POV: Riser Phenex
Riser Phenex sat alone in his private study as dusk settled outside the tall windows. A grand piano dominated the center of the room, its polished surface catching the last light of day. His fingers moved over the keys with disquieting grace, weaving the delicate phrases of Chopin's Nocturne No. 20. It was not a performance meant to soothe. The melody did not merely stir emotion, it interrogated it.
The final phrase lingered, delicate as cobweb, before my fingers lifted. Silence returned, expectant. I did not turn to her.
"You've been watching for some time now," I said, lightly. "Were I less practiced, I'd have mistaken that gaze for admiration. But I suspect you're here to confess a thought. Or a fear. Perhaps both?"
I glanced back, just enough to catch the flicker in her expression. Guilt. Embarrassment.
"My Lord, I didn't mean to intrude—"
"Don't be absurd," I interrupted gently, rising from the bench. "This manor is yours as much as mine. Besides, the walls miss your footsteps when you keep to the corners. Come." I gestured toward the chair opposite mine, still warm from candlelight. "Sit. Speak. And kindly do not insult both of us by pretending your silence is noble restraint."
She hesitated, then obeyed. Back straight. Eyes downcast.
"It's nothing, really. Foolish thoughts from a servant."
"A servant?" I echoed with a touch of amusement. "Yubellana, I've watched you maintain this estate with precision no spell could replicate. You anticipate needs before they're spoken. You handle every detail I ignore without complaint or error. And yet, in your mind, your greatest contribution is keeping the bookshelves tidy?"
That drew a faint smile.
"You are no mere servant. You are my Queen. Speak as such."
She nodded, slowly.
"It's about the events… that happened recently. During the whole Satanael fiasco."
Ah. So we've reached that chapter, have we?
I folded my hands, watching her carefully.
"I see. And what of them weighs on you?"
"It's…" she faltered, then forced herself to continue. "It's not that I disapprove. I would never. I trust you with everything I have, My Lord. But I… didn't understand. You abandoned your efforts with Tobio Ikuse. After everything. After building that relationship. After pretending you cared for that boy's future. You killed his friend. You absorbed thirty thousand souls. You turned him into an enemy and several other longuin users."
"And?" I asked, not unkindly.
"You always said he was a target for recruitment," she continued, voice soft. "He is the wielder of the Canis lykaon. Someone with the capacity to challenge gods, if properly cultivated. I thought… I thought that was your aim."
"It was," I replied, with a smile that didn't reach my eyes. "Then I changed it."
She blinked. "Just like that?"
"Just like that," I said, standing and moving toward the window. "The circumstances shifted, so I adapted. I made a choice that brought results. The plan changed, and with it, so did the role I play."
She stood as well, cautiously. "But was it worth it? You say you've gained power, but Tobio is still a Longinus wielder. His potential is… limitless. You could've had him."
"I could've," I agreed. "But let me ask you, Yubellana—what is a man who gains allies, if he cannot first conquer himself? What is the worth of another's strength, if he has not first proven his own is sufficient?"
She looked away, troubled. "That sounds like pride."
"Perhaps," I admitted. "But pride, you see, is often mistaken for clarity by those still ruled by fear. I do not court strength for the sake of alliances. I consume. I dominate. I master. Because if power is the currency of this world, then dependence is poverty."
She shivered.
"I've read the scriptures," I went on. "Not of heaven, but of nature. There is no justice in the world. No divine balance. No truth that isn't shaped by those strong enough to impose it. All men are born to struggle. Every species, every race. Struggle is the constant. And from that struggle emerges the only true law: power. The strong do not inherit the earth. They reshape it. When a being of true will walks the earth, the very laws of cause and effect shift to accommodate him. That is my pursuit. Not friendship. Not peace."
"You speak of strength as though it absolves all things."
"No," I said. "It doesn't absolve. It defines."
She stepped forward, voice taut.
"Then why did you let them live?" she asked. "Tobio. Cao Cao. The Hero Faction. You had the strength. Why not end the threat?"
I smiled.
"Because they have a role to play."
She tilted her head.
