The moment those words left his lips Draven moved, his spear ignited, crimson flames exploded along the shaft, turning the throne room into a furnace. The marble floor cracked under the heat as he roared and lunged, every ounce of B-rank killing intent pouring into a single thrust meant to pierce Ash's heart and end this nightmare.
Ash however he didn't even summon his weapon yet. He looked at his foolish brother with a smile as one thought passed through his mind.
'Well, like that one old saying. Payback is a bitch.'
As he thought this the spear was on him. He simply stepped inside the thrust, shoulder brushing the spear shaft like a lover passing in a hallway. The flaming tip missed by a hair's breadth and buried itself in the pillar behind him, stone melting into slag.
BANG!
Seeing how effortless Ash dodged, Draven's eyes widened.
Ash smiled see this look, then he finally moved.
A sword of pure black glass slid from nowhere into his right hand, the blade from the Seraphiel proving grounds, thin, light, drinking every flicker of firelight until it looked like a slice of midnight. He had sealed his own rank down to B the moment Draven charged, just to make the lesson intimate.
The first clash was silence.
Draven ripped his spear free and spun it into a blazing cyclone, a skill he had used to annihilate entire knight squads.
[Infernal Maelstrom - 5% Total Mana]
FWOOOM!
Flames howled into a tornado of molten death.
Ash walked straight through it.
Nine spectral void-moon tails flickered behind him for a heartbeat, Vaeloria sitting on his shoulder smiled in her tiny form, seeing that he was using her sword style, that he made his. The fire parted like curtains before a king. Not blocked, not endured, simply ignored. The black sword traced a lazy crescent.
A line of blood opened across Draven's chest, armor and flesh parting like silk.
Draven stumbled back, eyes bulging. "What the fuck—"
Ash's voice was soft, almost kind. "Remember when we were kids and you broke my arm because I looked at your spear wrong?"
The black sword flicked upward.
Draven's gauntlet shattered; the bones beneath cracked in the exact same place Ash's had years ago.
"Payback's nostalgic, isn't it?" Ash voice sounded through room like a devil's whisper.
Draven screamed and triggered another skill.
[Crimson Phoenix Descent - 5% Mana Pool]
Wings of pure fire erupted from his back, the temperature spiking high enough to blister the air. He shot forward, spear first, a meteor of rage and terror.
WHOOSH!
Ash pivoted on the ball of his foot, body flowing like liquid shadow. The spear passed through empty space. Ash's blade kissed Draven's thigh as he passed, a shallow cut that burned colder than any ice. Draven crashed to one knee, blood hissing where it met the marble.
"You used to laugh when I couldn't even lift a training sword," Ash murmured, circling him slowly.
"Called me trash that would die in a ditch."
He stepped in again.
The black sword moved too fast to track, nine void tails weaving trails of absolute darkness that swallowed Draven's flames whole. A thrust, a twist, a diagonal slash. Each strike precise, surgical, poetic.
Draven's left arm hung useless, tendons severed. A gash across his ribs exposed bone. A shallow cut along his cheek mirrored the scar he had once given Ash with a ringed fist. Every wound was deliberate. Every wound was memory.
Draven's spear clattered to the ground, flames guttering out like dying candles. He tried to stand, legs shaking, eyes wild with animal panic.
Ash stopped in front of him, tip of the black sword resting lightly under Draven's chin, forcing his head up.
"Look at me," Ash said gently.
Draven looked.
Golden-pink eyes stared down, calm, pitiless, ancient.
"I'm not going to kill you today," Ash continued, voice carrying easily to every corner of the throne room. "Death would be mercy. You're going to live with every scar I just gave you. Every time you look in the mirror, you'll remember the trash you taunted and spat on."
The sword flicked covered in paradox mana.
A final shallow line opened across Draven's forehead, blood trickling into his eyes. Ash stepped back, sheathed the blade in darkness, and turned away.
Draven collapsed, sobbing, broken, the once-proud second prince reduced to a bleeding wreck on his own throne-room floor while Nia watched with shining eyes, Vaeloria's tiny fox form licked blood from her whiskers with lazy satisfaction, and the rest of the royal family stared in mute, soul-crushed horror.
Ash didn't look back he only left a few words.
"Consider today mercy.... Who knows when the next time you'll see me."
"Perhaps, by then I would have already accomplished everything you dreamed of.... Nia, come let's go."
And with those words, Nia followed after clinging to his arm without any care in the world. After today he had made amends with the past and was completely focused on the future. This kingdom, this family, he would let fate take its course.
While he walked the path to beyond....