A quick warning that this chapter has direct mentions of SELF-HARM. The act does not happen, but it is explicitly referenced in detail. If you are triggered by this, please do not read.
The air was thick with incense, a deep, smoky haze that curled around pillars of white stone and clung to the cracks in the floor. The Cathedral of Faraam, the most worshiped god of war in all of Forossa, stood proud at the center of Bellumagri, capital of Forossa. Tonight, the cathedral, especially its top floor, was alive with chanting, followed by a rhythmic beat of drums. Torches flickered along the walls, casting shadows that danced like spirits over the stone faces of fallen warriors who were immortalized because of their honor and duty.
At the top of the building, a man stood there. The priestesses had dressed him in the proper ceremonial robes. The man's face was a mask of calm, though his heart beat like a hammer against his ribs. He was waiting for this moment his entire life, and it was finally here.
"Are you ready, Alinoth?" came a deep voice from the man in front of him, the sage Azal. He had been Alinoth's master in both the ways of sorcery and war for years, and now was the responsible for presiding today's ceremony.
"I am." Alinoth replied, his voice steady, though his blood felt like fire in his veins.
Azal's eyes glittered under the flickering torchlight as he raised a hand, signaling for silence. The drums ceased, the chanting stilled, and for a moment, the vast chamber echoed with the silence of expectation. Hundreds of followers and warriors watched with reverence, all eyes focused on the man who was to be transformed. Alinoth could feel their anticipation like a living thing in the room, pressing in on him, almost suffocating.
"Let the Ritual of Binding begin." Azal intoned, and his words reverberated off the stone walls.
Two priestesses approached Alinoth, each holding a small knife with a handle fashioned from bone. Their faces were painted with symbols of war: crimson slashes across their cheeks, black smudges over their brows. The High Priests that surrounded them began chanting in an ancient tongue, their voices low and guttural, as the priestesses reached out and cut into Alinoth's forearms, carving shallow lines that wept blood.
Each cut was a symbol, each line a word in Faraam's language. Once the final symbol was carved, Alinoth's arms glistened with fresh blood. The priestesses stepped back, their roles complete, and Azal placed his hands over the wounds, pressing down with a force that made Alinoth grit his teeth against the pain.
"You bleed for Faraam." Azal said, his deep voice echoing throughout the entire room for all to hear. "Now, you shall give him your voice, your will, your very soul."
More priestesses appeared, this time carrying a heavily ornamented staff. As Azal takes the staff on his hands, Alinoth kneels in front of him, knowing very well that this was the final, but most important part of the ceremony: his vows.
"Alinoth Cynred, do you pledge to serve Faraam and Forossa with all that you are? To speak his truths, to bring glory and honor to our kingdom?"
"I pledge it. With all that I am."
"So be it." Azal then slams the staff against the ground, creating a thunderous sound that echoes throughout the cathedral.
"You, more than anyone else, have demonstrated honor, bravery, and an unprecedented commitment to Forossa and its people, despite being our youngest. You set out alone on a perilous journey into the frigid fields of the north and return alive, doing deeds that not even the bravest of the Northwarders dared to. You left us a child, and returned to us a warrior."
Azal then gestures for Alinoth to get up, at the same time that Azal himself kneels down, holding the staff with both hands as he says: "Rise, Alinoth Cynred. Rise, Arch-Oracle of Faraam."
The gathered worshipers and warriors shouted as Alinoth took the staff from Azal's hands, signifying his complete rise to the position. Their voices rose in a chant of victory and reverence. Alinoth could feel their admiration, and most of all, their respect. It was finally his... the recognition he craved so much. And because of that, Alinoth couldn't avoid smiling.
But even as he basked in the power, he felt the weight of his new role settle upon him, the enormity of his duty as Arch-Oracle. He was now the supreme commander of Forossa's armies and their main religious leader. He was, in the eyes of many, Faraam's representative in the world, His chosen one. He had the power to crown or dispose of the kings of Forossa, and do even more.
Of course, that now meant that Alinoth was now a central player in the dangerous game of politics. He could already see the fake smiles and ulterior motives of some in the crowd. As soon as this night was over, Alinoth knew they would return to the privacy of their abodes and begin planning schemes to harm him. But Alinoth was not stupid. He already planned very well how to deal with these future threats. He would strike first, when his enemies were least expecting it.
But those were problems for the future. For now, he would just enjoy the night, feasting on everyone's attention there, something he deserved.
As the ritual came to an end, everyone then made their way to the ballroom, where the main celebration in Alinoth's honor would take place.
Extremely pleasant music echoed throughout the room as several people chatted among themselves, danced, and performed other similar activities. Several of Forossa's highest elite were present, all gathered to celebrate Alinoth's conquest. The King of Forossa himself, decorated generals, sages, war heroes, leaders of the kingdom's most important noble houses, and even diplomats and dignitaries from neighboring kingdoms, such as Jugo, Lindelt, Lanafir, and even Melfia. They were all there to honor the Arch-Oracle of Faraam, to honor Alinoth.
Even Alinoth's parents showed up, acting as if they hadn't completely ignored their son for the past 21 years, spitting words more futile than their existence. But Alinoth could tolerate their falsehood, at least for the moment. He had plans to make them pay for all the suffering he went through.
But then, across the room, Alinoth saw as the doors opened and a familiar figure entered. Tall and broad-shouldered, he was immediately recognizable by his impeccable and charming appearance. His brother. The eldest son, the family hero.
Logan Cynred.
He strode in, exuding the same effortless confidence he had always carried. His presence seemed to command attention from the moment he stepped into the room. A few heads turned, recognizing the renowned knight Logan Cynred, and whispers rippled through the crowd. Alinoth clenched his jaw, the celebration souring in his mouth, the familiar flare of jealousy rising in his chest. He had told Logan not to come. Not to spoil the one night that belonged to him.
Logan's presence had always cast a shadow over Alinoth's life. While Alinoth had struggled to climb each rung of life, Logan had soared. He had charisma, the sort of charm that turned obstacles into stepping stones. There was nothing Logan couldn't achieve, or so it had always seemed to Alinoth.
There was a time when Alinoth had idolized Logan, when he was a little kid. Logan was the quintessential big brother, leading by example, excelling effortlessly in every endeavor. But admiration had soured as he grew older, and Alinoth's inability, at least in his own eyes, to surpass Logan's achievements left a bitterness that dug deep, especially because their parents always showered Logan with all their attention, barely acknowledging Alinoth's existence.
Tonight was supposed to be Alinoth's time to shine without Logan's ever-present shadow. This was the one night he wanted Logan to stay away, so he could stand tall without any distraction from his moment.
He set down his drink with a forceful clink on the table and strode across the room, reaching Logan just as he entered.
"Logan." Alinoth greeted him, his tone clipped.
Logan's face lit up with a grin, unbothered by his brother's coldness. "Alinoth!" He reached out to hug his baby brother tightly, a hug that Alinoth did not return. "Congratulations! They finally recognized what the rest of us knew all along: Alinoth Cynred, the Arch-Oracle of Faraam and the greatest Northwarder in Forossa's history."
Alinoth forced a smile, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. He should have been grateful. He knew that. After all, any other brother would be supportive on such an important night. But Logan was different. Everything about him, from the way he spoke to the way he carried himself, reminded Alinoth of the gap between them. It didn't matter that Alinoth had just assumed the most important position in Forossa's military and religion - something he had fought for with every ounce of strength he had. The moment Logan walked into the room, he became the center of attention.
