An Eldritch Legacy: Sin & Sacrilege

Sael's amused laughter echoed through the mindscape.

"You play a dangerous game, Vitreum..." Sael muttered, eyes glinting as he looked toward the ornate mirror.

"You're arrogant if you believe you can pull the wool over my eyes. Perhaps I should remind you—you were born from my bones—our bones. Our pride, our soul, our existence. Without us, you are nothing."

"So learn to pay your progenitors the proper respect." His voice never wavered, but one could feel the mock anger hidden beneath.

"But then again, you might be onto something... He's had it far too easy. He's dulling our blades."

The mirror trembled, its surface rippling like silver waves. Had this taken place outside the mindscape, the sheer power Vitreum radiated would have obliterated entire provinces beneath its unconscious aura.

"What should we do about this, Rael? Shall we let him play noble a little longer? Or should I peel back his pretty skin and show them all what's buried beneath?"

No reply came from the other side of the throne. Sael was talking to himself. The other had grown so lost in his 'game' that he no longer knew when to separate himself from it. Perhaps that made Sael the more dangerous of the two.

Despite his words, Sael didn't move, and the mirror pulsed with disappointment.

"Show me the situation outside," Sael commanded. The mirror rippled.

"Oh... this will be interesting." Sael grinned. "I wonder if I should lend her a hand. I didn't know Krael had it in him... but I suppose that's the nature of those who don't understand their nature."

Back in Reality...

As Krael brooded, a sudden development pulled a maddening grin across his face.

It was as if the heavens were smiling upon him. First, they sent him a pet. Now, they send entertainment for the pet.

He had already been contemplating testing the little thing—and the heavens had graciously provided the means.

With this, he could test theories, resolve lingering issues, and devise plans for how best to handle the peasants.

The Night of Day approached swiftly, as the light of the Great Pillar dimmed, changing from blinding brilliance to an ethereal glow, soft and serene.

Such was the nature of the mysterious Pillar.

Located at the heart of Astrea—Rinra, the birthplace of the Emperor, home of the Imperial Palace and Central Temple—its silver glow now bathed the gentle slopes leading to Krael's estate. Trees with ruby and orange leaves lined the way, creating the illusion of walking into a sea of flame.

They swayed under the cool light like simmering coals. It was a stunning sight. Unlike the rest of the town, his estate remained untouched by the Surge—protected by a man who seemed oblivious to the situation within the trees.

He drove the carriage steadily.

A bunch of idiots.

The count hadn't explained anything, but Adler had already deduced something from the Count's mood; these idiots would be used. They would be the little peasant's playthings. This was to be a rite of passage for the girl—to determine if she was a liability or an asset. If she were the former, Krael would use her as a tool, forging a force loyal to him alone.

Control was paramount. Trust? That was a luxury for fools. While Krael was prideful, even arrogant, he was not blind to reality.

He had come this far by accepting truths others ignored. He would not waste the lessons granted by the heavens—if they even still existed.

He understood pride's illusions, and he knew the ugliness it veiled in opulence. It was not foolish to learn—it was foolish to refuse. Those who refused to learn were never worthy of the pride they claimed.

Up ahead, shadows flickered within the trees, subtle and almost picturesque. But in the soft glow of the night pillar, steel glinted—silent, deadly.

There was silence.

Krael could tell they weren't professionals, but at least they knew their job.

Still, this wasn't his stage. It was hers.

The peasant girl would prove why he should invest in her.

Krael tapped his foot on the wooden floorboards. The carriage came to a stop.

Moments later, Adler opened the door.

Krael stepped out leisurely as if he didn't feel the threat.

Adler alone could handle it. He didn't understand how his uncle—blinded by greed—grew more demented with every scheme. He never changed his methods, never adapted, yet expected different results.

But at least today, his uncle's obsession had a purpose—entertainment.

Krael glanced into the carriage, meeting the cracked, black-ashy eyes of the girl. In that impassive gaze, he thought he saw a tremble—a flicker of fear.

Hard to tell. She was so still.

"I have a task for you, peasant..." Krael drawled. "I, being as valuable as I am, happen to have a swarm of not-so-smart flies chasing after what doesn't belong to them. And now they've sent me a reward I want—and expect you to partake in."

A devious smile curled his lips as he fought back laughter. Her blank expression amused him.

If only she reacted more... but at least he had something to watch.

He turned to Adler.

"Force them to their knees, butler. No one stands above me when I speak."

Adler nodded and faced the swaying trees. With a gentle clap—

A wave of power emanated from his hands, rippling through the air like an ocean. It moved slowly, almost peacefully—yet beneath its surface, secrets churned, enough to baffle the brightest scholars.

To Krael and the girl, it was mesmerizing.

To those hidden in the trees, it was the end of the world.

Even before the wave reached them, some collapsed from pressure alone. Their minds blanked, panic swallowing them.

The rest? They realized they were facing something beyond comprehension.

They were mercenaries turned assassins—defectors from noble houses, criminals, and lucky temple escapees. Pathwalkers. Told to kill a young count—among the lowest of nobility.

They had expected an easy job. But this—

This was horror.

They were ripped from reality, like dolls, dragged into a dome of rippling reality. Every last one of them, even their reserves, were trapped together.

Fear gripped them.

Death would be mercy.

Former nobles among them knew what horrors lived behind pretty faces and gold-tiled roofs.

They begged. They wept.

And Krael watched, that same amused, infuriating grin on his face.

"We're going to play a game... alright?" he said softly. "Who wants to play with me? You may not get your lives back, but at least I can make sure it's quick."

"This I swear... on my bloodline."

He crossed his heart, suddenly deadly serious.

Many shivered. His eyes... they saw others within him—staring down like gods at mice in a betting game.