Those words sent Musa into a state of utter shock. His heart pounded violently, threatening to leap from his chest. The fear rose swiftly, a burning panic fueled by concern for his friend. Without thinking, he stepped forward and pulled Emilia behind him. He knew he couldn't protect her not truly. If the being before them, the one who called himself Veytan, chose to attack, they would both be dead in seconds.
Emilia's legs had begun to tremble uncontrollably. Her fear surged with equal force, her thoughts spiraling. 'Am I going to die here?' Her eyes locked onto Musa's in despair. She knew he couldn't save her... but who else was here? Who else could? That was the nature of humans.
Suddenly, Veytan's hysterical laughter shattered their terror-stricken silence once again. His body jolted as if the wine in his hand had surged through him with venomous joy. He gestured lazily toward them.
"Come now," he said, voice laced with a dark command. "I won't ask again. Sit."
His aura crashed down on them like a tidal wave. It stripped them of their resistance, pressing their wills into obedience. Without realizing it, they both sat.
"Very good," Veytan said with a slow, amused smile, letting his gaze wander between them. "Now... Musa, what do you say you help me kill her, drain her blood, and I let you walk away?"
The horror struck anew sharper, deeper.
Musa's heart pounded faster than ever, sweat trickling from every pore. His throat closed up, words refusing to come. The shock of Veytan's offer hit like a bolt of lightning. 'What is he talking about? Help him? That's unthinkable. I'd rather die... This bastard is toying with us. If he truly wanted us dead, we'd already be corpses... That damned demon...' Musa's mind swirled, tangled in spirals of panic and disbelief.
His eyes flicked toward Veytan. The ancient being sat calmly, that wicked smile still lingering like poison. Then Musa looked at Emilia. She was staring at him in raw terror, her eyes wide, pleading: Don't do it, Musa. Please… I don't want to die.
Her silent desperation only twisted the knife deeper.
Then, once again, Veytan erupted into his hysterical laughter, this time louder, more unhinged.
"Amazing! Just... amazing. The look on your faces! My gods, these moments are priceless. I can't get enough of deceiving you two!"
He laughed so hard he had to wipe away tears, sipping wine between gasps of amusement.
'That bastard… He's playing with us. What does he really want?' Musa thought, summoning the last shreds of courage.
"Can you please, Lord Veytan," he began carefully, the honorific slipping through instinctively, "just speak seriously and tell us what do you want from us?"
"Oh, I'm terribly sorry, dear Musa..." Veytan replied with a theatrical sigh. "But truly, I do need the girl's blood. I was only joking about killing her."
He yawned again, clearly bored, and added in a casual tone, "Also, didn't I tell you? No titles. Just call me Veytan we're friends now, aren't we?"
'Friends? Musa nearly choked on the thought. Who decided we're friends, you terrifying freak?'
"What do you mean you need her blood? Why? What for?" Musa managed to ask, clinging to the last fragments of his bravery
Veytan leaned his head back with a groan of boredom. "Ugh, I'm starting to get bored. I already told you I need her blood to free myself from this place."
After a long silence, Emilia finally spoke, her voice calm despite the fear trembling within. "Why haven't you taken it then? You could've forced it from me from the start… or can't you?"
Veytan raised an eyebrow in admiration, a smile curling on his lips. Musa, however, didn't grasp what Emilia meant until Veytan responded.
"How clever... You knowledge-bearers always were troublesome," he said, still smiling before taking another sip of wine. Then his expression darkened just enough to make both Musa and Emilia feel the cold bite of dread.
"You're right, Emilia. I can't take it by force."
Those words brought a flicker of relief to the pair. 'Thank God, he can't kill us'... was their first thought until the next sentence crushed their hope.
"Or rather, I can take it by force but it won't work. The ritual requires her to give it willingly. Sure, I could kill you and take your blood, but it would be useless," he said with a chilling, empty smile, his eyes now locked on Emilia. "Tell me whose bloodline are you from?"