"I appreciate the compliment, but I told you I wanted this to be discreet. You didn't have to come."
Logan laughed. "Discreet? You're the star of the night! It's not every day someone is made Arch-Oracle, especially someone so young. I wouldn't miss it, brother."
For a split second, Alinoth softened. Maybe his brother was here to genuinely celebrate him, but the thought vanished as he noticed more and more guests turning their attention toward Logan, drawn by his magnetic presence. Already, some of the conversation was shifting towards Logan's latest accomplishments, his deployments and commendations. This was exactly what he feared. Logan's shadow was here, stealing what was supposed to be his moment, and Alinoth could feel his temper simmering.
He wanted Logan to leave. He wanted his brother to disappear from this party, to let him have just one night of recognition, a few hours where he didn't have to compete with the image of Logan Cynred. But Logan remained, as always, surrounded in the admiration of those around him.
The Arch-Oracle had enough.
"Let's talk outside." Alinoth said as he abruptly grabbed Logan by the arm, pulling his brother as he walked toward the garden outside.
"H-hey!" Logan's brow furrowed, completely surprised by Alinoth's sudden movement. His brother's grip around Logan's arm was extremely tight, fueled by anger.
As they stepped into the chill nocturnal air outside, Alinoth angrily tossed Logan into the garden, the sound of the music fading behind them as the door closed.
Alinoth turned, his jaw tight. "I want you to leave, Logan. Now!" The statement hung in the air, colder than the night breeze.
Logan's already fallen expression is taken over by even more confusion. "What? Why?"
"Because this is my night!" Alinoth snapped. "The one night I get to be the center of attention, the one time I get recognized without you standing in my way!"
"Standing in your way?" Logan looked at him, dumbfounded. "Alinoth, that's not what I'm here to do. I'm here to celebrate with you. I mean... You were made a Northwarder at the age of 19, and now you're the Arch-Oracle of Faraam at 21 years old! Do you have any idea how amazing that is?"
Alinoth let out a bitter laugh. "Celebrate with me? Do you even realize how every time you're around, it's like… like I'm invisible? You walk into a room, and suddenly, it's all about you. Your damn presence takes over EVERYTHING!"
Logan stepped back, visibly hurt. "Alinoth... I didn't know you felt this way."
"Of course you didn't..." Alinoth's voice was low, and he barely noticed when tears began to fall from his eyes. "Because you've always been too busy being… perfect. The family prodigy, the war hero everyone looks up to. My entire life, I've been compared to you, and every single time, I come up short. It's like nothing I ever do is good enough when you're around."
Logan opened his mouth to respond, but Alinoth wasn't finished. Years of resentment had bubbled up to the surface, and he couldn't stop now.
"Do you know how hard it was for me to get to this point?" Alinoth continued, his voice trembling with emotion. "I had to fight for every inch of it. I'm not you, Logan. Things don't come easy to me. I had to earn this with everything I had. And tonight… I just wanted one night to be mine."
Logan looked at him, his face stricken. "Brother… I had no idea."
"How could you? You've been too busy being the family favorite. I mean... mother and father? My entire life, they barely acknowledged my existence, showering only you with love. But now that I'm assuming the most important position in Forossa's military... ONLY NOW THOSE BASTARDS REMEMBER THAT I EXIST!" Alinoth yells as he angrily casts a spell on a nearby tree, bringing it to the ground.
Alinoth then dodges his gaze back to Logan, his teeth clenched and his eyes blazing with anger. "You always overshadowed me... but not tonight. This night is mine."
A heavy silence settled between them. Logan looked away, swallowing hard. When he finally spoke, his voice was low and unsteady.
"Alinoth, I'm… I'm sorry. I didn't know you felt that way. I never wanted to make you feel less. You're my little brother, and I… I always thought I was making you proud."
"Well, you thought wrong." Alinoth replied harshly, crossing his arms. "Just leave, Logan. Just… allow me to have a few hours of my own, without you stealing everything from me."
Logan stood there, his hand dangling at his sides, his face etched with a pain that Alinoth had never seen before. The charisma and charm were gone, replaced by raw vulnerability.
"If that's what you wish…" With a heavy heart, Logan turns around, moving to leave the gardens, but not without turning around to face his brother one last, who still looked upon the knight with quite the anger running through his countenance.
Then, Logan finally departed, leaving the cathedral behind entirely, avoiding everyone's gaze as he went.
Alinoth stood motionless for several seconds, exhaling a heavy sigh he hadn't realized he'd been holding. With a weary step, the Arch-Oracle moved to a nearby balcony, leaning against it as his eyes swept over the capital of Forossa spread out beneath him. The cool night breeze brushed over his skin, a soothing contrast to the storm that churned within his mind. His encounter with Logan had completely soured his mood, and he wasn't sure if he had the energy to return to the party just yet. Mentally, he was utterly drained.
Even lost in his own thoughts, Alinoth didn't fail to hear the heavy footsteps approaching, followed by a familiar voice.
"The view from up here really is something else, isn't it?"
He didn't need to turn around to recognize the speaker, but he did anyway, greeted by a face he knew all too well.
It was General Lyanna of House Laurent, one of his former commanding officers and a cherished friend since childhood. With her short, reddish-blonde hair and piercing green eyes, Lyanna exuded both sharp intellect and an unshakable presence. Renowned for her tactical brilliance and calm under pressure, she had earned her place among Forossa's prestigious Lion Knights and became the youngest General in the kingdom at the age of 25 - though Alinoth had later broken that record a few years ago when he became not only a General, but also a Northwarder at just 19.
She also was once intended to marry Logan in an arranged union. The General and Alinoth's brother, however, eventually called the whole thing off, much to their families' dismay. Alinoth had been away when it happened, but he'd heard the stories.
Now she stood before him, clad in the iconic Faraam armor of the Lion Knights, her green eyes holding their characteristic softness. Unlike many generals, Lyanna wasn't one to hide behind a desk - she fought alongside her troops, leading charges and sharing in their victories and losses. It was a quality Alinoth had always admired.
"Ma'am." Alinoth greeted curtly.
Lyanna responded with a hearty laugh. "Ma'am? Alinoth, last I checked, you're the Arch-Oracle, not me."
Her smile widened. "Besides, even when you were under my command, I never gave you permission to be so formal."
"Force of habit." Alinoth replied with a sigh, turning his gaze back to the city.
Lyanna's expression softened as she studied him. Without another word, she moved to his side, leaning against the balcony while keeping her eyes fixed not on the city, but on Alinoth. "So... you and Logan still haven't worked things out."
Alinoth raised an eyebrow. "You heard?"
"The whole ballroom heard." Lyanna admitted. "Remember the type of voice you have - and you weren't exactly whispering."
For several moments, Alinoth said nothing, staring at her in silence before exhaling and returning his attention to the view.
"Logan didn't mean any harm, you know." Lyanna continued gently. "He's your brother. He loves you."
Alinoth snorted. "If he really loved me, he wouldn't have come."
Lyanna frowned, crossing her arms. "I understand your frustration, but you're being unfair. He didn't even know how you felt until you told him."
"Oh? And whose side are you on now?"
"I'm not on anyone's side." Lyanna shot back, her voice sharp with restrained anger. "I'm just trying to help you see how much of an ungrateful jerk you're being."
