Chapter 91: 987 Years Ago (1)
Alduin Buné's Perspective (Third-Person)
The Yōkai's accommodations were acceptable. Upon Alduin's request, Yasaka had ordered one of her Kitsune to lead him to a secluded, enclosed garden area at the southernmost quarter of the headquarters. An indoor gardening facility where the caretakers prepared and examined the plants that'd later be taken to the front court and presented to guests.
It wasn't structured in the same manner as a greenhouse, much less the kind he and his Mother preferred, but the constant stream of Ki permeating the atmosphere ensured that the plants here would have a health quality no less than pristine. However, to Alduin, just knowing how to tend to plantlife with Ki alone wasn't enough. A true supernatural gardener understood the basic theory and fundamental science behind caretaking first, then moved on to the magical aspects.
"Consider this a gesture of goodwill," with a thought, Alduin altered the mechanical flow of Ki in the room. Just letting it float around blindly and passively boost flora wasn't enough, if they were going to use Ki to supplement, they could at least have the decency to make it an efficient, active process.
The stems, roots, and petals of the thousand or so plants around him all started to emit a gentle hum. One thing most Yōkai would find soothing if they were present in the room with him. Of course, Yasaka wouldn't allow anyone to disturb him, more for her people's sake than his. The devil's temperament seemed calm and collected on the outside, but there was no reliable way to measure how this version of him would react to even the slightest disturbance.
Like miniature vacuums, the appendages of the flora around him began to be forcefully drawn in the lifeforce woven throughout the headquarters airspace. If they drew in too much, they were bound to shatter like overcharged vessels. But Alduin's control was much too honed to let that happen. In fact, each plant seemed to draw in the perfect amount of Ki right down to the decimal point.
Shortly after, the already vibrant colors of the foliage started to intensify. If the room's designated caretakers were here, they'd be beside themselves with stupor upon witnessing that such a thing was even possible in the first place. It was as if Alduin had taken a cluster of vegetation stuck in 1080p and bumped it up to 4K with the flick of his wrist. Effortless, just as it was wondrous to behold.
"Mm. Passable."
Even if his hair and overall demeanor changed, there was nothing in the known universe that could shake the impossibly meticulous gardener in him.
Nothing.
Alduin eyed the lanterns in the room, all fueled by wisps of Fire-attuned Nature Transformation, and much too bright to serve as an appropriate meditative environment. He raised his index finger, causing the wisps to dim as he slowly curled his digit downwards, stopping only once the illumination the wisps provided was no brighter than a night light's.
Then, he picked out a specific corner of the room where the honey-orange-toned scent of Gardenia Flowers was most pungent, a soothing odor that made for a soothing state of mind after all.
The flowers were 'fixed'. The lightning was suited. The atmosphere was set.
It was time to meditate.
He closed his eyes and sat down cross-legged, the sensation of drowning all else out in favour of one's own thoughts second nature to him. He could feel it, the connection he had to a mindscape that apparently 'didn't belong' to him was stronger than it had ever been.
"About time ya' showed up, pretty boy."
The moment he opened his eyes, his dragon was right there, standing behind him and leaning its head over his shoulder. Posturing with the same confidence and bravado he always did whenever they came face-to-face with one another.
"..."
Alduin paused, his eyes narrowed and scrutinizing his dragon, specifically, his dragon's appearance from head to toe. Curiosity and questioning were written all over his dispassionate face.
"Something the matter?" His dragon tilted his head, shamelessly feigning ignorance.
"You're supposed to be a reflection of me."
His dragon no longer looked like him, not the current him, at least. He still had House Buné's signature ashen, frighteningly spiky hair and eyes that looked the same as Alduin's, but easily carried a hundred times the warmth as his. Or perhaps it'd be more apt to say they actually contained any warmth within them at all.
"You say that as if that statement's false," his dragon chuckled, spreading his arms out wide. "Is it not Alduin Buné's face that I wear? Is it not his horns that rest atop my scalp? Is it not his eyes embedded into my sockets? Does some part of me look like a stranger to you?"
