Zeriav sweat profusely from his bed, and eventually opened his eyes.
He rubbed his face once he sat up. He still had nightmares about it. That day…..
That day he played into evil’s hands and became despicable himself.
He clutched his beaded necklace and went to pray. Demetri had forgiven him, and so the appeal by the priests from the Order to have him excommunicated did not happen. He spent every morning, every midday, and night praying to his god for gratitude.
For giving him another chance.
“Blessed Demetri, please grant me the strength to continue flourishing despite all the troubles. Allow me to grow and take root deeper into this world, staying anchored despite the challenges of my surroundings.”
But it was still very vivid to his mind. How that daemon took the form of Cermin, his dearest friend, to fool him into destroying his very temple of belief.
He will do his best to obliterate that evil now that he had a chance to go back to this Academy. He was now sure of who he was.
“There’s more to that black Commoner rat, you were right.” Volken told him when he visited and passed by his home at Welkin.
He was passing by as he was to travel to the Kingdom of Himmelgard.
He had explained what he Pavone and Rabuka had found out over the years, and what they intended to do. Yet their plans kept being thwarted by this evil, and their valiant efforts to save everyone had been continuously being extinguished.
Volken places his heavy hand on Zeriav’s shoulder. “You are our only hope, Zer. I put my hopes in you, the enemy would be difficult to fight, and you must look for any form of deception as always.”
Which was ironic because he was also deceiving Zeriav at that moment.
The plan was not to thwart the Lord of Darkness out of the goodness of their heart. The plan was to gain what was supposed to be his power, or to be able to get their reputation back by taking claim of defeating him.
But Zeriav does not see any of these deception for he wasn’t a mind-reader like Ronin, and Volken was a great pretender after all. He had known what words to say to get into Zeriav’s mind and gain his alliance.
“I will do my best.”
And it did not actually take long for Zeriav to notice the Lord of Darkness’ deception.
He had been doing his duties of overseeing the skies at the Temple of Gods, and carrying with him large scrolls and materials for scrying. He walked with much sense of duty and sternness, which would sometimes gain the attention of temple-goers, and fellow Monks.
There was something attractive in that cold and determined look, and Zeriav himself was objectively attractive enough even without it.
He passed by Sister Rozenaur teaching Meditation class to new monk students, 1st years preparing to follow Orders of different gods. Meditation was a very important way to communicate to the transcendental realm and hear their god’s voice after all.
“Breathe in… Breathe out. Yes, do not be deterred by any distractions…..”
But as the tall and handsome Zeriav passed by, several students got distracted and gawked at him. He was merely annoyed by the stares and hurried on his way—
Until he sensed it.
Far at the back, a new Monk student was sitting on the same crossed leg position as everyone else and meditating. He was not paying attention at all to Zeriav and kept his eyes closed, but the priest of Demetri still could not take his eyes off him.
This student had pure white Moonstone skin just like him, only with many blue swirls and freckles. His hair was also light and free as the clouds, so pure in their shining silver sheen. He looked exactly like the perfect, ideal Monk…
But Zeriav can sense the evil aura in him under all that guise of purity.
(I found you.) He said in his head, but continued to walk forward with his scrolls.
As he left, the young Monk who was closing his eyes opened it and wore a wide grin.
—————————-
Again and again, it pierced Pavone until he felt like dying.
But it also felt… Euphoric.
Perhaps it was the electrifying sensation coursing through his veins….. But the pain really did feel good. So good in fact that it felt like he was floating to the skies.
“Should I go gentler? Should I stop?”
Pavone shook his head, huffing breathlessly in the bed. “No….. Keep going. In fact, go harder.”
“Alright.” Maellan thrusted his spear deeper inside him.
“Ahhhhhhh!!!!!”
The Spear of Levin was blue in the past. But now it shone jet black, with only glowing patterns of cerulean in it left. Maellan held it with his Sapphire hands, and plunged the tip deep into Pavone’s solar plexus, electrifying him.
