In the grand hall of the Devarian family…
Fatty Ben and Mohini stood at the center, their wrists bound in thick, enchanted chains. Fatty’s face was a mix of fear and nervousness, while Mohini glared coldly.
Palace guards stood around them, armed and watchful, their spears gleaming in the light.
At the head of the hall sat Patriarch Duran Devarian, lazily biting into a pink fruit that exuded a faint, sweet fragrance. His expression was smug, one of absolute power, as he stared down at the Fatty and Mohini.
Seated next to him was his spoiled son, Dabba, who was casting lustful glances at Mohini.
“Tell me, Why did you attack my son?” Duran asked, his tone dripping with disdain as he tossed the half-eaten fruit at Mohini’s side. Your next chapter awaits on My Virtual Library Empire
Mohini’s eyes narrowed. “Your son ordered his soldiers to bind me and make me his night doll. I used my powers to protect myself and escape his disgusting intentions.” She replied, her words cutting through the room.
Gasps echoed among the guards and minor nobles lining the hall. Duran’s expression flickered with irritation, but he masked it quickly, leaning back in his chair. “Night doll, you say? Dabba, is this true?”
Before Dabba could speak, Fatty Ben, trembling but resolute, piped up. “It’s true, Patriarch. Your son ordered it! We’re here on an important mission, and we didn’t mean to trespass. Please, release us. We’ve done nothing wrong!”
Dabba slammed his fist on the armrest of his seat. “Father, don’t listen to their nonsense! Yes, I want her as my night doll. What’s wrong with that? That fat fool would make a fine meal for our beasts, and the woman—” he stared at Mohini, “she’d serve well in our family’s private quarters.”
Mohini’s eyes blazed with fury, and her chains rattled as she took a step forward. “You dare? If I weren’t bound by these cursed chains, I’d turn you to ash before your next breath.” She roared with fury.
“You see, Father? She will become an angry slut! What will you say?” Young Master Dabba laughed gleefully.
Duran remained silent for a moment, chewing thoughtfully on the yellow round fruit. The tension in the room grew thick, every pair of eyes fixated on the patriarch.
Finally, he leaned forward, his voice cold and calculated. “You claim to be on an important mission. Where are you from, and what is this mission?”
Fatty hesitated but then spoke, his voice trembling but earnest. “We’re from the Blue Planet. We’ve come to the spirit world to meet my master, Kent, the legacy bearer of the War God.”
The mention of the war god’s legacy bearer name caused a stir among the guards and nobles. Whispers broke out, and Duran’s expression hardened.
“Kent, the War God’s legacy bearer?” Duran repeated slowly, his tone laced with skepticism.
“Yes,” Fatty replied. “He’s on a mission of great importance, and we were sent to find him. We mean no harm to your family or your land.”
Dabba, unwilling to let the conversation shift away from his vendetta, sneered. “Father, it’s nonsense! That fat oaf would be better served as food for our beasts, and the woman—well, you know what I want.”
Mohini’s chains clinked as she strained against them, her voice sharp as a blade. “Say another word, and I’ll—”
“Enough!” Duran’s voice thundered, silencing the room. He rubbed his temple, clearly weighing his options. After a long pause, he turned to his son. “Dabba, you are impulsive and short-sighted. You act without considering the consequences.”
Dabba shrank in his seat but didn’t dare reply.
Duran then addressed Fatty and Mohini. “If you truly speak the truth and this Kent is who you claim, then releasing you could bring his favor. But if you lie, your presence here could lead to conflict.”
He gestured toward the corner of the room, where a robed figure stepped forward. It was the palace wizard, a gaunt man whose eyes burned with an unsettling intensity. “Wizard Melvor,” Duran commanded, “prepare to teleport them to the Mountain Desert.”
“The Mountain Desert?” Mohini asked sharply, her tone laced with suspicion.
Duran smirked, his face unreadable. “It is a place far from here, a barren wasteland where few survive. Consider it an act of mercy—I will not dirty my hands by executing you here. If your Kent truly values you, perhaps he will come to save you.”
Fatty paled. “But—that’s a death sentence!”
Duran’s gaze turned cold. “Better that than the alternatives I’ve considered.”
The wizard raised his hands, chanting in an ancient tongue. Runes began to glow around Fatty and Mohini, and before they could protest further, the spell was complete. A blinding light engulfed them, and they were gone.
Meanwhile, back at the Hall of Sacred Fire, the Seven Eternal Sages stood in solemn silence, their hands folded as they completed the count of the lit lamps. Thousands of flames flickered in their respective hues—golden Nirvanic flames on one side and red Eternal Sacred Fire on the other.
The 1st sage finally stepped forward, his voice echoing through the chamber. “The results are clear. Kent, your Original Nirvanic Flame has lit thirty-three more lamps than Ignira’s Eternal Sacred Fire. You have proven yourself the worthier protector for the sacred ritual.”
Kent bowed respectfully, his expression calm but resolute. “Thank you, revered sages. I will not fail you.”
Ignira’s fiery eyes burned with frustration as she crossed her arms. “Hmph! A narrow victory doesn’t make you better than me, Kent. Mark my words—you’ll crumble under the weight of responsibility.”
Kent smirked, unfazed. “I’ll take my chances. Maybe you should focus on improving yourself instead of whining.”
Ignira’s hands clenched into fists, but before she could retort, the elder sage raised his hand for silence. “Enough. Kent, you will begin your preparations immediately. The journey to the ritual site begins tomorrow. Sage Konan, spread the word to the disciples who will accompany us.”
Konan bowed deeply. “It will be done, Master.”
As the sages began to disperse, Ignira lingered, her gaze fixed on Kent. She had made up her mind—she would follow him to the ritual site, not as a protector but as an observer, waiting for the moment when he faltered.
Kent glanced at her, noticing the determination in her eyes. “You’re not giving up, are you?”
Ignira smirked. “I’ll see this through to the end. And when you fail, I’ll be there to take your place.”
Kent chuckled, his confidence unshaken. “Good luck with that.”