Usually, it didn't take much for Alduin's dragon to render him flustered and off-balance. He knew him too well, he could hit him with words that pushed all the right buttons. Words no one but Alduin should be able to say himself, words even his Mother wouldn't be able to come up with.
But this time, Alduin didn't show much of a reaction. It wasn't a front, he simply didn't believe his dragon's words to be much of a bother.
Instead, he allowed a faint, hardly present smile to grace his lips. "That's an interesting word you decided to use there. 'Stranger'. There were plenty of alternatives: unfamiliar, mismatched, different. But you decided to use 'stranger' when I merely questioned your appearance."
For the first time since his awakening ceremony, for the briefest moment, Alduin read a flicker of emotion on his dragon's face that the entity didn't intend to let him see.
Fear.
The personification of his Buné lineage was quick to mask it, but not quick enough to hide it from Alduin's perception.
"Everything I know, you know. Everything I can do, you can do, sometimes even better than me. But when I changed upon assimilating my Mother's Demonic Ki into my Meridians, you remained as you were. There is the faint possibility you remained as you are by choice, but even if you had the power to do so, it does not make sense for you to make that decision. For you are my reflection. The window to my soul. If you do not represent every aspect of me, flawed or otherwise, what purpose do you serve?"
Alduin raised his palm, allowing currents of Demonic Ki to swirl around the appendage. "So to answer your question, yes, it does in fact feel like I'm looking at a stranger." Callously, the corners of his mouth upturned. "I wonder, would it be more accurate to say I've only just realized that I've been looking at a stranger this whole time?"
His dragon swallowed a visible, nervous gulp. "Alduin, I—"
"Quiet. I'm not finished," Alduin's glare sharpened, predatory as he voiced his gradually compounding hypotheses aloud. "Both in my family's records and the teachings my pitiful Father awarded me in preparation for my awakening ceremony, there was never any mention of our dragons being especially sentient, at least not in the way that you have been. If anything, it makes more sense to interpret our dragons as a 'factor' of sorts. A source of power that we can connect to to utilize our draconic abilities. A cog in the machine that is our body, not the machine itself, and most certainly not its operator."
One word.
His dragon had only let one word slip, and Alduin leaped at the chance to rip its exterior open to see what awaited him inside. Truthfully, the fact that his dragon had let something slip at all was a red flag. If he were a true reflection of Alduin, his current self included, wouldn't it stand to reason that his dragon would be aware of what he would and wouldn't notice?
His dragon pressed his lips together, inhaling a sharp breath through his nostrils. "Listen, there's a lot you don't understa—"
"Shut. Up." Demonic Ki whisked out of Alduin's hand like a lasso, coiling itself a millimeter or two away from his dragon's neck. "I don't need you to respond, I can hear everything I want to hear from your body language alone. And from what I'm hearing, I get the feeling that if I described you to my Father, or any of my other predecessors, if they were still alive, they'd be Pretty. Damn. Confused."
Alduin didn't question it at first. An absence of evidence wasn't a confirmation of guilt, and there was also the possibility that his dragon being different was the product of his peculiar bloodline, one that not a single paternal ancestor of his possessed. A bloodline that intertwined itself with his Buné DNA, stabilizing and allowing him leeway that those before him couldn't even dream of.
He was a living unknown. Not as naturally terrifying as the likes of Sirzechs Lucifer or Ajuka Beelzebub, but special enough in his own way to qualify as an anomaly.
Everything about him was a question, an unproven theory, a butterfly still in its cocoon. There was so much Alduin did not understand about himself, and that scared him. He reincarnated from the all too mundane shell of a human into whatever he was now, a devil-dragon with two other existences in his head. Both of which possessed identities that were also—
Unknown.
He could think of few things as unpleasant as the sensation of walking in a suit of flesh beyond his comprehension.
Alduin's bloodcurdling stare sharpened. "This is just a theory, but I reckon that if I were to execute you right here and now, my draconic powers would be perfectly safe and sound. Perhaps I'd even come out of it better than I was before, after all—" His clawed hand snapped forwards, his digits coiling around his 'dragon's' throat as he lifted him upwards. "You're not really supposed to be here, are you?"
