An Eldritch Legacy: Sin & Sacrilege

"Sir...!"

"Sir..!" A panicked voice echoed in the silence.

"What? What is making you scream so loudly?" A baritone voice replied, tinged with laziness, as if nothing in the world could possibly go wrong. He did not anticipate the news the other had brought.

"Sir—" The other was panicked, struggling to articulate the words that needed to be said. It was no fault of his; fear was rare when one stood at the top of the food chain—regardless of what the nobles thought.

But the news he carried reminded him that even among dragons, there are always those stronger, fiercer, and more terrifying.

That was why he hesitated. He didn't know how to tell the man that his daughter's life flame had gone out—not completely, but enough that it made no difference.

"I tire of your babbling, Trene. Speak now, or do not disturb my peace again."

"If you can't talk to me without reeking of piss, then go report to the others."

The baritone voice grew harder, though still dismissive—as if this subordinate had merely come to pester him.

'I must have gone soft lately. But who can blame me? Ever since Lucinda was born, the need to shed blood feels like a forgotten memory.'

'Ahh, my beautiful daughter, if you only knew how much daddy loves you! All that i do is for your own good, but you continue to defy me.

'But that alright; only you are allowed. Besides, I can't help it if you are going to be so cute! ahhh'

"Speaking of which," the baritone voice continued, "Where has my daughter run off to this time?"

The messenger was now sweating, though it should have been impossible. Regardless of the heat, since the temple acolytes did not fear such things.

"I... I..." Trene stammered as his life flashed before his eyes.

"Speak up, boy..." The man's anger surged. Playfulness was fine—but if it concerned his daughter, there would be no mercy. He had not earned the name "Red-Stained Templar" for nothing, certainly not by allowing whoever and whatever to walk all over him. Even those 'damned old men' know not to anger him.

"Sir... The young lady is in trouble..."

Trene never even knew when it happened. A crushing pressure mounted in his bones, cracking them so slowly that he felt each microtear. It was wild and forceful; it defiled his very being down to his ensuring he felt all the pain. His very cells fractured and combusted from within, and all he could do was stare in terror as the brown eyes of the man he had come to admire—no, love, like a father—turned a dusty crimson that shook him to his soul.

Trene had never been more afraid.

And what was even more thought-provoking was the fact that he did not even do it intentionally; it was all just a side effect of his aura going out of control, and it was monstrous.

They had spoken of rumors, but he had never imagined that the man he trusted could be the monster in those tales. They had told him before, but he had disregarded them, thinking they were just slandering the man.

A man who was so gentle to his daughter even though she disregarded his every attempt at fostering a proper relationship. And maybe that is when it had started, his admiration for him.

Now he saw the beast awakening—a fury in slumber roused. Yet in the midst of terror, he felt relief, knowing that Lucinda would be protected.

This man, this monster, was the only one who could save the only woman he had ever loved, even though he had sworn his life to the eternal flame.

There were things that even devotion to the divine could never fully take away.

'I will love you from beyond the grave, Lucinda. Keep your father safe—'

He didn't finish the thought. His body burst into flesh, then ash. Nothing of him remained.

Once a boy, now erased from the world.

And the one who ended his life had never even bothered to see what he had done.

A tale of unrequited love...ahh

"I'LL KILL ANYONE WHO DARES TO TOUCH MY DAUGHTER!!!"

The man's roar shook the land's foundations. The entire East Cardinal smelled blood—and it was horrendous; an aura the likes of which many had not felt in a while washed the skies with its power, rippling through everything at the seams, and thus the scent of blood derived from its unconscious power.

Many had only just begun to recover from the Surge. Peace seemed within reach—until now.

That aura dragged them back to the darkness. If only for a moment.

Back in Maesta, Adler's eyes flashed coldly at the aura that transcended normality. Then he returned his gaze to the road.

"It seems I've caught a big one," Adler mused, a warm smile on his lips. He cracked the whip, commanding the steeds to move faster.

The sound of hooves echoed along the cobbled streets.

"Hi-yah..."

Adler barked as the carriage drove out of the town square, leaving behind a petrified group of townspeople.

But their fear had nothing to do with him.

They had yet to finish the town inspection, and he did not want to be late for the Count's evening meal. So the faster they were done with it, the better.

Adler mused on what he would prepare for the Count this time.

Speaking of the Count, he was still asleep in the carriage. Even with the increased speed, nothing disturbed him. It was as if the interior of the carriage belonged to a different reality altogether.

Yet the moment that aura of bloodlust was released, he stirred. His eyes fluttered open.

Enchanted pewter eyes graced the world once more—but they were different.

Unlike Krael's, these eyes held no warmth. Unlike Sael's, they held no mischief or chaos.

These eyes were cold. Impassive. Calculating. They seemed to strip reality down to its bones.

Sensing the aura, the eyes closed again, and an amused smile graced the Count's lips.

"Things are getting interesting," the young Count murmured, as if in a dream.

Meanwhile...

Back in the town square, the crowd struggled to understand what had happened. Everything unfolded too quickly.

One moment, the Maiden and the Count's butler were at a standoff.

The next, a townsman choked on his blood and tongue—punishment for insulting the Count's deceased family.

Then the Maiden vanished mysteriously. At first they thought she had left, but seeing the puzzled gazes of the sisters, then they knew that something was not right.

The butler had then mounted the carriage and drove it away, leaving behind haunting words:

"The annual harvest offering is fast approaching. Return to your fields, and for your sake, pray you can grow food as fast as you run your mouths."

His voice was hauntingly warm, but the crowd could not help but shiver.

For it seemed like he took delight in their woes...

In the East, nothing was feared more than the Surge—except the Annual Harvest Offering.

A tragedy that affected nobles and commoners alike, a tragedy that united the whole East Cardinal where the Surge could not.

They seemed to forget something; where exactly did the Maiden go?