Did Simon hear that right? He didn't speak the language, yet he could understand it.
(No, it must've been a fluke.)
Nabû stood up, greeting the man with a polite bow. The sea-eyed man did the same, paying his respects. Nabû waited until he approached him, now side by side, before they knelt to the old man.
"I'm terribly sorry Jeanne has carried such a disease into your land, Nabû-Had. If there is any way my family may repay you, let your words be known now," the man said.
He reached into a pocket in his coat, bringing out paper and setting it down on his nightstand. He roamed the room, preparing a quill and ink.
At the same time, Nabû-Had gripped his son's wrist, pulling himself up. There was a certain rage in his eyes, one that he swiftly masked as the man turned.
"Yes, yes, a request that must be fulfilled, Nicholas Crest."
(That name again...)
"I'd be happy to accommodate you with anything."
"The future. Enforce a contract, and gift my heir with a vision of the future."
Nicholas' eyes narrowed. Nabû-Zēr showed a complex look while staring at Nicholas. If he did indeed show him the future, it was a blessing. However, he was trying to pry out the reason Nicholas had hesitated.
Nicholas did not say a word, almost as if frozen in place. More importantly, Simon was still trying to figure out what was going on. If this was Nabû-Zēr's memories, how did the name "Crest" exist at this time?
Could this be one of his ancestors, and if so, why was he here?
"Are you sure, Nabû-Had. The future is a fickle thing — once I show him, there is no saying that the outcomes won't be different."
"Yes, thou art certain of his choice."
Nicholas sighed. It looked like he had no choice after all.
"I will not deny you your final wishes."
Nicholas got up, preparing to leave the room. The paper was useless now, but he let it stay there. He had expected Nabû-Zēr to follow him, but when he looked back, he saw him still knelt at his father's side.
"He shall not leave my chambers."
Nicholas looked at Nabû-Had, then Nabû-Zēr... Then Simon. They locked eyes, almost as if he knew he was there. It must have been a coincidence.
(Coincidences don't exist. He sees me.)
Simon stepped to the side, confirming his suspicions. Nicholas's eyes followed him before returning to the father and son. Only then did he kneel next to Nabû-Zēr and put his index finger to his forehead.
"I'm sorry."
With those words muttered from his lips, Nabû-Zēr fell to the ground. He held his own head, writhing in pain. He kicked, screamed, gripped, and clawed, but nothing could fix the sensation.
Simon could feel it too, though only slightly. It was as if his brain was on fire, insects crawling inside of it, and expanding all at once. At the same time, Nabû-Zēr in the present began to experience the same thing.
"Hast thou seen it? The accursed family Crest needs to fall! Villains, Villains they are!"
As Nabû-Zēr said this, he was simultaneously blocking Ezra's attacks. Metal banged against metal, spear against great sword. It only added to the difficulty that he had to deal with Leo at the same time.
Both of them were protecting Evelyn, who stood away from their group, shooting gibbous moons for support. Both parties took every opening they had, but with three against one, they left little.
Nabû, on the other hand, created multiple. Leo slammed his fist into his liver, causing his focus to waver. At this critical moment, Ezra crashed the great sword into the wood of the spear.
However, the spear quickly regenerated, not giving them the chance to punish him. Leo clicked his tongue at this, but still activated the second impact against the royal's liver.
If it weren't for the difference in numbers, he would have obtained victory by now. Another layer was added because of the need to split his consciousness into two to deal with Simon.
If he had gotten Silas instead of Simon, then he would have won eventually. But he didn't, so there was no time to focus on this what-if scenario.
Leo and Ezra jumped back, now standing off against him once again. This gave Nabû-Zēr time to catch his breath, but defeating him wasn't their job.
Their job was to stall for Silas, and so they did.
"You... Bastards! Obey my words! Give Crest away!"
"We don't know what the hell a 'Sēmu' is, stop begging."
"Beg?! Me beg?! Perhaps thou art most deserving of death, ignorant fools!"
His spiritual energy continued to rise, causing the ritual chamber Silas was in to increase in heat. His vision blurred, and so did Haruto's. Haruto tried his best to keep up with the heat, placing as many seals as he could.
This gave them seconds of relief, but the temperature rose again. In a last-ditch effort, he removed the seal placed on Evelyn's spiritual energy.
Both he and Silas exhaled deeply, finally whiffing in the fresh oxygen as the room cooled.
"Sorry, Silas."
"It's... okay. Focus on Simon."
Simon was currently seizing, his consciousness elsewhere. Haruto would've also been trapped by this if not for his blindness. With his eyes closed, he could not see the golden and crimson eye on the wall.
He reached his hand out until he found Simon's seizing body. Only then did he flip him to his side, making sure he could breathe properly. He took the first layer of Simon's suit off, placing it under his own head.
The attack Silas was generating had now turned into a large platinum blonde canister the size of a tank bullet.
"A little more," Silas muttered.
He tried his best to use what little sweat he had left in this attack. It would be dangerous to use his skin; there was no one around who could heal him.
Unlike last time, he used his skin for an attack; he wasn't so close to the human realm. With no healer nearby, there was no telling how long his flesh would be exposed.
Almost any infection like this would be lethal; this wasn't out of the question.
The question was — is Silas willing to potentially sacrifice his life right now?