Chapter 4: Spark Beneath the Throne

“Why do you always have to be this annoying?!”

"I'm annoying? You almost knocked over the whole fruit stand!"

Lyon and Kinana stood in the middle of the busy market, their palms pressed against each other in a childish contest of strength. The owner of fruit vendor behind them was too exhausted to interfere anymore.

Their faces were flushed from frustration.

"You're just mad because I caught you screaming about oranges like a dancing idiot!" Kinana teased, a crooked grin on her lips.

"The more I was closed to your face, I’m sure you had more than a bottle of your wine!" Lyon barked back.

Before it could escalate into a full-blown scene—

“What are you guys doing?”

A calm voice cuts through the tension.

They both turned. Neema stood there, arms crossed, her white hair gently stirring in the breeze. Her expression was half-bored.

“Do you two wake up every morning and choose chaos?” she muttered.

Kinana kneel Neema and pulled her clothes, “Neema, do I smell like an old man?” she said, almost crying.

Neema took a one soft sniffed, “No.”

Kinana expression looked happier, “You smelled worse.” Neema continued.

Those words stab Kinana’s heart, sharp than a blade.

Suddenly—

Thud thud thud!

The sound of hurried footsteps tore through the square.

Two looking armored guards dashed past them, pushing through the crowd. Lyon and Neema had their attention caught at the sound of the clinked armor.

“Hurry!” one of them shouted to the other. "The palace—! They say a demigod has attacked!"

The word hit Lyon like a blade.

“Demigods.”

In that moment, he wasn't in the market anymore.

He was back in that place.

The sky is dark with a smoke lingering in the air. A village is engulfed in flames. Screams echoing. Ash falling like snow.

And in the center of it all—

A big figure in black, clad in armor and robes, its face a blank void beneath a shadowed hood. A scorpion tail, long and serrated, swayed behind it like a warning.

The figure had turned its head.

Stared at him.

No eyes. No words. Just a gaze that still burns in his chest.

Snap!

Lyon blinked, returning to the present, breath caught in his throat.

He turned to the vendor and grabbed his sword from behind the fruit crates. Without a word, he vaulted over the stall and took off in a sprint, eyes locked on the distant towers of the palace.

“Lyon—?!” Kinana shouted, stumbling forward.

He didn't look back.

Kinana clenched her teeth and ran after him.

“Oh, well.” Neema exhaled loudly, snatched up her umbrella, and followed behind.

Back in the palace.

"Are you the one responsible for bringing me into this world?" Nagi said, his voice was cold and hollow.

The question hung in the air like a curse.

Lady Myria's cheek still burned from the slap. Her emerald eyes were wide, lips slightly parted as if still catching up to the moment. A red mark bloomed across her skin, the first real pain she had felt in over a century.

“You bastard!”

Louille surged forward. The flames in his hair ignited brighter, his golden eyes flaring. He grabbed Nagi by the upper of his clothes, lifting him slightly off the floor, rage rippling through every muscle. But the owl remained silent on Nagi’s shoulder.

“What do you think you're doing?!” he growled.

Nagi didn't fight back. His arms hung at his sides, and his red-dead eyes stared directly into Louille's fury, unblinking.

Behind them, Myria’s hand slowly touch her cheek, fingertips grazing the sting where the slap had landed.

A strange sound echoed in her chest, a heartbeat.

“What is this...?”

“How long has it been... since anyone laid a hand on me? Since someone dared to defy me— to touch me like I wasn't divine?”

“And yet... why is my heart racing?”

“Is it rage?”

“Is it shame?”

Her cheeks flushed a deeper red, not just from the slap anymore.

A shiver ran down her spine. Her eyes slowly narrowed, fixating on Nagi's every breath. Her lips curled into a strange, unfitting smile.

"Humiliated… touched… bruised… by a mortal. Not even a chosen hero. Just… him…"

"What is this feeling...? It's twisted... it's disgusting..."

Her mind whispered, “And I want more of it.”

She giggled softly, not loudly, but audible enough that both Louille and Sariel heard it.

Sariel raised an eyebrow, confused.

Louille turned slightly, still holding Nagi's, now glancing back toward his goddess in confusion.

“My lady…?”

Myria's eyes widened. Her face flushed as she realized she'd laughed out loud. Her hand instinctively flew up to her mouth, and she turned slightly to hide her cheeks. Her voice scrambled, attempting formality, her tone now too appropriate to mask her embarrassment.

"Y-You! The mortal boy, what's your name? And what did you want from me?" she asked hastily.

