"Are you still studying that last fight?" A silver-haired man asked as soon as he entered a dark room filled with nothing but candles.
Then, he went into the person ditating at the center of the area; the floor underneath him had a magic circle written in blood.
"The next ti we spar, I swear I’ll go easy on you," the man added, smirking.
"Silence," the other man replied in the lowest tone possible, and he opened his eyes the next mont.
The iris on it had a peculiar trait; it had a mixture of colors, from the outer layer of calm blue up to the raging hue of red located at the middle of his pupils. There were even so pignts of green and yellow scattered around it.
"What brings you here, Eighth?" He asked as he looked at his guest.
"I have a na; how many tis do I need to tell you that?" The silver-haired demon replied while fidgeting with a black dice between his fingers.
"Anyway, I’m looking for sothing...." The demon paused for a second and glanced at the man in front of him before continuing.
"Sothing that only a mystique can possess, and I want it to be from the most powerful one. Let take a peek at your archive," he said with a condescending tone.
. . . . .
Known as one of the cardinal demon races, the mystiques held a calm nature with terrifying abilities only unique to their kin. They had a vast amount of energy, which allowed them to keep a variety of spells activated all the ti.
Aside from this, they were a race with bountiful abilities; they sought knowledge about spells and magic of all the species living in Exgreia. Their greed had no limits; with the help of their mystical eyes, they could analyze and understand abilities and make them their own; however, there was always an exception.
Copying a Legacy was their unwritten failure; no matter what they did, they failed to imitate the abilities coming from within the soul.
This was the sole reason why they were not on good terms with soul devourers who specialized in stealing others’ Legacies.
Each mystique had a grimoire, which they called an archive. This book consisted of all the spells and knowledge they deed worthy to put in their collections.
. . . . .
"Those eyes of yours were still the sa as I rembered, still annoying," Zeno replied as he retracted his scythe and swirled it around him before letting out a punch towards the demon with his other hand.
His fist was covered with a jet-black gauntlet before it landed on the enemy’s abdon while the scythe vanished into thin air.
The mystique was a little too late to react and was sent flying for several ters before tumbling into the ground, but he still landed onto his feet like nothing had happened.
"Is living in this new world fun?" He asked as he stared at the soul devourer.
Then, the other colors of his eyes disappeared aside from the fiery red. Afterward, burning chains materialized around Zeno’s body, preventing his movent.
Within the next second, magic circles lit up above and underneath the silver-haired demon and in just a flick of the mystique’s hand. A heavy explosion occurred, igniting everything inside the affected area in white flas.
The mystique looked at the destruction he created; the blazing fire danced in the air, burning with its majestic embers.
"Co out! You’re not a fool to die in such a simple trick," the man exclaid.
Then, hiding beneath the curtain of flas, a jet-black arrow flew towards him, but he parried it with a casual wave of his hand.
Afterward, he looked up and moved several steps backwards. On his previous position, a black lightning struck down, and it zipped towards him.
Zeno, holding a pair of jet-black twin daggers in his hands, engaged in a close fight with the demon.
"It’s quite fun compared to rotting down in hell," Zeno stated with a smirk.
His words were enough to erase the smug look on the mystique’s face.
"Already losing your coolness, maybe you need to shift your gear to ice. Playing with fire is dangerous after all," the silver-haired demon added in mockery.
As the event continued to unfold, the mystique jumped backwards, wanting to gain so distance from the soul devourer. However, Zeno chased him with a barrage of slashes and stabs, though all of his attacks were blocked and dodged.
’Three won’t do. I need them if I want to take him down. Should I use the sword? No, it will draw attention from those bastards," he thought, asking himself while doing his best effort to make his attacks connect.
With just the help of Eliana’s projection of the enemy’s movent, Chrysantheum’s increase in speed, and Jack’s overwhelming strength, Zeno continued to harass his opponent, giving him no chance to cast a spell.
"You! You’re just buying ti," the mystique said as he tried to grab the silver-haired demon’s arm, wanting it to set on fire.
However, Zeno retracted his right hand and launched a roundhouse kick aiming at the man’s head instead.
"Got yo-" the mystique blurted out after raising his hand and blocking the soul devourer’s kick.
However, he was sent flying once more as soon as the foot hit his hands, he even forgot to unleash his flas upon contact.
’What the hell was that? Is it a strength enhancent Legacy?’ The mystique contemplated with a baffled expression.
He was busy pondering when another arrow ca straight to his face. He was about to parry it when Zeno appeared beside him and grabbed the pointed shaft and stabbed it in his chest.
The arrow pierced the mystique’s heart, causing him to stand still for a second before moving away from the silver-haired demon.
Then, the color of his eyes changed into green, and his body started healing.
"Tired already?" Zeno teased the demon.
His series of attacks ca to a stop as he saw the unusual magic circle materialize behind the mystique.
It had the sa pattern as the previous one that appeared above the sky monts ago, a skull with several hands holding on to one another encircled around it.
"Your ti is up," Zeno stated without a single hint of emotion.
The mystique stared at him, their eyes locked in a silent exchange before the man let out a disappointing sigh.
"You beca stronger..." He paused.
Then the hands from the magic circle began to move and crawl towards his body, pulling him backwards.
"But still weaker than us, we’re not like the sa as that ti," he continued.
Afterward, his right eye’s pupil turned into a small opened book, and its pages started to flip. Then, a magic circle large enough to cover the entire city appeared above the sky.
It had white-colored lines creating a hexagram pattern; inside of it was a beating heart symbol.
As soon as Zeno saw this, he clicked his tongue in annoyance, and he looked around the area.
"All of you, cover your ears if you still want to live," he warned everyone.
The people still present were confused, but they still did what the silver-haired demon told them. In the next few seconds, the heart from the magic circle beat faster and faster. Those who continuously heard the rhythm had their hearts race, and then, they started to cough up blood.
"You should not die... Until I return from this hell, you must continue to live for I, Circe Endrei, the Seventh Sovereign of Greed, will be the one to take your life," the mystique declared; each of his words contained killing intent directed at Zeno.
Afterward, Circe vanished as the hands dragged him back to where he ca from, leaving the gigantic magic circle above, and the mont the heartbeat stopped beating, the hearts of thousands of people who heard the rhythm exploded inside their bodies.
anwhile, Zeno just stood there with blood dripping from his ears, his eyes staring into the horizon when a srizing song reverberated across the city.
Its voice was magical and enchanted; those whose hearts were damaged a little while ago were healed in an instant as soon as the song entered their ears. The damages from the mystique’s last spell were reverted due to this.
Even those knights who were barely hanging on to their lives monts ago regained their vitality and stood up on their feet.
"A siren?" Zeno uttered upon glancing above.
Hiding behind the clouds, a large silhouette let out an ear-deafening roar. Then, as soon as the creature ca into the open, a red flying lizard with a woman standing on its palm made their appearance.
The King of Dragons, along with the Queen of Sirens, entered the battlefield.
. . . . .
At the sa ti, underneath the empire’s capital, in the underground prison where the clacking sound of heels was the only noise echoing inside. A woman painting the pathway with blood by dragging a corpse behind her reached a prison cell with a demon hanging in chains. His entire body was bruised and covered with scars.
"Wake up, Zephryx," she ordered.
With a single wave of her hand, the chains that took away the demon’s freedom were now lting while being engulfed in flas, lting in every second that passed.
. . . . .
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