UNMEI: Pantheon's Game-Chapter 118: Red Apple

Ned sat in the center of his rich, sprawling room inside the Rodeny Estate. Golden patterns marked the deep red walls, and the heavy curtains muffled the sunlight.

The room was beautiful, expensive, everything he once thought he wanted. But none of it loosened the tight knot curled inside his chest.

His eyes stayed locked on the window, but his thoughts spiraled elsewhere.

Back then...

He had been lying broken on that cold healing bed, his body wrapped in pain from every angle. His chest still stung from shame more than his wounds.

Every breath reminded him of his failure, and his fists clenched weakly against the sheets, though he had no strength left to fight.

His thoughts kept whispering the same bitter truth:

I failed. Again.

Footsteps echoed into the room, calm, measured, deliberate.

Azrael Rodeny appeared at the foot of his bed, his dark crimson robes swaying slightly with each step.

He stopped just close enough for his cool, sharp gaze to meet Ned's tired, storming eyes.

For a moment, Azrael simply looked at him, then spoke with that low, steady voice.

"...How are you feeling, Ned?"

Ned's throat was dry. He turned his face away, muttering, "As you can see, not well..."

A humorless laugh escaped him. "Why are you here? Come to finish the job your brother started?"

Azrael's expression didn't change. Calm as ever, yet his gaze felt like it cut through every layer.

"No. I came to offer you something. A path forward, which you don't have."

Ned let out a rough breath, bitter and sharp.

"Offer? After what Raves did to me? After he humiliated me? You think I'd ever take anything from you?"

Azrael remained perfectly still.

"Forget Raves. He's insignificant."

He leaned in just slightly, voice colder now.

"I'm not talking about him. I'm talking about

you. About your future. You know that as long as you stay in Dune's shadow, you will never shine on your own."

Ned's jaw clenched tight, a flicker of anger rising up. He wanted to shout you're wrong. He wanted to deny it. But the words stuck in his throat.

Azrael's voice grew sharper.

"Look at what's happening. Dune passed. He's in S-class now. The academy will celebrate him. Your friend, Atlas joined Ceresey family, he will grow stronger than you could ever imagine. And you? You have no potential at all, you failed, you lost points and you gave up. You're not even qualified to enter the academy anymore."

Ned's fists trembled. He spat through gritted teeth, "That's not true. I'll find another way in. I'll get strong my own way, without joining anyone."

Azrael stepped closer, gaze narrowing like a blade. "You wouldn't have given up if Dune wasn't there. Am i right?"

His words stabbed deeper.

"You threw the fight to protect him. You let yourself fail so he wouldn't be dragged down with you. And now, he'll be moving forward while you're stuck here. Broken and forgotten."

Ned's heart pounded painfully against his ribs. His voice cracked as he barked back, "Yes, I gave up! I didn't want Dune to drop out because of me! So what?!"

Azrael's lips curled into the faintest smirk, but his voice stayed cool. "And now you have no path left. Unless you make a new one."

Azrael straightened.

"Join the Rodeny family. Become stronger. Here, your wounds will be healed, and your strength will grow. You'll have the resources and training only top clans can provide. You will have a name worth something."

Ned sucked in a sharp breath, his head swimming. "...Why are you doing this? What's in it for you?"

His voice dropped, bitter.

"You're not doing this out of kindness."

Azrael chuckled quietly, a dry sound.

"Of course not."

He stepped back, voice dropping lower.

"I want names. The winners of the Blessings Ceremony. I suspect Magma Rodelyan, the monarch of Sarodenly also has blessed for himself. I need this information."

He met Ned's gaze squarely.

"And sharing that information will protect not only you. But Dune and Atlas too. The more I know, the more I can ensure none of you are crushed in this war between families."

The room fell into heavy silence.

Ned's breathing slowed. His anger twisted into something colder, sharper. He thought about Dune, about Atlas... about always being one step behind. Always weaker. Always helpless.

His nails dug into the sheets as minutes passed, the weight of the decision crushing him from all sides.

Finally, he raised his head. His eyes, tired but burning with new resolve, locked onto Azrael.

"...Fine. I'll do it."

Azrael's nodded, like he had known all along this would be the answer. "Good. Rest well... Ned Rodeny. You've chosen wisely."

Now, standing tall in his Rodeny estate room, Ned opened his eyes. The memory faded, but the weight of that choice remained.

He was no longer broken on a healing bed. His body felt stronger now, harder. His face in the glass reflection looked sharper, his eyes colder.

Dressed in his new dark red attire, he walked to the window and placed his hand against the glass.

Beyond lay Rendely... and the path he would carve out for himself.

No more shadows.

No more weakness.

He would get strong, no matter what.

The grand chamber was dim, lit only by the faint flicker of blue flames dancing in silver braziers.

Azrael knelt at the center, head lowered, his dark crimson cloak pooling around him like spilled ink.

Damion sat above, on the stone seat carved with old sigils, watching his loyal subordinate in silence. His sharp golden eyes narrowed slightly as he raised a brow.

"...Are you sure?"

His voice was calm, but edged with weight.

Azrael lifted his head just enough to meet Damion's gaze. His voice was steady, precise.

"Yes. That's what Ned told me directly."

He paused before continuing, making sure every word carried its meaning.

"Sanatria, our continent, has six blessed now. Including Dune, Ned, and Atlas. The other three are twin brothers, Ezra and Liam. And lastly, a girl named Nely."

Damion's fingers drummed lightly against the armrest. His eyes glinted with quiet calculation.

Azrael continued.

"From the other continents, one is from Seraphein, his name is Elijah. And two are from Sarodenly, named Omen and Enren. And the last one..."

Azrael's gaze sharpened.

"...even Ned didn't know his name. He said Dune and Atlas don't know either."

Damion leaned back slightly, his gaze drifting upward as his thoughts turned inwards.

Six blessed, huh? How lucky for Sanatria. His jaw tightened slightly. That's a problem... and an advantage. At the same time.

More gods will have their eyes on us now... That power will give Sanatria an edge, but it's dangerous. I'd rather keep the gods' gaze away for now, this is too soon and risky.

His hand stilled. And Magma...

His lips pressed into a thin line.

Magma, the Monarch of Sarodenly... he has two blessed in his own land. If this information reaches him, he'll definitely act. He might try to eliminate our blessed... or worse, turn them to his side. Damion's eyes darkened. We can't let that happen.

A sudden cough from Azrael snapped him from his thoughts. Azrael straightened, voice cool but with an edge of impatience.

"...What about my sword?"

Damion's golden eyes flicked back to him, sharp and aware again. "As you know," he said, his voice smoother now, "first I need the enhancement potion from Magma. Without it, the forging process can't start."

He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping lower. "And then, I must consult Serena, Soul's Mirror. I'll need her ability. Only she can shape the blade the way you want."

Azrael's lips curled into a thin, hungry smile.

"...I can't wait to kill the rulers." ƒrēenovelkiss.com

His words dripped with venom, his excitement barely restrained as he rose to his feet, turning away.

Damion watched him go, the flickering blue firelight casting shadows on the stone walls.

A slow, dark smile crossed his face as he whispered under his breath.

"Neither can I."