"I-It's… n-not that simple…!" The alleged interloper croaked. Unable to resist. Helpless. He could always match Alduin as long as he used and possessed the same abilities as him. But he did not possess Demonic Ki, nor did he have any other power that could resist its overwhelming nature.
"I don't recall accusing anything or anyone here of being simple," he tightened his clasp, holding a vice around his old self's neck. "I can only differentiate between what I do and do not know to make my interpretations, and what I do know is that your every word, reaction, and reflexive emotion tells me that my hypothesis is spot on. Removing you won't paint the full picture for me, but it'll eradicate a considerable amount of the fog, keeping me from perceiving that picture with my own two eyes."
If it would reward him with any meaningful amount of clarity, he was more than happy to enact any drastic measure he deemed necessary.
"S-She has… a-answers… just… a-ask her…!" His dragon insisted in between pained gasps, raising his quivering arm and pointing a trembling finger towards Alduin's self-dubbed 'heaven-piercing tree'.
"Does she now?" Alduin tossed his dragon across his mindscape, his natural strength alone formidable enough to hurl the mental manifestation to the farthest recess of his brain and cause his dragon's body to crack against the wall of the naturalistic wonderland. Painful as intended.
There wasn't a single atom of him that trusted his dragon anymore, however, Alduin did trust his own understanding of his mindscape's hierarchy. His dragon was on the bottom. He was in the middle. And the three stood at the top. Assuming his dragon had something nefarious planned, it couldn't do so if the tree didn't approve, and the tree seemed to be on Alduin's side. The problem was that Alduin couldn't even hazard a guess as to what the entity's motives were.
Why was it here? What did it want from him? What was it even supposed to be?
And most importantly, why him?
Alduin turned, slow and excessively cautious. The tree looked the same as it always did, but he could see that it had grown magnitudes healthier than when he had last come face-to-face with the existence. Its roots and branches were a hundred times thicker and more stable than before. Its leaves and stems were healthier than an ox. Its presence seemed more grounded than it had ever been, its connection to Alduin's mindscape wasn't vague nor fleeting. It was grounded.
"I suppose no longer needing to suppress my Mother's Demonic Ki took a load off your shoulders." he did all he could to sound confident and perfectly in control, but deep down, he knew he was anything but. The heaven-piercing tree knew it too, he knew it knew.
The fact that it had gotten stronger terrified him, it wasn't like his dragon. He couldn't threaten it to spill the beans or harm it in any way, shape, or form. It was grander than him. It was more profound. It existed on a plane he couldn't truly fathom. He wasn't dense enough to think it's growth was mindless, he knew it was building towards something, it had to be. Why else would it be trying to recover its strength if it had no purpose in mind?
The question was what it would mean for Alduin when the tree's recovery was complete, a question he preferred not to dwell too hard on for the sake of being able to sleep, but one he knew he wouldn't be able to avoid forever. One day, the time would come. It was inevitable.
Alduin frowned. Still, the tree wouldn't grace him with the voice it supposedly used to communicate with his dragon. Was it because he was still too weak? Or did it simply not wish to? He couldn't tell, and he had no way to pressure the entity for an answer.
However, just because it refused to speak with him verbally didn't mean it chose to ignore him. Alduin could feel the littered earth beneath his feet tremble a little as a fissure formed on its surface. It opened up further, allowing a root to snake its way through the joints and hover its way up to Alduin's face. A cluster of small, bright-yellow specks danced around its tip like fireflies. Slowly, they drifted their way over towards Alduin and made him the subject of their orbit like moths to a flame.
"I don't understand," he muttered with perplexity.
"They're memories…" His dragon's hoarse, weakened voice replied, stumbling towards Alduin from a distance. "Your Mother's memories, the ones contained in the sliver of Demonic Ki that took root within you. She's offering you a chance to see them for yourself, if you want to." His dragon would be a fool not to notice the steel-sharp glare of suspicion coming from the mindscape's host. "Viewing them will also help you understand the truth about me when it's told to you."
"And when will that be?"
Nervous, his dragon gulped. "When she allows me to tell you," he nodded towards the tree, submission and reverence written all over his face. No matter how much effort Alduin put into trying to scare or threaten his dragon, it wouldn't equate to one iota of the fear his dragon felt towards the tree.
