While all were still standing still now in shock, Dravon spoke slowly.
Every word a blade.
"Inside Zephyrion's mind… I felt more than the Demon Lord."
He tilted his head.
"I felt him."
Aria's eyes widened.
"The hero…?"
Dravon nodded once.
"His memories.
His desires.
His truth."
Morian muttered a curse under his breath.
Deyr looked ill.
Suvarn stared at the floor, fists trembling.
Kaenmor's eyes filled with sorrow.
Elira whispered, "Dravon… you don't need to—"
He cut her off with one look.
Then he continued:
"Humans praised him.
Called him a savior.
Adored him.
Worshipped him."
His voice turned flat.
"But inside… he was filth."
Aria felt her breath stop.
Dravon stepped forward again.
"He refused to help small villages because they gave him no fame.
He let innocents burn because it wasn't 'glorious.'
He killed monsters for renown, not justice."
His face hardened.
"He used his fame to demand women to sleep with him from the villages we passed.
He took them.
Forced them.
Then made the Aetherbounds apologize to the families."
The mortals gasped in horror.
Aria's stomach twisted painfully.
Morian whispered, voice breaking:
"We… tried to stop him."
Deyr's voice cracked:
"We fought him. More than once."
Suvarn's eyes glistened.
"But the world… they loved him too much.
No one would believe us."
Kaenmor's voice was almost a whisper:
"We were powerless against the faith of humanity."
Dravon smiled coldly.
"But I am not powerless."
"I gave him what he deserved."
He stepped back toward the broken throne.
His eyes glowed faintly in the dim light.
"After we sealed Zephyrion, he said he wanted more glory.
Wanted to be crowned eternal hero.
Wanted his name to live forever."
He tilted his head.
"So I granted him my kind of eternity."
The room went still.
Dravon raised his hand, and a faint memory of shadow replayed across the walls —
A blade of darkness piercing a man's heart.
The hero's eyes widening.
Shock.
Pain.
Realization.
Then silence.
Dravon lowered his hand.
"I ended him.
Quickly.
Cleanly."
He turned his back.
"He deserved much worse. But I am a good person, ain't I?"
"So tell me, Hero… why will you be different?"
Dravon faced Aria again.
No hatred.
No warmth.
Just that piercing, impossible gaze.
"You are mortal.
You bleed.
You break.
You cling to ideals you do not understand."
He stepped closer.
Aria's crest pulsed wildly.
"What makes you think you will not die like he did?"
He leaned down slightly, crimson eyes level with hers.
"What makes you think you are better than the man I killed?"
Aria's heart hammered painfully.
Every mortal in the room backed away.
Even the Aetherbounds held their breath.
Dravon's voice fell to a whisper so quiet only she heard it.
"What makes you think I won't kill you too?"
For a long moment after Dravon's threat, no one spoke.
No one even breathed too loudly.
It was as if a storm hovered above the church — silent and coiled — waiting for a single wrong word to set it loose.
Aria's heart pounded, but she didn't step back.
She couldn't.
Not anymore.
Finally, Dravon exhaled softly through his nose, the faintest hint of a smirk touching his lips.
"Quiet, now?
I suppose fear still works."
Deyr bristled.
Sera's fingers tightened on his sleeve.
Garron shielded Lyra instinctively.
Coren scowled openly.
Aria stepped forward again, voice trembling but steady.
"I'm not afraid."
Dravon's crimson eyes slid to her, unimpressed.
"You should be."
She swallowed.
"But I'm not."
He raised one brow, the gesture elegant and mocking.
"How courageous.
Or how stupid.
Often the same thing."
...
Aria opened her mouth to argue — and Dravon swept his gaze across the group, razor-sharp and merciless.
"You insist you're different from the old hero."
He tilted his head.
"But the only difference I see… is that he didn't seduce an Aetherbound."
He turned directly toward Suvarn.
Suvarn froze.
"Hope.
Fifth Vein.
Softest heart.
Easiest to manipulate."
Aria's breath hitched.
"D-Dravon—"
He ignored her.
"A few smiles, a few kind words… and suddenly he's ready to die for you. Hero or not, you should learn the power you have over him."
Suvarn's cheeks reddened with anger and shame.
"Don't dare you talk like that."
Dravon's smile sharpened.
"Oh? Did I offend your romantic sensibilities?"
He pivoted smoothly, pointing lazily at Deyr and Sera.
"And there — chaos tamed by a mortal girl.
Love blooming in the middle of war."
Deyr stiffened. "I'm not—"
Dravon didn't even let him finish.
"Please.
You're the easiest one to read.
Your eyes scream every time she breathes near you."
Sera flushed crimson.
Deyr looked away, jaw tight.
Dravon turned toward Coren and Lyra.
"And these two.
A healer and a warrior still too shy to hold hands yet somehow ready to die for one another."
Coren spluttered, "We—we're just teammates!"
Lyra embarrassed and blushing. "We might be more than just teammates but..."
Dravon rolled his eyes.
"Pathetic."
Morian huffed. "Enough, Dravon—"
But Dravon wasn't done.
He flicked his gaze toward Kaenmor.
"And you… the peaceful leader with his resurrected deer princess."
Kaenmor inhaled sharply — hurt flickering behind his calm expression.
Dravon's lips curled.
"Love everywhere.
Clinging to each other in fear.
Mortals making Aetherbounds fall in love, and when there isn't a mortal around, a four legged beast would do the trick as well.
All hoping affection will hold back Zephyrion. "
He spread his arms.
