Chapter 93: 987 Years Ago (3)
Malphas awoke, still lying on her back, with her eyes looking up at the beautiful, crimson-leaved branches of Lilith's Tree. She had no idea how long she had been unconscious. In fact, she was only beginning to realize that the interaction she had experienced in that endlessly-reaching field of flowers was a part of her ceremony. In hindsight, the ceremony itself must've done something to her perception to prevent her from realizing she was being tested at all for the sake of the trial itself.
"So I'll ask you again, do you understand what you're setting yourself up for? And can you accept it as your future?"
Those words, asked by a much older version of herself, still rang through her mind like a bell's reverberation. Her answer, "I can", wasn't merely a mark of confidence. She understood that now. What it really was, was the approval of a direct change to her own mentality. A price paid to actualize the truest depths of her soul and manifest it as her very own Clan Trait.
"I see," she muttered to herself, still content to rest her back against the grass while she gathered her thoughts.
The ceremony was so much more than a trial.
It was a choice.
You didn't need to pass, of course, you wouldn't awaken your Clan Trait, but you wouldn't be in any danger either. There was no risk of 'deviating' like the Bunés had to face. You could continue your life as a Clan Traitless Devil if that's what you wanted to do.
However, if you truly desired the power hidden underneath the layers of a Sallos's bloodstream, you needed to come to a decision.
You needed to accept the most extreme part of your own soul, for that is where the latent Clan Trait of the house's clansmen resided. You had to forgo the ability to 'be someone else'.
Despite their proficiencies, Malphas's family all possessed extremely one-track personalities. Morax was always rebellious and battle-lustful. Marbas was always frustratingly compassionate and forgiving. Mariques was always composed and stone-faced to the point where it seemed like she hardly had any emotions at all.
Always.
They were all one-dimensional to a fault because they had decided to let themselves be overcome by 'that part' of their soul to obtain the strength it was tethered to.
And now, Malphas had become the same.
Slowly, she hauled herself upwards from the grass, observing her surroundings and noticing that no one was present in the clearing aside from herself. Her senses couldn't seem to perceive them being nearby either, which meant her family was either back in the compound or somewhere else entirely.
She looked down, clenching her fists and examining the new changes to her form, beyond the acquisition of her Clan Trait.
All of her internal components seemed to flow better, she thought her prowess with manipulating Demonic Power was in a league of its own, but even she could never imagine it being this smooth. It was as if her vessels had been rusty pipes this whole time, only to have just been cleaned post-ceremony. Forget pulling off considerable feats of magic power with a mere wave of her hand, as she was now, she probably wouldn't need any movement at all. A mere thought alone would suffice.
From the inside out, she had been cleaned, purified of everything that held the driving force of her psyche back, and reborn anew.
The Malphas she was now was not the same Malphas that had just sipped the sap of Lilith's Tree.
"A lifetime of endless repetition. A lifetime of unrequited satisfaction."
Once more, the words of her older self echoed through the halls of her brain.
Slowly, Malphas slid her hand down her torso, keeping it pressed against her abdomen where she could feel something that hadn't been there before. A bottomless, yearning pit of hunger. She could hear it screaming at her right this very second, demanding she satiate its greed and lust for power. A sensation that most would find utterly maddening to endure.
But not her, she relished in the sensation. Somehow, to her, there was comfort in feeling such a constant lack of satisfaction.
But no fulfillment.
She had forsaken that luxury, voluntarily so, just as her older self described. Unless the infinitesimal, nigh-impossible chance of her becoming 'the strongest' ever came to fruition, she would forever chase that high of being able to trample on someone a realm above her, then a realm above that, and above that, and above that, forever, and ever, and ever.
And somehow, she was perfectly content to live with that morbid reality.
Or perhaps it'd be more accurate to say she had given up the right to disagree with it at all.
With a hushed, quiet smile of satisfaction on her face, Malphas held out her palm and opened it, watching in awe as thin, tendril-like, green threads started to bloom into existence, no different from the Spider Lilies that had stretched endlessly across her ceremony's landscape.