"Ungrateful jerk?!" Alinoth's frustration boiled over as he stepped away from the balcony, his brows furrowed and teeth clenched. "Why, you-"
"Yes, ungrateful!" Lyanna interrupted, jabbing a finger into his chest. "I get that you're upset, Alinoth, but that doesn't give you the right to lash out at Logan. He's just trying to help. He wants to spend time with you, his little brother. Why can't you see that?"
"You don't understand, Lyanna!" Alinoth exploded. "You have never been underestimated your whole life. Never been ignored, only to be noticed when compared to your brother and deemed a failure! You've never had to try to shine against the damn sun!"
A heavy silence fell between them, broken only by the wind and the distant strains of music from the ballroom. Alinoth's breathing was ragged, his anger slowly ebbing into guilt.
"I'm sorry." he murmured at last, his gaze dropping. "I've just been... on edge lately."
Lyanna studied him quietly before letting out a sigh of her own. Her voice softened as she extended a hand. "You've been holding this in for a long time, haven't you? Come on - walk with me. Forget titles and formalities tonight. Let's just be Alinoth and Lyanna. Two friends catching up."
Alinoth hesitated, glancing between her hand and her eyes. Finally, a faint smile curved his lips. "Yeah... that sounds nice."
Taking her hand, Alinoth shook it firmly, earning a wide grin from Lyanna. As their hands parted, Alinoth looked at her and then stepped forward slightly.
"So, let's go... Lily."
Lyanna's eyes widened, her jaw dropping slightly. "Oh, Faraam's grace... you still remember that nickname?"
"How could I forget? Yourself told me to call you that."
"Fair point." She giggled. "Very well. Let's go, then... Ally."
Now it was Alinoth's turn to chuckle at the mention of his old nickname. "So, where do you want to go?"
"Do you remember the lake on the outskirts of the city?"
"I do." Alinoth replied. "It was the last place I visited before leaving for my journey to become a Northwarder."
"It's been ages since I've been there." Lyanna said, a wistful note in her voice. "It'll be good to visit again."
They left the cathedral by a secondary route, thus avoiding unwanted glances and conversations from the guests. Then proceeding to the city ramparts, Alinoth and Lyanna took two horses from some soldiers at the city gates, who quickly provided them with the animals, not daring to question a General and the Arch-Oracle himself.
As they left Bellumagri, Alinoth and Lyanna proceeded towards a road that went deep into a copse. As they rode side by side through the quiet woods, the tension Alinoth felt before deep inside his chest slowly eased as they moved without uttering a single word, the only noise heard being that of the horses and of nature around them.
Eventually they arrived at the right place, tying the horses' reins to a nearby log and heading down a trail toward the lake soon after.
Alinoth and Lyanna had been here before, countless times throughout their childhood, but it had been years since they had last visited. Now, with the soft crunch of leaves beneath their feet and the earthy smell of damp soil in the air, they walked side by side, falling back into an easy rhythm, as though they had never left.
They were both quiet at first, taking in the scenery. The sky above the lake was a mesmerizing wash of black and blue, reflected perfectly on the lake's smooth, mirror-like surface. A warm breeze stirred the trees around them, setting leaves fluttering like tiny green and yellow flags. Alinoth sighed, feeling a familiar sense of peace settle over him as they walked down the narrow trail.
"It's just as beautiful as I remember." Lyanna murmured, glancing sideways at Alinoth.
Alinoth smiled. "Yeah. It feels even more like home." He looked out at the water, his gaze soft. "Strange that it doesn't change, even when everything else does."
Lyanna nodded, thoughtfully, and they lapsed into a comfortable silence as they reached the sandy shore.
Lyanna kicked off her boots, wiggling her toes in the cool sand. "Remember when we'd come here when we were kids?" she asked, smiling at the memory. "We'd pretend the lake was our own kingdom, and we were the monarchs who had to protect it from invading armies."
Alinoth laughed, his voice carrying across the quiet water. "Yes! And then you'd make up all these ridiculous quests. I think you had me fighting invisible dragons with sticks more times than I can count."
Lyanna chuckled, nudging her friend playfully with her elbow. "Hey, you loved it. You even named one of the dragons - what was it?"
"Drahmur." Alinoth replied with mock seriousness. "How could you forget? He was our greatest enemy."
They both laughed, and for a moment, it was like they were kids again, their laughter echoing through the trees. But as the laughter faded, Lyanna found herself growing quiet, lost in thought. She glanced at Alinoth, studying his profile in the moonlight. The years had hardened Alinoth's features, giving him a rough beauty, so much different from his brother, and that made Lyanna's chest ache.
They sat in silence for a while longer, watching the nighty sky and the stars, glinting faintly above the lake. Finally, Alinoth broke the silence, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
"You know, I was thinking… We used to swim here all the time." He said. "Why don't we go for a dip? Just like old times."
Lyanna's eyes widened. "Now? The water's got to be freezing!"
"Oh, come on... Since when did you become so cautious?" He teased.
Lyanna rolled her eyes. "Fine, fine. But if I freeze to death, it's on you."
Alinoth only grinned, already pulling off his tunic and getting only on his underwear. Lyanna hesitated for a moment, then shrugged off her own armor, goosebumps prickling her skin as the cool nocturne air hit her bare shoulders. They waded into the water together, shrieking as the icy lake water lapped at their ankles.
"In Faraam's name, it's freezing!" Lyanna gasped, laughing as she splashed Alinoth.
The man yelped and retaliated, sending a spray of water back at Lyanna, and soon they were both soaked and breathless, laughing as they stumbled further into the lake. The water was chilly, but refreshing, and after a moment, Lyanna felt herself relaxed, floating on her back, gazing up at the sky.
The stars were brighter now, scattered like diamonds across the dark sky. The world felt vast, boundless. Beside her, Alinoth floated too, his fingers occasionally brushing against Lyanna's as they drifted, buoyed by the stillness of the water.
They floated in silence, and it was only then, in that quiet moment, that Lyanna felt a flutter of something deep in her chest. A feeling she'd ignored for too long, something that had lingered in the quiet moments, in the stolen glances, in the way her heart raced whenever Alinoth was nearby.
"Ally..." she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
Alinoth turned his head, his eyes catching Lyanna's in the dim light. "Yeah?"
Lyanna took a deep breath, the words on the tip of her tongue, her heart pounding. "Do... You know why I never married Logan?"
"I have my theories, but I never confirmed then." He admits. "But I must say that I'm curious. Everyone in Forossa admires Logan and I know that being his partner is the dream of many. So why didn't you proceed with the ceremony? You didn't love him?"
"Don't get me wrong, I do care about Logan, I still do. But love… love is different." She paused, gathering her thoughts. "The closer the wedding got, the more we realized it was not what any of us wanted. Aside from none of us agreeing with arranged marriages to begin with, we never saw each other as more than friends."
Lyanna dodges her gaze to the sky as she also says: "And besides... my heart belonged to another man this entire time. It still does."
"Who?" Alinoth questions at the same time he raises an eyebrow. "I mean... this entire marriage business was two years ago, and I haven't seen you with anyone else this entire time. He didn't return your feelings?"
"Not exactly." Lyanna sighs. "The thing is I haven't told him about my feelings yet. I've decided to wait. He was extremely focused on pursuing his dreams, and I didn't want to be a distraction."
"But now..." Lyanna suddenly takes Alinoth's hand into hers. "I'm done waiting."
Alinoth's eyes widen in complete disbelief as he connects the dots and uncovers the meanings behind Lyanna's words. "W-what...?"
