"That was the king?" Bethrion asks, "and… those were the names of the honored nine kings who can use the Opus?" He exclaims. Lucas Feuerlon stared in silence at the photographic illusion being emitted before them. The kings' names were chosen to be kept as secrets, given that it is a law that the kings who can use the Opus needed to be named after the first king, Alexander Octavius.

The duke was in silence as well, observant—and the d.u.c.h.ess was in utter surprise and astonishment.

Meanwhile, Lovellia Moscow and Orwell Lotheringwood were engulfing every piece of information on the back of their minds. Orwell knew that he could not copy Sheila's magic, given that he is not a clairvoyant nor could he use the Opus. He could not use Archive, the spell to pa.s.s memories—and even if he could, the memories needed to be firsthand.

Orwell looked around. The High Knights were equally astonished and flabbergasted, except for one—the Albino, Abe, who seemed to fail at executing any emotion.

"These are nothing but sc.r.a.ps and pieces of my memories with His Majesty, the king," Sheila says.

"But these are gone shortly afterward; naught but fleeting moments."

"What do you mean?"

Sheila, who was unable to see, faced Bethrion Feuerlon, who asked the question.

"Might I ask you, when did THAT tragedy begin?"

"That tragedy… you can't mean…"

"That's right. The murder of the king's family." Sheila says. "The Feuerkrieger ma.s.sacre."

"D-do you intend to show us that, too?" The d.u.c.h.ess asks, clearly in horror.

"I shan't. I could not, as well. Pa.s.sing memories needs to be firsthand—and I did not experience it myself. Now I shall just tell you a story. A story about how the king awakened his magic—the trigger for him to possess the ability to use the opus, the tragedy of sixteen years ago."

**

"Mom." A young boy fell to his knees as he saw sinister-looking blood, like falling red petals, into the tiled floor. The trickling blood made no sound but Noah could hear it faintly, like eerie droplets against a deafening silence. The blood has reached his knees—and then it splashed, smearing his cheeks.

The fetus fell into the pool of blood.

"Oh, delicious." Says an ominous voice. "Perfect. Impeccable. What a treat… the blood of the royal family tastes like that of Octavius."

Noah stared in fear, trembling as the owner of the lingering voice was getting nearer. He flinched as a pair of shoes were now in front of him.

"Oh. You probably are the heir to the throne." The man says. "I shall spare you. You need to produce more and more of Octavius' kin. Your blood is my lifeline. You are… my delicacies."

"No… no…" Noah says, his voice cracking. "This c-can't be happening…"

The man leered, and then he walked away from Noah, who was staring down at the puddle of blood and his stillborn sister, bathing in it. He heard a creak from the bloodied bed, an indication of the man sitting against the mattress.

"What age are you? I believe that is… six? Six? Ah, plus nine months for your sister… so you may be seven. I calculated; you still have fourteen or sixteen years till you reach the age to marry. Pick a suitable consort. A n.o.ble lady from the Ortfalcon line, perhaps? Or maybe some eloquent family from the house of Desfiegro—they are rising to power, I shall say say. But years from now, maybe some other n.o.ble houses may hinder their path to success. We never know. But overall, just mix a good blood to spice the taste of your child."

Noah grit his teeth, and then he lifted his gaze—only to see a blur from his tears. The corpse of his mother, her stomach cut open, was the first thing he sees. And with that he, again, burst into tears.

He was unable to take grasp of the full appearance of his family's murderer but his silhouette, and the color of his hair. He wanted to lift his gaze once more, but he felt fear—indescribable fear and lament when he tries to move even an inch.

He could do nothing but sob.

"Don't be too sad, dear Feuerkrieger heir. With this you are the next king. And do not take it too much to the heart, for I did not only kill your family but countless others too. You may hear of me when you grow older. 'The man who committed a ma.s.s murder,' or 'the mad man who killed the royal family' and perhaps, 'the criminal of the century.'"

Silence.

"Where's my f-father?"

The man laughed heartily. "Oh, Sietrich! I spared his life so he could create more heirs, if he'd like—or mainly because I wanted him to die in vain. Hear that? I didn't kill your FAMILY after all. HOLD ON… Let me summarize this up, because this is too entertaining: Your mother was supposed to give birth today, and the king has to be in the throne room, waiting as your mother delivers your sibling—as per tradition. Nursemaids and servants in this room are killed effortlessly without noise…"

"You, the heir, barged in recklessly because of curiosity… and thus saw what I did. I may have spared you of bad memories yet you gave in to temptation—temptation to see life." The man laughed hysterically, and then stops with an eerie silence.

