"A brother's duty, huh?" Kurt reminisced, his voice tinged with nostalgia. "You sure have grown up, Charles. Remember how Susanne used to talk about you all the time?"
Charles' frown quickly turned into a wide grin. "Really? The reserved Susanne? The one who almost blew up a lab trying to make a perfect elixir?" he chuckled in fond amusement.
Kurt raised an eyebrow, scratching his nose absentmindedly. "You're still the same annoying little brat, aren't you? And yes, that Susanne. She stops by here every now and then," he confirmed, settling back into a glossy wooden chair behind the counter.
"Nah, I just know how much you secretly love me," Charles teased, poking fun at himself.
"So, do you think that brat has the potential to be great someday?" Kurt asked, casually glancing over at Viktor.
"Only the Gods know."
Charles strolled around the shop, his hands tucked into his pockets as he admired the array of shimmering bottles filled with potions and elixirs. Golden sunlight flooded through the large windows, casting playful patterns of light on the marble walls and polished floor below.
Kurt's shop was a renowned establishment, its reputation stretching far beyond the boundaries of the city. The mere mention of its name struck awe and reverence into those who heard it. And how could it not be? Kurt was affiliated with the most prestigious Academy in the world, his knowledge and expertise widely sought after.
The building itself was an imposing two-story structure crafted from pure white marble. Its grandeur and elegance were undeniable, a testament to the wealth and power that resided within its walls. The ground floor bustled with activity, as merchants and customers haggled over prices for an array of weapons, armor, clothing, materials, and an impressive assortment of potions.
Ascending to the upper floor, visitors would find themselves in a mage-centered library—a sanctuary where mages could immerse themselves in study and exploration, delving into ancient tomes and uncovering new and powerful spells, provided their source permitted it. The shelves overflowed with books of all shapes and sizes, their spines adorned with intricate designs and symbols.
As Charles turned to face the imposing figure of Kurt, he couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration mixed with apprehension. "It's not about whether Viktor himself will be great, but rather if he will allow himself to be," he mused.
With animated gestures, Charles launched into his analysis of his younger brother. "The issues Viktor faces are far more complex than we can comprehend. He's just a child, yet it feels as though there's a weight beyond his years pressing down on him. He holds himself back, and he shies away from conflict as if he doesn't truly grasp the gravity of his responsibilities as a prince," he explained, his words tinged with genuine concern for his brother's well-being.
"Remember Enzel? He dropped all his classes except one and started rambling about the importance of youth for the future. That's exactly how I feel about Viktor. He's bright and talented, but he's incredibly lazy. I wouldn't be surprised if a beginner knight could defeat him in a duel. Hard work trumps talent when talent doesn't put in the effort, you know?" Charles commented with a grin as he tinkered with items on the shelves, his movements slightly clumsy.
"You brat...I said the same thing to you during your first week of school," Kurt retorted, his tone tinged with frustration as a vein throbbed on his forehead. "Anyway, take the kid and pick out something. I only closed the shop for a short while. I need to tidy up this mess and get ready to reopen for customers, got it?" Kurt instructed wearily, rubbing his temples.
"Viktor! Hurry up and choose a sword!" Charles called out, making his way towards the exit. He paused for a moment and flashed a smile back at Kurt. "See ya later, buddy!" he exclaimed before wrapping his arm around Viktor's shoulders and leading him to the selection of swords.
It was always refreshing for Charles to have a place where he could drop his royal facade and just be himself - a young man with friends enjoying their time together.
Amidst the display of various blades, Viktor's attention was drawn to one with a simple design, its only distinctive feature being the barely visible writing on the hilt.
"Thank you, sir!" Viktor exclaimed with excitement as he and Charles left the shop and headed towards their awaiting carriage.
As they made their way out, Helgarth raised her strong hand to her ear while closing her eyes momentarily. Unknown to those around her, her eyes began to emit a piercing yellow glow as she casted a spell.
"Yes, master... The two of them are on their way back now. I will ensure they reach the correct destination," she whispered into her earpiece. As she finished speaking, her eyes opened and the yellow glow faded away. She smiled and motioned for them to hurry along.
A sudden feeling of dread washed over Viktor, nearly causing him to freeze in his tracks. He felt a stirring in his gut and a surge of bloodlust directed at him from deep within his mind.
***
The trio had been in the carriage for nearly twenty minutes, and Charles had fallen asleep almost immediately. Despite the peaceful ride, there was one major issue—they were heading in the wrong direction.