She knew what her power was—
And she knew exactly what it wanted her to do.
---
Mariques Sallos' Perspective (Third-Person)
With placid contemplation, Mariques sat in her study as usual, going over and refining many of her house's already-existing medical treatments and programs, scanning her methodology for even the faintest flaw in need of correction.
She was a perfectionist, through and through. If there was an improvement to be made, scale was irrelevant, all that mattered was that the improvement came to fruition.
Unfortunately, as much as she wanted them to do, her eldest children didn't share that trait. The one who was supposed to inherit her crown once her time was over had absolutely no interest in the position whatsoever, and in all honesty, even if she did, she still wouldn't be a prime candidate. She lacked the medical prowess, the decorum, the political finesse, and awareness befitting a Marchioness. Instead, she opted for the graceless life of a battle-thirsted fiend.
Pathetic.
Then there was her son, who, frankly speaking, only had two main drawbacks.
The fact that he was born a male, and the fact that he was needlessly compassionate. A character trait that made him prime prey to be manipulated by those around him, an inevitable fate people like him faced in the sphere of the Underworld's high society.
But intellectually, he wasn't a dullard, much unlike his sister. His administrative and logistical ability was the real deal, competent enough to be acknowledged by his mother, honestly, not haphazardly. Nonetheless, he simply couldn't inherit the crown. His attitude was too lenient, and he was born with an XX Chromosome instead of an XY.
Thus, Mariques saw no value in trying to hone his skills any further. He contributed to his Clan enough through his governance of Bratus. All he had to do was maintain his current level of efficiency, nothing more.
Then there was Malphas.
Even the thought of her alone caused her quill pen to hover in suspension.
Where was she supposed to begin with that child?
First and foremost, she was brilliant, incredibly so. Mariques loved to reinforce and hammer in the notion that the Sallos bloodline had been blessed with those like her before to keep her grounded, diligent, and driven, but that was the furthest thing from the truth. Malphas was one of a kind in every aspect: intelligence, strength, and elegance. If she wanted to be an expert in something, the attainment of top-tier mastery was inevitable.
She was, in the truest sense, one of a kind.
However, Mariques would be a fool not to acknowledge that the girl was apathetic just as she was brilliant. Her brother, sister, and even her Mother held little to no value in her eyes beyond the fact that Malphas 'tolerated' their presence on a day-to-day basis.
Mariques herself was no Mother Hen, nonetheless, there was a fine line between controlled composure and sheer indifference.
Mariques cared for the prosperity of her house, she cared for the reputation and efficiency of the medical revolutions they produced, she cared about her all-too-important duty to secure the clan's future as its Matriarch. If any of these things were ever to be compromised, she'd anguish over them. She'd feel genuine lament and mourn in lieu of their destruction.
Morax and Marbas had things they held close to their hearts, too, things they'd feel great pain in losing. Like Bratus, or perhaps a simple spar. The scale of what they treasured didn't mean anything, the fact that they cherished them at all sufficed as proof of their passion.
But Malphas?
Frankly, despite being the girl's Mother, she didn't have the slightest clue as to what, if anything, that girl held close to her. Sure, she gardened now and then, but that was just passing curiosity blended with the desire to kill time, she had no other responsibilities to attend to after all, she had yet to even reach adulthood. Sure, she worked hard to refine her Demonic Power and overall magical ability, but she held no love for the process itself. She didn't have the wonder or demeanor that suggested she possessed anything even remotely adjacent.
However, there was one instance where Mariques saw, or at least believed she saw, a glimpse of what fulfilled her youngest daughter.
It was when she met up with the other Heiresses and Heirs of her generation, a tradition amongst the Pillars which existed not for the sake of healthy socialization, but to scope out the clans that were destined for future success, and those destined for future failure. Almost like a twisted pageant show where Lords and Ladies came together to show off how 'spectacular' their children were.
