Disclaimer: Whatever I have written here is purely my imagination. Any semblance to any religious beliefs is pure coincidence. Thank you for reading. This chapter was a joy to write.

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Chapter 8: Pretty Boy’s Dilemma Part 2

Returning to his room with a cup of coffee in hand, Chris sat on his chair and continued reading from where he left before dinner.

“……the people tired of oppression they sought a hero; one that would liberate them from the tyrannical dominance of the Brandyms — the demons of lore who preached about their one true God of Creation, Grishna…

………seven decades before the establishment of the Divine Calendar, the prophet Scaldus was born in the farming village of Ruso. It was recorded in history that Scaldus, on that very same day, walked up on his own feet and pointed to the sky. The heavens cried thunderbolts in response, like a premonition of something unprecedented yet to come. The housewife, Lady Josephine, who witnessed this feat spread the tale all across their village and called the baby a Saint. A child of God…

………at the age of sixteen, Scaldus prophesied the coming of the Divine; the Empress that will liberate the people from the Brandyms once and for all……

……the demonic followers of Grishna saw Scaldus a potential threat and labeled him a heretic. Seeking to make an example, the Empire targeted Ruso and set the village ablaze…

………in a desperate battle that appeared as though it would take his life, a sword of unknown origin came before him. He decided to pick it up and used it against the Dark Knight Tristan, seizing victory from the jaws of defeat………

…after surviving the massacre in Ruso, Scaldus was hailed as ‘The Sword Of The Oppressed’ and his mysterious sword as ‘The Diviner’. The stage for—”

A polite rapping on his door caused Chris to stop reading.

“Christopher, it’s me, Art. May I have a word with you?” a soft voice spoke behind the mahogany.

Shaking his frown off, Chris relinquished a defeated sigh and forced himself to get up. He opened the door slightly. “What brings you here?” he asked.

“I’ve decided to ask you something.”

“What?”

Arthur glanced left and right before saying, “I wish to seek your counsel. May I come in?”

This elf visiting him was one of his least expectations. If ever, he expected Raven to come barging in once more like he did last night, asking his company inside the sacred walls of the girl’s dormitory.

Intrigued, “Yes, of course. Have a seat.” Chris ushered him to a chair inside. Taking his cup on the table he began, “What is it that you need my advice on?”

“You see… I have some problems…”

“It’s about Lucretia, isn’t it?” Chris sliced straight to the point.

Arthur flushed. “Y-yes… We are relatives, you see, and yet…” he stammered, avoiding eye contact.

Chris enjoyed a long sip of his coffee, leaning on his window stool. “It’s a beast called love. There is no way for us to leash it.”

“But as a devout follower of Her Lordship, it feels wrong to have these feelings for her.” Arthur clenched his heart, expressing his plea with aggravation.

“Such musings are pointless,” Chris said, understanding what the elf meant. “Marriage with close relatives have always been frowned upon. It’s the same wherever you go. However, what other people might and would say should NOT concern you. They have their own life to live and you have yours. The only important question is who we choose to become. Simple as that.”

“What about you? Would you sacrifice everything for the ones you love?”

His eyebrows raised in response. “How did this conversation derailed to me?”

“I am curious. Your words just now display wisdom beyond your years.” Arthur’s gaze reminded him of a child eagerly waiting for an answer.

To talk or not to talk. Chris laughed a little inside.

“Consider yourself lucky. The evening chill has loosened the knot on my tongue.” Chris set his cup of coffee down and took out a valuable from his left pocket.

“What is that?” Arthur frowned, leaning forward.

“A pendant,” Chris answered. “It belonged to Lilia.”

“…Lilia?” Arthur raised his gaze from the palm-sized carving of Marrieta to him.

Chris inhaled deeply. “You know why those of the Demon race were persecuted by the order of the Divine?”

“Their heritage?” he said with uncertainty.

“Yes, their heritage. But in truth, Demons are those which connects our world to the Rift — their hearts to be exact.”

“The rift?” Arthur blinked in his confusion. “Where Her Lordship had sealed the fallen God?”

“Right.” Chris conjured a small fireball that lighted his dark room. “Like you and me both, our mana lines serve to convert our inner life force into mana, allowing us to perform magic.” He extinguished the small flame as he clenched his fist. “However, unlike us who’s mana lines were predetermined at birth, a Demon’s mana lines expand the more they exhaust it. And once they have reached the point of awakening, their body would be nothing but a host to a foul beast, seeking only death and destruction.”

Arthur swallowed a huge gulp. “…And Lilia?”

Chris shook his head. “Consumed by the devil; her spirit is no more.”

“So the Divine Empress has called her to Her side.”

Chris pressed his eyelids close for a moment. “Indeed,” he said. “It has been two years since then. I considered following her into death. My thoughts often strayed down that path. But her body, though disfigured and transformed, still howls with life, and I knew then it was not my time. My burden had not yet reached its end. Not until I had sealed her fate. Fully. That is the least that I could do.”

Chris stared at the ceiling, struggling to keep his emotions in check. Legends, rumors, children’s bedtime stories — Chris would search for answers or Lilia, no, everyone in Reinbark would’ve died for naught.

“How do you plan to achieve your goal?”

“For now, the answers are beyond me. It’s why I’m here.”

“I see.” Arthur rose up from his chair. “A mysterious man you are, Christopher. I have always thought that I am unworthy in the many blessings that I have received, but this meeting with you have given me confidence. Thank you.” Arthur flashed him a bright smile.

Chris returned the smile. “Glad to be of service.”

Arthur gave him his farewell and strode out of his room in a heartbeat. Finally regaining his solitary space, Chris stared into the night’s sky beyond his window.

‘There is blood on my hands. How long will it stay in my heart?’