"You expect me to believe that a lovestruck, sentimental group like this will defeat the Demon Lord?"
His laugh echoed through the ruined church — low, rich, devastating.
"Don't make me laugh."
Everyone froze.
But one person stepped forward.
Elayne.
Her hands trembled, but her voice didn't.
"Why," she asked quietly, "did you give me the book?"
Dravon's amusement evaporated instantly.
"Do not flatter yourself."
She flinched — but didn't back away.
"You gave it to me. Not to Kaenmor. Not to Suvarn. Not to Elira. Not to Aria."
Her voice gained strength.
"You chose me."
Dravon's crimson eyes narrowed.
"I did not choose you."
He looked down at her with quiet, precision-cut cruelty.
"You were simply the only one foolish enough to open it."
Her shoulders shook — hurt, but defiant.
Aria moved to go to her, but Elayne raised a hand.
"No. Let me speak."
She glared up at Dravon.
"You may act like you don't care… but you didn't kill me when I found the book. You didn't stop me from reading it. You didn't erase it afterwards."
Her voice softened.
"You wanted someone to understand you."
Dravon's jaw tensed — almost imperceptibly.
"Incorrect."
Elayne stared. "Then why—"
"Because I wanted someone to suffer as I suffered. And for your information, I kept changing the content of the book as I wished. So, you are nothing but a fool, mortal. And I am not stupid like Suvarn or Deyr."
Silence slammed through the room.
Elayne's breath hitched.
Aria's heart twisted painfully.
Kaenmor looked sick with grief.
Morian punched a stone pillar.
Deyr muttered a curse under his breath.
Suvarn lowered his gaze.
Elira's eyes filled with quiet, ancient sadness.
Elayne's voice cracked.
"…You're lying."
Dravon didn't blink.
"I do not lie."
The air grew thicker — darker — until a single deep voice broke through.
"Enough."
Everyone turned.
Morian.
He walked forward, each step heavy, steady, unshakeable.
He stopped directly in front of Dravon.
His posture wasn't threatening — no raised fists, no glowing tattoos — just the stance of a man who had known Dravon too long to fear him.
"Morian," Aria whispered.
He ignored her.
"Brother," he said quietly.
Dravon's eyes twitched.
Once.
Barely.
Morian continued.
"You're angry. We know. You have every right to be. You carry more pain than any man should. We failed our hero. We failed each other. We failed you."
Dravon looked away.
But Morian pressed on.
"You are not a monster."
Dravon scoffed.
"Tell that to Eldgrave."
"We already have," Morian said firmly. "We told the council. We told the villages. But the world chooses their heroes — no matter how rotten they are."
Dravon's eyes sharpened again.
Morian lowered his voice.
"You think I don't know why you left?
You think I didn't see what you suffered?
You think I didn't hear your screams when you tore through Zephyrion's mind?"
Dravon's breath caught.
It was tiny.
Invisible.
But Morian saw it.
Kaenmor saw it.
Elira saw it.
Dravon didn't respond.
Aria stepped forward, placing herself between Dravon and the others.
Her crest glowed faintly through her shirt — warm, steady, alive.
"Dravon."
He didn't look at her.
She swallowed.
"You could have killed me when you appeared in the castle's balcony that night."
Dravon did not move.
"You could have killed me when Suvarn challenged you."
Still no reaction.
"You could kill me right now."
His crimson eyes flicked toward her — a spark, faint but there.
She took a shaky breath.
"But you didn't."
He said nothing.
"You don't kill without reason. You didn't kill me because you don't want to."
Her voice softened.
"And I… I don't understand everything about you.
But if you give me a chance…
I want to."
Dravon's expression didn't change.
But his shoulders —
so rigid, so cold —
shifted, just barely.
Elayne stepped beside Aria.
Her voice was small, trembling.
"And I never knew you," she whispered. "Not until I read your book."
She clutched the battered tome to her chest.
"But I felt your pain.
Your loneliness.
Your rage.
Your heartbreak."
Her eyes brimmed with tears she refused to let fall.
"And even if I don't understand everything…
I want to."
She bowed her head.
"Please don't push us away."
Dravon stared at her.
For once — he didn't smirk.
He didn't taunt.
He didn't annihilate her with words.
He simply looked…
confused.
But confusion for Dravon Valeis was more frightening than anger.
He stepped toward Elayne slowly.
Aria instinctively reached for Suvarn's hand.
But Dravon didn't attack.
He simply looked down at Elayne, eyes flickering with something unreadable.
"…You are the most ordinary-looking girl I have seen in my almost immortal life."
Elayne squeaked, horrified.
Deyr slapped a hand across his face.
Morian groaned.
Suvarn coughed to hide a laugh.
Sera whispered, "He's so rude it hurts."
Yet strangely…
Dravon's voice lacked the venom of earlier.
He walked past them — toward the door of the ruined church.
But before he could leave —
A hand grasped his wrist.
Wind swirled.
Light touched shadow.
Kaenmor stood behind him.
Quiet.
Calm.
Resolute.
"Dravon."
Dravon froze.
Kaenmor's grip tightened — firm but gentle.
"You were the anomaly," Kaenmor said softly. "You always were."
Dravon slowly turned his head.
Kaenmor's voice was low, steady, filled with warmth and unspoken history.
"And I…
was the leader you needed."
Dravon's jaw clenched — the first sign of emotion cracking through.
Kaenmor stepped closer.
"Let's talk," he whispered.
"Alone."
Dravon didn't pull away.
Didn't sneer.
Didn't mock.
He simply…
stood still.