Despite realizing this mistake, Viktor chose to remain silent. He couldn't shake the feeling that his brother or father had something planned for him after their shopping trip. Perhaps it would be weapons training or a scenic route back to the castle. However, an uneasiness gnawed at him, suggesting that something was not right, either big or small.
After a few more minutes of tense silence, Viktor finally worked up the courage to speak. "Um... Ms. Helgarth, I don't think this is the way to the castle. W-where are you taking us?" he asked uncertainly.
"Shh... Don't worry, sir. Just somewhere a little quieter," Helgarth reassured him with a wide grin, but her words did little to calm his growing unease.
Before Viktor could fully process what she said, the carriage suddenly veered off the main road and plunged into a dense and dark forest. Towering trees loomed above them, their branches reaching towards the sky as they continued down a winding path.
In an instant, the carriage was engulfed by four dark silhouettes, their presence eliciting a sense of dread and impending danger.
"What!" Viktor cried out in alarm as he shook Charles's shoulders with urgency, trying to rouse him from his sleep. But Charles remained still, a bright yellow card suddenly appearing and attaching itself to him. Though awake, Charles seemed paralyzed, unable to move even under Viktor's touch.
With incredible swiftness, Helgarth pulled on the reins, causing the carriage to swerve wildly before crashing into a nearby tree. She and Viktor were thrown from the carriage and landed hard on the forest floor, while Charles and the horses flailed helplessly in the chaos.
As Viktor struggled to stand up, he found himself surrounded by Helgarth and four others, all armed and ready for action.
"Come on, kid! It's five against one. Do you really think you have a chance? Just come with us and no one will get hurt... For now," Helgarth taunted with a smirk on her face.
The figures to the far left were shrouded in darkness, their faces obscured and their voices dripping with malice. "We know you worked with whoever killed William! We shall finish what he started and take in the prince!" one of them declared, their words filled with a palpable threat.
Despite his outward appearance of fluster, Viktor's mind was a calm sea, his composure unshakeable. This was the very reason he had been chosen for this task, the same reason he would come out victorious in this dire situation.
At just ten years old, Viktor was already a formidable killing machine. He possessed senses sharper than any blade, wielded powerful magic, and possessed an intellect that rivaled even the Grand Magnus. These qualities made him a masterful assassin despite his young age and lack of experience.
Surrounded by enemies, Viktor remained eerily composed. His plea for peace escaped his lips as he lowered his head, moving with deliberate grace as he reached for the blade fastened to his hip. Only the tip of his pinky finger brushed against the hilt, a clear indication of his reluctance to resort to violence. Though he could unleash devastating force, he hesitated, hoping for a peaceful resolution rather than bloodshed. The tension in the air was thick, each breath filled with uncertainty as both sides waited for someone to make the first move.
The figure in the center spoke with a calming voice, "There's no need for violence, kid. We'll bring you in without any harm."
Viktor couldn't hold back his emotions any longer and cried out, "Please, don't make me take your life!" A single tear rolled down his cheek as he desperately begged for a peaceful end to the situation.
Despite the ringing in his ears and the blood dripping over his eye from the crash, Charles managed to move his head within the carriage. Through the window, he watched as the confrontation unfolded outside, feeling separated from the chaos. He focused all of his remaining strength on freeing himself and helping his brother.
But despite his determination and use of magic, Charles was unable to break free. He struggled until he had no more energy left, leaving him with a sense of helplessness.
Meanwhile, the five attackers laughed in unison, their echoing laughter sounding like the chilling cries of hyenas targeting their prey. One of them mocked Viktor, wiping a tear from his eye before speaking.
"You think you can kill us? Haha! No way, kid," he scoffed. "We don't know who helped you before, but they're not here now. So cut the act and come with us. And we don-"
The words died on his lips as the clearing was consumed by a sudden and deafening silence. The air thickened with an eerie stillness, broken only by the rush of liquid—the sickening symphony of blood that filled their ears. A soft but ominous thud followed, signaling the fall of their comrade's head and body, severed by a single swift strike.
"Gary!" Helgarth and the others cried out in horror, their eyes trained on Viktor who stood before them, wielding his blade with deadly precision. Its surface gleamed with fresh crimson, a stark contrast to the dappled sunlight filtering through the trees.
In one fluid motion, Viktor had cleanly sliced through Gary's neck, leaving no trace of flesh on his blade. The speed and force of his strike were so immense that not even a drop of blood clung to the metal surface. It was a chilling display of power that left them all trembling with fear and disbelief.
