CHAPTER 471: CHAPTER 471 - SIBLING CONVERSATION

The night air was cool, brushing softly against their faces as they stepped out onto the balcony. The moon hung low above the Saranjana capital, vast, pale, and silver, its light glimmering across the marble floor.

Neither spoke for a while.

"So, how are you?" Aksara finally broke the silence.

"I’m fine now," Askara replied, his gaze still on the city below. "I can feel my body slowly healing"

"Hmm~ good"

Another quiet moment followed, not awkward, just two brothers sharing the same peace, letting silence speak for them.

"So..." Aksara said again, a faint smile tugging at his lips, "I heard you used Father’s technique. Is that true?"

"Hm~ yeah," Askara nodded. "I managed to break my limit with Nāgāntaka’s help and used the Fire Form"

"So, Light and Fire Forms, huh?" Aksara said, his expression softening with pride. "That’s quite the combination. If you can perfect both, you’ll become much stronger. With the Light Form, you can cut even the soul itself, and with the Fire Form, you can burn anything that exists. It’s the strongest technique, one that fuses magic and swordsmanship perfectly. Father fought gods with that technique... and won. You should feel proud for managing to use it without his help, Aska"

"But I’m still nowhere near your level, Brother"

Aksara chuckled softly and reached out to pat his brother’s head. "I’ve lived far too long, you know. Even with all that time, and Father’s guidance in my early years, I couldn’t perfect that technique. So, I took a shortcut... and created my own"

Askara smiled faintly. "But still, you could use all the forms of SwordMagic and even combine them to create new ones. While I... I’ve only combined two forms, and it nearly broke me"

"Ahaha~ I’m a Half Aboriginal Being, remember?" Aksara said, this time patting Askara’s shoulder with a reassuring grin. "It’s not like it doesn’t hurt when I use that technique. I’ve just grown used to it. You, on the other hand, are still learning to bear the weight of it. But believe me, we D’Archys adapt quickly. Sooner or later, you’ll master it too"

Askara chuckled faintly, lowering his gaze. "You always make it sound so simple."

Aksara smiled, leaning his elbows on the balcony railing. "That’s because it is, once you stop fearing the pain. Every Father Technique he could use freely demands a price when we do. We wield power that bends reality, Aska. It’s only natural that reality tries to crush us in return, that’s the law, the law that only father could ignore"

Askara stayed silent for a moment, watching the moonlight ripple across the distant rooftops. "...I thought I was going to die when I used it, no, I thought I already had," he admitted softly. "It felt like my body was burning from the inside out. Like the fire wanted to devour me too"

Aksara nodded slowly, his eyes reflecting the pale silver glow. "That’s exactly what it is. The Fire Form doesn’t distinguish between friend or foe, it consumes whatever it touches. You don’t command it... you negotiate with it. The stronger your will, the more it listens"

"So that’s how Father could fight the gods," Askara murmured.

"Not because he was the strongest," Aksara said quietly, "but because even the flames bowed to his conviction. Father’s strength wasn’t born, it was forged. Think of it this way: Father didn’t use fire; he created it from nothing. We, on the other hand, use mana to create fire, and when mana runs dry, we draw upon our life force. As his descendants, our life force is vast... but it’s not infinite. When that too runs out, what do you think gets consumed next?"

Askara’s eyes widened slightly. "... Our existence"

Aksara nodded. "Exactly. But there’s no need to worry. You know who our father and mothers are. As time passes, our life force continues to grow, whether we train or not. Eventually, even in stillness, we’ll reach higher levels. That’s the nature of what we are"

Askara looked at his brother then, the King, the warrior, the living legend who carried their family’s legacy, and in that moment, he understood why so many looked up to him.

Aksara met his gaze and smiled faintly. "You inherited more than Father’s strength, Aska. You have his heart... and maybe," he paused, the moonlight glinting in his eyes, "his recklessness too"

Askara couldn’t help but laugh softly. "Guess that runs in the family"

They both chuckled, the tension easing between them as the cool wind threaded through the quiet night.

After a while, Aksara spoke again, his tone more serious this time. "When I was told about your condition, I wanted to storm the whole continent looking for that cult"

Askara turned to him, startled. "I’m not even surprised that you know about it"

"I knew enough," Aksara admitted. "But I held back because I wanted to see if my little brother still had that fire in him. And now, seeing you like this..." He smirked. "I don’t have to worry anymore"

Askara blinked, caught between confusion and disbelief. "Wait, what do you mean?"

