Aether Nexus: Curse of Love & Hatred

Saa’ir blinked, his mouth opening and closing as if searching for the right words. Finally, he managed only a single word. "Dead…!?”

“Indeed, at least, your physical body is. What stands before me is nothing but a ghost,” Armaros stated before punching Saa'ir with blinding speed, only for his fist to phase straight through his chest, “it's why most mortals can't see you, nor none, even a god such as myself, can touch you. You're roaming our realm as a wandering spirit, my friend.”

While Saa'ir already knew that, he was still left speechless. Armaros, on the other hand, retracted his arm and continued his explanation. “Now, the keyword was ‘most’. Obviously the man saw you. Why is that?” he shrugged. “I’m not a hundred-percent certain, but my best guess is the common phenomenon of being able to see ghosts when you're close to death. Combined with both my first reason and the fact I didn't feel much soulura from the man, I'm leaning on my assumption to be correct.”

“If that’s so, how can you see me?” Saa’ir questioned, crossing his arms whilst pointing at Armaros.

“Good question. As for why I can see you, and with such clarity, I'm just familiar with the soul is all.” Armaros remarked, flipping his hair as he reveled in his own compliment. “Most mortals nowadays don't even know the first thing when it comes to their own soul, let alone the souls of others. It doesn't help that today's age is of relative peace, which means Soul Amplification or Soulful Techniques have no reason to be trained nor awakened. Only those who wield exceptionally powerful souls these days have access to their Soulful Techniques. Within that rarity, only a few of those individuals have such knowledge in order to sense other people's soul wavelengths and signatures. Remember, we already met twice before, which is how I found you, I simply recognized your soul signature.”

“My soul's…signature…? Wavelength?” Saa'ir questioned in his head while putting his hand over his chest. “So, if I really am dead and just a soul, you can see me because you can see the souls of others?”

“Not see, sense, my friend. Seeing someone else's actual soul isn't possible, to my knowledge anyways. It is a feat worth congratulating indeed if it can be done.” Armaros remarked before making a square with his hands, moving them around until Saa'ir was in the center of the square. “No, what I'm seeing is the image your soul’s wavelength gives off when I sense it.”

Saa'ir stroked his chin. “I think I understand. It's like when you sit near a fire with her eyes closed. Despite not being able to see, you can still feel, or sense, the outline and shape of the fire from the heat it is emitting…”

Adopting a shocked expression for a few seconds, Armaros smiled from ear-to-ear as he gave Saa'ir slow and deliberate claps. “Bravo, bravo my friend! While not exactly, it's close! Though, I'm surprised you even could remember such a thing for the comparison.”

“It's thanks to you, really. Throughout our conversation, my memories have slowly been coming back, bit by bit, fragment by fragment. While each one may not be connected to the last, I am still grateful for being provided the puzzle pieces, as they are the key to help fully understand why I'm here…”

Saa'ir paused in consideration. Armaros could tell he was weighing the option to reveal too much or not, smiling since he knew what Saa'ir was going to ask him next. “Though, that still leaves the question as to why you sought me out. I may not have the best sense of feeling at the moment, but I have a gut feeling you came to see me for something other than the fact we’re supposedly ‘old friends’.”

Chuckling at his correct prediction, Armaros extended his arms in a low, crucifix-like pose. Simultaneously, the moon reached a point where its light began to outline his figure, highlighting his sharp features with a ghostly glow while also bathing his face in shadow, making him appear almost divine. “Good question, why did I? Maybe it’s because your appearance ‘signifies’ something?”

Saa’ir only raised an eyebrow to Armaros’ question. In response, Armaros brushed the left side of his hair upward, leaving only his right eye exposed and the lust symbol to glow. The shadows around his eyes deepened, giving him a more menacing, almost demonic appearance. “Let’s put it this way. Tell me, my friend, did you have a vision of eight individuals by any chance?”

“I did,” Saa’ir replied, a snarl carving itself onto his face, “I’m assuming you already know that you were one of them. How did you guess, and what else do you know?”

A wide and pristine white crescent shape appeared on Armaros’ face, still bathed in his own shadow. “My, a man can keep some secrets, no? Though, I’ll at least answer the first. You had the same vision last time you were of this world, eight figures and all.”

Saa’ir nodded. “During the 5th Century, the Great Dragon War, right?”

“Mhm, correct.” Armaros said before walking towards Saa'ir and fetching a flask from within his suit. Taking a swig of whatever was inside, a drop of a red liquid soon dribbled down his chin. Saa’ir immediately recognized the liquid as blood, feeling the distinct, stomach-churning feeling of disgust.

