The Begotten Fiend

Chapter 9: The World Went Black

To that, Nash had no choice but to nod. "Of course I do. They were the first twins to be born in not only this kingdom’s peerage, but of a Duke."

"Yes, but what comes of that?" she questioned.

"Well... I mean..."

"I need to spell it out for you?" she groaned, then continued. "Lucifer was the weaker of the pair. And, just as you, he was committed to a fight for the House with his brother."

Of course, he lost and was forced to give up any hope of becoming the Duke. But he didn’t stop there.

No, he gathered followers, including those in the noble peerage, and enacted a coup.

It was an intense battle that was said to scorch the heavens, but it ultimately ended up failing.

Gabriel emerged victorious, and Lucifer lost his followers to the war.

Now, tell me, what became of Lucifer after such a horrible defeat?"

"He was executed," Nash said coldly.

"Good," Lysandra said, patting his shoulder. "But that wasn’t the end of the story. On his deathbed, he said these exact words:

’To all who witness my final plight,

Listen to my mortal blight.

On this day, my soul will find dusk,

And upon him, my will shall be thrust.

This kingdom stands on angel’s tow,

And through him, They will be let go.’

Nobody truly knows what it means, but it is said that through a twin pair born under a Duke, Lucifer’s Spawn will be born. Ring any bells?"

Nash had heard all this, but still, to hear these words repeated for so long didn’t remove the pain of all the scorn, detestation, and hatred that he’d felt.

Sniffling back tears, he responded. "Yes. I know all this, but why mention it now?"

"Don’t you get it? You and Illias are the only twin pair to be born since Gabriel and Lucifer. People think that you’re Lucifer’s Spawn, and even worse, that you may even try to upend your brother. How would it look if someone like you were to go off and be an adventurer, something unprecedented for a noble?"

Nash didn’t want to accept it, but reality faced him like a hard wall. It stood there, yet again, ready to cut off his dreams and make him sterile. "You don’t mean... it may look like I’m getting stronger? Like Lucifer did?"

"Exactly, so please. Just forget about being an adventurer. Settle down, live the life that you’ve led up until now."

Nash slammed his fist into the wall, grunting--almost growling. He furrowed his brows, staring intensely into Lysandra. "Damn it. You too? Why is it that this entire world reprimands me for wanting to live?

So what if I’m too weak? So what if people believe I’m something that I’m not?

I don’t care. Screw it all. I’m done with this life. I’m done with me. I’m going to burn it all down, and you with it."

Nash saw it. Was she shaking?

He knew that he was expressing far more fury than he’d ever done before, perhaps the truest he’s been.

But he didn’t care.

"Damn you all. You’re the same as them, telling me to keep my head low and be ’lesser.’ Everything I said on that stage in the ballroom was a lie.

The truth is, I hate it all. I hate my brother. I want to see it all burn down... You all burn down.

And I won’t keep my head down anymore. You say I shouldn’t be an adventurer? Fine, but you don’t get to lie in the same bed as me, pretending that you care."

She was truly shaking.

"Don’t worry, I saw it. You were talking to my father. He put you up to this, didn’t he?"

She closed her eyes, took in a deep breath, then exhaled. Once she opened her eyes, there was a level of intention that hadn’t been present before. It took Nash off guard.

"Look at where your hand is," she said, serious. Her face was without feeling.

Looking to his left where his fist had landed, there was a clear hole in the wall. "What about it? This is my room--"

"In a desperate attempt to ward you off, you grabbed my hand, slamming it into the wall--"

"What the hell are you talking about--"

"You were immensely drunk, as the biopsy will prove. Too drunk to think rationally."

"Hey, listen to me!" Nash roared, pulling his fist from the wall. "Why are you just spouting lies?"

Lysandra clicked her tongue, cold, rational. "They won’t be lies. Not to them anyway."

"Seriously, what are you talking about--"

Lysandra snapped her fingers. For Nash, the world whirled irregularly in all directions.

The room became the floor, the bed became the walls. His legs and arms lost all sensation, followed by his torso, then his mouth.

Soon, he was limp on the bed, unable to move a muscle. "Wh-what... did you do... to me..." He struggled, so blue with inebriation that he couldn’t even muster the energy to look at her.

[Foreign Entity detected. Beginning cleanse.]

Bzzrrt!

[Failed attempt. Trying again.]

[Failed attempt. Trying again.]

[Foreign Entity detected as Nerve Agent. Cleanse will take time.]

"You know, I can hear it. In that way, you and I are similar," she said once more, leaning down into his ear.

Weak, he turned his attention to the side of his face. "You... what...?"

"Ah, don’t worry, I’m not a Seed like you, but you can say I’m an artificial Seed of sorts. That’s why I was the one tasked to do this, a kind of irony. Only made possible through a cruel man like your father."

At best, Nash could move the tip of his fingers. Still, he grunted, trying all he could to get up and lunge at her. He squirmed for a few moments, getting a curious ’ooh’ from Lysandra. However, it took just that long for him to fall flat.

"Why...?" he muttered, tearing up.

"Aw, you’re panting like a dog," she joked, leaning on his shoulder. "Really, I didn’t want to do this. But your refusal to lay low and resign to your brother has forced me to."

She turned around to look outside, noticing the darkening sky.

"Truly, I’m sorry that it had to be this way," she said, helping herself up. "I wish we could talk more, but I have to start setting up the scene."

Just as she’d gotten up, everything went quiet. Black fell over his vision like a curtain cutting of the night sky, and just like that, he’d been knocked out.

*********************************

For a long time, there was just a ringing, not of the ears, but something deeper; more intrinsic.

It meandered, being the only semblance of consciousness.

