Jinx's POV
Just as the warmth of the dragon choker began to settle around my neck—like embers sleeping beneath the skin—another spike on the Millennium Ring jerked violently upward, this time pointing to the far corner of the vault.
I turned my head slowly.
There, bathed in shadows as though the light itself refused to touch it, stood a katana resting upright in a stone cradle. Its hilt was wrapped in blackened leather, frayed by time. The blade's sheath bore crimson markings that pulsed faintly—like veins.
But it wasn't the sword's look that drew me. It was the feeling.
I knew this aura.
No… I remembered it.
A grin tugged at the corner of my mouth, the kind I hadn't worn in years.
"You called me, huh?" I muttered.
My boots echoed as I approached, slow and deliberate, until I reached out with a steady hand. The instant my fingers wrapped around the hilt and I drew the blade free—
The world exploded.
A pitch-black aura erupted from the katana like a beast unchained. It howled in a silence that made no sound, but everyone felt it. The force smashed outward like a tidal wave, knocking the Phenex family off their feet. Even Adrael, strong as he was, staggered into a vault wall with a grunt.
I dropped to one knee, my breath stolen.
The blade trembled in my hand, its hunger undeniable. It wasn't just cursed—it was awake, aware, and angry.
The darkness coiled around me like smoke made of ink, thickening until it swallowed light. My vision blurred. My body trembled. For the first time in years, I felt cold—not my cold, but something ancient. Starless. Endless. The kind of cold that makes you forget warmth even exists.
I saw my fingers wrinkle. My bones ached. My skin felt thin. The aura was aging me—draining me of time, of vitality. I could feel years being ripped from my soul with every heartbeat.
"Ngh—damn it," I hissed, teeth clenched, knees sinking into cracked stone.
The blade's aura wanted a vessel.
But I wasn't some mortal shell.
And I wasn't alone.
From deep within my chest, something answered.
Magenta fire erupted from my core, weaving with threads of black lightning. It wasn't just cold—it was my cold. My will. My wrath. A torrent of black and violet flared out from me, clashing against the katana's aura with a thunderous crack that split the air and shattered the floor beneath me.
The vault trembled.
My aura didn't just push back—it fought, dancing with the sword's darkness in a chaotic rhythm. Power met power. Hunger met defiance.
This time, I didn't kneel.
I stood.
Hair whipping in the storm of energies, I stared down the malevolent force spiraling around the blade.
"You're not the first cursed thing to try and devour me," I growled, voice low. "You won't be the last. But you're mine now."
The aura snarled, resisting—then, slowly… it began to recede.
The blade quieted.
The oppressive cold withdrew like a tide going still, and the dark mist curled into the katana's steel. The weapon pulsed once, faintly, as if acknowledging me.
I sheathed it with a sharp motion and slid it over my back.
When I turned around, the Phenex family was still recovering—Seraphina had conjured a flaming barrier to protect her children, while Adrael looked at me like he wasn't sure whether to call me madman or monster.
Probably both.
But I just gave them a wink and cracked my neck.
"Two down," I said, voice still humming with residual power. "One to go."
Jinx's POV
As the last echoes of power faded from the vault and the blade on my back finally stilled, I glanced back down at the Millennium Ring.
One of the spikes rotated slowly—deliberately—before pointing once more.
To my surprise, it didn't point toward the distant corners of the vault or some forgotten pedestal in the shadows.
It pointed right next to me.
I turned my head, brow lifting.
There, resting in a velvet-lined glass case, was a necklace unlike anything else in the room. Its chain was gothic in style—intricate, silver-black, like twisted vines frozen mid-bloom. Two blood-red rubies were set into the centerpiece like twin eyes, and they shimmered with a subtle pulse, as if aware.
The moment I laid eyes on it, I felt… watched.
Not threatened.
Just seen.
Before I could reach for it, I heard the uneven sound of approaching footsteps. Adrael was still recovering from the katana's backlash, but he made his way over, eyes narrowing as he saw the object that had caught my attention.
A weary sigh escaped him.
"It seems you have quite the eye, young man," he said, voice still a little hoarse. "But I wouldn't recommend that one."
I raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"
Adrael paused in front of the case, gazing at the necklace like it was a memory best left buried.
"That piece… was actually my first contribution to the family vault. I acquired it during my heir training back in the 1700s. It belonged to a vampire noble I encountered—he was on the run from the Hero Faction. Things were... considerably more prejudiced back then than they are now." His tone darkened for a moment before softening again. "He traded it for sanctuary, but didn't survive the pursuit."
I looked back at the necklace, curiosity deepening.