Ironically enough, that was something the two of them had in common.
"Alright then," seeing that he had little leeway in the matter, Alduin decided he might as well take what he could get. "Show me these memories you want me to see."
He'd be lying if he said he wasn't interested anyway, his desire to solve the curious case that was his Mother was second only to his desire for the questions that lay within his mindscape.
---
The Underworld.
987 Years before Alduin Buné's Birth.
Of all the compounds distributed amongst the remaining 32 Pillars of the Underworld, the Sallos Marquessate was renowned for the sheer scale, density, and variation of flora and fauna that existed within its natural reserves, which made up a grand total of 82% of the House's overall territory. It was beyond that of even the Sitri Clan, who had always been forced to wear the title of close second when compared. A mere runner-up, nothing more. Even their medical advancements and achievements paled in comparison. They didn't have the knowledge, talent, or fortune to keep up, no matter how hard they endeavored.
Another 13% of the Marquessate's land was sectioned off to serve as a commercial city dubbed 'Bratus' for citizens of the Underworld to reside in. It specialized in the retail of high-quality medicinal products, recipes, and top-of-the-line medical care provided by its hospitals. For most nobles, dedicating such a small portion of one's land for commercial use would be criminally inadequate. The income stream simply wouldn't be able to keep up with the inevitable deficit of High-Class life.
But the Sallos were different, they weren't dependent on the direct income they made from the citizens under their control. Their product was medicine, and everyone bought in. All the way from your average, run-of-the-mill Low-Class Devil, to the descendants of the Original Satans who currently serve as the Underworld's rulers. The quality was simply that good, leagues above whatever half-assed product the Sitri tried to shell. Not everyone could afford the best the Sallos had to offer, but when one's life was on the line, financial instability had a tendency to magically become far more acceptable.
Even the potential Familiar candidates whose fauna was starting to produce had the ability to compete with those found in the Familiar Forest now and then. Perhaps with time, the Sallos would dominate the Underworld in that regard, the same way they did the Sitri.
The other 5% of land served as the Clan's personal residence. For most, the norm was to keep one's estate in the epicenter of the city they presided over, or 'main city' if they were fortuitous enough to govern multiple. But the Sallos preferred their privacy, thus, their compound was situated roughly a hundred kilometers south of Bratus's border. Hidden amidst trees, underbrush, and secured with carefully stacked layers of cloaking and protective magical enhancements.
It was only natural that their prosperity wound up an object of envy for many, in such a position, it never hurt to be too careful.
The compound itself was made up of five structures, each of which resembled medieval keeps, heavily fortified rectangular towers that served to be both a place of residence and research for the members of the Clan. Guarded not only by the magic embedded within, but also by the demonic creatures that wandered around its perimeter, all of which carried unshakable loyalty towards the compound's master.
The current Marchioness.
With yet another contradiction to the status quo of the Underworld's high society, the Sallos were, and had always run on a strictly Matriarchal administration. A decree bestowed upon the Clan when Lucifer and Lilith first convened its Progenitor alongside the other 72 Pillars all those many, many centuries ago. It was a law that you simply weren't allowed to ask the question, unless you wanted the rest of the devilkind to view you as some wayward radical.
"Where do you think she is this time?" A feminine voice grumbled.
"The place she thinks we're least likely to check, probably." A masculine one replied, palpably more spirited than his companion.
At present, two figures were strolling through the halls of the compound, side by side. One was a woman with messy, unkempt chin-length hair, adorned in a pristine set of knightly armor from head to toe. The motif of a tree with dozens of roots protruding out of it had been encrusted into her shoulder pauldron, a proud representation of the Sallos Insignia she wore at all times, regardless of whether she was entering the heat of battle or simply going about her day-to-day duties.
The other was a man, his hair long and straightened, reaching all the way down to his shoulders like most of the Underworld's noblemen. The dark-green cloak he wore was woven from only the finest silks, brocades, and fine furs available in the landscape. Sourced directly from the nature reserves and expertise, the Sallos Clan was all too proud to possess. In comparison to her, his image truly seemed to embody that of a proper High-Class Devil hailing from an esteemed Pillar.