After all, he was surrounded by a familiar void--like a sea of nothing, it washed over Nash, removing him of sensation and thought.

[Attempting cleanse.]

Bzrrtt!

[Failed. Cleanse unsuccessful. Beginning enhanced metabolization.]

The words hung in Nash’s mind, though it was shelved off into a distant branch, unreachable.

He simply floated...

***

Light burned into Nash like knives, searing his eyes. "Ghhhgh," he grunted, taking care to rub them.

He rolled around, lying on his chest. It was his bed sheets, as he felt.

"What happened?" he moaned, waiting for the red-hot pain in his skull to dissipate. As soon as it came, it left, allowing him to open his eyes.

"Wh..." There he saw it.

The place had been ravaged.

The wall the bed was pushed against had four indentations in the shape of fingers. Crimson blotched the white of his sheets, and even his clothes were unkempt.

"Lysandra, what happened!?" He stumbled, rifling through the sheets in search of another person. But nothing.

Then it hit him. In bits and pieces, their conversation revealed itself to his mind like blinds being lifted.

As soon as he remembered, he grit his teeth. "Damn it!"

Such fire rose from within him that he felt it snatch his limbs, his entire body shaking, and his eyes as hard as steel.

"Lysandra!" he exclaimed, jumping out of his bed. He darted for the door. "She can’t have gone far!" he told himself, turning the door’s hinges.

He threw the door as hard as he could, slamming it against the wall from the force.

Turning his attention to his halls, his mind raced for where she could be. What awaited him was something he never expected.

Ten men, all adorned with noble garments, stood before him. The moment the door swung open, they each raised their hands forward, emanating deep aetheric energy. free𝑤ebnovel.com

"Nash Borne, you are under arrest," one man said. He’d been standing in the middle, neither on guard nor threatening him with magic like his companion.

"What?" Nash sputtered. His gaze bounced through the crowd, his disbelief so prominent that he couldn’t even speak. "Wh-what... what happened?"

Without warning, the purple energy thrummed just in front of him--aimed at his hands.

A thin line of mana sprouted, clasping his arms. Then, it wriggled together, forming one solid line. "Gwah!" Nash yelled. The line of mana shrank in length, forming solid handcuffs.

"This will not be up for debate. You are coming with us." The same man spoke, gesturing both his men and Nash to follow. He turned to the right, trailing down the hallway.

As if it’d been rehearsed, the other men followed closely. Nash, dumbfounded, stood in place, his mind moving so fast that he hadn’t even processed what the man told him.

’What is this? Why am I being arrested? Is this what Lysandra was talking about yesterday? But I’m of the House of Borne! There’s no way this is allowed. No, I won’t allow this!’

Nash ran in front of the man in charge, stopping the man’s stroll. "I order you to wait," he proclaimed, pointing his hands at the man. "You seem to misunderstand who I am. I am Nash of the House of Borne, son to one of five dukes in this kingdom."

"Oh, yeah?" The man was smiling. "I know who you are. That does not affect your arrest."

Nash’s face went red. His entire body broiled with fury. "You do not have the authority to do this. Just wait, give me an audience with my father, and I’ll have you stripped of your title."

At first, the man didn’t say anything, but he broke with a slight snortle. "That won’t do anything," he said, struggling to hold back his laughter.

Nash narrowed his eyes, but listened to not one word the man said. "Oh yeah? And why is that?"

"Because your father authorized the arrest." No longer did the man smile, nor chuckle, nor laugh. He was straight-faced, his tone as condescending as it could get. "He had no choice, after the heinous crime you committed."

Nash shook his head repeatedly. "You lie... no, you lie! I’ll have your head for this--"

"It is as he says," a voice said. It was Duke Tristan, approaching from behind. "Cecilus, undo the boy’s handcuffs. They are wasted on one so untalented with magic as he is."

The man--Cecilus--eyed Tristan questioningly, but only for a moment. He resigned, nodding at his men before one towards the back snapped his fingers.

The hard metal tugging at Nash’s skin scattered into the air, releasing him. He felt relief as circulation returned to his hands, but his mind immediately turned elsewhere.

He felt his entire body grow heavy. Sweat trailed his brow, goosebumps rose across his arms. He didn’t want to believe it. "F-father... why?"

"Don’t talk to me!" Tristan screamed, face oozing with rage. "No, not after this blemish you’ve given to our house!"

"What are you talking about?" Nash asked.

"You... you put your hands on a noblewoman. And not just any noblewoman, but the daughter of Wilhelm, one of my greatest business partners. You raped Miss Lysandra."

Nash felt all the strength in his legs blow away like wind. He fell to the floor, whispering ’no’ to himself repeatedly. "No... no... no, I didn’t do this!"

"That is what you claim." Tristan looked at Nash once, experienced an obvious shudder, then turned his attention to the wall. "We will convene in five hours. For now, you will have to occupy one of our cells."

Nash lunged forward, latching onto Tristan’s leg. "Please, father, believe me. There’s no way I would do this--"

Thwam!

Tristan kicked Nash away. Nash felt his entire body lift before promptly slamming into the wall behind him. The shockwave punched into his flesh, sending a surge of horrible soreness.

His chest constricted, his lungs grew tight. The wind was knocked out of him, forcing a horrible cough to escape his mouth. "Khgghh... why..."

Suddenly, a wet, viscous liquid came into contact with his cheek. It bubbled, warm and runny.

Tristan had spat on him, only closely followed by another kick--this time to the face.

The same ache seared Nash’s cheek. It was so white-hot that he couldn’t help but tear up. "F-father..."

"Don’t call me that!" Tristan bellowed. "Don’t ever address me as your father. From this moment on, you are disowned from this House. All that awaits is your trial."