CHAPTER 609: NEWS FROM GRIGOR - A BROKEN PEACE

Asmodeus sat on his throne, beside him his many lovers and below two wounded, tired messengers. Their hair was greasy and full of sweat, their bodies still bloody and caked in mud from rushing to the south desperately.

If not for Paul and Simon taking the new Royal Guard out to train, these men would never have reached this point.

"Is this information correct?" He asked the two wounded messengers, his face grim and voice like a growl.

"Y-Yes My Lord!"

The two men turned pale, terrified of Asmodeus, which made him feel guilty. He signalled to the side. "Have them fed, cleaned, and rested well. They’ve done a great service to both kingdoms, treat them like noble guests."

Without their message, Asmodeus had not planned to return to the north for a month. But learning what happened changed his moment of calm. He couldn’t delay any longer; there was no time to enjoy his victory over the mainland.

"Asmodea, Vinea, Velvet... Alice, we need to rush to Grigor and the north simultaneously."

He couldn’t hide his frustration and anger. The sound of his voice caused all women in the room to straighten their spines.

"W-What happened, darling?"

"My dear, is there something wrong?"

Various soft voices spoke as if to calm him, but there was no chance.

Not for this moment.

***

Three days earlier

The capital city of Grigor

Avandar POV

***

The fire in the hearth sputtered low, the logs half-burned. King Avandar stood alone in his private chamber, staring out the high-arched window at his city. The night air was cold, but sweat still clung to his brow.

The kingdom should have been celebrating. Asmodeus had destroyed the mainland fleet. Scouts confirmed it. Baltimore stood tall, and the northern villages saw a decline in monster activity. But instead of peace, unease gripped Avandar’s court.

’The knights and nobles have been restless since Alan returned home,’ Avandar thought, his hand tightening on the goblet in his grasp. ’And yet he said nothing of Baltimore. He dodged every question with a smile. He spends his days whispering to men who once spat at him, and now they call him their saviour.’

He set the goblet down, pacing in silence.

Alan, his younger brother. The so-called hero. The man who disappeared months ago returned suddenly, different and yet familiar. Avandar embraced his brother’s return, and everything became clear after a few days that Alan was different.

He spoke with a softer and honeyed tone now, the slight temper and unrefined edge replaced with a calm Avandar couldn’t trust. And sometimes, when the light struck his eyes at the right moment, they shifted.

Blue one moment, green the next.

Avandar told himself it was candlelight. A trick of the mind. But his instincts screamed otherwise.

"Your Majesty?"

The King turned to find a servant girl, a maid peeking in, before bowing. "His grace seeks you in the throne room, he claims its urgent."

Avandar’s jaw clenched. "At this hour?"

"Y-Yes, sire."

The King dismissed her with a wave. He took his cloak, fastening it across his broad shoulders, and made for the great hall, underneath he affixed his blade... unsure about what might happen.

Avandar wasn’t a foolish king.

***

The throne crackled with dim torchlight and long shadows. A few nobles lingered, men Avandar didn’t trust, some who refused taxes, some who found issues with his laws and rules, now nodding eagerly at Alan’s beck and call.

Alan stood at the centre, tall and fair, golden hair in disarray.

His hand rested casually on the pommel of his sword.

"Brother," Alan greeted warmly, bowing low. His voice carried a strange cadence, as though he relished every syllable. "I hoped you’d come. The court has been restless. I thought it best we speak privately."

Avandar frowned. "Then why summon half the court?"

Alan’s lips twitched, the smile widening. "Transparency. Our people must see we are united."

The nobles murmured their agreement, "Good call, your grace!" or "As expected, your grace." Avandar scanned their faces, noticing how eager and excited the people seemed, nodding like dogs as if under a spell.

"You avoided speaking of Baltimore," Avandar said flatly. "Tell me, Alan. What happened there? What of Asmodeus?"

Immediately after saying that name, a dark, hidden aura pushed down on Avandar, as if millions of invisible hands crushed his shoulders.

"Hrk!"

The question echoed as Alan tilted his head, eyes gleaming. For instance, they were blue, but then turned green. A sickly, unnatural green that made Avandar’s heart drop and his stomach turn.

The nobles did not react.

All of them smiled like enthralled fools.

Alan stepped closer. "Asmodeus," he said the name with venom. "The filthy demon from another world who parades as a king. Do you not see, brother? Every day we wait, he gathers strength. Soon he’ll march north, and when that does, will you face the head on like a fool?"