Naturally, in the Underworld where might ruled above all, combat superiority was the single most important test everything had their eyes on it. Heir against Heir, Heir against Heiress, Heiress against Heiress, everyone wanted to know which family the dominant force resided in, and these gatherings existed for the sole purpose of answering that question.
And for her youngest daughter's generation—
The answer was Malphas Sallos.
Overwhelmingly so.
Even that 'genius' Lord Buné had sired was trampled on, effortlessly. At present, all Malphas used was 'basic' Elemental Manipulation. She hadn't awakened her Clan Trait and hadn't dabbled in Senjutsu yet, as her Mother had.
But that was all she needed. A firebolt here. A cascade of water there. Bullets of earth now and then. Gusts of wind whenever she was in the mood. Maybe even some lightning when she really wanted to put some gusto into it. This alone sufficed.
Mariques had seen it, clear as day, it wasn't the battle itself that enticed Malphas, but what came after.
The crushing defeat of whoever stood opposite her.
The wallowing they felt, the shame, the embarrassment, the self-loathing, the hatred, the spite, the second-hand embarrassment and disdain they earned from their parents and peers. Malphas simply couldn't resist. The satisfaction of inflicting those emotions on another was too compelling, especially for a girl who had never been wholeheartedly compelled by anything before.
The feeling of superiority.
At that moment, Mariques understood. That was the only thing her daughter had ever found true pleasure in.
And that made her all the more dangerous.
For someone of her talent, having that sole sensation become an obsession was a recipe for catastrophe untold. Power was valued in the Underworld, but power always needed a purpose, whether it be the acquisition of influence, money, or the securing of general stability across the realm.
It needed to be funneled into something meaningful.
Anything at all.
Mariques drew a long, exasperated breath, temporarily setting aside her quill to massage her temple. Stress was truly a burden like no other.
"Honestly, why must all my children come with such drawbacks?" She chose to drown her overwhelming frustration with morbid humor. "There must be something in their father's DNA—"
Mid-sentence, Mariques froze.
She felt it, a drastic shift in the lifeforce around her compound, heralding an awakening she couldn't afford to take notice of.
Slowly, with a mild tremble running through her digits, she set her quill down and arose from her chair, standing up to face the rear window in her study.
A presence once dormant was now up and at 'em.
"It seems you were more prepared to answer than I thought you were."
Mariques had just laid her to rest the day prior, but as fate would have it, Malphas had already come to from her trial. Naturally, the fact that she had done so before the two-week time period was up meant that she had indeed passed the ceremony.
Lilith's Tree had acknowledged her will.
There was no use delaying. Mariques had her body hover off the ground, carried by the wind, before she shot out the window head-first, blitzing over the foliage beneath her as she made haste towards her youngest daughter's position.
It was time to see what had become of her daughter, and more importantly, what had been bestowed upon the young girl.
…
"I see the idiot and the rebel aren't with you, how slothful of them, to miss their little sister's day of awakening."
Those were the first words Mariques heard from her daughter's light, callous voice that reminded her too much of her own.
Save for the jarring fact that it was a touch colder.
Or more accurately, it had become a touch colder.
"I hope you don't refer to them the same way in public," Mariques found little amusement in the way Malphas chose to refer to her siblings. Not because she thought it emotionally inappropriate, but because she didn't want Malphas publicly parading that image of them around. It wouldn't do the public reputation of their family any favors.
Malphas didn't humor her with a response, she simply stood in place with her gaze fixated on her own two hands, waiting for her Mother to say whatever it was that was weighing on her mind before continuing the conversation.
"You passed quickly, you're more accepting of your true nature than I thought you'd be."
A faint, knowing smile tugged at the corners of Malphas's mouth. "Had you meant that as a compliment, I might've considered expressing my gratitude."
Mariques's eyes narrowed with sharpness rivalling Damascus steel, her scrutiny of her daughter intensifying tenfold.
Something was off about her, beyond her usual behaviour.