Lyanna swallowed, her voice trembling as she finally said: "You, Alinoth. I've been in love with you... for a long time."
They looked at each other for a long moment, the world around them falling away until there was only the sound of their breaths, the warmth of their hands intertwined, the stars reflected in each other's eyes.
"You... love me?" Alinoth asked, his voice barely above a whisper. "Why are you telling me this now?"
"Because you deserve to know." she said simply. "Whatever happens between us, you deserve to know that you were the one I've always wanted. That you were never in Logan's shadow. Not to me."
A pause stretched between them, infinite yet fleeting. Without another word, Lyanna swam and closed the distance between them, cupping Alinoth's face with a gentleness that contrasted the storm in her eyes. Her touch, cold because of the water, sent a shiver down Alinoth's spine.
"May I?" Lyanna's voice was barely above a whisper.
Glazing directly into her eyes, it took Alinoth a few seconds to finally register Lyanna's words, but even so, all he would do was to nod.
And then, before he could take another breath, Lyanna's lips were on his.
It was like stepping into the sun. Alinoth's mind went blank, the thrum of his heartbeat drowning out all thought. The lake around them seemed to hold its breath, the stars above shining just a little bit brighter as Lyanna finally, after so many years, let her true love come to the surface.
She was warm, her lips soft but insistent, and every ounce of him burned with a new, uncharted sensation. He tasted the faint tang of wine on her lips and something else that was uniquely Lyanna - warm, inviting, irresistible. There was no fumbling, no awkwardness. Lyanna led, confident and sure, coaxing a response from him that felt as natural as breathing.
Alinoth's initial shock melted into instinct. His hands found her waist, tentative at first, like he was touching something sacred. Lyanna, on the other hand, was not hesitant. She pressed closer, deepened the kiss with an urgency that spoke of restraint finally unleashed. Her fingers moved to tangle in Alinoth's wet hair, drawing a quiet gasp from the Arch-Oracle that made her smile against his mouth.
As their kiss deepened, Alinoth's mind spun with a thousand thoughts. Was he doing it right? Did she care for his inexperience? But Lyanna's guidance silenced those worries, each movement telling him that perfection wasn't needed, only presence. His nervousness gave way to an exhilarating rush, a blend of excitement and newfound confidence.
When she finally pulled away, their faces were still close as they caught their breath. Alinoth's heart was pounding so hard he could feel it echo in his ears. Lyanna's eyes searched his, softened by something tender yet fierce.
"Lyanna-" Alinoth began, voice shaky, only to be silenced by her thumb brushing across his lower lip.
"I've wanted to do that for so, so long..." she confessed, the words spilling out in a rush. "And now, here you are. It certainly was worth all the miserable years of wait. You are worth it."
Alinoth stared at her, the weight of the confession sinking into him. He was someone's desire, someone's long-awaited moment. A smile broke through his initial awe, boyish and shy. "It was my first..." he whispered.
Lyanna's eyes widened slightly, a spark of realization crossing her face. She hadn't known. "Oh, Ally..." she murmured, half apology, half wonder. "Then I'm honored."
The General then leaned closer, the hint of mischief lighting up her expression as she approached Alinoth's ear, her voice a playful as she whispered: "But I can assure you that you have barely begun to experience anything. If you allow me, I can show you so much more."
Widening his eyes, Alinoth swallows as Lyanna's breath and whispers send shivers all over him. She had raw, unshackled lust dripping from every single one of her words now. Lyanna had restrained her desires for so long, but not anymore.
So with a single nod, the Arch-Oracle gave the General all the permission she needed.
Lyanna's grin got even wider. "Perfection." She then kissed Alinoth on the cheek, grabbing his hand right after. "We're already in a private place, so why don't we enjoy it a bit more?"
"Ah, Lyanna..."
Seated against the towering tree in the Helltaker's garden, Alinoth exhaled a deep sigh, his gaze fixed in the morning sky. The first light of dawn crept across the horizon, bathing the world in soft hues of gold and orange. A gentle breeze whispered through his hair and brushed against his face, grounding him in the present even as his mind wandered to his now vivid memories of the past.
He would never forget her. Lyanna, the Forossan General, one of his few true friends during his childhood, his first great love, and the mother of his first child - a child whose details were taken from him by the undead curse. As Lyanna lingered in his mind, Alinoth cherished it in full. She was a part of him, a part he would hold close forever.
But she was far from being the only one.
"You would have liked her, you know." Alinoth murmured into the stillness, his voice soft, his tone wistful. "I have no doubt the two of you would have been great friends."
To an observer, it might have seemed he was speaking to no one, for Alinoth was alone in the garden. But his words were not meant for anyone of flesh and blood.
"You would have liked everyone I've met here, too, Lucatiel." he continued, turning his gaze to the metal mask on his right hand, imbued with profound significance of the old owner. Alinoth raised Lucatiel's mask with delicate reverence, cradling it as though it were the most precious treasure in existence.
"They're all so different, yet so dear. Even though I've known them only briefly, they're incredible in their own ways. Every single one of them."
This was not the first time Alinoth had spoken to Lucatiel's mask, nor would it be the last. For countless aeons, it had been his solace, a means of coping with the grief that weighed on his soul. Speaking to the mask gave him the fleeting, bittersweet illusion that Lucatiel was still present - that she lingered with him, watching over him.
Deep down, Alinoth understood the futility of such act. He knew she was gone, that the mask was but an echo of her past existence. Yet he clung to this ritual, disregarding the cold truths of logic in favor of the comfort it brought to his fractured heart and mind.
For now, though, he let himself linger beneath the gentle embrace of the garden's serenity, waiting. He had arranged to meet Azazel here to finally begin her studies, and he knew the angel would soon arrive.
As if on cue, the sound of the glass door sliding open broke the tranquil silence. Azazel appeared, hurrying into the garden with an unusual rush.
"Sorry for the delay! I'm here now!" she called out, her voice filled with a hint of apology.
Alinoth couldn't help but smile at her earnestness. Rising from his spot beneath the tree, he dusted himself off and stepped toward her. Today, just like yesterday, Alinoth wore the armor of King Vendrick. This time, however, he had adorned himself further, as the crown of Vendrick rested atop the head of the True Monarch.
"Actually, you're right on time." he said warmly, his expression softening as he greeted her.
"Really? That's good." Azazel then lets out a huge yawn, rubbing her eyes right after.
The True Monarch raises an eyebrow as he watches the angel. "Are you alright?"
"Hmm...?" The Curious Angel looks to barely receive Alinoth's words as she looks up towards the monarch, her eyes obviously quite heavy, as well as rimmed with red, dark crescents of exhaustion beneath them.
"No, you're not..." Alinoth sighs, crossing his arms at the same time. "You stayed awake all night, didn't you?"
"Yeah..." She admits after a few seconds, the glow in Azazel's eyes falters under Alinoth's, shifting into embarrassment. "I tried, but I couldn't sleep at all. I was too excited for our first study section."
Alinoth's lips pressed into a thin line as he assessed her. She'd waited all night, her mind racing over the lessons she'd imagined. But he knew the cost of such neglect; her enthusiasm, while admirable, would hinder her ability to learn today.
A memory surfaced, unbidden, of himself long in the past: a boy hunched over a candle, hands smudged with ink, pushing his limits in the pursuit of knowledge until exhaustion claimed him. He remembers the lecture his master Azal gave him after that.
