Rebirth Of The Bastard Spirit Summoner

"Die, you peasant!"

A blur of red hair, and three feet of fury, came soaring into the air, crashing into Stark's belly, a little elbow digging into his gut.

"Argh!" Stark buckled, coughing as his eyes suddenly shot open. But just as he woke up, he saw another tiny figure diving right at him, this time...

Right at his face!

Crunch!

The tiny elbow found its way to his nose, cracking his head back and onto the edge of his bed, his head bumping against the hardwood.

He winced, his hands clasped on his head.

The door to the bathroom swung open, and Vivian, his betrothed, walked in. It took only a moment for her to realize what had happened, then she smiled knowingly.

"My goodness, are you okay, dear?" she asked, a hint of amusement in her voice.

Stark froze at the sight of them. His mind was hazy, and soon his vision was blurred by tears. He was crying, but he could not piece together what the problem was.

Was it the pain?

No, it could not be.

The answer was just at the edge of his mind, but no matter how much he grasped at it, it evaded him.

Vivian tossed the towel away and hurried to his side. "Adrian, are you alright?"

She asked, her hands holding his shoulders tenderly.

'Adrian? Oh, that's right… I am Adrian.'

Adrian slowly opened his eyes, which he did not remember closing. "Oh, it's nothing, I just had a really bad dream."

Then he frowned at her. She had let his nieces into the room on purpose, hadn't she?

Vivian leaned closer to him and tenderly pulled him closer to her chest, her fingers slowly massaging his aching head.

"You sleep too much, dear," she cooed.

"Oh, it looks like a small hill is rising, hehe," she snickered as she rose from the bed, walking towards the door. "Let me go grab some ointment."

Now alone with the two assassins he called children, Adrian smiled, pulling them closer to himself.

"One day, you're going to kill your old man, you know that, right?"

Daphne, the most devious of the two, smiled maliciously, her grey eyes sparkling with mischief.

While the younger one, Tiffany, tapped Adrian on the face repeatedly. "Daddy, you said to wake you up!"

"Is that so? And why is that?" Adrian played along, smiling even as she continued painfully slapping his cheeks.

They were actually his brother's children, but he died before they could know him; hence, he was the only father they knew.

And to take care of them, he had invited Vee to live with him.

"Daddy is meeting the king today!" Daphne chimed in, eager to be part of the conversation.

Adrian's eyes suddenly widened as he rose to his feet.

"Shi—" He immediately paused, as he glanced at the girls still in his arms. For whatever reason, he never wanted to let them go.

Vivian came back into the room, the bottle of ointment in her hand. "You better get going, dear. Darell is going to kill you if you're late."

Stark smiled at Vivian and nodded.

"I guess you're right."

•••

At the sight of Darell, Adrian once again felt a cold feeling permeate his heart. For whatever reason, the sight of Darell made his blood run cold.

He was his long-time friend, and yet… Why did he feel this way?

"You fucker! Are you trying to get me killed?!" a man screamed in anger, his face flushed red as he tapped his feet on the floor impatiently.

He was dressed in a grey dress shirt and a suit jacket, and a golden brooch was pinned to the collar of his shirt.

Behind him stood a large ornate carriage. The carriage was painted a glossy black and had silver highlights, lining electric patterns atop its surface.

The horses seemed just as impatient as their owner. They neighed as Adrian approached them, stomping their hooves as though to say, "What's with the hold-up?"

Adrian shook away those thoughts and walked towards him.

"Good morning to you too, Lord Darell." He smiled at his angry friend, then glanced at his fit before nodding approvingly. "You always did represent."

Darell scoffed proudly, his anger dissipating from a simple compliment. "Hop in, fool, the journey to KingsGate will take three days."

Wasting no time, Adrian entered the carriage, shutting the door behind him.

But just as Darell had predicted, they arrived at KingsGate three days after they set out.

There was only one problem—

"We are late!"

Adrian practically kicked the door open the moment the carriage ground to a halt and bolted out of it.

Because of their delay, and the issues on the road, they had arrived at the same time the king was arriving.

They didn't even have time to freshen up, because if the king got into the hall before them… they were as good as dead.

"Bastard!" Darell screamed from behind, his face red from exertion as he struggled to catch up. "You're leaving me behind? Traitor!"

Adrian could already see the royal carriage entering the compound. "Hurry up, gramps, the king is here!"

"W-what?!" Darell immediately turned, his breath hanging open when he caught a glimpse of the royal knights and Iron Blade, the king's personal executioner.

"Shit!"

Darell picked up speed, blazing past Adrian and knocking him to the side.

"Move, you shitheads!!!!" he screamed at the guards at the gate. The two guards hurriedly jumped out of the way as both he and Adrian burst into the room, breathing heavily.

Adrian's face was glistening with sweat, and his long hair clung to the sides of his face as he laughed. "We actually made it."

Darell, on the other hand, was furious. He cussed angrily, still struggling to catch his breath, his fancy clothing soaked in sweat.

"I swear, you're going to get me killed one of these days," he complained as he stood straight and stretched.

"Not today at least…" Letting out a relieved sigh, Adrian took a moment to glance at the hall, then he heard the door behind him creak open.

When Adrian turned to see who it was, his breath became steamy as he locked eyes on the man behind him.

Theon Stagheart.

Rage burned within Adrian like a furnace, and his hands trembled with rage.

Stagheart simply stared at him, his expression stoic at first, but twisting into a crazed smile a second later.

Adrian did not know why, but he lifted his hand to punch Stagheart, and when he did, his breath hitched.

Blood.

His hand was covered in blood.

'Why am I bleeding?'

Blood dripped down his fingers in ludicrous amounts, splashing on the floor below him, and then he suddenly fell to a knee, his legs unable to hold his weight.

His left arm fell off his shoulder a second later, and blood spluttered out, painting the ground with an additional layer of crimson.

But he felt no pain… Instead, his breathing sped up, but no matter how much air he took in, the environment still felt suffocating.

He turned to his best friend, his mind still confused, but there was no pity in Darell's eyes, just that same crazed smile mirroring Theon's.

—Bastard

Sharp whispers filled the room as all the lords present turned to stare at him, their expressions soulless and devoid of life.

"What the fuck is going on?!" he screamed in rage.

There were no answers, just silence and the same repeated whispers.

Then the world shifted, the grandiose hall washing away before his very eyes. Now he was back in his estate, in his room…

And yet, Darell and Theon were still very much present.

Stark watched in shock as Darell pulled out a dagger from his suit, a twisted smile on his face as he lunged at him, the dagger charging straight at his chest.

Badump Badump Badump!

"Haaaaa!"

Stark suddenly rose to his feet, breathing heavily and drenched in sweat.

He held his face with one hand and calmed himself. 'A dream….'

He clenched his jaw in anger and squeezed the fabric of his trousers in frustration.

Of all nightmares he could have had, why did it have to be that one?

Memories of the past rushed into his mind like a hazy vision, and Stark just sat there, soaking up all the grief and holding back tears with pure willpower alone.

What would crying solve? Would it bring them back? Would Darell slip on his tears and die?

Tears would bring nothing.

All the good times, all the precious moments he had with those he loved—

They were now stained in blood….

All because he could not remember them without remembering their deaths.

'Darell… I will make him suffer.'

It was the same promise he made to himself from the moment he was reborn. All of them, he would make them all suffer.

He rose to his feet and glanced through the window, noticing that it was night. He had overslept.

That was when he heard a knock on his door.