God From The Abyss

Chapter 23: Chapter 023: The Morning At the Tower.

"No matter where you are or will be, I will find you. And we will be with you, till the end of our time. So hang on for me, for us, Nyx."

The girl groaned painfully. Who was the man telling her to hang on?

Was it Father!

"Who are...?"

"Nyx!"

Lily hurried over to the girl lying on the bed.

"Oh, you’re still asleep. Some dream you must be having, huh? And you’re still burning up!"

* * * * * * *

The sun filtered gently through the high arch tower windows and the sky was decorated with a haze of rich mana mist, painting the grounds in pale gold, reflecting the rising sun.

Mikael stirred quietly, before rising. Barefoot, he emerged from his room, dressed in a white sleeveless robe, and onto the balcony overlooking a quite colorful garden below.

A look at him showed tranquility. Only those who truly knew him could believe the kind of monstrosity and destructiveness that hid behind the handsome face.

His presence no longer threatened to upend reality, like it did the previous night. It was as calm as his demeanour. Controlled. Tranquil. Serene.

A young maid waited timidly at the doorway. She clutched a silver tray with tea like it was her only salvation from certain death.

Mikael chuckled as he stopped in front of her, when he had become aware of her presence, tilting his head to look her in the eye.

"You are trembling, child. Is the weather that cold? Or is it me?"

The girl quickly averted her eyes, choosing to stare at her shoes. Her heart raced as her mind worked overtime.

’How can such a beautiful girl be feared even by the Duke, so so—’ she thought aloud, by mistake.

"I am a guy, child."

The girl tried to kneel, but Mikael, thanks to his fast reflexes, caught the tray before she dropped it.

"Come on, lass. It’s early morning, not a damn execution. Loosen up a bit. I don’t bite."

He took the tray and turned away, then paused.

"What’s your name, little one?"

"L-L-L-Luna, my lord sir!"

"Oh," Mikael smiled. "Suits your midnight blue eyes. A beautiful name it is. I’m in your care then, Luna. I take it you’re my personal attendant."

His smile was unnerving and calmed the turbulence in Luna’s mind as she smiled back.

"Yes, Sir! I’ll do my best." She looked up into Mikael’s eyes, but this time it wasn’t soothing.

Simply put, it felt like terror with its red glow, threatening to—devour her very being if she so much as took a single misstep. But...

Within all that glow, she saw something else. More like she caught a glimpse of a fleeting emotion.

’Sadness? Was that what I saw? Must be my imagination.’

Mikael’s smile vanished as yesterday’s memories began hitting him

" Be on your way, child. Thank you for the um...tea, I believe is what this is called."

Only then did Luna remember to breathe as she scurried away.

Mikael set the tray down on the table beside the chess board. Its pieces were already in play, not that he fully understood the game.

His thoughts took over.

He had collapsed yesterday, from the shock of the backlash hitting him so bad. Worse still, he fell before his opponent and deep in said opponent’s territory! Was there any mistake more stupid than that!?

He stared at his hands, as he knew he had lost a lot of blood right before his consciousness faded. They were pale, his hands. Not as pale as he had expected, but the main fact was that they were.

He took the chance to scan the room.

A quite massive bed took up more than half the place, while a desk sat at the other end of the room with a few books atop it. There was also a wardrobe and a small bookshelf with little books. Not the darkness and rusty metal bars, some memories had had him expect.

The room was situated at the tower part of the main house, possibly a security measure for if he decided to attack after he had woken up. But there were also no guards or even Valerian guarding him! An enemy, left free? Was the Duke not security conscious and-

A knock came on the door, interrupting his train of thoughts.

"Come right in," Mikael answered a moment later.

An old man in formal robes strolled in with a slight mock bow. Mikael didn’t care—He picked up the tea and took a long, noisy sip, making sure his eyes glowed with satisfaction.

"Greet your elders at least, boy. Just because you’ve got a few moves and more mana capacity doesn’t mean you trash the rules of society and..."