Alinoth sighs. "Azazel, while your mind is sharp, your body still needs rest. We cannot begin with you like this. Even if you were able to remain awake, the quality of your learning would be severely affected."
"But Alinoth...!"
"Don't start with the excuses." His voice was serious, but carried no hints of severity. "Right now, you'll go back into your room and sleep, for as long as it's necessary for you to feel well-rested."
"B-but... That way, we'll lose too much time and-" Azazel tried to continue talking, but she couldn't help but yawn.
The True Monarch raises an eyebrow. "See? But don't you worry, child. We shall not lose time at all."
Alinoth closed his eyes, feeling the pulse of the world around him - the rush of the wind outside, the caw of birds, cars moving and people talking... As the Bearer of the Curse reached inward, he concentrated on that volatile part of himself where the power lay dormant, and summoned it as he opened his eyes. The air seemed to hum and tremble; then, everything fell still. The cacophony of birds around them suddenly stopped, the wind stopped whistling... even the distant chatter of people and sounds of cars died in an instant.
Azazel gasped as the sudden shift settled over her. She turned in confusion, her eyes laying around her upon the figure of a bird, who now strangely stood in the middle of the air, completely unmoving.
"Alinoth... what is this?" she whispered, eyes wide not with excitement but awe.
"I have stopped time - for everyone, except the two of us and Aldia." The True Monarch said. "This is a gift, Azazel. You can now rest without losing the day."
"You... can control time?"
"I can perform a grand array of deeds, child. And if you wish to learn about even a fraction of them, a clear and well-rested mind is required."
The Bearer of the Curse watches as Azazel observes the still world, the wonder in her eyes gradually being replaced by comprehension.
Her mouth opened to argue, but she caught the gentle firmness in Alinoth's gaze and finally let her shoulders relax. The initial excitement gave way back to weariness, and she blinked, swaying slightly on her feet.
The monarch then presses a hand on Azazel's back. "Come, you need to rest."
The angel barely has the strength to nod, instead just accepting Alinoth's help as he guides her back into the house and upstairs, straight back into the angel's bedroom. Once there, Alinoth then guides the angel to her bed. The silence was profound with the world acting as a painting in that moment. Azazel, fighting the urge to protest, sank into her soft mattress, her eyes finally fluttering shut.
Wrapping the angel in her blankets, Alinoth sighed, settling beside her as he watched Azazel's breathing deepen peacefully. Memories from the past crept into his mind, as they so often did, unbidden and relentless. He recalled countless nights when he had done the same for his own children - carrying their drowsy forms to their rooms, tucking them into bed, and marveling at their serene and innocent forms. In those fleeting moments, he felt a rare lightness that made the burdens of existence seem distant and inconsequential.
He had vowed to love and protect each of them, to give them the care and affection he himself had been denied by his own parents. Yet, despite his unwavering efforts, in the end… it hadn't been enough.
Shaking his head sharply, Alinoth tried to dispel the intrusive memories, but they lingered stubbornly, as they always did. The past was an unyielding adversary, ever present, and it loomed even larger in the oppressive silence of solitude. No matter how far or fast he ran, it always caught up to him.
With a weary sigh, Alinoth's gaze dropped to his left forearm. Though encased in the metal gauntlet that had once belonged to King Vendrick, he could still feel them. The scars. Over the ages, Alinoth had turned to physical pain as a desperate means of escape - a brutal distraction. Countless times, he had taken one of the many blades in his arsenal and carved new wounds into his flesh, watching his black blood seep from the gashes.
For a time, it worked. The searing pain and the sight of his own blood momentarily tethered him to the present, drowning out the torment of his mind and replacing it by more tangible ones. But that too had lost its potency long ago.
The pain ceased to serve its purpose. The more he mutilated himself, the more meaningless the act became. Driven by desperation, he escalated his self-inflicted torment. He began to tore his own limbs, commanded the Forlorn to rend him apart with their scythes and greatswords… all in pursuit of an escape from the emotional agony that consumed him.
But even this was futile. He had grown so accustomed to the torment that he became numb, utterly impervious to physical suffering. And so, stripped of even that fleeting solace, he was left almost defenseless against the demons within, save it some few other things.
As the world remained frozen for hours and hours, Alinoth eventually used the time he had waiting for Azazel to decide on some finishing touches to the plan he had in mind. With his legs crossed and hand on chin, Alinoth went over his notes mentally, occasionally talking with Aldia for different insights.
"...so we'll need 13.000 kilos of raw iron in total: 5000 per body and 1500 per sword."
"Now we just need to choose on the type of magic: sorcery or pyromancy?" Aldia questions the Bearer of the Curse.
Alinoth shrugs. "Why not both? For what we have planned, the type of magic doesn't matter. We're literally just choosing the color we want them to be. Although… I admit that I have a greater fondness for the blue one over his red twin."
"Haven't you met your demise at the hands of the indigo goliath more times than its crimson contemporary?" The Scholar of the First Sin retorted.
"Details, Aldia. Details."
This conversation, however trivial, proved to be a welcome reprieve from the crushing silence. It was enough to anchor Alinoth's focus and pull him from the depths of his melancholy, allowing him to approach the day's tasks with a semblance of normalcy.
A few more hours passed for Alinoth in less than the blink of an eye. Still seated, lost in contemplation, he finally noticed Azazel beginning to stir. He watched as the angel woke, stretching and yawning before sitting up in bed.
"Feeling better now?" Alinoth asked casually.
The sound of his voice startled Azazel, making her flinch slightly.
"Alinoth…! You… stayed here with me?"
He offered a nonchalant shrug. "Where else would I go? But I'll ask again - are you feeling rested now?"
Azazel's face lit up with a radiant smile as she nodded. "Much better, yes. And… Thank you for this. Truly."
Alinoth allowed himself a small, almost imperceptible smile. "It was nothing, Azazel. But promise me you'll take care of yourself and get proper rest from now on, alright?"
With another nod, Azazel silently agreed. Reinvigorated, the angel was ready to continue their activities. Together, they descended into the garden once again, where Alinoth released his hold on time, letting it flow once more like the unyielding current of a river.
As before, Azazel watched in awe. "I still can't believe you can control time! How did you come by such power?"
"It's… a long story." Alinoth replied, his tone dismissive. "But that's not why we're here."
The angel's curiosity gave way to focus as the monarch's words redirected her attention. "So, where do we begin? Is there something specific you had in mind, or…?" Azazel's excitement was impossible to hide.
"Like all things, we start with the basics." the monarch said firmly, his voice steady with certainty.
Merely waving with his hand, Alinoth summons a strange object that immediately catches Azazel's attention like a moth to a flame. The said object was strange and ethereal, with a rough, jagged shape, with tendrils of fire and light extending from its core, stretching outward before dissipating into glowing embers. Its color was a blazing white at its core, tinged with hues of gold. Flickering flames danced across its surface, sometimes glowing bright and sometimes dimming. It also pulses with a slow, rhythmic beat, each pulse releasing a small burst of light and an amazing heat, but the energy feels drained, as if it's a fire burning its last fuel. There's an aura of tension and barely contained energy, that constantly shifts and dances as if the object itself was alive and could erupt at any moment.
Ultimately, the best way Azazel could describe what Alinoth had on his hand was a fading, although still mighty piece of the sun itself, pulsing with fiery intensity. Its appearance gives the impression of something that was once synonymous with power, but today is nothing but a dwindling shadow of its former self.