"Norin... I descend from Prince Norin... your cousin," Emilia replied, her head bowed in fear. But the knowledge that he needed her alive brought her enough courage to lift her chin at the end.
At the mention of Norin's name, veins bulged on Veytan's forehead. Rage cracked through his calm. His aura flared violently, and the wineglass in his hand shattered into dust.
"NORIN… that damned traitor."
"Traitor? Norin was a traitor?" Emilia asked, genuine confusion across her face.
"For a knowledge-bearer, you seem slow to understand my words. How poorly are you using your Gift, girl?" Veytan sneered before his eyes flared a deep, blood-red glow. "Tell me the history of the war as it's written in your family's books."
His voice was thunder in her chest. The room seemed to freeze.
'This is getting dangerous... he's not playing anymore' Musa thought, opening his mouth to speak but Veytan raised a single finger and pierced him with a sharp, soul-shaking stare.
"This is a family conversation now. I suggest you stay out of it."
Musa stepped back, silenced instantly.
"Now speak. I won't ask again."
Emilia swallowed hard. She took several deep breaths before she heard Veytan again.
"In full detail. Everything."
She nodded unconsciously and finally began. "The records say that at the end of the previous era the Age of Emperors during the War of the Six Emperors that engulfed the world, the Kingdom of Britannia and its emperor at the time, Emperor Noot Teryssian, stood on the verge of defeat. That is, until the day his youngest son, Prince Veytan, returned bearing powers... powers akin to those of vampires.
The records say he acquired them through black magic. They also claim he had been obsessed with gaining such a Gift since birth, after learning of the world of the Gifted."
"Continue," Veytan said, his tone dangerously calm.
Emilia took another breath. "After gaining these powers, the prince went to his father and asked to use them in the war. The emperor refused, fearing that acquired powers as opposed to natural Gifts were too dangerous, posing greater risk to the wielder and allies alike. But Prince Veytan insisted and eventually led the charge himself. He went to war against the other emperors and won he killed two of them: Emperor Verrel Nostradam of Nostradam and Empress Irinyador Bouget of Ababeel."
"No flaws in the tale so far," Veytan said, seemingly pleased. "Go on."
"Prince Veytan continued his conquests, crushing any who opposed him. Some humans even began to revere him like a god… Until he clashed with the army of the Severa Kingdom.
It's said that Severa had a Gifted warrior whose powers countered the prince's. Their battle was cataclysmic. Most of the army perished in the chaos caused by their clash. The records don't name the warrior or his Gift. Only that Veytan was defeated and slain in that battle. Britannia lost the war. The Teryssian bloodline lost the throne when Severa occupied the kingdom."
She hesitated briefly, realizing she had skipped parts of this story when she told it to Musa earlier.
Then Emilia mustered her voice again. "That's what the books say. So… how is Prince Norin a traitor?"
Veytan burst into laughter a sound that shattered the air like glass. Hysterical. Hoarse. Laced with fury barely kept in check. It echoed through the castle like the cry of a soul long denied justice.
"They didn't tell you who I faced? Then they're all traitors. The entire damned bloodline!"
Emilia's heart raced violently. Her knees buckled. Something crawled beneath her skin a nameless tremble, like her soul itself wanted to flee.
Musa looked from Veytan's terrifying rage to Emilia. She was trembling, frozen in place, her body reacting as if his laughter was peeling her soul from her flesh. Musa felt something boil inside him a mixture of fear, fury, and helplessness. His fists clenched so tightly his nails dug into his skin.
Finally, Veytan's laughter died down.
"My dear little cousin," he said at last, his voice low and venomous, "the one I faced that day... was none other than your precious Prince Norin. That bastard joined the enemy. They gave him powers from the Solar Class a Gift designed to counter mine. He thought he'd killed me, burying me beneath this castle and sealing it with a curse, just in case I returned.
But I never died. I've been alive—trapped—ever since. I've been rotting here for a thousand years"
His words carried intense anger