It is told that when the purest light meets the deepest darkness, the Supreme Lord shall return. However, he will be born of two souls, which shall be destined for conflict until only one remains. Within this vessel, he shall return to flesh, and once again rule over his people. Will the world be ushered into an eternity of peace, or destruction? Only fate can decide. It is their destiny to answer. So it shall be.
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~Lord Cain's Primary Lounge Chamber - Main Castle, Central Wing~
"My lord, the time has come," says a servant to his master, bowing deeply as he waits patiently for a response. The room is dimly lit by the flickering flames of a massive hearth, casting long shadows that dance eerily along the walls adorned with ancient tapestries. The air is thick with the scent of burning wood and the lingering aroma of spiced wine, creating an atmosphere both oppressive and charged with anticipation.
"I see. Have you already summoned Laurent?" The master's voice cuts through the silence like a blade—deep, husky, and imbued with a commanding authority that seems to resonate with the very stones of the castle.
"Yes, my lord. He's making the necessary preparations as we speak. Shall I fetch Mikael now?" The servant's voice wavers slightly, betraying his anxiety. He knows how volatile Lord Cain can be, especially on a night as significant as this.
"Is that boy still sulking in his room?" Cain's voice rises, reverberating through the chamber and causing the very flames in the fireplace to flicker wildly. The sudden shift in his tone startles the servant, who instinctively takes a step back. "Ay, fetch him now. No respectable man would miss the birth of his own child."
"Yes, my lord," the servant stammers, his voice trembling as he bows lower, eager to avoid his master's wrath. He quickly turns to make his exit, his heart pounding in his chest as he dreads the task ahead.
"Oh, and Henley?" The servant stops in his tracks, his blood running cold as he hears his name called once more. He turns back slowly, dread seeping into his bones as he meets his master's gaze. Lord Cain has finally turned to face him, his fiery eyes glowing with an intensity that sends a shiver down Henley's spine.
"Ye—yes, Lord Cain?" Henley's voice barely escapes his throat, his eyes fixed on the massive figure before him. Cain's presence is overwhelming—his broad shoulders, muscular frame, and the sheer power that radiates from him make it impossible to look away. The glow of the fireplace reflects off his flaming red hair and golden skin, giving him an almost ethereal appearance, like a god of fire and destruction.
Lord Cain's hand moves to the hilt of his sword, his fingers curling around it with a slow, deliberate motion. A devilish smirk plays on his lips as he speaks, his voice low and menacing. "If he dares to refuse, you must do whatever it takes to convince him. If you were to fail…" Cain's face contorts, his features twisting into something monstrous, something inhuman. His eyes burn brighter, and his teeth elongate into sharp fangs as he leers at Henley, the very image of a demon. "Do you understand?"
Henley quakes in fear, his knees threatening to give out under the weight of his terror. For a moment, he is paralyzed, unable to think or move. But the survival instinct kicks in, and he forces himself to nod, to speak, to obey. "Ye—yes, Lord Cain, I understand. I will not allow him to refuse. Excuse me, my lord." He bows again, lower this time, and hurries out of the room, his heart racing as he rushes to fetch the young lord and escape his master's terrifying presence.
The corridor outside is dark and silent, the only sound the echo of Henley's hurried footsteps. He can feel the cold stone beneath his feet, and the chill of the night air seeps through the walls, biting into his skin. As he makes his way to Mikael's chambers, he cannot shake the image of Lord Cain's monstrous face from his mind. The thought of facing the young lord fills him with dread, but he has no choice. To fail means more than just punishment—it would mean his life.
Meanwhile, back in the chamber, Lord Cain's transformation recedes, his monstrous visage fading as he returns to his human form. He stands in the middle of the room, staring into the flames as they crackle and pop, lost in thought. His expression softens as his eyes drift to the mantel above the fireplace, where a small, ornate frame sits, almost out of place in the otherwise austere surroundings. He walks over and picks it up, the hard lines of his face easing as he gazes at the picture of a beautiful young woman, her features delicate and serene.
"Could this finally be the one, my love?" His voice, now softened, holds a note of tenderness rarely heard from him. He traces the outline of the woman's face with a calloused finger, a sad smile at the corners of his mouth. "Yes, I believe so. Your daughter will change our worlds."
He pulls out another picture from his shirt pocket and looks at it with longing, his heart heavy with memories. The image is worn, the edges frayed from years of handling. It is a picture of another beautiful woman, with a younger Lord Cain by her side, their hands intertwined, their faces radiant with love. He brushes his thumb across the top of the picture, his voice a whisper now. "Beloved, our son has finally done what we dreamed. I will see it through for you too."
The moment of introspection is shattered by the sudden arrival of a soldier, bursting into the room with a frantic energy. "My Lord!" he cries, his breath coming in ragged gasps, drops of sweat glistening on his brow. "Excuse my interruption, but I'm afraid there's a situation at the gates. A human envoy from the Wakaba Prefecture has come with a notice of war unless we give up the cursed child. It seems they have diviners on their side who've detected him too."
For a moment, the room is deathly still, the only sound the crackling of the fire and the soldier's labored breathing. Then, a slow, deep laugh rises from Lord Cain's chest, growing in intensity until it fills the room with its ominous echo. "Indeed, so I was correct," he says, his voice brimming with a dark satisfaction. "The child of the prophecy is to be born tonight!"
He stands tall, his presence once again commanding as he strides across the room, his excitement barely contained. "At last, the Messiah of the Junsuikaoni Demon race will bestow his judgment and grace upon us. No longer will we be cast to the shadows of the earth!" His eyes blaze with fervor as he chugs his wine down in a single gulp, slamming the empty goblet onto the table with such force that it nearly shatters.
The soldier watches in awe, his fear of the impending war momentarily overshadowed by the sheer power and conviction of his lord. "Give them their war," Cain declares, his voice filled with a righteous fury. "Our god will not forsake us again."
As the soldier hurries to relay the orders, Lord Cain turns back to the fire, his eyes once again drawn to the picture on the mantel. The night is far from over, and the wheels of fate have already begun to turn.