"Is that… a soul?" Despite the possible dangers, the angel couldn't avoid getting closer to get a better vision.
"Indeed it is." Alinoth confirms, not taking his eyes away from the fiery soul, his countenance filled with a silent rage. "This is the soul of Gwyn. Once one of the mightiest of souls, but now… It became this, a mere prop, after Gwyn committed the First Sin and became the first Lord of Cinder."
The Bearer of the Curse stares at the fiery soul at his hand. "As I explained two days ago, from where I come, souls are the source of all life. Something that dwells within every single being. They are tangible, a physical essence in the world, tied to life, power, and magic. They can be obtained, consumed, lost and retrieved, corrupted, traded, used to enhance power and even to manipulate existence itself."
"Those souls truly are different from ours." Azazel affirms. "Our souls are immaterial, the true essence of a being, directly created by God. Our bodies are mere vessels, as our souls are our true selves. They are unique and reflect a divine spark that differentiates each creature. They aren't something that can be consumed or traded. It's tied to an individual's ultimate destiny, either salvation and eternal life or separation from God."
"The souls from my world and the ones from this world are ultimately different, but they still bear certain similarities. I sensed it the very first time I stepped into Hell."
"You learned all of that just by sensing things?"
"Indeed." Alinoth confirmed, his tone calm yet assured. "You'd be amazed at what I can discern simply by attuning myself to my surroundings - listening to what existence itself tells me."
He turned his focus back to the soul he held, its ethereal glow pulsing faintly in his hand. "Despite being the essence of life, in my world, it is entirely possible for beings to survive with their souls weakened - or even completely absent. King Vendrick, for instance, lived for centuries without his soul before becoming a Hollow. Moreover, a soul can be transferred into an empty vessel - organic or otherwise - and the individual's memories, personality, and sense of self can remain fully intact."
That final revelation caught Azazel's attention. Her eyes brightened with curiosity. "Really? You've actually seen that happen?"
"A few times, yes." Alinoth replied, his voice distant as a faint memory surfaced. "The most notable case for me was that of a princess I once knew, long ago. She performed a ritual that sacrificed her original body, transferring her soul into a blue doll. It allowed her to survive."
"What happened to her?" Azazel asked softly, leaning in with a mix of intrigue and apprehension.
"I killed her." The words fell from Alinoth's lips with blunt finality, his voice laced with a cold edge of disdain. "She was one of the few I truly enjoyed killing. She sought to harm those I cared for - tried to take their lives to achieve some grander purpose. She failed, and I made certain she deeply regretted her choice before I took her soul for myself."
Azazel's eyes widened slightly at his admission. She was no stranger to death, but hearing someone speak of taking a life with such satisfaction felt unsettling. It was a stark reminder of the weight Alinoth carried - the choices he had made and the lives he had taken.
But now was not the time to dwell on the past, and Alinoth knew it. With a blink, he shook off the lingering shadow of memory, refocusing his mind on the task at hand. His expression hardened, and his resolve returned.
With a simple wave with his free hand, the Bearer of the Curse makes two colossal mounds of black metal materialize before him and Azazel, their weight seeming to press into the earth beneath them. The sudden manifestation startled the angel, making her twitch slightly as she took a step back, wide-eyed.
"Alinoth... what is this?" she asked, her voice tinged with both awe and curiosity.
"Black Iron." He replied calmly. "This is the ore that elevated the Old Iron King from an insignificant noble to a mighty monarch."
Azazel tilted her head, her confusion evident. "Why do we need this?"
Alinoth turned to her with a faint smile. "Because, Azazel, one of the first questions you wrote in your notepads was whether souls could be used to grant life to inanimate objects. Today, I'll show you that."
"Wait…" Azazel's eyes widened, shimmering with curiosity as she gazed intently at him. "You mean… that's actually possible?"
"Of course it is!" Alinoth chuckled, his voice brimming with confidence. "I've encountered and fought countless soul-animated beings in my time: gargoyles, suits of armor… And throughout all the millions of worlds I've visited, I also fought many different versions of the very manifestation of the souls of all those who rekindled the First Flame, which all processed a charred armor."
His expression grew more serious as he locked eyes with the angel. "But today, I'll show you something unique - something far more deliberate: soul-powered automatons. Right here and now, I will demonstrate how to create two of the most memorable adversaries I've ever faced: the Smelter Demons."
Turning his attention back to the towering mounds of Black Iron, Alinoth prepared himself, the air around him charged with purpose and anticipation.
"Are you ready?" Alinoth asked Azazel, his voice a low rumble that seemed to vibrate through the air itself.
The angel nodded, swallowing her nerves in excitement as she stepped forward, notepad in hand.
Without ceremony, Alinoth extended his right hand toward one of the massive piles of black iron resting in front of them. Azazel watched in awe as a deep fire began to emanate from the monarch's hand, at the same time as the air around him and Alinoth himself was taken by soft flames as well. A perceptive and strong heat filled the garden, growing stronger until Azazel could feel it within her bones. Any normal human wouldn't be able to remain there.
Then, with a simple movement of Alinoth's fingers, the iron began to shift.
The massive pile of black metal trembled, shaking on the ground as if responding to a silent command. Slowly, the iron began to twist itself, its shape shifting all together. Azazel gasped softly. She has never seen something like this - not even the greatest blacksmiths in Heaven ever managed to bend metal with such a raw, fluid precision. The iron twisted in mid-air, turning into a multitude of different pieces that swirled around Alinoth's hand like he was using telekinesis.
"This was the secret of the Old Iron King. What allowed him to achieve so much power." Alinoth began, his voice steady as he focused on the metal. "The Iron King, just like I am doing now, didn't force the iron into shape. He persuaded it. This is the difference between mere craftsmanship and true mastery. Molding something is easy - any brute can do it. But to convince it, to bring it to life with finesse - that takes both understanding and power."
Alinoth lets out a sigh. "Despite the extremely villainous man he was, I admit that the Old Iron King had an incredible talent. A talent I acquired after I took his soul."
As Alinoth gestured slightly, the iron responded, dividing into thin streams that twisted and wove themselves into shape. Azazel watched as more of the metal took on form: first, she saw the thick torso of the automaton, broad and sturdy like a knight's chest plate, followed by arms - long, powerful limbs designed for strength and war.
As more and more of the Smelter Demon took shape, Azazel marveled at the complexity of the design. Alinoth wasn't simply shaping a humanoid figure; he was building something far more intricate. Gears and joints formed within the metal, interlocking with one another in a delicate dance of precision engineering. Pistons, rivets, and layers of reinforced plating emerged from the mass of iron, each piece flowing seamlessly into place as though it had always belonged there.
"Every piece must have a purpose." Alinoth said softly, as if speaking to himself. "The body is a shell, but it must be strong enough to contain the power, the soul, that will inhabit it. The slightest flaw, and well... the Old Iron King found out in the worst way."
As the seconds passed, Alinoth worked, shaping and refining the metal with his magic. Azazel stood by, utterly entranced, watching as the hand of the monarch moved with an intricate elegance and graceful manner, like a maestro conducting an orchestra. He was sculpting something far beyond mere metal; this was art - art born of fire and souls. It was a process of both creation and discovery, as if Alinoth was unearthing something that had always existed within the iron, waiting for him to bring it to light.
Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the iron automaton stood complete, towering even above Alinoth at the height of 5 meters.