Aksara straightened, his cloak shifting in the night breeze. "You’re planning to investigate the corruption at that Astral Nexus Academy, right?"

Askara hesitated, then nodded.

"Then you already know what that means," Aksara said. "If the cult really has ties within the Academy, you won’t just be dealing with demons, you’ll be stepping into the politics of kingdoms, noble houses, and who knows what else because many hands were involved in the construction of the Academy, even our kingdom is also a little involved"

"I’m ready for that," Askara said firmly.

Aksara smiled again, pride gleaming faintly in his eyes. "That’s the answer I wanted to hear"

He placed a hand on Askara’s shoulder, firm, steady, carrying the kind of reassurance that didn’t need words.

"Whatever you decide to do," he said quietly, "you won’t be alone. The D’Archys never let their own fight in the dark. The burden of one D’Archy," his grip tightened slightly, "is the burden of all D’Archys"

Askara met his gaze, feeling that familiar warmth, an unbreakable bond that no curse, cult, or god could ever erase.

"...Thank you, Brother"

Aksara gave a small nod and turned toward the door. "Rest for now. Tomorrow, we’ll talk about your next move"

As he left, the balcony fell silent once more.

Askara leaned against the railing, staring up at the moon above the capital, the same moon his brother, his family, were looking at.

He exhaled slowly. "I’ll find you, Ayana," he murmured. "No matter where they took you"

The wind carried his words into the night, and somewhere in the distance, thunder rolled faintly across the horizon.

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On Earth today, where hundreds, perhaps thousands of islands remain scattered across endless oceans, many still lie untouched by human hands.

Hidden among them are places that do not exist on any map, places where even light hesitates to linger.

One of those forgotten islands now serves as the perfect sanctuary for shadows.

Deep beneath its surface lies a vast underground complex, a labyrinth of stone corridors carved into black earth and reinforced with metal veins that pulse faintly with crimson light.

This was the sanctum of the Demon-worshipping cult, the heart of their forbidden faith.

And within that sanctum... Ayana was held.

At the center of a grand hall, its ceiling swallowed by darkness and its walls etched with shifting runes that glowed faintly, the only light that dared to exist within the gloom.

Ayana lay bound upon a flat stone platform. Chains of dark iron secured her wrists and ankles, their touch cold and heavy. Dozens of masked figures surrounded her, each wearing a single horn upon their masks, their presence eerily still, like statues waiting for a command.

Ayana struggled weakly, her voice hoarse from days of unanswered pleas. "What are you planning to do to me?!"

It had been more than three days since her capture. No one had spoken to her. No one had explained anything. She had screamed, cried, begged, but now, her tears were gone. Fear had dulled into a hollow exhaustion.

No one responded. Only the faint hum of the runes filled the silence.

Then suddenly, every one-horned figure around her dropped to their knees as one, their movement perfectly synchronized, their foreheads pressed to the ground.

Ayana froze, her breath catching. Slowly, she turned her gaze toward the great doors at the end of the hall.

From the darkness beyond them, five figures emerged.

Their footsteps echoed like a ritual beat.

The one at the front wore a mask adorned with five curved horns, each carved from obsidian and etched with glowing sigils. Behind this figure walked four others, their masks bearing four horns each, their robes trailing like tattered shadows.

The air itself seemed to tighten as they entered.

"Glory to the Darkness that births all. Glory to you, our Lord!" the kneeling followers chanted in unison, voices low and trembling with devotion.

"Glory for the Darkness," the five-horned figure replied, their voice calm, reverent, and cold as steel. "You may rise"

The cultists obeyed instantly.

The leader advanced toward the stone platform, each step measured, deliberate.

The scent of burning incense and iron filled the air as their shadow fell over Ayana. When they finally stopped beside her, the hall seemed to grow even darker.

"...I’m sorry, my child," the leader said softly. The voice, muffled through the mask was unsettlingly gentle, like a whisper between pity and command. "But we need your power"

He leaned closer, eyes gleaming faintly through the slits of the mask.

"Help me uncover what has been hidden," the leader murmured. "Do that... and I will return your freedom"

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