Nagi, still limp in Louille's grip, calmly reached up and peeled the prince's hands off his shirt. Louille didn't resist, too distracted by Myria's uncharacteristic awkwardness.

Nagi turned toward her.

“Kawamura Nagi,” he said evenly. "Someone bring me to this world and I can’t die. I wanted to find out who's responsible.” his gaze swept over the room, "I’ll start with the god."

The room fell into tense silence.

Myria's expression grew confused. She stepped forward, all traces of her flustered self now replaced with curiosity. “I… wasn't the one who summoned you,” she said truthfully.

Nagi looked at her for a long moment, eyes unreadable. Then he pressed his hand to his chin, thoughtful.

“...I see.”

Without another word, he turned around and began to walk away.

Just like that.

“Wait,” Sariel said suddenly, voice laced with amused interest. "What do you mean you can't die?"

Nagi didn't stop.

So, Sariel's expression darkened.

He raised a hand, and with a ripple of unnatural motion, one of the divine humans emerged behind Nagi. A twisted, faceless creature of prayer and shadow.

“Watch out!” Myria shouted.

But it was too late.

SHNK!

Its long, pale arm stabbed through Nagi's back, its clawed fingers bursting through his chest, directly through where his heart should be. The owl from his shoulder flapped it wings and leave.

Blood splattered across the white stone floor, making Myria and Louille gasped.

The divine creature withdrew its arm with a wet squelch, blood dripping from its fingers.

Nagi staggered slightly—

Then straightened.

The wound began to seal itself. Muscle, flesh, and skins regenerated in instant and now looked unharmed. Only the blood remains, soaking his black clothes.

Nagi slowly turned his head over his shoulders, meeting Sariel's gaze for the first time.

His expression didn't change.

“Someone just gave me these new clothes, you know?” He said.

Sariel's amused expression twitched, faltered… and then widened into a full grin.

He let out a short, disbelieving laugh.

"I can't believe my eyes. Someone else holds that kind of power."

His golden eyes gleamed as he took a step closer to Nagi.

"You," he said, voice smooth like poisoned silk, "Come with me. Join my army. You're wasted among mortals."

Nagi didn't even glance his way.

He turned and walked toward the temple exit, his expression as blank and distant as ever.

Sariel blinked, then narrowed his eyes.

“…How dare you ignore my offer.” He said, quieter this time.

He sneered. "Look at that dead face. What are you even living for?"

Nagi didn't stop.

That irritated Sariel more.

"The scar on your face, I believe it can scare people off." he shout, loud and sharp.

Nagi paused.

His eyes widened slightly.

And then—

Back in high school, back of the school building.

Three boys standing in front of him, laughing. The cold concrete wall behind him.

"Oi, zombie face! You ever smile?"

“What's it like being born half-dead?”

They laugh too hard, they taught that was a good jokes. Nagi did not respond and looked away, their eyes didn’t even meet.

“That scar, has your mom treated your wound?”

That last one triggered Nagi’s mind.

Now Nagi looked at the bullies, his eyes trembling in terror.

His mind flashed again—

The accident.

Glass shattering.

Metal screaming.

His brother's body covering him, shielding him.

Pain.

Blood.

Scar.

His head snapped back to the present in the memory, one of the bullies was still laughing and noticed Nagi looked angry.

“Woah, scary.”

Nagi punched him hard in the nose, making the boy tumbling to the ground.

The other two jumped him, fists flying.

Nagi didn't stop there and fight them all.

With a battered face, Nagi still swinging long after the fight was over, the two of them lay in defeat. Leaving a boy who said the last mock, crying.

“I’m sorry.” He said, but Nagi won’t stop punching.

Blood dripping from his fist.

And those eyes—

Those same red eyes... now staring at Sariel.

The air in the sanctum had turned to stone.

Sariel, for the first time in decades, felt something beneath his skin. A strange tightening in his chest because the mortal boy was looking at him.

Nagi stood just a step away from the towering figure, staring up into his glowing yellow eyes with his own red ones.

"I dare you," Nagi said quietly, voice like a blade sliding from its sheath.

"To say that again."

Sariel didn't move.

That voice sounds calm, yet dripping with buried fury and left a pressure in the air. Even Myria and Louille noticed it.

Sariel forced a laugh, but his voice cracked just slightly.

“…How amusing.”

And then—

CRASH!

A blur of movement.

One of Sariel's divine human minions, robed and faceless, darted forward with supernatural speed. Its glowing hand slammed into Nagi's chest, launching him backward, straight through the glass window.