"What does it do?"
"It copies powers," Adrael said bluntly, then hesitated. "But there are a number of... complications. Restrictions, if you will. First, the necklace doesn't respond to humans, angels, or devils. Only vampires and yōkai can wear it. Since the Great War, relations between our factions and theirs have been… volatile at best. Any major misstep could lead to war, so we typically avoid direct involvement with either group."
He knelt slightly, unlocking the case but not touching the necklace, like it might bite.
"Second," he continued, "it doesn't simply copy abilities by sight alone. The user must see the power, understand its nature, and know its true name—only then can it replicate it, and even then, at beginner levels. It can only be used twice every six months."
He finally looked me in the eyes, expression cautious. "You understand now, Jinx, why it's down here. If the yōkai or vampire factions got hold of something that could mimic Phenex flames… someone like Yasaka—leader of the Kyoto yōkai, already a top-tier combatant—could become an Ultimate-class threat overnight."
At that name, I felt my heart skip a beat.
My hand twitched slightly.
My expression, however, remained neutral.
Mostly.
Seraphina noticed.
Of course she did.
I caught the flicker in her eyes as she glanced at me from across the room, arching a single, knowing brow. The corner of her lips twitched upward.
Damn it.
"...So it can copy techniques, but only if you meet the right conditions," I muttered, trying to steer the conversation back. "Sounds tricky, but not useless."
Adrael gave a half-nod. "Tricky is putting it lightly. But dangerous? Absolutely. Especially in the wrong hands. I've kept it locked away for centuries. You're the first one to show interest in it since."
I looked back at the necklace.
And for the briefest second, just beneath the polished glass, the rubies pulsed again—like they were laughing.
"Yeah," I said quietly, reaching forward and lifting it free. The metal was ice cold, yet it didn't burn. "That's kind of my specialty."
The necklace clicked shut around my neck with a cold, final weight.
It settled against my collarbone like it belonged there.
Adrael gave it a glance—wary, but silent—and gestured for me to follow. We left the vault behind, his family flame sealing it once more with a quiet thrum of ancient power. The hallway echoed with our footsteps as we made our way back upstairs, the weight of our earlier discoveries still lingering between us like static.
The rest of the Phenex family had already gathered in the grand living room, the firelight dancing off their regal features. There was an awkward hush in the air—not tense, but uncertain.
Adrael raised a hand, beginning the motions to summon a return portal. But before the golden sigil could even form, a voice cut through the silence like a serrated blade.
"Father," Riser said, his voice unusually tight, strained, like he'd been biting down his words the entire time. "I can't hold my tongue anymore."
Adrael froze. Seraphina arched a brow.
Riser stood straighter, puffing his chest with that tired arrogance of someone convinced the world still revolved around noble blood.
"How are we—how can we just sit here and allow this worthless human," he sneered, "to walk into our vault, take our legacy, and pretend he's equal to us? He's nothing more than a scavenger with a few parlor tricks. It's insulting, father! No amount of coincidence justifies treating a human like one of us!"
The room chilled—not from my magic, but from the weight of his words.
Seraphina's smile vanished in an instant, her face now as still and regal as carved marble. She gave Adrael a sharp glance. He returned it with a tired, knowing look. The kind of silent exchange between parents who realized—far too late—that a very long conversation with their son was overdue.
Even the younger Phenex siblings looked uncomfortable. Only Ravel had her arms crossed, eyes narrowed with something like disappointment.
Typical noble trash. Riser probably thought every woman was a pawn on his chessboard, every man beneath him unless born to a throne.
Unfortunately for him…
I don't play chess.
I leaned forward, casually brushing the new necklace with my thumb as I smiled. The grin didn't reach my eyes.
"Well," I said lightly, "if everything you said is true, Riser... then how about we test it?"
His eyes snapped toward me, confused.
"A challenge," I offered, voice smooth, but laced with steel. "You and me. One on one."
The room went very, very still.
"In fact," I continued, rising to my feet and stretching my neck, "how about this? Let's make it interesting. If you win, I'll return the vault items, walk away, and maybe even kneel and beg forgiveness."
Riser's smirk began to reappear.
"But…" I added, tone darkening, "if I win… your Queen becomes mine. Forever."
That smirk evaporated like water on a forge.
Gasps fluttered from a few members of the household. Even Adrael looked momentarily startled. But I turned to Seraphina then, giving her a short nod.
"To be clear, out of respect for you—and to avoid giving Lady Seraphina any undue stress—I won't kill him." I looked back at Riser, who looked ready to combust. "But I will teach him a lesson."