Azazel couldn't avoid feeling both mesmerized and terrified of what she saw before her. Overall, the Smelter Demon had broad shoulders and muscular proportions that made it appear strong and almost indestructible, which was made even more apparent as it was heavily armored, its body completely composed of dark iron plates. The surface of the metal is rough, with jagged edges, making it a design that suggests both strength and a dangerous volatility. Even so, the body was also filled with cracks and crevices, with the biggest being what looks like the mouth of a furnace on the demon's belly, so wide that the only thing that connects the torso to the legs is a thick, massive iron spine.
On the top of his head, the Smelter Demon had long and sharp horns that curved upward in a pronounced arc, looking similar to a bison. Also, at one of his hands, the demon of metal held a menacing greatsword, with the blade being completely black, jagged and rough, giving up its unimaginable weight and power.
Alinoth stepped back, watching every detail of the Smelter Demon with a smile on his face. Despite the many troubles he had against both Smelter Demons in the past, he always had a soft spot for them. Those automatons were marvels of engineering and mechanics, something Alinoth always enjoyed.
"Do you see?" he asked, turning to face Azazel. "This is only the beginning. The body is finished, but without a soul, it is nothing more than a statue. Beautiful, yes, but lifeless. Empty."
With Gwyn's soul still in his grasp, Alinoth approached the Smelter Demon, extending his hand toward the automaton's massive core embedded in its metallic belly. Releasing the ethereal orb, Gwyn's soul lingered in the air, floating momentarily before splintering into radiant trails of light. These trails coiled around the automaton's cold iron, fusing with it and suffusing it with the essence of the once Lord of Cinder.
"Even with a soul, a 'spark' is still required - a catalyst to ignite the soul's power and sustain its energy." Alinoth remarked.
Turning his focus fully to the Smelter Demon, Alinoth yet again summoned an object with a simple wave of his hand.
A peculiar staff materialized before him. Its sleek, metallic body, deep black in color, emitted a faint, ethereal glow, as though it radiated its own soft light. Intricate engravings adorned its surface, elegant yet understated, enhancing its mystical allure. The staff's most striking feature, however, was its ornate headpiece - a heavily embellished cradle that housed a luminous, perfectly polished crystal. The gem pulsed with refined magical energy, glowing as brightly as a full moon.
Gripping the Staff of Wisdom, a relic both familiar and immensely powerful from his days in Drangleic, Alinoth raised it above his head and began to chant. His voice echoed in a language alien to Azazel, who stood silently behind him. As the incantation progressed, the crystal atop the staff blazed with a hypnotic blue light, its brilliance almost blinding. The air around them grew dense, charged with an unfamiliar energy that both awed and unsettled the angel.
Azazel could feel it - a strange, potent force unlike anything she had encountered before. It was deliberate and calculated, a power born of unparalleled intellect and mastery, tinged with something otherworldly and intangible.
Without breaking his chant, Alinoth began to circle the Smelter Demon, the staff's crystal releasing streams of radiant magic. These beams danced across the garden, forming a whirlwind of ethereal beauty. The spectacle left Azazel spellbound, her eyes fixed on the display as Alinoth completed his circuit, returning to his starting position.
A massive sigil now surrounded the dormant automaton, glowing faintly yet ominously. Alinoth grasped the staff with both hands, raising it high above his head in preparation for a final act. Before striking, he turned toward Azazel, his expression grave and commanding.
"Stay behind me at all times. This last stage might be... volatile."
Recognizing the weight of his words, Azazel compiled without hesitation, retreating a safe distance. With everything in place, Alinoth refocused on the task at hand, and with precision and force, he drove the staff into the sigil.
A deafening crack echoed as far as possible, at the same time a massive blue flash engulfed the garden. Simultaneously, an intense, supernatural wind surged around Alinoth and Azazel, scattering leaves, grass, and even stones into the air. The environment itself seemed to rebel, yet Alinoth stood undeterred, his composure unwavering amid the chaos.
Azazel, however, was not as resilient. Shielding her eyes against the blinding light, she sought refuge in the folds of Alinoth's cape. Yet even through the storm, her curiosity compelled her to peek, straining to witness every moment of the unfolding ritual.
The sigil beneath the Smelter Demon blazed brighter, its magical energy converging in the automaton's core.
"What in Hell's name is going on here?!"
Azazel turned to see Lucifer, the Helltaker, and the other girls standing at the glass door to the house, their expressions a mix of shock and alarm. Many were still wearing their nightclothes, evidence of how abruptly they had been awakened by the tumult outside.
"Alinoth! What are you doing?!" Lucifer shouted, her voice barely audible over the roaring winds. Shielding her face with her hands, she demanded answers from the True Monarch, who remained unyielding in his focus.
Then, in an instant, it was over.
The blinding light and howling winds vanished as suddenly as they had appeared. The garden was eerily quiet, though still bore the marks of upheaval - scattered leaves, upturned grass, and dislodged debris attested to the ritual's ferocity.
Stepping back, Alinoth regarded the Smelter Demon with satisfaction. He could feel it: Gwyn's soul and his sorcery resonating within the automaton's metal frame in the most perfect synergy. Azazel emerged from behind him, her eyes wide with awe as she observed the towering construct.
Moments later, Lucifer and the others cautiously approached, their expressions a blend of curiosity and trepidation.
"Alinoth!" Lucifer called, her tone sharp with anger. "What have you-"
She was interrupted by a sudden noise.
The sound of grinding metal filled the air. Slowly, the Smelter Demon stirred. His arms, once held rigidly across his chest and holding his greatsword, lowered to his sides. The automaton's massive legs shifted, each step shaking the ground beneath them all. Finally, his head - until now bowed - rose as if waking from a long slumber.
Then, the core in his belly ignited in flames. But these were no ordinary flames; they were an intense, magical blue fire, radiating a brilliance that matched the energy of the sigil before. The flames coursed through every crevice and engraving on the Smelter Demon's body, illuminating its form as they surged toward its hands, horns, and head. The automaton now stood fully awakened, his once-dormant shell pulsing with life and power.
The sight of the construct was both a marvel and a source of unease. Such was the sentiment Lucifer felt as she gazed upon it, her mind brimming with questions for the True Monarch.
"Alinoth... What is this thing?" the Queen of Hell asked, her voice laced with both wonder and apprehension.
The Bearer of the Curse allowed himself a soft chuckle at their reactions. Even though he had anticipated this, the sight of their astonishment was still amusing.
"Do you all remember the Smelter Demons I mentioned in my stories yesterday?" Alinoth gestured toward the metal automaton. "This is one of them."
"You mean you created an automaton?!" Justice's excitement was palpable, her voice practically vibrating with enthusiasm. "Man, I would kill to actually see this thing!"
"I-" Lucifer stammered, struggling to process what she was seeing. Her gaze lingered on the iron demon, a mixture of awe and shock etched across her face. After a moment, she regained her composure, inhaling deeply before turning her attention back to Alinoth. "Why is it here, then?"
"Azazel was curious whether the souls of my world could be used to animate inanimate beings." Alinoth explained. "So I decided to show her that it's not only possible but remarkably effective. I've always found practical demonstrations far more illuminating than theoretical discussions."
"And you just had to carry out this 'demonstration' first thing in the morning?" Pandemonica interjected, her voice dripping with irritation and a hint of sadism. She fixed Alinoth with a glare that could have cowed most, but the monarch remained unfazed.
Lucifer crossed her arms. "I agree with Pandemonica here. But more importantly, what exactly do you plan to do with this... creature?"