"But now… you found death!"

"NOAH!"

Noah lifted his gaze finally, and turned to the door a few meters behind him. "F-father!"

In the hand of Sietrich was the royal family's scepter, and then in his emerald-green eyes were unshed tears. He ran to pick the young Noah who was cowering in fear, hiding him behind.

"Oh, Sietrich." The man says. "Year 1099. Not a progeny of Nightmare; no potential to use the Opus. But you can use magic, no? That scepter is pa.s.sed to the kings who cannot use Opus, a modified seed. What a twist—the lessons in Magierstadt are paying off. Befriending a top student was quite a good thing to do."

"You vile Warlock…" The king says in anger and disgust. Noah, in his blurry vision, noticed his father's body shaking. Shaking in anger.

"Ah… yes. Negative adjectives. Both my soul and my body is done with them."

"Adolebitque!" Sietrich thunders, conjuring a fiery blaze to the scepter as it attacks the Warlock. "IGNIS VULNUS!" Thuds the scepter to the ground as a magic circle appears above the Warlock and sends a fire to the entirety of his body. Tears fell from Sietrich's eyes as he chants a final spell, "Ardens gladius ex Feuer!"

"Barrier!" The king summons, as he kneels down to embrace his son to protect him.

For a moment there was nothing but the crackling of flames, but then—

"Ah… what a cold fire." The Warlock says. "Such an insult to the Opus… if only you had blue eyes, Sietrich!"

There was a snap of a finger, with an abrupt white noise surrounding the entirety of the vast. The barrier broke into smithereens; its fragments are deteriorating light being consumed by obscurity. The fire had vanished into naught, and there stood the Warlock, who seemed to be unscathed from it all.

"B-but that's…"

"You bore me." Says the Warlock, and then with a flick of his finger, Sietrich was flung parallel to the wall on his side, leaving Noah unguarded. The boy was still on his knees, quivering from shock. He was looking down, tears still flowing nonstop from his eyes.

"You have a pair of blue eyes and a platinum-blond hair." The Warlock exclaims. "The traits that is the sign of the next inheritor of The King's Opus. But your potential is yet to be seen years from now… I can see it."

Noah raised his head to meet the Warlock's eyes.

They were not the same color: one blood red, and one gold, slit like a cat's. He was smiling kindly as he walked, advancing towards Noah.

"Don't touch my son!"

"Ah… your name is Noah. Your name means 'Rest.'" He says. "The new era, the start of a new line. Your father ended the Ruler bloodline… which is a huge accomplishment, since Zuerst have only established a forged armistice through the years with Zweite." Says the king. "But that ends with you, doesn't it?"

The Warlock placed his hand on Noah's head.

"You shall become a great king—says a certain prophecy from the woman I once loved." He says. "A king bound to live such a short life… that is!"

"NO!"

A magical circle bursting with malevolent foundation arose into life as the Warlock mumbled phrases of demonic language. Noah screamed loud, along with his father who cried and howled in agony.

Magic circles appeared rapidly in Noah's body, in his chest was a purple light with an inscribed hexagram with a pentagram mystic sphere—eight seals appeared:

I

II

III

IV

V

VI

VII

VIII

Noah collapsed, with an inexplicable pain on his body. He coughed blood incessantly. He turned to his side to see his father, who was crawling before him.

"N-noah…" Says Sietrich. "Noah… l-live…"

Noah, despite of the pain, wanted to hold the hand of his father. But in a span of a second, before he could hold his father's hand, which remained unresponsive—and there, Noah discerned that he was holding on to a corpse,

a father robbed of his life.

Noah screamed in all agony, as the man chuckles in delight.

"Until we meet again, Noah." The Warlock says, grinning. "Maybe sixteen years from now, as the prophecy predicted."

He walked towards the window, and then their eyes met. His gold and red eyes glowered at him with both pity and pleasure—and then he jumps from the window, with only Noah seeing his black hair s.h.i.+ne against the moonlight as he vanishes into oblivion.