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In the heart of the BlueMoon Kingdom, the air was heavy, filled with a silence so sharp that even the wind dared not stir. Torches flickered against the tall obsidian walls, casting long shadows that made the scene look like a painting etched in darkness.
Dylan stood tall, his blade pressing against the neck of Zerath, the ancient demon whose presence always carried both reverence and unease. Zerath's crimson eyes widened, not in fear but in disbelief.
"Who are you really?" Dylan's voice thundered like a storm, laced with both fury and demand.
Before Zerath could respond, footsteps echoed. Irin rushed in, her breath catching at the sight.
"Dylan!" she cried, her voice trembling. "What are you doing? Stop this!"
Dylan didn't glance her way. His grip on the sword tightened, the blade drawing a thin line of blood from Zerath's throat.
"Irin, don't interfere. I will handle this," Dylan growled, his golden eyes sharpening like a predator's.
Zerath, however, only chuckled, a low ancient laugh that resonated with centuries of secrets.
"Handle me? You underestimate the weight of the truth you're about to hear, Demon Prince."
Dylan's gaze hardened. "Don't act cool. Are you a Heaven spy?"
"Spy…?" Zerath's lips curved into a smile. "No. Never." He laughed again, the sound unsettling.
"Dylan, please!" Irin stepped closer, panic flashing across her face. "You're making a mistake. Don't suspect our own people!"
But Dylan ignored her plea. His eyes blazed as he pulled a worn scroll from his cloak and thrust it before Zerath's face.
"Then explain this! Why did you hide it from me? That my mother was a goddess?"
Zerath's expression faltered. His eyes widened, ancient wisdom trembling in them.
"Where… where did you get that?"
"Don't change the topic!" Dylan roared. "Why did you hide it from me?"
For a long moment, silence fell. Zerath's shoulders slumped, his head bowing under the weight of truths too long buried.
"Because… your father wanted it hidden."
The words struck Dylan like a blade to the chest.
"My… father?" he whispered, stunned.
Zerath nodded slowly. "Yes. Not only from you… but from the entire BlueMoon Kingdom. I alone was burdened with the truth."
Irin gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. "The King… hid this?"
Dylan lowered his sword, though his body trembled with confusion. "Why? Why would he do this?"
Zerath's voice grew heavy with sorrow. "Because your father wished to protect your identity. You are no ordinary prince, Dylan. You are the son of Great Demon Alex and Goddess Mariano. Such a union is forbidden, yet blessed. When a goddess and a great demon join, their child may awaken a special divine power — one so rare, so unstoppable, that neither Heaven nor Demon could ever stand against it. If your enemies discovered this… they would have destroyed you before you drew your first breath. That is why your father carried the burden of silence."
Dylan's knees weakened, his sword slipping from his grasp and clattering against the stone. His heart thundered painfully.
"Then… for me… they sacrificed their lives?" His voice broke, and tears streaked down his face.
Zerath's gaze softened. "I cannot say for certain, but yes… they sacrificed much. Do you bear a scar across your chest?"
Dylan's hand instinctively touched the faint mark beneath his robes. "Yes."
"That," Zerath said gravely, "is where your power lies. It awakens only when your emotions run deepest. But beware—if unleashed, it will drain your life. That is why I told your friend, Ruther, to keep you safe… to never let that power surface. But he never knew the full truth."
Dylan's breath trembled. "Then… when Mother reached me inside Xander's barrier… was it because…"
"Yes," Zerath cut in. "Because of your scar. You used your divine power to break his prison. Through that bond, your parents could feel your pain. Your father bore it until his end. And when he died… that pain doubled in your mother's body."
"Mother…" Dylan's voice cracked, anguish twisting his chest. "You suffered because of me…"
He lifted his head, his golden eyes burning. "Who killed my father?"
Zerath's jaw tightened. "The Heaven Realm."
Dylan snarled, rage sparking like fire in his veins. "But who exactly?!"
"I do not know," Zerath admitted. "When the Great War raged, I rushed to our King to deliver war strategies. I found him lying breathless… his body drenched in blood, a blade buried in his chest. I tried—by every ancient art—to heal him, but it was too late. The only thing I felt was the lingering aura of Heaven. Before I could trace it, it vanished like smoke."
Dylan's fists clenched, trembling with hatred.
"Whoever it is… I will kill them." His voice was low, dangerous, a vow carved into stone.
Zerath's ancient eyes darkened. "If you seek answers… the ancestors of Heaven must know who committed this crime."
A bitter smile curved Dylan's lips. "Then my first target will be them."
For a moment, silence hung, broken only by the weight of shared grief.
Irin, still trembling from all she had heard, lifted her eyes to Dylan. His rage, his sorrow, his vow for vengeance—all of it mirrored the bond between them. Tears welled in her eyes as she whispered his name.
"Dylan…"
He turned to her, his fury softening just for an instant. Their gazes locked—two souls bound by pain, love, and destiny.
Zerath's words lingered in the air, like an omen of wars yet to come.
"Your parents' true love was unbreakable… just as yours and Irin's shall be. That bond, Dylan, may be your greatest strength… or your greatest curse."
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