Ghost of Your Past

"Know this, child, that I issue this warning for your own good. It's futile if you intend to sever the threads of vengeance you've begun; everything will conspire to draw you back in," warned Malphas.

At that moment, Sergoth had deliberately concealed the extraordinary aura of his presence. He listened attentively to their conversation as they strolled casually toward Viktor's apartment.

Restless, Viktor didn't immediately respond to Malphas's warning. "Damn it! I'm fed up with all of this!" Viktor retorted, his lips sealed tightly.

"Hey!" Suddenly, Malphas, at the threshold of his patience, halted Viktor's movement.

Taking someone's life—especially if they were just a bystander in that accident—would undoubtedly incur the wrath of Elara, who had forbidden Malphas from taking human lives in Viktor's quest for vengeance.

"Damn it! You can ignore me and that accident, even though I've sacrificed so much. You are the culprit, the murderer, the puppeteer behind that accident!"

The provocative shout reached Sergoth's ears. He finally discovered Viktor's connection to Jansen's accident.

——- wn

Meanwhile, Malphas grappled with a sense of indignity stemming from Viktor's non-verbal disdain.

"Very well, my child. Even swine know how to express gratitude. From now on, regardless of the consequences, you must accept them," Malphas declared, disappearing into Elara's dimension to report Viktor's condition.

Indeed, the majestic being forged from flames felt that he, undeserving of harsh treatment, had been slighted by one of the weakest and most insignificant creatures in the cosmos—humans.

With a terrifying display, Sergoth unfurled his two imposing wings in a manner that seemed to command the very air around him. Each wing, dark and majestic, bore intricate patterns that hinted at ancient power.

Without hesitation, Sergoth took flight, soaring into the ethereal realm with the urgency of a messenger bearing crucial tidings.

Sergoth faced Octavius, his blurred form against the backdrop leaving an imprint of awe and fear in those who witnessed the unfolding spectacle. The room seemed to shudder under the sheer presence of his supernatural display.

"How did it go? Did you manage to bring me useful information?" Octavius inquired confidently, aware that Sergoth's abilities in gathering information and toppling adversaries were unmatched.

Sergoth restrained his smile, maintaining an air of arrogance and cold demeanor that was crucial to preserving his charismatic image.

"As you expected, Master. How could this creature possibly disappoint you?"

He strode toward the large window behind Octavius, positioned behind his desk. The demon pulled aside the curtains that obstructed the sunlight.

Octavius remained silent, withholding any comment on Sergoth's theatrical demeanor.

Sergoth then shifted the focus, not just on his achievements but also on the surroundings. "Oh, seriously? Why the fondness for all things dark? Dimly lit rooms, anything obscure? Reading with minimal light can make your eyes go blind... permanently," he remarked, a deadly smile playing on his lips as his breath generated sparks of fire.

Octavius's stoicism met Sergoth's flamboyance, creating an intriguing dynamic in the room. "You're quite adept at ridiculing people. Is that what you desire? What can you achieve by having a Master who is blind?" Octavius questioned, maintaining an air of composed authority.

"Hahaha, it's not mockery. It's a form of my concern—accept it, it's complimentary," Sergoth responded, the sparks of fire flickering but not diminishing his calm demeanor.

He closed the window blinds again, having thoroughly surveyed Octavius's expansive business empire visible through the glass walls of the skyscraper, dominating the skyline.

Sergoth's claws traced a path through the strands of Octavius's graying hair, his scaly fingertips sending a shiver across the aging mogul's scalp. The touch continued, caressing the wrinkles that etched Octavius's face.

"Master, you truly know how to utilize me," murmured Sergoth as he observed Octavius's business empire sprawled beneath them.

"Of course. Why else would I deploy you if not to secure victory?" Octavius replied with a confidence that seemed unyielding.

Sergoth's pointed fingers, coated in scales, continued their exploration, this time brushing against Octavius's face. He couldn't help but comment, "Master, you're aging. I need someone younger, someone with a longer lifespan to serve me better."

"But the predicament lies in our lifelong connection. What if I were to end your life?" Sergoth added, a hint of menace lacing his words.

Octavius's response was a small smile, followed by a quiet laughter that resonated with a blend of wisdom and indifference. His gaze remained fixed on the horizon, dismissing Sergoth's unsettling remarks.

"Forget these discussions. You should bring more pertinent matters to my attention," Octavius declared, steering the conversation away from the looming shadows Sergoth attempted to cast.

"Hah? True. I almost forgot because I was too indulged in this 'sarcastic' game," Sergoth responded with a smirking demeanor, his eyes glinting with a hint of wicked amusement. Returning to his original position, he stood tall, facing his illustrious Master.

"This kid, I found his connection to the accident that happened to Jansen—the whiny child."

Octavius, leaning against his imposing desk, raised an eyebrow in acknowledgment. "No, don't call him that. He's more pathetic than just a whiny kid."

Shoulder to shoulder, the two engaged in a darkly enjoyable ritual of demeaning Jansen.

The irony lay in the fact that Jansen was Octavius's true flesh and blood.

Both Master and demon reveled in Jansen's apparent inability to stand on his own, perpetually reliant on the support of his father.

"Yes, this kid..." Ralmas extended the picture of Viktor, previously handed to him. "He collaborated with a young, feeble demon to orchestrate that accident. It seems like this is related to your past, isn't it? When they conversed, revenge was the main topic of their discussion."

In the moment of revelation, Octavius became acutely aware of an overwhelming surge of emotions.

A sensation of tightness gripped his chest, engulfed in an unsettling heat that seemed to emanate from deep within.

It felt as though a part of his very core was smoldering, casting an eerie glow over the recesses of his consciousness.

Simultaneously, his brain pulsated with an unusual intensity, unleashing a torrent of memories long suppressed.

Dark fragments from his past surfaced with vivid clarity, casting shadows upon the walls of his thoughts.

The rhythm of his heart echoed loudly, its rapid beats resonating in tandem with the ominous and enigmatic revelations seeping through the layers of Octavius's subconscious mind.

As the weight of rediscovered memories pressed upon Octavius's consciousness, Sergoth observed the turmoil that gripped his master.

A sly grin played on the demon's lips, his eyes betraying a glimmer of wicked delight.

"Sergoth, what is happening to me? Why does it feel like my past is tearing through my present?"

"Ah, Master, it seems the ghosts of your past have grown restless, demanding attention."

Octavius, struggling to maintain composure, clenched his fists. "What have you done?"

The demon, enjoying the unraveling mystery, leaned in. "Nothing. I have merely illuminated the shadows that you've tried so hard to keep hidden. Your past is catching up with you, and there's no escape."