"Like I said I don't want to hurt any of you… But it seems we're past that."
Viktor's voice was sharp and unwavering as he spoke, his words laced with a dangerous edge. His body trembled with anticipation as he shifted into a fighting stance, his muscles coiled and ready to strike.
The four assailants mirrored his movements, their weapons drawn and at the ready. But Viktor was not intimidated. In fact, he welcomed the challenge. During his weeks of solitude, he had honed his skills in impure magic and had developed an advanced technique known as "Mana-Sense." With this ability, he could sense the flow of mana around him and within others, giving him an advantage in battle.
As the tension mounted and the air crackled with energy, Viktor closed his eyes and focused his mind. His entire being became attuned to the subtle currents of mana in the air, and everything seemed to slow down around him. He was fully immersed in the moment, prepared for whatever came next.
Viktor's eyes snapped open, twin orbs of blazing determination. His blue iris glimmered with a fierce intensity, but it was the bright yellow in his left eye that sent shivers down his opponents' spines.
With a quick Mana-Sense spell, Viktor confirmed what he already suspected - Helgarth was the most powerful of the four assailants, while the others were mere pawns in comparison.
As they closed in on him, forming a half-circle around their prey, one mage began to chant a spell. But before they could finish, Viktor unleashed his telekinetic abilities, twisting their limbs into grotesque angles. With a flick of his wrist, he sent his sword hurtling towards them with deadly precision.
Ordinarily, the blade would have barely caused a scratch without impure magic aiding it. But under Viktor's skilled control, it flew through the air like a enraged bullet. In one swift motion, the mage's head was cleanly separated from their body, a gruesome testament to Viktor's lethal prowess.
The five assailants, excluding Helgarth, had all donned nightmarish masks that twisted their features into grotesque parodies of humanity. The opaque coverings wrapped tightly around their heads, leaving only their eyes and mouths visible in a sickening display of terror.
Their chilling silence was a stark contrast to the clear understanding of their motive that emanated from their menacing presence. Despite their efforts to conceal their faces, Viktor could sense the malice and bloodlust radiating from each of them.
Their nondescript clothing did little to reveal any clues to their identities, further shrouding them in an aura of mystery. Any hint of femininity was lost beneath the concealing robes they wore, making it impossible to determine if any of them were women.
Suddenly, one of them let out a high-pitched scream, her voice betraying her true gender as she threatened retribution for some unknown offense.
As she turned to face Viktor with a fierce glare, she was met not with the innocent visage of a boy but with something altogether more terrifying. His countenance seemed to shift and contort, transforming into that of a hellish demon who reveled in the suffering and bloodshed of others. In that moment, they felt like they were witnessing pure evil personified before them.
Their focus shifted from the lone speck of red staining Viktor's previously pristine white hair to his eyes.
His once cold and stoic expression twisted into a disturbed, unsettling grin that stretched from ear to ear.
"Haha...Hahahaha! Isn't this a blast? Why aren't you all enjoying yourselves? Look at them, they certainly are!" he bellowed, pointing behind them.
To their shock, the two headless attackers had risen to their feet. But they weren't just standing—they were dancing and prancing around in a grotesque display.
"Hehe... Don't lose your heads over this!" Viktor cackled, not even sparing them a glance as he doubled over with laughter.
"What the hell! He's a necromancer too?" the woman exclaimed incredulously.
The woman's eyes widened as Helgarth interjected, pointing at the pair. "No, look," he said urgently. "The undead glow green when that type of magic is used. The kid can use impure magic—that's telekinesis, not necromancy."
And indeed, Helgarth was correct. Viktor stood tall and confident, manipulating the two corpses with ease. His control over the dead was both captivating and unnerving, a sign of his mastery over impure magic.
As Charles watched the spectacle unfold, a certain gleam entered his eyes. Unlike before, where he had been concerned for his brother's safety, he now observed with a mischievous grin. He could see why their father had wanted a child to carry out these missions. Not only was Viktor incredibly skilled with telekinesis, but he also possessed untapped potential that Charles had yet to fully comprehend.
Krissy unwrapped her mask, which turned out to be a wound-up scarf. Her dark brown eyes held a mixture of awe and fear as she watched Victor command the dead. Jet-black hair fell just above her eyebrows, framing her face as she took in the scene before her.
Viktor's smile instantly vanished, his head angled like that of a curious animal. His eyes widened with confusion as he questioned, "Emeline? What are you doing out here?"
The two undead assailants dropped to the floor with a deafening crash, their lifeless bodies now nothing more than mere obstacles in the way.
