed and yanked him back by the collar. ¡°Can¡¯t you just fetch him one, just to shut him up?¡±


    The servant hesitated before bowing. ¡°Understood, Lady Yvette.¡± She hurried off, only to return moments later, breathless and dripping with sweat.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, my lady, but there are no chairs left. They¡¯ve¡­ they¡¯ve been burned to a crisp.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Leon¡¯s face twisted in disbelief. ¡°Then where the hell am I supposed to sit?¡±


    Without a word, Azarim rose from his chair and walked toward the stairs. Was it honorable? No. Was it petty? Yes. Was it worth it? Absolutely.


    The Welcoming. In the far south, where Azarim had grown up, such a ceremony did not exist. One does not simply embrace Pleroma; one either wields it or is consumed by it. He was both fortunate and unfortunate.


    As he reached the door, he knocked. A giggle came from the other side.


    ¡°Wait a minute!¡± Anzel replied.


    The boy flung the door open in haste, and his scent met Azarim¡ªjasmine and raspberry, with a tint of honey.


    ¡°I smell delicious, don¡¯t I, Father?¡± Anzel tugged at his collar, lifting it to Azarim¡¯s nose.


    Angelica, who had a spilled wad of perfume on the floor, stared at them both, her eyes signaling something unspoken.


    This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°You smell good,¡± Azarim said.


    The boy beamed, while Angelica shot him a glare.


    You¡ª"


    Anzel stood dressed in a crisp white shirt and a red tie, a circular metal piece fastened to his chest. His splendid black pants and polished shoes made him look both practical and ready.


    Angelica was mesmerizing¡ªher silver eyes gleamed, her hair neatly styled, and her dress dazzled like stardust.


    Azarim''s heart skipped a beat.


    "You both look wonderful," he murmured.


    Angelica stepped forward, taking Azarim¡¯s hand. "We are ready."


    Anzel raised his arms, wanting to be carried, and they walked slowly together.


    Azarim wanted nothing more than this¡ªa loving wife and a cheerful son. Yet his mind drifted elsewhere.


    A palace. A man sitting on his throne, lounging in a relaxed manner, yet his presence was heavy with unease. Azarim ran toward him, stopping just before the throne, staring blankly until the man finally noticed him.


    The man placed him on his lap. "Why don¡¯t you play with them?"


    "I don¡¯t like it," Azarim replied.


    "Why? Are you afraid of getting hurt? After all, they play rough."


    Azarim shook his head.


    "Then¡­are you afraid you might hurt them?"


    A gentle squeeze on his hand snapped him back to the present. Angelica.


    They had arrived at the curtain. She closed her eyes, inhaling deeply. Azarim watched her for a moment, then set Anzel down and took his hand.


    "Now¡¯s the time, Azza," Angelica said, her eyes glistening with tears. "This is the night, Azza. No more days spent in the shadows. Now, you can stay. We can finally be a family."


    A thunderous cheer erupted from outside. Behind the curtain, a synchronized shout called them forward.


    "5!"


    "4!"


    "3!"


    "2!"


    "1!"


    The curtain dropped.


    The room exploded into celebration¡ªkegs clanged, beer mugs crashed together in raucous toasts, and bursts of fire magic lit up the ceiling like fireworks. Warriors let out deafening war cries. Someone chugged an entire barrel of wine, while others feasted on giant chicken legs, tearing into them like victors at a battlefield feast.


    Yvette wiped away tears, overcome with emotion. Leon, meanwhile, was already deep in a bet over which giants could arm wrestle a table into splinters.


    Anzel, taking it all in, suddenly screamed at the top of his lungs, battling against the overwhelming noise. Azarim and Angelica exchanged a knowing smile before watching their son charge toward the tables, challenging the fighters to see who could be the loudest.


    It was chaos. It was home.


    Angelica sighed, then grinned at Azarim before slamming her fist into the ground with a resounding bang.


    The entire room froze, all eyes on her.


    She tilted her head and smiled. "Now... shall we continue?"


    Everyone hurried back to their seats, gulping down food and beer, eager to listen once more.


    "I appreciate your love for my family," Angelica continued, "but can we at least finish this?"


    Anzel bolted back upstairs, roaring at the top of his lungs, and the crowd chuckled as they finally collected themselves.


    Deckard approached, carrying a flat pillow upon which rested an insignia and a small curved blade. The hilt of the blade was wrapped in fine leather, engraved with the name Anzel, while a dark, sharp-edged stone adorned its pommel.


    Kneeling before Angelica, Deckard offered it to her.


    ¡°My lady Angelica, it feels like only yesterday I watched you play in the fields, picking up pebbles and tossing them into the river. And now¡­ now you stand before me, a grown woman.¡± His voice carried both pride and nostalgia. ¡°Lord Elmur would be so proud.¡±


    Angelica picked up the blade, her fingers trembling. ¡°Really, Deckard?¡± A single tear traced its way down her cheek.


    Deckard smiled and nodded. ¡°To see you with your own family¡­ I have no doubt.¡±


    Overcome with emotion, Angelica pulled Deckard into an embrace, weeping softly. Around them, the audience reacted in their own ways¡ªmany averted their eyes out of respect, while others, like Yvette, were already blowing their noses. She yanked Leon¡¯s collar back and forth as she sniffled, though Leon merely watched the scene with a quiet glint of pride before turning away and downing his mug.


    Taking a deep breath, he finally spoke. ¡°Lord Azarim¡­ forgive me for my words earlier. They were selfish and unkind.¡±


    Azarim accepted the insignia from Deckard, nodding in silent acknowledgment. Together, he and Angelica stepped forward, kneeling before their son.


    Anzel¡¯s white hair was slightly ruffled, his cheeky smile beaming with excitement.


    Azarim and Angelica lifted the insignia and the blade, holding them before him. ¡°Our son, today, you are welcomed into this family. You will grow to be strong and kind¡ªto those in need, and even to those in power. May you be an instrument of good to all who stand by you.¡±


    They leaned in, pressing their foreheads gently against his. ¡°We will always love you¡ªnow, tomorrow, and forever.¡±


    With a wide grin, Anzel lunged forward, wrapping his arms around them both. ¡°I love you both too!¡±


    As Angelica wiped her eyes, she turned toward Deckard and gave him a firm nod. Then, stepping toward the entrance, she stood as a cloaked figure approached. The man¡¯s attire bore the markings of a priest, his presence commanding yet warm.


    As he removed his


    hood, his white hair and silver eyes gleamed golden. A


    knowing smile crossed his lips.


    ¡°It has been so long, Azarim.¡±