Avandar narrowed his eyes. "I know what you’re doing. Twisting fear into obedience. These men—" He gestured at the nobles. "—they were never loyal to you. Now they act as though you’re their champion. Why?"

"How could you who championed for Asmodeus to become our only hero, our friend. Now betray him like a snake. That is NOT the Grigorian way!"

Alan chuckled.

The sound was inaudible and humourless.

"After all, you didn’t become a king for no reason. But you see, Brother. These men follow me because they see what you refuse. I have returned stronger. Wiser. The gods have blessed me anew."

"You speak lies! Alan Grigor!"

A male stepped beside the King, his hair grey and messy.

"Hmph, Duke Qwass, another meddling fool."

Again, the flicker of green eyes.

This time, Avandar did not look away.

"You’re not my brother," he whispered.

The words silenced the hall.

Alan tilted his head, smile widening until it was too sharp and inhuman...

"Haha..." His shoulders trembled. "Hahaha!" Alan’s body shifted, eyes turning murky green.

"Hahahahahahaha!

"Not your brother?" His voice deepened, layered with something else, something ancient. "Perhaps not. Perhaps I am more. Greater. Your brother was weak. But me? I am eternal."

Avandar reached for his sword, but it was too late.

Alan moved like lightning. His blade flashed, sinking deep into Avandar’s abdomen.

Gasps erupted, but none of the nobles moved. They only watched, eyes vacant, smiles plastered to their faces.

"YOUR MAJESTY!"

Duke Qwass lunged forward, a moment too late to stop the first attack, but with a clang, he deflected the follow-up strike, grabbing the King in his right arm.

"How dare you attack him, Duke Grigor!"

Avandar coughed blood, gripping Alan’s wrist. His brother’s close now, close enough to see the truth. The eyes no longer shifted—they were fully green, glowing with malice.

"Mephisto..." Avandar rasped.

Alan. No, the thing wearing him grinned wide, teeth gleaming. "At last, you see."

Avandar staggered, falling back against the throne. Pain ripped through his abdomen, but worse than the pain of his betrayal was the thought that some kind of monster had overtaken his brother.

The last thing he saw before darkness claimed him was Alan’s face, half his brother, half a complete monster’s smile as the nobles drew their blades and clashed with the allies that Duke Qwass brought.

Steel clashed as the throne room erupted into violence. Qwass’s sword rang out in defiance, cleaving through the first noble who lunged at him like a rabid beast. The man fell, eyes still glazed with that unnatural green glow, blood pooling at the base of the steps.

"Snap out of it!" Qwass roared, but his words fell on deaf ears. The rest of the nobles surged forward, their blades clumsy but driven by unnatural zeal.

Alan—no, Mephisto—watched it unfold with a predator’s calm, lowering his sword as though the struggle amused him. "Do you see, Duke? They are mine now. Their loyalty is no longer bought with coin or honour. It is bound to me. You already betrayed my brother once, why do you resist so much now!? How can you resist my power?"

Maybe because of the constant drugging from the ex-wife of the King to mind control him, Duke Qwass could not resist the absolute possession that Mephisto used to make his perfect followers.

"You’ve defiled them, you monster!" Qwass snarled, parrying another frenzied strike and hurling the attacker aside. He kept his footing only by sheer will, dragging the bleeding king closer to the dais.

Avandar’s breath rattled. His vision blurred, but he forced out words between coughs of blood. "Q...Wass... protect... Grigor..."

"My King, STAY STRONG!" Qwass once betrayed his King, a sin that would stain his soul forever, but the headstrong and clear Duke wouldn’t fail his King again. "Priests, heal the King! Get him to safety!"

Mephisto’s smile deepened. His stolen face leaned closer, green eyes burning like poisoned emeralds. "Grigor already belongs to me, dear brother. And through it, the north will follow. I will use your throne as the first stone to crush Asmodeus beneath my heel."

"GET THE KING TO SAFETY!"

Duke Qwass stood with his back to the door as Avandar’s figure vanished.

Sword held up across his chest, pointing to the sky.

"I am Duke Novelis Qwass. Monster, I will stop you here for my King for our people. Men, with me. Fight to the last, fight for Grigor! Give NO Quarter!"

With a last roar, the outnumbered men blocked the escape route that the King took.