Riser's mouth opened to refuse, pride twisting his face into something ugly. But before he could say a word—
"Enough."
Seraphina's voice was like a dagger dipped in ice.
She stepped forward, heels clicking sharply against the marble as she fixed her son with a gaze colder than anything I could summon. Her expression was the perfect mask of noble fury—controlled, composed, and terrifying.
"Riser Phenex," she said, every syllable like a blade. "You've embarrassed yourself long enough. You speak of blood, but forget honor. You speak of pride, but forget gratitude. This young man—this human—saved your sister from the Church. From torture. From death."
Riser's jaw tightened, but Seraphina didn't let him speak.
"You will accept his challenge," she said. "Not just because he earned the right to stand among us—but because you have disgraced the judgment of your family. The gifts he took? We offered them. You insult not him, but us."
And then, as if that wasn't final enough, Adrael stepped forward too.
"I agree," he said quietly, but firmly. "You will fight. And you will learn humility, one way or another. If you lose, the deal stands. If you win… then you've earned your pride for once in your life."
Riser looked between them both—then to me.
And I could see it.
The fury.
The hate.
The fear.
But most importantly…
The desperation to prove himself.
He gritted his teeth.
"Fine," he spat. "I accept."
I smirked, already rolling my shoulders.
"Good."
Because I'd already seen how this ended.
And he wasn't going to like it.
With a single, effortless snap of Adrael's fingers, the ground beneath us began to glow.
A colossal magic circle erupted in golden-blue runes, so wide it engulfed the entire room. The air thrummed with power before a blinding flash surged outward, burning white across our vision.
When the light faded and our eyes adjusted, we stood somewhere new.
An ancient arena.
Vast and open under a dome of ethereal energy, the stands curved high above us, cradling the Phenex family and a few others, including a confused but observant Yubelluna. I stood in the center of the battlefield, and opposite me—posturing already—was Riser.
The heat in the air was thick with his fire aura, but to me, it felt like a lukewarm bath.
Adrael's voice echoed through the coliseum as he stepped up to the edge of the platform, his tone cold and firm.
"I want a clean one-on-one fight," he declared. "No rules... except one: no killing. The wager stands—if Jinx wins, Yubelluna becomes his, bound to serve for as long as he lives. If Riser wins, Jinx must return the artifacts, kneel, beg for forgiveness, and never set foot in the Underworld again."
The crowd murmured.
Riser's fists clenched, his pride swelling like a balloon ready to burst.
But me?
I wasn't even listening.
I already knew how this would end.
I was just hoping it'd be at least a little entertaining.
The signal was given.
And Riser charged.
A flare of fire burst from his feet as he dashed forward, fists glowing with conjured flame, his signature heat waves crashing toward me like a tide.
I stepped to the side.
Not fast—just enough.
His punch missed entirely, the heat grazing the air next to my face.
I gave him a lazy look and wagged a finger.
"Tsk."
He snarled and threw a flurry of blows—fast, undisciplined, arrogant. I ducked, spun, leaned just far enough out of reach. Each strike passed through air or met my forearms as I gently swatted them aside like gnats.
The spectators grew quiet.
He was trying.
I wasn't even sweating.
He roared and flared his wings, launching a fire-enchanted uppercut. I sidestepped, tapped his shoulder, and let him stumble forward. He caught himself midair, teeth grinding.
"You mocking me!?" he shouted.
"I would," I replied, "but you're doing it just fine on your own."
With a furious roar, he flew back and summoned a massive ball of fire in his palms—far larger than before. It pulsed with unstable heat and anger, and he hurled it like a miniature sun.
A few in the audience flinched.
I didn't move.
I simply raised my right hand... and extended two fingers.
The fireball struck.
And vanished.
Absorbed.
The crowd gasped.
My aura flickered for a moment, rippling like smoke—black and magenta with sparks of electricity dancing along my arm.
Then I brought my hands together.
Smooth, fluid, deliberate movements followed—foreign gestures none of them recognized. I bent my knees slightly, exhaled, and slid one foot back as my hands traced slow arcs through the air.
Ravel's POV
I leaned forward in my seat, brows furrowing.
"…What is he doing?" I whispered.
Even Mother tilted her head. Father watched intently, but even he looked uncertain. Jinx's movements were strange—ritualistic, precise, as if calling something ancient and powerful.
It wasn't a spell. Not one I'd ever seen.
It was... something else.
Back to Jinx
Power surged into my fingertips, thunder cracking in the hollow of my palms.
And then I struck forward.