Finishing his drink, Armaros noticed his sloppy manners. “Oh my, apologies, I really should be more classy than that… Want some?” he asked Saa’ir in a relaxed tone, as if they were common coworkers.

A brief silence fell as Saa’ir stared at Armaros in disbelief. In Armaros’ perspective, “What the fuck is wrong with you?” was written all over the Saa’ir’s face.

Armaros tucked his flask back into his suit. “I’ll just finish the answer then…”

“Yeah, you do that.” Saa’ir said as he couldn’t help the judgemental tone spilling from his lips.

“Well, the vision you had in the past and the one you had now wasn’t the exact same. Seven of the eight figures you saw were different, to be more specific.”

“How so?”

“They were different people altogether, yet share the same ‘birthright’ with both each other and the seven figures of today's age,” Armaros smiled and revealed his fanged smile once more, “the birthright of being a ‘Calamity Sin Incarnation’—one they've been given by fate, and fate alone…”

For the first time, a spark of intrigue ignited within Saa’ir’s eyes, turning them from a muted gray to silver. It was as if the words themselves held a dark power—the very same power Saa’ir felt in his vision. “Calamity Sin Incarnation? Just what are they?”

“All you need to know is that you seem to be linked to them,” Armaros bowed with a hand to his chest, “or should I say, us.”

“Us?” Saa’ir repeated before remembering Armaros was the eighth figure in his vision. “Oh yeah, that would mean you're also a Sin Incarnation… The Calamity Sin Incarnation of Lust.”

Armaros stood back upright, his smile even larger than before. “Now you're catching on! Unfortunately, I'm the odd one out. See, the reason the other seven are different is really simple—the past ones died, and when a Calamity Sin Incarnation dies, they leave their birthright behind to reincarnate into a future soul. However, the rate at which they reincarnate can range from a few days to entire centuries. Due to my immortality, I've been the Sin Incarnation of Lust since the beginning. Meanwhile, the others have had many different faces throughout the ages.”

Armaros started pacing around Saa’ir as he grasped his chin, keeping both eye contact and the same smile. “For how you are linked to us, remember how I said we've met twice before in the past? Then, isn't it a bit coincidental that they were also the only two times every Sin Incarnation lived at the same time?”

“So, you're saying every time I appear in this world, it's because every Calamity Sin Incarnation is alive at once? If that’s the case, then…!”

“Exactly, your appearance in the 9th Century marks the third time all eight Sin Incarnations walk amongst humanity. Which means, you're a herald, Saa'ir—a divine herald of the Great Yggdrasil and of a great disaster…”

“Yggdrasil?” Saa’ir thought before becoming alarmed, stepping in front of the pacing Armaros for answers. “Wait, a great disaster!? What do you mean a great disaster!?”

Armaros’ smile proceeded to reach from ear-to-ear, almost in an uncanny way, as he put both hands up. “Ah ah ah~! Sorry, old friend, but I think I’ve said enough, maybe even too much, else I’ll ruin the ‘fun’ of it.”

Saa’ir clenched a fist in front of him, anger carving deep into his face. “Fun!? I-Is the potential lives of others’ just a game to you!?”

Armaros could only chuckle in response, which irritated Saa'ir further, to the point he wished he could grab him by his suit.

As Armaros’ chuckles started to rise in volume, so did his hair and any loose clothing start to rise, as if a draft of air was directly underneath him.

Noticing this change, Saa'ir stepped back, his anger slowly devolving into confusion and fear. Shortly after, Armaros gripped the left side of his head as he started to go into sinister laughing fit—laughs that spoke of complete madness.

Armaros’ laughs echoed and reverberated through the empty streets and alleys, a blood-red aura beginning to form in rhythm with his cackling. While faint at first, the aura grew more vivid with each passing moment.

Saa’ir took several more steps back in horror, his eyes widened in shock as he watched the aura intensify—the crimson light casting an ominous glow upon the empty street. The pressure in the air seemed to increase, pressing down on Saa’ir like an invisible weight.

Soon after, he blood-red aura expanded, becoming more oppressive—more palpable. It swirled chaotically around Armaros like a hurricane. It continued to grow larger and more defined, until it took on a spherical shape centered on him.

Now calm, the sphere pulsed and bulged with a sinister energy, symbolizing the very essence of Armaros’ twisted soul. The symbol for the sin of lust projected onto the ground within the bounds of the sphere.

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Next: (Chapter 43) The Immortal & Lustful King of Vampires: Part 3