A faint hum permeated the air, gradually growing louder and more distinct.
"Sis... Did they take you? I'm here, Em, I'll save you," Viktor declared, his voice filled with determination as he fixed his gaze on Krissy.
The hum in the air intensified, its origins becoming audible and sending shivers down Viktor's spine.
"Who the hell is Emeline?" demanded a man standing beside Helgarth, his tone laced with suspicion and impatience.
"It's his maid... sister, whatever. They've got a twisted relationship, but why the fuck would he think she'd be here?" Helgarth raged.
Her words were silenced as the man was brutally torn apart in a gruesome explosion. Chunks of his body, once whole and living, now became deadly projectiles of skin, blood, flesh, and bone that rained down on Helgarth, covering her in a sickening layer of gore. She could feel the warm splatter of his remains on her skin, seeping into every crevice, staining her with the proof of his violent demise.
The hum grew into a deafening roar, its vibrations now causing the ground to buckle and crumble beneath them. With each passing moment, it felt as though the very earth was rising up against them in rage and fury.
Krissy's body shook violently with terror as she collapsed to the ground. "I-I'm not Emeline!" she screamed, her voice filled with desperation as she pleaded for her life. But Viktor remained silent, his cold gaze fixed on her. With a surge of adrenaline, Krissy pushed herself up and frantically ran away.
Viktor's eyes flashed with determination as he scanned his surroundings, snapping out of his daze. A sinister smile spread across his face as he spoke in a low, menacing tone.
"You're right. Big sis would never have gotten caught by a pathetic group of thugs like you," he sneered, his voice dripping with contempt.
"Bang," he whispered to himself, snapping his fingers with a cruel satisfaction. In an instant, Krissy's body was engulfed in a quiet explosion, mirroring the fate of the other man who had dared to defy him.
"Wait, wait, wait!" Helgarth pleaded, her voice desperate as she fell to the ground beside Viktor. Rather than trying to escape, she chose to beg for mercy. Her eyes filled with tears as she crawled on her knees towards him, pleading for her life.
A surge of indescribable emotion coursed through Viktor as he witnessed someone at his feet, begging for their life. It was a feeling of power, of control, and it caused a rush of adrenaline through his body. A wide grin spread across his face once again, reaching all the way to his ears.
He knelt down and grabbed a handful of her hair, forcing her to look at him.
"You pathetic bastard..." It was the first time the boy had ever cursed, but it felt empowering as the words left his mouth. He began to laugh, reveling in his newfound sense of authority.
"Remember this day always. The day you became a slave to the White Devil," he declared with a menacing tone. With a flick of his hand, the tip of his index finger burst into a bright red flame. The sound and smell of burning flesh filled the air as he branded her shoulder with fire magic.
As the fire scorched her flesh, Helgarth's mind was inundated with contradictory thoughts. Was the boy truly the White Devil? Had she been given incorrect information from her superiors? Or had someone else intervened and manipulated the situation?
Whispers among the other servants had always hinted at his hidden strengths, but witnessing this display of power and heartlessness left no room for doubt. As she knelt before him, branded with his mark, Helgarth's head spun with a mix of fear and awe. She had underestimated him, grossly underestimated him. The realization weighed heavy in her chest, filling her with a complex blend of emotions - terror, anger, happiness, and relief all swirling together like a whirlwind.
She had heard tales of his abilities from others, stories that seemed too fantastical to be true. But now, as she trembled before him, it was clear that they were not only real but far beyond what anyone could imagine. Her thoughts raced as she struggled to make sense of it all.
"Y-yes, master..." Helgarth finally managed to whisper, her voice barely audible as she collapsed to the ground. In that moment, she understood the gravity of her mistake in underestimating him. And though she feared what may come next, there was also a strange sense of satisfaction and belonging in being marked by such a powerful being.
A twisted grin spread across Viktor's face, his eyes sparkling with sinister delight as he watched her collapse in front of him. "Just kidding," he sneered, before snapping his fingers once more. "Bang."
The woman's body erupted in a violent explosion of red and white, her bones shattering into jagged pieces that flew through the air like deadly projectiles. Blood splattered against every surface, painting the scene in a grotesque display of carnage. Her screams were drowned out by the deafening sound of her own body being torn apart from within.
****
An orb in the Emperor's study portrayed the footage of the following events, displaying the scene as it unfolded before his eyes.
"Good job, son," he murmured with a hint of pride in his voice, watching intently as Viktor too collapsed, his figure illuminated by the flickering light of the magical orb.