A bolt of lightning exploded from my hand, lancing through the air like a wrathful spear. It slammed into Riser's chest with a boom that shook the entire coliseum. He flew backward, body crashing into the stone floor and skidding several feet before finally stopping.
Smoke curled from his shoulders. His armor was scorched, chest heaving.
Still conscious.
Barely.
I sighed, dragging a hand through my hair.
"Still not out, huh?"
He forced himself up, coughing. His flames flickered weakly, barely holding.
"Stubborn pride," I muttered.
Then I raised my hand—and snapped my fingers.
The temperature dropped instantly.
Frost crept across the ground behind me, and from the swirling mist of my aura, a massive serpentine form began to rise. Ethereal scales shimmered with moonlight, and gleaming black horns curled from its head as the massive Eastern dragon uncoiled behind me—majestic, silent, and terrifying.
Its eyes glowed with otherworldly light.
Riser's own widened.
He tried to move. To fly. To anything.
But he was too slow.
The dragon surged forward with a roar that shook the sky, its celestial form crashing into Riser like a divine judgment. The impact hurled him like a ragdoll into the arena wall.
CRACK.
The wall fractured.
Ice erupted up his limbs and across his torso, sealing him to the stone like a prisoner frozen in time.
Silence.
Then the cold wind died down.
I stood in the center of the arena, shoulders relaxed, arms at my sides. My breath was calm. The fight was over.
Completely.
Utterly.
Mine.
"Well, it looks like I win," I said with a smug grin, snapping my fingers.
A clawed hand of cursed ice surged from the ground like a predator from below, wrapping itself tightly around Yubelluna's legs and arms. She gasped, her body tensing as I approached. Slowly, deliberately, I tilted her chin up with two fingers, forcing her to meet my gaze.
"Hmmm… you've got potential," I murmured, my voice a velvet growl laced with mischief. "I wonder just how much I'll have to punish you to bring that out."
A devilish smirk spread across my lips, and I saw it—the flicker of fear in her eyes, the shiver that ran down her spine. She wasn't sure whether to recoil or lean into it.
Before Adrael could finish conjuring the return portal, a voice cut through the moment like a rusty blade.
"No!" Riser roared from where he remained pinned to the wall in a frozen crucifix of ice. "I won't let you have Yubelluna! She belongs to me! Not some human!"
The desperation in his voice was pathetic. I didn't even have to turn to feel the pity radiating from his parents, his sister, and Yubelluna herself. Everyone looked at him not with anger, but disappointment.
I snapped my fingers again, and the ice imprisoning him shattered into floating, ash-gray rose petals, swirling gently in the air above the arena like a funeral for his pride.
"Alright," I said, cracking my knuckles and stepping forward. "Let's have a rematch. A contest of firepower. If I win, I'll take another member of your peerage. If I lose…" I paused, staring directly into his wild, bloodshot eyes. "You can kill me."
Riser immediately agreed, barking like a feral dog finally unchained.
I sighed. This was overkill. But it needed to be done. I had to show him who his real daddy was.
Adrael's POV
I watched my son with a sinking heart.
There was no composure. No tactical thinking. Just blind rage and entitlement, twisting his noble upbringing into something grotesque. He looked like a cornered animal, spitting fire and shame in equal measure. Seraphina and I shared a brief, wordless glance. The kind that said we should've spoken to him long ago.
But that wasn't what truly unsettled me.
The moment Jinx accepted the rematch, everything changed.
His face lost all color in a blink, turning deathly pale, as if the blood had fled in terror. Then came the black tears—thick and slow, like ink leaking from a cursed scripture—streaming down his face.
And then, with a sound like rending parchment and shrieking violins, six massive wings unfurled from his back.
Not angelic.
Not demonic.
Fallen.
The feathers shimmered like oil, corrupted holy light pulsing beneath them, and above his head hovered a broken halo—cracked, jagged, and flickering as if the heavens themselves wanted no part of him.
Ravel's hand instinctively found her mother's. Seraphina leaned forward, eyes wide, lips parted.
"Transformation magic?" she asked under her breath, unsure.
I shook my head, my voice low and grim.
"No," I whispered. "That's corrupted holy magic. That… that's real."
I felt it like a blight in the air. Divine energy defiled and twisted—something sacred, shattered and weaponized.And suddenly, the contest wasn't just about firepower.It was about legacy, wrath… and revelation.
Jinx's POV
Man, this was honestly giving Riser way too much credit. I could've ended this ten minutes ago with a casual fireball to the face. But boredom? Boredom's a dangerous thing for someone like me. Just as I was about to lift my hand and finish it, my newly acquired sword—still sheathed at my hip—began to tremble. It was subtle at first, like a hum, but then it shook more violently, as if begging to be unleashed.
