Smallins vs. Droctrus (3)

Virkin Rondiyord woke up one day and prepared himself quickly, for his father had summoned him for something important—something he wished the day of its revelation would never come.

He was troubled because his father had called him to the "Hall of Ancestors," a summons that only occurs when the family's Awakening holder decides that the end has come and the power must be passed to the next successor. Thus, Virkin felt deeply distressed and fearful.

Upon entering the room, where portraits of his ancestors hung along the walls of the corridor-like hall, he stepped forward slowly. He walked between the hanging images, staring at the candles always placed there to light the way instead of lamps.

He was terrified, walking as if he were making no effort, as though he never wanted to reach his father. Deep inside, he felt what his father was about to tell him, and he never wanted to hear it. Virkin was a young man with dark hair and blue eyes, appearing ordinary but dressed elegantly in a white shirt and black trousers, making him look wonderful and fitting for the son of a wealthy family.

Finally, he reached his father, who stood before a giant portrait covering a large portion of the wall at the end of the hall. The person in the portrait appeared to be a middle-aged man with a slight scar at the edge of his mouth; that was Crifterl Rondiyord, the family founder and the original Spy who currently represented the card. Beside it were small portraits of those who had served the family and died while holding the card, including Drockters, Smalins, and many others.

His elderly father turned toward him, speaking in a very calm and gentle voice, "You have finally come, Virkin. I have waited long for you here; why were you late? This is not like you."

His father had white hair, a face lined with many wrinkles, a cheerful countenance, and a beautiful smile. He wore a sturdy black coat to protect him from the cold over his usual formal attire. Although one of the benefits of Awakening Cards is delayed aging, his father had reached his limit, being nearly one hundred and thirty years old. To transfer the card without excessive burden, there was only one solution he had to execute.

"Why did you summon me here, Father?" Virkin asked in a quiet, sorrowful tone. He knew the answer, yet he longed to hear something else; he hoped for it.

"You know why... Why would the head of the family summon the son he deems fit to inherit the card to the Hall of Ancestors?" The old man gazed intently at the founder's portrait. He knew well that his journey, struggle, and adventure would soon end. He felt that his continuous struggle for his family, their pride, and their significance among all other Bardemy families had created a great status in society, perhaps surpassing some previous ancestors.

"Virkin, you are ready... ready to be a better and greater leader than I am, aren't you? I know that you are."
Virkin looked toward the ground, avoiding his father’s eyes. He gradually raised his head to say, "I am not. I am weak, a fool who cannot do anything on his own. How can you place all these burdens on me at once? I am a mere nobody who spent his life in pursuit of fun; I do not deserve to be the leader after you. I believe both of my brothers are more worthy."

"This was not a request, Virkin, but an order—my final order as the head of this family." He placed his hand on Virkin’s right shoulder before passing him, continuing, "I shall see you tonight for the ceremony."

He departed, leaving Virkin drowning in despair, unable to avoid the subject. It was over; he was now bound to it. He had to kill his father to obtain the card and become the next leader of the family.

In the evening, inside the Hall of Ancestors, the old man sat on a chair in the center of the candlelit hall.

 Before him was a small table holding a black pistol. Behind him, on the wall, were portraits of the old man, and above them, a designated space for his new portrait. A group of men in black suits—the family servants—stood by.

The old man showed some tension and fear, which was natural, but his greatest fear was that Virkin would not come or would disobey his words. Virkin finally arrived, appearing even more terrified than the old man himself, to the point where one could not tell which of them was prepared for his demise.

Virkin stood before his father, his eyes nearly bursting with suppressed tears.
"Virkin, there is no other way to transfer the card but this. If I die naturally, you would have to fight me face-to-face in a spiritual duel to reclaim the card through summoning.

 Therefore, there is no escape from killing me... Do it, Virkin. I am confident you will be a great man who leads the family toward transcendence." His father’s expression at that moment was firmer than ever before.

Virkin’s right hand trembled as he reached for the pistol. His heart pounded wildly; he did not know how he could be strong in a moment like this.

"Is there no less painful way?" he asked, looking at the gun with fear.
"It is the most successful way.

 Moreover, this pistol is a treasure; it is also what I used to end my own father’s life," the old man spoke with a voice full of nostalgia. "My father was also a great man. At that moment, I was confused and psychologically devastated. As a human, the thought of someone dying before you is terrifying, and now you are in the position of the killer and the victim—and not just anyone, but your father.

 It is very difficult. Then, my father told me something that completely changed my thinking: 'Do not treat this as a matter of killer and victim, but as an end and a beginning... from the hardest endings, the greatest beginnings are born.'"

They were simple words, yet they had a profound effect on me; you cannot have the best unless you pass through the worst.

"Do it, Virkin."

He raised the pistol toward his father, saying through streaming tears, "Father... I am sorry."

He tried to pull the trigger one moment and recoiled the next, while his father looked downward, avoiding his son's eyes in his final moments.

 Parts of the old man's body trembled involuntarily. Virkin’s observation of this made him hesitate further; he looked at the servants, who also avoided his gaze, wishing someone would save him from the situation. Finally, his father shouted loudly:

"Virkin!"
He pulled the trigger hard, closing his eyes. He fired.
He opened his eyes to see his father’s body slumping from the chair. He rushed to catch him, embracing him tightly. In that moment, Virkin realized he had never done so while his father was alive.

The servants helped lay the body on the floor. At that moment, a silver light emerged from the corpse, followed by a silver card that quickly entered Virkin’s body. His body glowed silver until the light faded, revealing a completely different appearance: dark hair and a white mask shattered on the lower right side of the face, showing part of his mouth with a scar. His clothes were a blend of white and blue, including a hat. His voice was entirely different.

The servants covered the body with a white cloth. At that moment, Virkin was shocked by what he had done, but he barely composed himself and moved to the next step. He took his father’s portrait, which had been leaning at the base of the wall, and hung it up.

He stood before the servants, pulled a large cigar from the leather pouch at his waist, and lit it. He finished it in a single breath, exhaling a massive cloud of smoke from his mouth, nose, and every opening in the mask. When he finally calmed, he spoke to everyone present in a voice that was harsh and somewhat terrifying:

"I am Virkin Rondiyord. I declare myself the new head of the House of Rondiyord. Therefore, you must strive well to serve me and the family to the best of your abilities."

They were cruel moments that Virkin might never overcome in his life; nonetheless, they were a great lesson despite the cruelty. It was his father’s long life of success, and he wanted to follow in his footsteps and be a great leader just like him.