"They are not threats," I continued. " I already know how they move. I know what they fear. What they value. They're predictable and useful."
" So you have a plan for them. You're playing a long game."
"I am playing the only game that matters," I replied. "One that has no board. One where I am not content to be a king or a god, but something beyond."
"And the cost?" she asked, quietly. "All those souls. Sae."
"There is no cost," I said gently. "There is only price. And I paid it."
She looked away again. I saw it, the way her faith in me wavered not from disgust, but the pressure of understanding. That to walk beside me meant accepting things that tore at the edges of her morality.
"You fear what I've become," I said softly.
"I fear that I do not," she whispered.
We stood in silence.
Then I walked back to the piano, sat down, and began again.
A different nocturne this time. Slower. Sadder.
"Your fear defines you," I said, without looking. "It means you have not yet ceased to be human."
"And you?" she asked.
"I ceased long ago," I said. "And found peace in that extinction."
She walked forward, slowly. The light of the chandelier made her look like a ghost.
"But why me?" she asked. "Why keep me close? If all others are tools?"
I didn't answer right away.
When I did, my voice was nearly a whisper.
"Because you see me clearly… and still remain."
POV: Riser Phenex
I felt the magic before it was completed. Summoning magic, Egyptian in flavor, heavy with intent, precise in geometry, and saturated with one overwhelming desire: to see me.
The summons tugged at my spine like a leash. The arrogance amused me.
I did not enjoy being summoned.
So I reversed it.
A flick of the wrist, a shift in the weave. Her spell buckled, then folded in on itself. The floor beneath my study bloomed into a precise geometric lattice of light, drawn in phoenix-gold. Runes flared, flickered, then stabilized with a shudder—and with a burst of violet light, the summoner arrived.
Augusta.
She took one step forward before stilling. Robes of violet. The scent of burnt copper, old parchment, and something older still. Her wide-brimmed witch hat tilted as she adjusted to the sudden change of scenery. She did not stumble, I noted. But I saw the subtle tension in her fingers, the narrowing of her gaze. Her mind, sharp as ever, was already adapting.
I was already seated by the hearth.
"Witches," I said. "Always so fond of circles. You'd think a species so committed to power would tire of walking in them."
Her mouth twitched. "And devils never tire of breaking what others build."
I gestured to the high-backed chair opposite mine. "Please. You've already intruded. Might as well sit."
"Lord Riser," she said with a slight bow, voice even. " To be inverted mid-summon… remarkable. Your magical finesse is impressive. Not many can intercept a spell mid-ritual and turn it back upon the caster."
"Hardly difficult," I replied, examining my nails. "You offered a line. I merely pulled."
I gestured toward one of the grand seats by the fire. "Please, sit. We practice civility here."
She obliged. Her robes rustled softly against the velvet. Her posture remained upright, composed. Not hostile. I rather liked that.
"Yubelluna," I called, without raising my voice. "Bring us two glasses from my special bottle– the one on the right."
My Queen bowed and vanished.
Augusta studied me. "I did not come here to quarrel. I came to offer something useful."
"Of course you did." I laced my fingers. "Witches always arrive bearing offers. Curses. Promises. Grand designs wrapped in Riddles. Speak, then. What prophecy are we spinning tonight?"
Her expression tightened. "It's no prophecy. It's a plan. One I believe may be to your advantage."
"They always say that," I mused. "Is there a school where magicians are taught to speak in melodrama?"
She smiled faintly. "Perhaps we are simply more honest about the stakes."
"Mm. Proceed, then.You've survived the fallout of Satanael's failed apotheosis. That alone is noteworthy.. I imagine you're short on friends."
Yubelluna returned. The wine arrived. I poured for both of us, slow and deliberate. Augusta did not yet drink.
She looked into the fire. "The Hero Faction is mobilizing. With a divine oath dooming them if they do not purge all who pose a threat to humanity."
I nodded once. "Let them be."
"They have gathered more Longinus users than any known faction in recorded history, besides maybe heaven. They've taken an oath and not lightly. And they are testing their edge, cutting down stray devils, rogue magicians and yokais. A warm-up before the real war."