He grabbed his chest, stumbling back onto the door, barely able to breathe.

Warm liquid dripped from his mouth. His eyes widened in shock. His life was being snuffed out.

Straining his neck, he looked up at the boy’s face. His eyes were gleaming red.

"You kept on droning on and on about respect. I got bored. Sorry. What’s your name, old man?" Mikael smiled, eyes closed. The intense pressure from earlier eased while he could feel a mild throbbing in his head.

The old man gasped and panted as he desperately breathed in precious air.

Mikael stood up, walking over to the collapsed, gasping man and helped him up.

"Don’t go staining your clothes on the floors now, Mr...?"

"Clinton, sir!"

Mikael dusted him off and led him by the hand to a seat. He turned towards the table and poured him a cup of tea.

"Here you go, Mr. Clinton. Don’t burn on it. Luna dear made it very hot. A sweet girl, no?" Mikael flashed the man a warm smile.

With white knuckles and trembling hands, Clinton received the cup. Even then, his shaky fingers couldn’t hold the cup, so he set it down on the table. The sudden pressure took its toll on his poor,old heart.

He turned to observe Mikael, who now stood by the window looking into the horizon.

"A fine lad, this one," Clinton found himself muttering as he observed the young man.

White hair that shone like untouched snow, let down and seemingly silk-like. His face was at the border of delicate and commanding. The type of beauty that should be painted onto the ceilings and walls of temples as holy images, feminine and yet boldly masculine.

He was draped in immaculate white bright robes, giving him the appearance of an angel, or celestial, or whatever they’re called. He didn’t believe in the Goddess or in the concept of Heaven.

There was also something about the way he moved his body that depicted a graceful elegance, almost fragile.

Finally, his eyes — red orbs that threatened to drain the life out of anyone that stared too deeply into them.

"Sir Mikael, most noblewomen would be outright jealous of you, you know that." Clinton joked as he laughed heartily, the trembling now completely forgotten.

The statement shocked Mikael but he laughed anyway.

"Sure you aren’t going senile, old man?"

"Maybe, boy."

Mikael turned away from the window, the warm smile on his face, still bright and beaming.

"So, Clinton. What brings you here?"

"Duke Alan tasked me with helping you coordinate your schedules, if it’s not much trouble." Kael groaned.

" That sly old fox," Kael muttered in pure annoyance.

"Schedule away. But I am not doing any frigging chores. Never. You got that, Clinton, my good man?"

"Of course not, Mikael. The ducal Palace has enough maidservants for chores. Now..." He raised a finger where he wore a ring with a small glowing orb.

An image appeared above the orb. Mikael looked on in surprise.

"What in seven hells is that, Clinton?"

" It is called a comm ring. It makes use of light magic to capture and record images for later. You don’t have one?"

"I don’t even know what it— oh—" Adrian’s memories kicked in.

"Oh, a comm ring! I knew that. Mortals are very interesting creatures, especially humans. Don’t you think so too, Clinton?" Mikael chuckled nervously.

" Is that so?" Clinton shrugged. The boy’s actions and mode of speech, from what he’d heard last night, was nowhere near normal. " You-"

" What happened after I fell last night, Clinton? Why am I not dead or in your ’prisons’? What was the Duke thinking?"

Clinton coughed. "After you nearly bled out and was near death, the Duke in his unending mercy was not willing to let you die, no matter how cocky you were. The Duchess was strictly against it, but who can stop the Duke? He believes you two could help each other out in some way. So he had healers heal you and tuck you away in bed."

" And how long have I been asleep?"

"About five days, lad."

"And the Duke thinks I can’t end his life, despite all the goodness?"

" Trust me, boy, when I say this. You could never slay Duke Alan Limnor. That’s a given. He’s simply leagues above your level."

There was no use fretting over events now in the past. He did come here to seek a foothold in the mortal realm, and that plan was slowly coming into fruition. It would be foolish to shake that up! Not with his current limitations and predicaments.

" I’m hungry — where’s food?"

Clinton stood. "Follow me, good sir."