“I see now. You have won. Do what you must, but before that… Can I at least know the name of the one that defeated me?”

—

Naybeah, or more precisely, her sister controlling her body, Klemeia, the Amazon Queen took some time to carefully scrutinize and look at the young man.

He was once again on his knees, looking at the ground, humbling himself in front of her. From the quick read of his filthy mind and dark, twisted soul, Klemeia could understand how big this act actually was. 

For all his life, this man was treated similarly to Kings and Gods. An army of servants looked at his EVERY need, the best personal trainers groomed his skills to hone him into such a fine swordsman he was today.

His every wish was fulfilled, no matter how ridiculous it sounded, the servants obeyed his every command. They never dared to resist even as he gradually grew into the obnoxious brat. 

Being cared for and attended for, and only seeing the cruel, cold side of his own father, his own personality eventually also evolved, showing similar signs. Soon, his favorite pastime was to torment those around him. Seeing them squeal and squawk, beg and humiliate themselves in a variety of increasingly grotesque and twisted ways was the only source of endorphin for the growing teenager. 

When the time came for his Rite, for his ritual, he finally did something great and managed to contract not an average demon like his brothers, but an actual archdemon, just like his father! 

It was also the very first time he heard his father look genuinely proud and shake his hand. It was firm and strong, something that Lord Bart never forgot ever since, but kept as a treasured memory and strived to gain it once more in his life. The jealous looks on his brothers’ faces as they knew at that moment that their worth had fallen greatly from this point onward and that they would no longer receive the attention of their father was something Bart has cherished deeply, ever since.

Many years have passed since then, as Lord Bart had quite an eventful life since then. Shortly after the ceremony, he was proclaimed as the new heir, the next patriarch of their family, the next one to lead the great Diaz family to reach even further success, even greater power. 

His two brothers, Hank and Luis, now falling out of grace, blamed everything on their little sibling and have since then done everything in their power to ruin him. They schemed, sent assassins after him, only to fail time and again. They even tried to torture him through his supposed loved ones, only to fail with those attempts as well. 

Eventually, they both grew desperate and joined forces to attack their brother’s home directly. Combined they brought a force that would have even made the City Guards be worried. Hundreds of armed men and mercenaries surrounded Bart’s manor.

As the moon gloomed eerily atop the clear midnight sky, they have given command and launched their last desperate attempt, their assault in hopes to put an end to their hateful little brother’s reign. Though somewhere deep down they both knew that no matter what they did, they would never feel their father’s firm handshake, or hear the words “I am proud of you, son” ever again, they refused to accept it. 

Not unless they could bring their dead brother’s severed head, contorted into eternal pain, and place it in front of him, could they calm the storm in their minds and hearts.

At the blow of their horn, the hundreds of armed warriors stormed the manor, breaking apart the barred fence with ease. As if it was a castle with some treasures hiding deep inside they laid siege upon it in the middle of the noble’s district.

That night was a fateful one. It was etched deep within Lord Bart’s mind as an important, defining memory of his life ever since then. 

Not because of the shame and humiliation that his two misguided brothers had envisioned. Not because of the terror they had thought they would inflict upon him. Not because of the despair his heart was supposed to be falling into…

No, it was because it was at that moment he had finally tasted the joys of battle, the first time, he could feel the irony taste of his enemy’s blood as it spilled over his face after a strike, after a blow.

It was at that moment that the Diaz family gave birth to an Asura, a demon was born in flesh. Not just in essence through the Soul Contract, but through his own otherworldly skill of the blade.

After most of his own men were cut down in the first waves of the surprise assault, he and only the handful of his surviving guards, barely counting a dozen, had made their last stand, their ground in the very room he was peacefully resting just a few minutes ago.

In that room, that very sanctuary, his brothers had finally understood the futility of their actions. They saw as their little brother, they had despised so much, and hated probably only out of spite had painted the walls red with the copious amounts of blood he had spilled. The guts, gore, and intestines littered the floor. 

Like a whirlwind, the curved, thick blade of his sabre has wreaked havoc, ending life with each attack. No one could face him, and even if they did manage to land a hit, the blemish, the wound healed rapidly, visible to their disbelieving eyes.

Barely an hour later, the bustle had died down, and an eerie, gloomy silence reigned over the manor once more. 

The floors all over were littered with severed heads, mutilated bodies, and torn limbs of the corpses of Lord Bart’s enemies.

Only two figures remained standing, their legs shivering, quaking with fear as they gazed at their little brother. Their pride and arrogance shattered, broken in before this monster’s vicious actions. 

Before they could wake up and escape they were already surrounded and were swiftly brought before their sibling, only to meet the same fate as the ones they had brought along with him. Their squirms and begs were met with deaf ears as their heads were lopped off their necks without mercy.

In the end, it was their heads twisted with eternal agony that was brought before his father, only for him to earn the second and seemingly, the last handshake of Lord Bart’s life.

“Though your soul is tainted with darkness, you are a great fighter nevertheless. For us, amazons that is what truly matters, thus you have earned my sister’s and with it, my respect. For that, I will grant you a quick, painless death….”

“The same you have given to your brothers…” Klemeia said, her face growing into a wide grin, watching as shock resided on top of Lord Bart’s face before the axe struck down, forever storing that expression…

—

>>>Check out my latest novel: The Strongest Demon Lord in the Modern World<<

It’s an urban modern-day styled story, with a reverse transmigrated (‘Banished’) immortal entity from the fantastical world of Nova!

Planned Tags and Genre:  # CULTIVATION  # R18  # BETRAYAL  # TRANSMIGRATION  # URBAN  # ACTION  # ANTIHERO  # OVERPOWERED (romance maybe at some later point)

—

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