"Creatures, actually." Alinoth corrected, nodding toward another untouched pile of iron nearby. "I'm going to make a second one."
"You..." Lucifer blinked, taken aback. "You're not serious."
"Be grateful I didn't choose to recreate Ichorous Earth." Alinoth replied. "That was my first idea. But in any event, don't worry about these constructs - different from the Old Irons King, I have them entirely under my control. I already have plans for both of them, so they won't be hanging around for long."
Lucifer raised an eyebrow. "And what, exactly, are these plans?"
"You'll find out this afternoon." Alinoth said with a faint smile. "But rest assured, it's nothing dangerous."
'Well… mostly.'
Lucifer looked like she wanted to press the matter but ultimately sighed, closing her eyes and placing her hands on her hips. "Fine. Just promise me this: don't spring anything like this on us again without warning. And for Hell's sake, don't do it when we're still asleep."
Alinoth's smile widened. "You have my word."
With that, the group reluctantly dispersed back indoors, leaving Alinoth alone with Azazel.
"You..." Azazel's voice drew Alinoth's attention. "Are you really planning to get rid of the Smelter Demons later?"
"Not exactly 'get rid of.' I'll relocate them somewhere far from the house." Alinoth clarified. "I know what you're thinking, and don't worry. You'll have several hours to study them thoroughly. That should be plenty of time to answer any questions you have."
Walking toward the remaining pile of iron, Alinoth gestured for Azazel to follow. "Now, let's create the second demon. This process will be calmer and more refined than the first - though it will involve pyromancy this time. You'll be able to observe without any distractions."
True to his word, the creation of the second Smelter Demon was smoother than the first. The procedure involved a similar ritual, but this time, instead of using sorcery, Alinoth employed pyromancy. The process was simpler yet equally methodical, with flames dancing in a controlled, almost elegant display.
Once completed, Alinoth and Azazel stepped back to admire the work. The second Smelter Demon bore a striking resemblance to the first, but subtle differences distinguished them. This new demon's horns were shaped more like those of a bull, and the fire fueling it was a vibrant, fiery red - ordinary in appearance but powerful, a complete contrast from first Smelter Demon's blue flame.
Both creations stood as testaments to Alinoth's mastery, each imbued with its own unique essence.
"Well... Our first learning section is officially over." Alinoth remarked, turning to Azazel with a knowing smile. "What do you think about what we did today? About what you learned?"
Azazel's eyes gleamed with curiosity, her mind already racing with the possibilities. "These automatons are incredible, Alinoth! You just answered my questions and did even more. You're an amazing teacher, and I can't wait to learn even more tomorrow! I still have so many questions... Perhaps could you tell me about the connection between blood and souls from your world? Or perhaps-"
Alinoth's expression softened, and he shook his head. "There will be no lesson tomorrow."
The words fell like a sudden chill over the garden. Azazel's smile faltered, replaced by a look of confusion. "What do you mean, no lesson? We are just at the beginning There's so much more to uncover, so much I still need to understand."
Alinoth's voice was gentle but firm. "Tomorrow is a day of rest."
Azazel stared at the monarch, disbelief flickering in her wide eyes. "But… I don't understand. Why rest when we can keep learning? There's still so much I need to know!"
The Bearer of the Curse crosses his arms, his demeanor unshaken. "That is precisely why we must pause. The mind, like the body, has limits. Pushing it too far at an extreme pace leads to imbalance."
"But I feel fine!" Azazel protested, her voice rising with frustration. "I don't feel tired or overwhelmed. I'm ready to continue - eager to continue! I know I made the mistake of not sleeping yesterday, but that I'll not happen again!"
Alinoth raised a hand to temper Azazel's rising emotions. "Passion and dedication are indeed virtues, Azazel, but they must be tempered. I am not teaching you merely to grant you more knowledge than you already have. My main goal is to gift you with what you truly lack: wisdom."
Azazel looked away, her shoulders slumping. The joy and excitement she had felt moments ago now seemed distant. "I just… I don't want to waste time. Every day without learning feels like a lost opportunity for me."
"I understand you, Azazel - more than you know. But please understand that life is much more than a never-ending quest for knowledge. Even during my research to end the undead curse and the cycles once and for all, I took time to rest. Aldia himself made sure of that."
"Couldn't we at least do something small tomorrow? Even just a review?"
The Bearer of the Curse sighs, crossing his arms. "Tell me, Azazel, what do you remember most vividly about your own studies from yesterday?"
She hesitated, caught off guard by the question. "I… I remember researching the types of sins, even those not catalogued by Heaven."
Alinoth nodded approvingly. "Good. And what about the day before that? Before we even met?"
Azazel frowned, her mind working to recall. "It was… something about the connection of the realms... How Earth, Heaven, and Hell are positioned and how everything is close in the cosmic scale."
"And the day before that?"
The pause was longer this time, and the angel's expression grew uncertain. "I… I think it was about... The specifics are a bit blurry, but I wrote it in one of my notepads."
The Bearer of the Curse raised an eyebrow. "Do you see now? The mind can only retain so much at once, even one like yours. Without time to reflect and internalize, much of what we learn becomes fleeting, like water slipping through our fingers."
Suddenly, the True Monarch places a hand on the angel's shoulder. "Think of a calm lake. If you throw a single stone, the water will ripple, but it will soon return to normal. But what would happen if we threw stone after stone into the lake, non-stop?"
"It would become chaotic." Azazel admitted. "The water would never settle."
Alinoth's eyes met hers, his gaze steady. "The mind is like the lake. Each lesson is a stone, creating ripples of understanding. But if you throw too many stones at once, the surface becomes turbulent, and clarity is lost. Only by allowing the water to settle can the true clarity emerge."
Azazel turned to stare at the ground, Alinoth's words sinking into her. She remained silent for a long moment, the fire of her earlier frustration dimmed. Finally, she spoke, her voice tinged with resignation. "So you're saying I need to let the lessons settle before moving on."
The True Monarch smiled gently. "Exactly. Rest is not idleness, Azazel. It is an integral part of learning, a time for growth to happen beneath the surface. Without it, knowledge becomes a shallow thing, easily lost."
Kneeling down, Alinoth gently grabs Azazel by the shoulders, looking the angel in the eyes. "You learn just for the sake of learning, Azazel. That is your greatest flaw. You need to first understand what you learn, to internalize it, make the knowledge part of you, of your very soul. Only when you do that with what I have taught you today will we continue."
Azazel's mind churned with new understanding. She still felt the pull of her eagerness to learn, but Alinoth's words had planted a seed of reflection.
The monarch noticed that, what makes him smile once again. "Tomorrow, take the day to rest. Spend time with the Helltaker and the others, go for a walk at someplace you enjoy... You may find that the lessons of today reveal themselves more clearly in the stillness."
Azazel nodded slowly, a faint smile tugging at her lips. "I'll try, Alinoth. Though I admit... it won't be easy."
The Bearer of the Curse chuckled. "The most important lessons rarely are. But I have faith in you, Azazel. You have the passion and dedication to become truly great. All you need now is the wisdom to balance it."
'And to prevent yourself from becoming a monster.'
This is actually a single chapter divided into two parts. I was going to post the whole chapter, but I thought it was getting too long, even longer than the last one. Anyway, I'll post the second part in the next few days. The truth is that I still need to finish the final section and connect some parts here and there... But the bulk of it is already written.
And for fun fact, the name I have for Forossa's capital, Bellumagri, means "War field" in Latin.