Notwithstanding, there was one trait that remained unequivocally constant between the two.
The eye-catching, elegant, bright verdant pigmentation of their hair and irises, which belonged solely to the children of Sallos.
"Color me surprised," Morax said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.
She was the middle child of the Marchioness's three children. The 258-year-old Heiress to the Sallos throne. A woman who was supposed to hone her prowess in the art of pen and medicine, but insisted on forsaking it in favour of the thrill of battle and the development of one's own martial ability.
Put simply, a battle junkie born into a house of physicians.
"Don't worry," Marbas chuckled. "I think I have a pretty good idea where she might be."
At 446 years, he was the eldest of the three. As a male, he would never be able to place himself at the head of the table, but that didn't bother him. He had little desire for his Mother's crown in the first place. He was more than content to contribute to his house in his own way, after all, just because a male couldn't inherit the title, didn't mean they were looked down upon and disregarded. At least, not in the Sallos Clan.
If you were competent, you were competent. If you were incompetent, you were incompetent. That was the sole baseline for judgment, and in Marbas's case, he was smart enough to put his blood, sweat, and tears into ensuring he was the former.
Namely, his logistical smarts, which resulted in his Mother entrusting him with the sole responsibility of governing Bratus, handling all the administrative duties required of him to ensure the city ran smoothly, and allowed his Mother to divulge all her focus on preparing her daughter for her future role and improving on the family's already impressive medicinal knowledge.
Marbas was proud of his work, and even prouder of the praise his Mother rationed him with every now and then. He was the type to relish in the sensation of feeling useful and find even greater pleasure when met with the scarce resource that was maternal approval.
"Honestly, you're way too soft on that girl," Morax vented her frustration. "It's the day of her ceremony, and she still chooses to make us play cat-and-mouse. Just how stubborn can she—!"
"Hey!" Lightly, Marbas gave her a chop on the scalp. "She's not 'that girl', she's our little sister, and she's only thirteen. It's natural for her to be a tad moody, and you weren't all that different when you were her age, now were you?"
Embarrassed, Morax's cheeks flushed bright-red. "Why you—!"
With shut eyes and a tight smile, Marbas simply raised his hand again, the silent threat more than enough to silence his sister. He didn't have the authority of an Heir, but his big brother privileges and seniority advantage were most certainly in effect.
'You fool,' Morax scolded him inwardly. Time and time again, she had tried to help her brother understand that his affection for their little sister had blinded him to her true nature. She wasn't 'moody', she was arrogant, conceited, self-obsessed. The girl looked at the world through the lens of self-convinced superiority. She wasn't hiding just because she had a bit of a temper, she was hiding because she believed her every interaction with her siblings was a complete waste of time—
That they were a waste of time.
But that wasn't the worst of it, the real kicker was that there was actually a certain degree of truth to that belief. She was a 'genius' after all. A natural in every field she pursued. Elemental Manipulation. Demonic Power Reinforcement. Familiar Taming. Every academic pursuit beneath the Underworld's purple sky. She was thirteen, and already light years ahead of her brother and sister, who had centuries over her.
If the Sallos weren't so reclusive, her reputation among her generation would've eclipsed that of House Buné's young prodigy.
Unfortunately, Marbas proved incapable of seeing past the 'adorable' exterior of his little sister, a girl who didn't even try to hide how insignificant she believed the people around her to be. Whenever the signs surfaced, the eldest of the three would just brush it off as a teenager being a teenager. But Morax could see it, clear as day, it was more than that—so much more.
"So, where are your senses leading you?" Morax queried, for all his flaws, Marbas had an uncanny sixth sense ability to pinpoint their little sister's hiding spot each time a new one surfaced.
Brimming with confidence, Marbas put on a triumphant smile. "Well, last time she holed herself up in Mother's room, so this time it only stands to reason she's in Father's this time."
Morax's shoulders slumped. "Isn't that a little too obvious?"
His smile widened. "That's exactly what she wants us to think! It's reverse psychology, plain and simple."
"If it's reverse psychology, wouldn't she be hiding in Mother's room again?"