"Children swinging blades," I replied. "This is not the first time zeal has stitched itself into armor."
She leaned forward, voice calm. "No, but it may be the first time it grows fast enough to matter. That oath, they swore it on the Holy names, invoked Yahweh, Shiva, and Vishnu both. The kind of madness only righteous fury breeds."
"And you fear it."
"Well," she said. "I doubt their oath forgives my part in Satanael's ritual. And I plan to survive it."
I gave her a look. "Then what do you propose? Hiding? Apologizing? Or is this where you offer me a grand plan to subdue the mighty heros?"
She smiled slightly. "We build something. Together. An organization. A counterforce to theirs."
I tapped my glass. "Here comes the pitch."
She nodded. "Satanael had a vision. The Khaos Brigade. It was never realized. But the framework remains. It wasn't just madness. It was practical. Build a loose alliance of anyone tired of the peace.We could gather them. Devils, fallen, strays, gods in decline. Dragons without purpose. Rebels. Outcasts. Fanatics."
"Sounds like a circus."
It will be
"It will be," she said. "But it's a circus that can punch back. Especially with the right name attached to it."
" And whose name would that be? Yours?" asked Riser, already knowing the answer.
"Not mine," she said. "Something greater. The jet-black god of infinity. The Ouroboros Dragon."
I stared at her. "You're serious."
"Deadly. The Infinite Dragon God is simple. She wants her home. The Dimensional Gap. Remove Great Red, and she'll grant us her presence, her power. Enough weight to make the Brigade more than a joke."
"And you think she'll just trust us?"
"She's naïve. Detached. Power without ambition. That makes her usable."
"And you want me," I said slowly, "to lead this?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
She hesitated. Just for a breath.
"Because you are not ruled by illusions. You understand that power does not ask permission. That alliances are not sacred. That friends, when necessary, are fuel."
I studied her carefully. "And what is it you want in return? Power? Protection? longevity?"
She looked at me, steady. "All of it. But most of all... I want to serve you."
I blinked, once.
She continued, "I want to become your servant. Reincarnated into your peerage."
A low laugh escaped me. "Why? To grovel for protection?"
"To surpass Merlin," she said. "To dissect the roots of magic until nothing remains hidden. I wish to master it all. But I am human. Old. Time narrows. My ambition does not. I want to join your peerage. Become your devil. And I want to learn from you."
I swirled the wine. "And you believe becoming a devil will fix that?"
"I believe becoming your devil will give me what I need."
"You. Serving under me."
"I don't care about pride," she said. "I care about relevance. I want to see how far you go. And I want to be part of it."
"Such trust. You know what I am, Augusta. I won't pretend to be noble. I'll use you if you're useful. Discard you if you're not.."
She inclined her head. "That's fine. I'd rather be used than rot. Just give me something to do."
I rose from my seat and walked to the window, gazing out over the forest that ringed my castle.
"This Khaos Brigade of yours... It isn't a bad idea. But it needs more than fire and fury. It needs structure. Strategy. It needs intent."
"I can help with that," she said. "And there are others—strays, researchers, broken things. People who want a cause."
"People who want war," I said softly.
"Exactly."
I turned back to face her.
"Fine," I said. "I accept. You'll have your second life."
Six pawn pieces floated into the air before her—golden, burning softly with internal fire.
"Kneel."
She dropped to one knee without hesitation.
The pieces drifted forward. They sank into her chest. She gasped, once, then exhaled.
"Thank you," she said.
"Get used to it," I replied. "We have work to do."
"I will not disappoint you, Master."
And Augusta of the Purple Flames became mine.
AN: So, another chapter, sorry it's a bit late. Hemorrhoids is such a bitch. Anyway, I've also been thinking about how to keep this fic going, and honestly… Riser has completely derailed several of my carefully laid plans. this was not what i wanted it to be when i began writing this fic. He just refuses to do what I want. I write the outline, he burns it. I give him a nice, sensible path, and he decides to take a detour through chaos and emotional damage. But oh well