It wasn't strange for a Sallos to give off a different presence post-ceremony, however, there was something particularly off about Malphas. She would know, she had been there when both Marbas and Morax awakened, and there had never been anything explicitly 'ominous' about their awakenings. At least, nothing ominous enough to put someone like Mariques on edge.
"Let's skip the back-and-forth, shall we?" Mariques suggested. "We both know how much you love to flaunt your power, so you might as well show your Mother what it is you've acquired."
Hearing that, Malphas's smile widened into one more expressive, but still incapable of reaching her eyes. "Are you sure? I can't say for certain, but I have a small inkling you won't be all too fond of it."
The sinking, churning feeling in Mariques's abdomen worsened. There were no buts, ifs, or ands about it. Something was definitely off about her daughter, more so than usual.
"Then again, you are my Mother. It'd be rude of me to disobey your request, wouldn't it?" Slowly, with the grace of a drowsy sloth, Malphas raised her hand and left her palm open, flat, and vertical, pointed directly in her Mother's direction.
And in the same instance, Mariques's eyes went uncharacteristically wide and ruffled, the Ki blended into her meridians had just handed her a sharp, horrifying warning—
Danger.
Acting immediately on her deeply-trusted instincts, she raised her arm in an attempt to create a thick, sturdy wall of earth between herself and Malphas to guard against whatever it was her daughter was going to throw at her.
But that's all it ended up being.
An attempt.
To her dismay, she couldn't quite seem to move her limbs as she wanted to, nor could she find her well-attuned connection to the elements, which she had trained for centuries upon centuries until she reached her current level of mastery.
She was beside herself with confusion.
Where was this coming from? This invasive, encompassing feeling of numbness? Malphas hadn't even done anything yet, but it felt like the circuits throughout her body had been severed with a wire cutter, rendering them incapable of receiving her brain's commands.
And then, an ever more bizarre phenomenon started to occur.
Her vision started to tilt in languid, sliding fashion. Like the entire Underworld had been tipped on its axis towards the right.
"What's the matter? This is what you wanted, isn't it?" Malphas gazed into her Mother's eyes with a maintained smile, tracking her as her vision continued to 'slide'.
Mariques blinked, baffled to see splattered droplets of sanguine liquid spewing outwards in all directions.
'Impossible. Isn't that my bod—'
Mariques, the fourth Marchioness of House Sallos, died before her severed head reached the floor. Decapitated by her own daughter, who had sent out a wind blade too fast for her Mother's eyes, trained as they were, failed to perceive in time before her neck was sliced through like a hot knife against butter.
"Hm. A bit anticlimactic, of all the people who could give me a challenge, I thought it'd be you." She spoke with little enthusiasm, she wasn't like Morax after all. Whether a battle was riveting or a complete squash match didn't mean much to her. "Don't worry, though, your ability will live on in much, much better hands. You'll vicariously reach heights you could never have even dreamed of through me, Mother."
She walked over to the Marchioness's fallen corpse, permitting thin, silk-like black threads that gave off a withered aura to snake their way out of her pores and reach deep into her Mother's flesh, binding something that belonged to the deceased devil to a source of power that resided in Malphas before beginning to pull, creating a force of attraction that ripped it out of the older woman's soul into the youngers'.
From this point onwards, Mariques's Lifeforce Bond now belonged to Malphas, robbed straight from her form post-mortem.
Such was the nature of Malphas's Clan Trait.
Bloodline Assimilation.
The power to plunder the Clan Trait of anyone who possessed Sallos' DNA via killing them with her own hand.
"It's a shame those two aren't here right now," she muttered to herself. "I suppose I'll use the time before their return to master your ability."
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Flashback arc ends next chapter! This might've been a bit long for some of y'all, but Martha Malphas's importance to this story can't be stated enough, so I took the liberty of really letting it run so I don't look back and be all like "Shit, I missed x or forgot to add y there".
If you want to support my work and get access to early chapters, go check me out on P@treon/Accel14!
There's also a discord if you want to communicate with me there or get updated on public chapter releases! (wNzT9AEsaz)