A man rode upon a black steed, approaching the massive fort.
A soldier stationed at the top of the watchtower saw the raging cloud of dust kicked up by the black steed. He squinted his eyes and saw the man riding it, but due to the distance, he couldn't identify him.
The soldier used his monocular and identified the man. He leaned forward and shouted down at the loafing gatekeepers. "YOUR MAJESTY IS ARRIVING! QUICKLY OPEN THE GATE!"
"WHAT! THE DEVIL IS COMING!" a gatekeeper shouted, and as quickly as possible, he correctly placed his helmet. The whole garrison was thrown into chaos.
The gatekeepers rushed to the iron wheel while correcting their belts and began rotating it.
The giant, heavy iron gate opened.
The black steed passed through the gate. As he passed, Thomas took a quick glance at the array of gatekeepers and soldiers. His eyes met a gatekeeper's.
The gatekeeper quickly put his head down, not daring to meet his gaze. His back straightened, and his hands clenched tightly.
As the steed crossed the main street and moved toward the castle, the crowds quickly cleared the way. Citizens, whether old or young, working or not, stopped everything and stood at the border of the path. Their heads were bowed in a kneel, but their eyes held not respect, but fear.
Thomas ignored them and lightly jolted the reins.
Neigh!
The horse increased its speed.It crossed the small garden situated between the street and the castle and halted in front of the giant, heavy iron gate.
Royal knights rushed to the gate and pushed the door with their muscular bodies, but even with their full strength, they were only able to open it enough for Thomas to pass.
Then they knelt before him, their bodies trembling in fear, their faces pale. "FORGIVE US, YOUR MAJESTY!"
But Thomas only gave a slight jolt to the reins. The knights' eyes widened in surprise. They had expected a heavy scolding and punishment, but he ignored them.
Finally, the horse stopped at the entrance to the castle. Servants were lined at the entrance, heads down, backs straight. "WELCOME BACK, YOUR MAJESTY."
But their voices held a little hint of fear mixed with respect.
Thomas dismounted the horse and glanced at them. Their bodies were trembling, and they gulped from time to time. Hmm…strange, they appear overly scared, more than usual.
"That's because of me." Dire's voice came from behind him. Thomas glanced back to see Dire floating, standing with his arms crossed over his chest. Then he glanced at the servants; they were not reacting.
Thomas stared at a servant near him and asked, "What is behind me?"
The servant blinked rapidly, bewilderment crossing his face as he tried to piece together what he saw and what Thomas asked. He answered while stammering, "Y-Your horse, your favorite horse, Your Majesty."
Thomas nodded. They can't see him. Then he ordered, "Then, what are you waiting for? Take him to the stable."
The servant flustered and bowed deeply. "Forgive me, I will do that quickly." He then gently pulled the horse toward the stable.
Thomas asked another servant, "Where is Emma?"
A servant stepped forward and said, "Your Highness has gone to the shrine."
He nodded and entered the castle, walking down a long, empty corridor. Seeing no one else was there, he whispered, "Lord Dire, what is the relation between their fear and you?"
Dire walked along the wall, his hands touching the decorations. His eyes admired the ornaments and the high lamps on the ceiling. He answered, "I may not exist for them, but my presence is still felt by them."
Thomas thought for a moment, then asked, "I once had a rare encounter with a river goddess. Both of your presences are completely opposite."
Dire glanced at him. "How so?"
Thomas answered, "Her presence felt peaceful, tranquil, and warm." His eyes softened slightly as he remembered those feelings. Then he glanced at Dire. "But yours is dark. Ominous. Like standing before a predator." His eyes replayed the memory of the dominating aura that had burst forth.
"I see," Dire said.
"That's because my presence is deeply engraved in your bloodline."
Thomas squinted his eyes, thinking deeply about his statement. They arrived at his bedroom while he was still thinking. He sat on the bed. He is…a deity. Then, perhaps—
He asked, "Is it because of the Astroth Tragedy?"
Dire laid back on the sofa. "Wrong. The Judgmental War." Dire glanced at him; Thomas was brainstorming over it. "Sigh! Many centuries ago, the combined forces of all realms declared war on the Underworld. That catastrophic war is known as the Judgmental War."
Thomas closed his eyes, his chin resting on his arm. A war erased from memory? Either history lied… or the survivors did.
As he opened his lips to ask, he stopped halfway. No, he got angry about it last time. Let's ask little by little. He asked, "Then what is the relation between their fear and you?"
Dire's lips turned up in a self-proud arc as he answered, "I was the commander of a devil unit. During the war, I painted the void with the blood of countless lives. Humans and divine alike."
"I traumatized them to their core."
Thomas's eyes widened and his lips parted, surprise flickering across his face like a struck match. Words escaped his mouth: "Former commander…"
Dire stared at him, finding his response a little strange, and asked, "Well, I didn't expect you to be that surprised by such an empty title from the Judgmental War."
Thomas blinked several times, then whispered in a very low voice that was almost impossible for anyone to hear, "I expected you to be some third-class, expelled devil, but…a commander. Unexpected."
Dire's ears twitched. He teleported to a spot just above him, floating in the air. His arm tightened around Thomas's throat, and he lifted him high into the air.
Dire glared at him. "Must I teach you your place every time?"
Thomas's face and eyes reddened. His mouth gaped open, desperate for breath. His hands scratched at Dire's clutch. His lips flickered, and with great difficulty, he finally said, "F-for-give…m-e."
But this time, Dire didn't free him. Instead, he increased the pressure on his throat.
Suddenly, the ring radiated with a dim brightness and sucked Dire inside.
Thomas fell onto the bed.
Cough! Cough!
Violent coughs and ragged breaths followed.His skin turned pale, and his clothes were drenched in sweat.
Then he collapsed on the bed and looked at the golden ring. This ring saved me again.
Then his eyes looked up at the lamp hanging from the ceiling, and he questioned himself. But how many times? Can it protect me from others, or only from Dire? What will happen after all my wishes?