Before, the electricity would have killed Maellan too, so he always avoided contact with it. But now he himself was the one that brought the sparks on electricity, and charged his now Obsidian spear with it to transfer into the Platinum man’s body.
This was his healing process. His Gift was to transform the electrifying energy of his now Daemonic Lightning into Flame that combusts within people.
The part that was penetrated by the spear was pitch black and slowly spreading. But he had to control the amount or else he might kill his patients, so he always had to ask if he should go gentler or stop when they reach their limit.
Even when transforming people this way instead of directly at the Beacon, he still can only transform partially with certain body parts. So he had to ask Pavone, and Pavone chose his stomach.
“Why did you chose for this part to be healed? Hunger?” Maellan asked.
“It’s my core. The center of my body.” Pavone said. “Ah… That one hurt.”
“Bear with it for a while, I’m almost done. It’s good that you know that, were you a Scholar as well?”
Pavone nodded. “In the Academy… I was the Head of the Student Council.”
“Oh. A fellow Academian.” Maellan smiled, pleased. “You do seem familiar, though I was too engrossed in my research to pay attention to students who are not those I helped teach as Professor Vyrill Krustal’s Apprentice.”
Pavone nodded. “Are you….. You are a Zafeiri, are you not?”
Maellan’s face darkened when he heard his last name. “How did you know that?”
Pavone flinched as he had plunged harder and deeper, electrifying him more. “I… I know your Lord even before you told me about him. He studied at the Academy too. He is currently there now.”
Maellan’s face softened at the mention of his ‘Lord’. “Yes… I have the privilege to have him born as my beloved brother. Even when he have dark skin, I have always cherished him and knew that he will amount to great heights…..”
He then made a smile that showed his true core now as evil, something the old Maellan would never wear.
“I just never would have guessed that he would be the Lord of Darkness. The very first entity in existence.”
(First entity?) Pavone was still doubtful of that claim.
Maellan had told him that Darkness had existed before Light, and even before Creation itself. Therefore, Fausforus had existed before Aurion and the Celestial Gods, as well as Diamant.
Pavone could believe about Aurion, but not about Diamant. After all, if that was true…
Then that would mean that it was Fausforus who created Diamant, not the other way around.
It does not make any sense for Darkness to create Flame, for Death to create Life.
“I’m almost done… Pray tell me how my dear brother had been in the Academy.” Maellan smiled. “Though I did have some glimpses when I touched the Core and reached out to lightning itself to revive me from imminent death.”
“He was…” Pavone was trying his hardest to lie, but he could not in front of Maellan.
Somehow, he can’t deceive him. He can’t do anything against him, he can’t betray him.
He said it all, his plans, his desire to thwart him. The whole fiasco and destruction brought by his involvement with Cermin Drychspiel, who himself was involved with the Lord of Darkness as his claimed enemy.
By the time he was done, Maellan had finished healing him as well and took away his spear, dark blood spluttering.
“Ahh! I’m sorry… I know you are a follower of Ronin, but we can do better than him…. Your power is already great enough, and if you keep giving us powers, we might succeed on even overthrowing him and ruling the New Era by ourselves—“
“How sad it is.” Maellan frowned. “How sad it is that you are also so disillusioned, you poor thing. Just like that Monk, believing in gods, believing you have power over fate.”
He wiped the blood from his face, Pavone’s blood that smeared on him and had turned black from the transformation. Turning Pavone partially into a daemon.
And he licked that blood off his fingers.
“My dear boy, I suggest you stop your foolishness as early as you can. You have ambition, you like having a hold on people and taking away their power. I like that confidence.”
He patted Pavone’s head. “However, it’s pure ignorance to believe you can go against fate itself. Confidence and ignorance are two different things.”
He stood up and took some gauze. “Now, let’s wrap around that wound. It would heal in a few days, and you’ll start to feel the changes by then. After that, I you are good to go.”
Pavone frowned. “You’re leaving?”
Maellan cocked his head and smiled.
“Why, of course! How else would the Dark Lord gain followers without me, his Prophet?”
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