Saga of the Two-World Emperor
Volume 1: A Spark in the Ashes
Chapter 8 – The Broken-Winged Bird
Demian's heavy leather boot hung in the air, poised to crush Adrian's only hope into the dirt. The thick, worn sole, caked with mud and grime, was just inches away from the fragile green sprout. In that instant, the old Adrian would have done nothing but watch in fear and despair, his body trembling, tears of helplessness streaming down his face as his small world was destroyed once more.
But this Adrian… was different.
"Wait!"
Adrian's voice cut through the air, sharp and decisive. It did not tremble with fear; instead, it was unnervingly cold and authoritative, enough to make Demian pause mid-stomp. He lowered his foot slightly, not yet touching the ground, and glared down at his half-brother with a mixture of annoyance and surprise.
"What is it?" Demian asked, his voice laced with irritation. "Are you going to beg for the life of your weed? It's too late."
"Not at all," Adrian replied. He remained kneeling on the cold, damp earth, the smell of rich soil filling his nostrils. The eyes that looked up at his half-brother were sharp and unreadable, devoid of any fear or pleading. "I am merely warning you… that what you are about to step on… is no ordinary weed."
"And what is it then? Gold?" Demian scoffed, preparing to laugh at his brother's pathetic attempt to save his little plant.
"To some, it is worth more than gold," Adrian continued calmly, deliberately using words to pique Demian's interest. His mind was racing, calculating the best way to manipulate his brother's well-known weaknesses. "Are you aware that this is 'Silverleaf Sage'? The very herb that royal chefs and high-ranking apothecaries are willing to pay any price for?"
He was lying, of course. It was valuable, yes, but not *that* valuable. But he had to create that value now, in this very moment, to survive.
"And are you aware… that I did not grow this for myself?" He gave a faint, enigmatic smile, a smile Demian had never seen before. It wasn't a sad, resigned smile of the boy he knew; it was the cunning grin of a fox laying a trap. "I grew this… for you."
The statement made Demian frown in genuine confusion. The momentum of his anger was broken, replaced by a flicker of curiosity.
"For me? What do you mean?"
"You are about to enlist in the Royal Knights, are you not, brother?" Adrian said smoothly, his tone shifting to one of earnestness, as if he had rehearsed this speech. "You will surely need the finest armor and weapons… better than what the dowry from the Cornelius family can buy. So, I thought I would cultivate these rare herbs, sell them, and give all the money to you… so that you can become the most magnificent and distinguished knight in the entire army."
It was a plan he had concocted on the spot… a plan that used Demian's "ambition" and "pride" as bait.
Demian looked at him with suspicion. He slowly lowered his foot completely to the ground but didn't move. His hulking frame cast a long, oppressive shadow over Adrian.
"You? Doing something for me? Stop spouting nonsense! You hate my guts."
"I used to hate you… that is true," Adrian admitted frankly, a move that surprised Demian even more. Honesty, even a sliver of it, was a powerful tool. "But after I nearly died… I came to understand certain truths."
He feigned a weary sigh, letting his shoulders slump slightly to complete the act.
"I know very well that I am just a burden to this family. My body is weak. I could never become a great knight like you, brother. Therefore, the only thing I can do is support your dream from the shadows. Your honor… is the honor of the Walther family, after all."
He glanced at the sprout on the ground with a look of feigned regret, as if he were sacrificing his own small joy for a greater good.
"But if you destroy it now… you would be destroying your own dream armor with your own hands. Of course, you might get some satisfaction from destroying something of mine… but is that fleeting satisfaction… worth more than your future glory?"
Adrian's words were like a hammer striking Demian's heart. He looked at his own foot, still close to the sprout, then back at his brother's impassive face. His pride as a future knight was at war with his lifelong desire to trample on the brother he despised.
The image of a suit of gleaming, polished steel armor, beautifully engraved with the family crest… the image of a master-forged sword with a balanced hilt… the image of him becoming the envy of all the other knight apprentices… it all appeared vividly in his mind. He could almost feel the weight of the fine steel, hear the whispers of admiration.
Finally… he lowered his foot in frustration and took a step back, kicking a small stone away in annoyance.
"Hmph! Empty words!" Demian snorted, but in his heart, he had already decided to "wait and see." "I will be watching… to see if you can do as you say! If you can't produce a single copper coin for me within a month… I will come back and burn this garden of yours to the ground with my own hands!"
With that, he turned and stomped away in frustration, leaving behind a sense of dissatisfaction mixed with a tiny, undeniable flicker of anticipation.
Adrian let out a sigh of relief he didn't realize he was holding. A cold sweat trickled down his back, the cool air feeling sharp against his damp skin. This was his first victory in this new world… a victory won not with strength, but with intellect, by manipulating the mind of his enemy.
He looked down at the small sprout that had narrowly escaped death. He reached out a slightly trembling finger and touched the silver leaf with the gentlest of gestures. Its surface was soft, almost velvety.
*A bird with broken wings… can still learn to fly again…*
His mother's words from the old Adrian's memory echoed in his mind (Reference: Chapter 2).
He smiled… a smile filled with a determination he had never felt before.
*Yes… and this bird… is about to spread its wings.*
(End of Chapter 8)