Birthday Party
"Ah, Young Master Fuoco! I've brought the black attire, just as you requested"
Matila exclaimed as she hurried into the room, her arms cradling a bundle of dark fabric, the smooth silk glinting faintly in the soft candlelight. Fuoco nodded in acknowledgement, his expression unreadable as he accepted the clothes Matila offered. With a swift motion, he slipped into the attire, the fabric draping elegantly over his frame, blending seamlessly with the shadows of the room.
"Ah, young Master Fuoco, you cut quite the figure in that elegant black attire. "The party is on the verge of commencing. Shall we make our entrance?"
Matila whispered, her gaze lingering on Fuoco's striking silhouette. His piercing eyes, like molten gold, shimmered beneath the soft glow of the chandeliers, adding an enigmatic allure to his already captivating presence.The fabric hugged his form, accentuating his broad shoulders and chiseled features.
"Ah, but as I mentioned earlier, certain memories elude me due to a past accident, assist me by jogging my memory, highlighting the significant ones, and elucidating the names and relationships of those involved."
Fuoco issued instructions to Matilla, , his gaze darting away from Matilla's eyes. He possess the ability to delve into Fuoco's original memories effortlessly. However, confined to the mortal realm within a mortal vessel, he found himself unable to access even a fraction— a mere 0.001%— of his true power. The mortal shell he inhabited trembled at the mere thought of containing his bizarre, raw, and immense power and mana.
"Sure, Young master Fuoco."
Matila nodded, a smile gracing her lips, and together, Matila and Fuoco exited the room, their footsteps echoing down the corridor as they made their way to the grand party hall.
The hall, adorned with shimmering streamers and vibrant balloons, greeted them with an air of festivity. Its spacious expanse stretched out before them, filled with the lively chatter of guests and the soft hum of music in the background. The walls were adorned with glittering banners, announcing the joyous occasion of Fuoco's birthday.
"The youngest heir of Cattivo has arrived. Oh my goodness! He's quite the handsome young lad."
"But he's just ten, so hands off, ladies."
"Haha!"
"Why's he dressed in black? Is black off-limits in Asgard?"
"Isn't he in trouble?"
"Perhaps he's wearing it to defy Asgard? What nerve this kid has..."
The birthday hall buzzed with chatter as Fuoco made his entrance.
"Ah, the youngest of the Cattivo clan! It appears you're tempting fate, aren't you? You do realize our patriarch bleeds loyalty for the Asgard Empire. Yet here you are, donned in black on your tenth birthday? You certainly possess nerve..."
Yuron Cattivo, the seventh legal heir of the Cattivo lineage, born of the patriarch's second wife, taunted Fuoco amidst the murmurs of the gathering. The patriarch of the Cattivo household had taken four wives: the first, blessed with an eldest daughter and two sons; the second, with three sons and a daughter; and the third, Fuoco's own mother, who bore a daughter and a son — Fuoco himself.
In the territory of Deffero, any legal heir, regardless of gender, can vie for the esteemed position of grand duke of the territory, held by the patriarch of Cattivo Family. Consequently, the siblings regard each other through a lens of competition rather than affection.
"Who's this kid? Is he seeking his demise?"
An annoyed Fuoco inquired, glancing at Matilla.Matilla's eyes were filled with a mix of anger and worry in response to Yuron's incessant chatter.
"What? Kid? I'm older than you, moron. And why are you talking like an old man? Have you finally lost your mind out of fear?"
Yuron exclaimed, jumping in anger and embarrassment. Fuoco, however, remained indifferent to Yuron's taunts. He could easily kill a kid if he wanted to. Though magic spells might be challenging for him now, the martial arts techniques ingrained in his mind were far more advanced and refined than those of the mortal world.
But in his days as a sovereign, nobody dared to mock him. Merely mentioning his name in hell or heaven was enough to instill fear. Dealing with this kid's ramblings was a new experience for him, and he wasn't enjoying it one bit. He was no masochist, after all.
"The patriarch of the Cattivo Family, the grand duke of the Daffero Territory, and the esteemed hero of the Asgard Empire, makes his grand entrance!"
With the opening of the grand gate adorned with lavish decorations and a crimson carpet rolled out before it, all eyes turned toward the entrance. The patriarch of the Cattivo family, accompanied by his four wives and a retinue of esteemed guests, swept into the hall with an air of authority and distinction.
Amidst a hushed murmur of respect and awe, the patriarch took his place upon the elevated platform at the heart of the hall, his presence commanding attention and reverence from all who beheld him.
"He's strong, stronger than anyone in this hall. Perhaps one of the mightiest in the entire Asgard Empire. Yet, with all that power, he couldn't even secure a gatekeeper position in hell"
Fuoco remarked, his gaze fixed on the patriarch as he scanned him with keen eyes. Silence fell over the room, whether out of fear or respect, Fuoco couldn't discern. Yuron, who had been incessantly rambling before, suddenly fell silent, adopting the demeanor of a proper adult in the presence of the patriarch.
In the party hall, the patriarch extended his mana, enveloping the entire space in his power. His intent was clear: to detect any intruders or individuals harboring murderous thoughts.
**Zzhnn**
Suddenly, a tremendous wave of malevolent murderous intent surged through the air, alerting the patriarch's senses. Anxiously, he turned his head towards the source, finding none other than his own son, Fuoco Cattivo, the youngest heir of the family.
"Pfft! Look at him, shaking his head like a clueless goat, Imagine a mere mortal trying to probe the space I stand in with his mana. How dare he! I can't believe I didn't kill him"
Fuoco sneered, his irritation evident. Fuoco's annoyance bubbled over, releasing a mere fraction of his formidable murderous intent. Even this small fraction was potent enough to scare the patriarch. If he unleashed his full power, the devastation would span hundreds of kilometers, leaving death and decay in its wake, rendering the land barren for eternity.