Zedzy stood in the vast throne chamber of Blackhold, his gaze locked onto the emotionless eyes of Lord Rusty, whose presence alone distorted the air with raw spiritual power. The king's eyes burned—not with fury alone, but with expectation. There was no mercy in them. Only judgment.
"Why did you go to the human world without my permission?" Rusty asked again, his voice cold enough to freeze even the strongest demon's blood.
Zedzy remained still, concealing the surge of tension racing through him. His mind raced with calculations. He couldn't falter. Not now.
He lowered his head with a calculated calmness. "I went to conduct some experiments, my lord. They were trivial—of no true consequence. I felt it would be a waste of your valuable time to report such insignificant matters."
From beside the throne, Zephyr—Rusty's adopted son and second only to him in raw power—smiled subtly. His arms remained crossed, but the glint in his eyes revealed everything: he had anticipated this exact excuse.
Lord Rusty's gaze lingered on Zedzy for a long, uncomfortable silence. Then finally, he spoke.
"I will forgive you—this time."
His voice echoed like thunder.
"But remember: if you act without my command again… I will show no mercy."
Zedzy bowed once more, then turned to leave the hall. His movements were slow, deliberate. He didn't let the tension show, though every step felt heavier than the last.
As the gates to the Blackhold closed behind him, he stepped into the cold silence of the outer corridor. But Zedzy didn't relax. Instead, he spoke aloud—his voice calm, yet laced with warning.
"I know you're following me. Come out."
A shadow shifted behind a nearby pillar, and Zephyr emerged, a faint smirk playing on his lips. His presence was quiet—eerily so, considering his immense spiritual power.
"Impressive," Zephyr said. "I suppressed my SP completely. Not even a whisper of sound. Yet you still noticed."
Zedzy didn't respond immediately. His eyes narrowed. His thoughts turned like gears.
He's only recently learned of my visits. If he had known sooner, he would've told Lord Rusty long ago.
As if reading his thoughts, Zephyr replied, "You're right. I only confirmed your trips recently. I saw you use the Lumen Sigil. I didn't know where you went or why—not yet."
The Lumen Sigil—a sacred device granted to all demons and angels alike—was the key to accessing the various mortal realms.
Zephyr took a step forward, arms still crossed. "You lied to Father. Those weren't trivial experiments, were they?"
Zedzy's expression remained composed, but a flicker of irritation passed behind his eyes.
Zephyr continued, voice quiet but precise. "If it truly were trivial, you wouldn't have looked so nervous. That tells me one thing—your actions were calculated… and disloyal."
There was a beat of silence.
"So that makes you a traitor."
Zedzy inhaled slowly, pushing down the surge of rage within him. But he asked coolly, "Then why didn't you report me?"
Zephyr smiled wider. "Because I didn't have proof. And besides, Father still sees you as valuable. He wouldn't kill you over suspicion alone. But me? I don't need proof. I just need time."
He turned to leave, his back now exposed to Zedzy. It wasn't arrogance. It was a statement.
"I'll find the evidence I need," Zephyr said. "And when I do, I'll deal with you myself."
And with that, he vanished into the shadows once more.
Zedzy watched him go, a storm building in his eyes.
"So… you want to play this game."
He muttered to himself, his tone sharp with venom.
"You've made your move, Zephyr. And now… I'll make you pay."
But in the distance, beyond the dark corridors of Blackhold, Zephyr was already watching—already thinking.
He's predictable when cornered, Zephyr mused. He'll try to move quickly now. Try to eliminate me before I can expose him.
Zephyr's thoughts were razor-sharp.
Zedzy wants to kill Father and take his place. That much is clear. But what I still don't understand is… why the mortal realm? Why the secrecy? How is he planning to kill someone like Father?
Zedzy isn't strong enough—not yet. Not even close. He's no match for me, or for Velmira. So the answer must be…
Zephyr's eyes narrowed.
He's found something. A secret. A way to gain power.
His lips curled into a grin.
"Interesting. Very interesting, Zedzy. I'll figure out your plan—every piece of it. And I'll enjoy watching it fall apart. I won't let Father kill you. That would be too easy. Too boring."
A glint of amusement passed across his face.
"No… I'll play with you. I won't let you die. But I will keep crushing all your plans."
Zephyr didn't care about fighting angels. He wanted to protect his father. But what he wanted the most was entertainment.
It was a battle of shadows now—of hidden motives and unspoken moves.
Zedzy's ambition was nothing short of overthrowing a god.
Zephyr's goal was to unravel that ambition, destroy it, and savor every moment of the downfall.
Neither would strike openly.
Not yet.
In this war, power alone wouldn't decide the victor.
It would be a battle of minds.
A game of wits.
And it had only just begun.