I obliged.
The moment I unsheathed it, a dense aura exploded from the blade—same as earlier in the vault—but this time there was a vivid edge of dark magenta lacing through the pitch-black core. I felt it crawl along my arm, not hostile, but… familiar. There were pieces of me inside this sword now. Not metaphorically. Literally. It resonated with my soul, and it was hungry.
As I raised the blade, the air dropped several degrees. The thousands of dark grey flower petals—shards of my ice—lingering around the battlefield suddenly turned obsidian-black. The temperature plummeted further, unnaturally so. The wind didn't even dare to touch the space we stood in. Like the world itself was holding its breath.
"Oh, that's new," I muttered, almost amused.
But then, I felt something.
My eyes flicked down, and there he was—Riser, gathering every last ounce of his strength, igniting a monstrous fireball nearly three meters wide in his palm. His aura was wild and unstable, and the crazed look in his eyes confirmed what I already suspected.
"Time to die, human!" he roared, eyes gleaming with hate. "But don't worry—I'll make sure to defile your corpse. It'll be your honor!"
I tilted my head, unimpressed, but I took a glance at the Phenex family anyway. Adrael looked utterly disgusted, shoulders tense, fists clenched. Seraphina had a hollow look in her eyes, the kind a mother wears when she begins to question if her child is even hers. I had to choke back a laugh.
Back to the flames. Back to the petals.
A thought crossed my mind.
"Hmm… what should I name this spell?" I mused aloud, ignoring Riser's rabid snarling in the distance. "How about… Winter Art: Petals of Shattered Winter? Yeah. That works."
I smiled and pointed my sword.
The petals responded instantly, swirling into a seamless shield in front of me, a barrier of rotating death. As Riser hurled his oversized fireball with all the desperation of a drowning man, my petals clashed against it—and they didn't just hold. They consumed it. The swirling shield absorbed the heat, broke the structure, and scattered the fire in a burst of crimson and gold that fizzled before it reached me.
Then came the real surprise.
The black petals shimmered. They pulsed. Stronger. Faster. The energy from the fireball hadn't just been absorbed—it had empowered them. My old grey ice could do something similar, but never this quickly. Never this hungrily.
"Oh… well that's going to be fun to experiment with later," I muttered, grinning as the now-enhanced petals crackled with potential around me.
And Riser?
He looked terrified. Rightfully so.
I was just about to give the command. One word, and the petals would have swept forward like silent assassins and taken Riser's head clean off. But a glance—just a glance—halted me.
Seraphina.
Her expression was restrained, but the message in her eyes spoke volumes: "He's still my son."
And that look, gods help me, cut deeper than any blade.
It struck at something buried in me—a defect, or maybe a blessing, seeded long before I ever took my first breath. A flaw etched into my soul during the months I spent in the womb, tangled with my mother's heartbeat. Some problem during her pregnancy had left us… tethered. More than connected—we were reflections of each other for a time. I felt everything she did. Her joys. Her fears. Her fury. Her love.
And because of that, there's always been one truth I could never shake: I could never truly defy my mother. Not easily, at least. I could raise my blade to kings and monsters without a second thought… but to a mother begging for mercy, even silently?
That was different.
Still, Riser's pride—his arrogance—burned in the air like a putrid fire. It needed to be extinguished. So I found a compromise.
I gave the order.
Thousands of black ice petals shimmered, swirling into motion like a blizzard of obsidian razors. They surged toward Riser—not to kill, but to bind. The petals wrapped around him with wicked grace, chaining his limbs and locking him midair, like a marionette strung up for judgment.
He squirmed. He shouted. He cursed.
I raised my sword.
At once, the remaining petals responded, their formation shifting with precision. With a twist of my wrist, they formed a cruel, elegant prison—an iron maiden sculpted from jagged, frost-laced petals. Its thorns gleamed with a cruel chill, and as it took shape, the expression on Riser's face shifted from rage to sheer terror.
Gods, how I savored it.
"Enjoy my new technique, Riser," I said, my voice cold as the magic humming through the blade. "Winter Art: Maiden of Frozen Thorns."
I brought the sword down in one smooth motion.
The iron maiden's doors snapped shut with a haunting clang—and immediately, the air was filled with his screams. Agony echoed through the arena as the thorns within drove into his body, not to end him… but to drain him. To rob him of warmth. Of fire. Of pride.
A fitting punishment.
And all the while, the petals outside coiled around the prison like vines around a coffin—silent. Beautiful. Merciless.