In the mystical realm of Lunasole, Arian Volpir, the malevolent Demon King, concealed his otherworldly charm behind an intimidating exterior.On the opposing side stood Yumiella Moonshade, the resolute Hero.Despite their public enmity, Arian and Yumi...
The knight's breath hitched as his fear overtook him. His eyes darted around the room, as if expecting the very walls to attack him. "They... they spoke of treason, of your power being a threat to the balance. They-"
Suddenly, the knight's words caught in his throat. His eyes widened in horror, then-blankness. His body stiffened as if controlled by an unseen force. A single gasp escaped his lips before he crumpled forward onto the ground.
A dagger protruded from his back, its hilt engraved with dark, cursed runes. Where the blade pierced his skin, a black magic circle spread across his body like ink soaking into paper. The symbol glowed ominously, a mark that Arian immediately recognized.
Gasps and fearful whispers erupted from the crowd. The once peaceful ballroom was now filled with an oppressive sense of dread.
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Arian knelt beside the fallen knight, his expression grim. He touched the magic circle at the point where the dagger had pierced, confirming his worst suspicions. The curse was ancient, designed not only to kill but to erase any memory of the plotters from the knight's soul. Even if revived or reincarnated, he would never recall the conspirators.
The cursed magic hummed in the air, but Arian's demonic powers surged in response, pushing it back. With a single wave of his hand, he could have broken the spell-but it was too late. The curse had already consumed its purpose. The knight's connection to the plot was severed forever.
Rising to his feet, Arian's voice cut through the fearful murmur of the crowd. "This is not a curse that can be undone easily, even for me. The assassin who marked him knew what they were doing."
Cint stepped forward, his eyes scanning the hall. "Whoever sent that dagger is still in the shadows. We must uncover them before they strike again."
The tension in the room was palpable, and Arian sensed the fear radiating from every corner. But he wasn't about to let the fear of one assassin bring chaos to his empire. He raised his hand over the fallen knight, invoking a spell that had not been spoken aloud in centuries.
"Yngall," Arian whispered, his voice filled with authority and power.
A soft glow surrounded the knight's body as the magic took hold. The air shimmered with a mysterious light, wrapping the knight in a protective cocoon. His body reformed, his life force returning as the magic remade him-exactly as he had been before, with one critical exception: the memories tied to the plot had been locked due to the curse, simply put, earsed!.
The knight gasped, his chest heaving as he came back to life, his eyes wide with confusion. He looked up at Arian, unknowing, innocent of the conspiracy that had led to his death.
"It is done," Arian said, his voice quiet but resolute. "He will live again, but he will never remember the plot."
The crowd stood in awe of Arian's power, but the atmosphere had shifted from celebration to fear. No one spoke, no one moved. The enemy was still hidden among them, and Arian knew they would strike again.
Turning to the crowd, Arian addressed them with a voice that carried both reassurance and authority. "Let this be a reminder: whoever seeks to harm this empire will not succeed. We will find them, and we will end this treachery. But for now The Imperial Ball has come to an end," Arian announced, his voice firm yet composed.
"Please return to your rooms and rest for the night. It would be unwise to travel under these circumstances. We will ensure your safety within the palace walls."
The nobles exchanged uneasy glances, their fear barely masked by their forced smiles. Arian met Cint's gaze across the room, and in that silent exchange, he ordered him to the knight that came back from dead to Arian's private chambers. They both understood: this was only the beginning of a much darker conspiracy.
As the formalities between both families eased, Emperor Emeritus Luciel gave Rozario a meaningful glance. "Drop the formalities, Rozario. We've been friends since childhood. There's no need for titles here."
Rozario's stern expression softened slightly, and a small, familiar smile touched his lips. "Very well, Luciel. Old habits die hard, but you're right. It's been too long since we spoke as friends."
Eleanor turned to Empress Dowager Jesabelle, her tone warmer now. "It seems that even after all these years, we're still standing side by side, facing whatever comes."
Jesabelle nodded, a fond smile forming. "Some things never change, Eleanor. We've always faced these storms together."
Arian, standing slightly apart, exchanged a brief glance with Rozario. "Uncle, Aunt, I'll have the guards double-check the palace perimeter before you retire to your chambers."
Rozario nodded. "You've grown into a fine man, Arian. Just remember that the weight of the crown doesn't always mean you must bear everything alone."
Eleanor smiled softly, offering him a small nod. "Indeed, Arian. We're all here for you."
Just as the conversation was winding down, Arian's gaze fell upon Roxana, who had been standing quietly by her parents' side throughout the exchange. Though the Volpir and Shirone families had been close for generations, Arian and Roxana had rarely ever had the chance to interact, their paths crossing only at formal events where distance and duty kept them apart. He took a step toward her, his voice gentle but with concern laced within.
"Lady Roxana, are you alright?" Arian asked, his eyes scanning her for any sign of unease.
Roxana met his gaze, her expression calm but with a trace of worry. "I'm fine, Your Majesty, But you-be careful. Whoever did this won't stop here."
Arian nodded, appreciating her concern. "I'll be cautious. You should rest. It's been a long night."
She didn't argue, knowing better than to try. "Just... don't push yourself too hard."
Arian gave a brief nod, but his focus shifted to his mother, Empress Dowager Jesabelle. Her eyes, though filled with concern, held a softness that only a mother could convey. She stepped closer to Arian, her hand gently resting on his arm.
"Arian," she said softly, her voice soothing despite the tension, "I've seen many storms pass through this palace. But this one... you must be careful. Not just for the empire, but for yourself."
Arian looked into her eyes, finding comfort in her warmth. "I will, Mother. I promise. But there are many lives at stake, and I can't let fear dictate my actions."
Jesabelle gave him a small, tender smile, her hand brushing a lock of hair from his face. "I know you'll do what's right. You always have. But remember, no matter how strong you are, even an emperor must take time to rest and protect his heart."
Arian's expression softened at her words, though he quickly masked it. "I'll be careful, I swear."
As the exchange between mother and son ended, Eleanor glanced at Jesabelle, her voice laced with understanding. "He's strong, Jesabelle. He's always had your heart and Luciel's wisdom. If anyone can navigate this threat, it's Arian."
With those words, the conversation reached a natural end. Luciel straightened, his tone authoritative as he addressed both families. "The imperial ball is officially over. All guests will remain in the palace tonight for their safety. Return to your rooms, and rest while you can."
Jesabelle, sensing Arian's inner turmoil, gave his hand a final, comforting squeeze before turning to follow her husband.With a final, silent exchange of understanding, Roxana stayed close to her parents, offering a nod of respect as she followed them out of the room. Eventually, both families bid each other good night, each retreating to their chambers, the tension of the evening still hanging in the air.
Arian, however, lingered for a moment longer. With the ball officially over and his family returning to their rooms, he turned toward the shadows, where Cint awaited, knowing he had unfinished business that couldn't wait.