"Don't nit-pick!" Once more, he scolded his little sister with a swift thwack to the cranium. "My senses weren't wrong the last 348 times, and they won't be wrong this time either."
Morax could only sigh, the sooner this was over with, the better. It was her policy to minimize the amount of time she spent around the youngest as much as she could, young or old, she felt no pity towards the girl. Her alienation was the sole product of her choices, and her choices alone. She acted the way she did knowingly, not out of innocent youthful ignorance.
If only Marbas would open his eyes.
Promptly, they hauled their way over to their Father's study, the man himself was currently elsewhere on his wife's orders, making the space perfectly susceptible to being occupied by anyone who wished to utilize the room. Given that they had the ability to avoid all the detection and security magic it contained.
"Yup, my senses are tingling. She's definitely in there!" Marbas grinned from ear to ear.
KICK!
With one swift motion of his foot, the door slammed inwards, allowing Marbas to rush in headfirst with arms open wide, fully expecting to engage whoever he believed to be inside in a bear hug, if there was even anyone in the first place.
"Malphy-palphy! It's time for your ceremo—!"
SWOOSH!
A thunderous gust of wind shot out from the room, hitting Marbas square in the abdomen and sending him ragdolling backwards like a crash test dummy. His back cracked against the stone bricks that made up the hallway's wall. The sound of bone creaking earned a second-hand wince out of Morax, for she couldn't help but suck her teeth upon analyzing the damage her brother just sustained.
'That's the nth hundredth time she's done that to you, and you still haven't learned your lesson!'
"I would scold you for forgetting your boundaries yet again, but the sheer number of times you've repeated this blunder indicates my words have no chance of getting through to you. So from now on, I'll fracture one section of your skeletal structure each time you intrude." The voice of a young girl echoed from the study. "This time it was your spine."
"Ugggghhh!" Marbas groaned in throbbing agony. "Do you have to be so rough, Malphy—!"
CRACK!
This time, a cluster of earth sprang out of the study and collided straight into Marbas's jaw, creating yet another fracture, dislocating it completely, and causing it to hang loose from his face in a grotesque, jarring fashion.
"I've grown equally tired of that ridiculous nickname too."
However, despite the severity of Marbas's injuries, neither he nor Morax expressed any real concern. After all, Marbas could just heal himself right up with his Dryadic Blessing whenever he wanted to. It was the exact reason he was happy to test his youngest sibling's patience as much as he did without any worry for the consequences of doing so whatsoever.
With immense caution, Morax poked her head over the study's doorframe. Her eyes locked with those of what was essentially a smaller version of herself, with waist-length bright green hair and a get-up that was notably more regal and civic, rather than brutish and militaristic.
Speaking of eyes—
Morax couldn't bring herself to stare at the girl's for any meaningful amount of time. She found them impossibly repulsive and equally terrifying. The sheer arrogance in those pupils just screamed the words "I'm better than you", they were, without a shadow of a doubt, the eyes of someone who had never come face-to-face with a figure they believed to be their equal. And to make matters worse, she really was better than Morax, in every way, shape, and form. She knew it. Marbas knew it. Her Mother knew it. Her Father too.
That's where the terror stemmed from. If she wanted to, that girl could end both her and Marbas with the simple wave of her hand. And no matter what her brother believed, Morax knew for a fact that she was getting dangerously close to choosing an extreme solution to his meddling. The only thing that held her back was the fuss her brother's murder would create, nothing more. There was no affection. No familial bond. Marbas's love was completely one-sided.
"Malphas," Morax addressed the girl carefully, holding back the urge to flinch as her little sister's eyes snapped onto her. "You know what day it is today, Mother's waiting for you." She dared not utter another word, she knew exactly how much Malphas hated it when people said more than they needed to.
"I'm aware, I don't require your reminder." Unhurried, Malphas closed the book she was holding onto and set it down on her Father's desk. "But I suppose it's for the best I get this over with sooner rather than later."
---
Whew, how long have I danced around the subject of Martha— cough cough —"Martha's" past? Finally, it's time to unravel some of the biggest secrets of this fic. Hope y'all enjoy.
If you want to support my work and get access to early chapters, go check me out on P@treon/Accel14!
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