The room shattered.

Shards flew into the air like feathers of light as Nagi was hurled out into the open sky beyond the temple wall.

He disappeared from view.

Sariel exhaled slowly, his confidence returning as he smoothed a hand down his long coat.

“Mortal stays mortal,” he muttered. “Know your place.”

He turned back toward the altar.

“Now then… back to the matter of the gods.”

But before he could take another step—

And in the doorway, with sword already drawn and eyes sharp—

Lyon stepped forward.

Behind him stood Neema, calm and composed, and Kinana, already gripped her hammer.

Sariel blinked at the sight of them.

"Oh?" he sighed. “Another interruption.”

In an instant, three divine humans dropped from the rafters, twisted mockeries of men wrapped in black robes, their mouths muttering divine prayers in reverse, like hymns sung backward through time.

Louille did not wasting any times. Flames surged across his shoulders and up through his hair. His claymore ignited with golden fire. He charged forwarded, his burning sword aimed straight for Sariel's chest.

But Sariel raised his own hand again.

Another divine human materialized out of thin air, dropping in front of him like a wall of robes and radiant runes. It lunged—not at Louille—

But at Myria.

“—!!” Myria's eyes widened, frozen in place.

CLANG!

Steel clashed against divine force.

Lyon had stepped in just in time, his sword held with both hands as he slid backward across the marble floor, absorbing the full weight of the blow. His legs trembled, but he held the line.

Kinana and Neema weren't far behind.

With a cry, Kinana charged one of the divine humans, her massive red hammer swinging like a meteor. It collided with the creature's side with a bone-shaking crunch, launching it into a column with enough force to crack the stone.

Neema, calm and surgical, opened her white umbrella mid-spin and sent a gust of piercing wind through the chest of the nearest creature, topping it with clean precision.

Sariel simply watched it all with a satisfied grin.

“Good,” he said, chuckling. "You've all satisfied me. I can see the threads of fate tying around you already..."

He raised his arm once more.

"—But this isn't my war. Not yet."

His divine summons all stopped moving at once. Their forms glowed faintly, then crumbled into ash, dissipating into the temple's wind.

Sariel's body began to blur at the edges, dissolving like fog.

“But when the time comes,” he said, “you'll kneel… or you'll burn.”

And then—he was gone.

The sanctum fell still again. Only the soft sounds of breathing, the crackle of Louille's dying flames, and the echo of fading tension remain.

Louille stepped forward, fire flickering out from his hair and weapon.

He looked at Lyon. Recognition sparked in his eyes.

“You… from the fruit stall,” Louille said with a small smile. "You protected the goddess. I thank you."

Lyon blinked, still catching his breath. “…Sure.”

Louille turned to Kinana next, placing a hand on his chest in gratitude.

"You too, thank you for fighting with us."

Kinana’s face exploded into a shade of red to match her weapon.

"Y-yeah? I mean—I'm always impressive, hah! Ha..."

She nearly tripped over her own hammer trying to look cool.

When Louille's eyes fell on Neema, and his expression shifted.

“…Neema?”

Lyon's brows furrowed. “Wait… you know her?”

Louille nodded, “Neema Mischiella, the first daughter of Crestoria kingdom.”

Lyon and Kinana shocked, shouted in unison, “You are a Princess?!”

Leaves rustled softly as the wind swept through the hedges.

In the dense underbrush behind the temple walls, Nagi lay on his back, unmoving, but very much alive.

“…Tch,” Nagi muttered.

Then—

Standing not far from him, just beside an old tree, was the woman from the street. The tall figure with blonde hair, dressed in whites and a blindfold still covering her eyes.

She didn't look surprised to find him alive.

“Well…?” she asked. Her voice was gentle, almost amused. "Did you meet the god?"

Nagi sat up slowly, brushing dirt from his sleeves. "She's not the one who summoned me."

The woman tilted her head, thoughtful. "Then maybe try another. If it's immortality that follows you... Serania might be who you're looking for."

Nagi stood in silence remembered when the chief village also mentioned her name.

"Where is she?" he asked.

The woman turned slightly, "Welch Kingdom.”

Without another word, Nagi turned and started walking, the rhythm of his boots soft against the cobblestones.

With a soft flutter of wings, Pupa, the sleepy-eyed white owl, landed silently on his shoulder. Its tiny claws nestled in the fabric of Nagi's shirt.

Nagi’s eyes stayed fixed on the road ahead.

“Serania…”

“…Welch Kingdom…”