The Divine Snake Cult

Musty.

That was the best way to describe the first level of the tunnel. The pits were on the third level, where the structure was more dirt than the solid stone walls of the upper levels.

The Order had clearly made no effort to preserve the prison of the Divine Snake, yet they didn't want to cause any damage either.

Each level of the tunnel was separated by a door, the final one—known as the Gate of Hell—standing between the first level and the Peklo Forest, where the children had first been brought in.

Aziz had often wanted to ask the Divine Snake how it had become trapped here, why it couldn't simply leave its prison.

Something held him back, as though the question itself might offend the creature. He would take things one step at a time.

For now, he had moved their campfire into the first tunnel. Standing before the gates, he gazed out into the forest. As always, it was eerily quiet, with only the faintest noises from the distant camps reaching his ears.

He glanced over his shoulder. Delilah sat huddled in the corner, knees drawn to her chest, staring into the fire.

She hadn't spoken a word since the attack. When he had found her, she had clung to his arm, refusing to let go.

He had to calm her down before rushing into the forest to gather mapa leaves, a herb described by Master Xiang in the Lowly Serpent Breath.

After chewing them into a paste, he spat it out and gently applied it to the burn marks on her face. It wouldn't heal the scar—her appearance would be permanently altered—but at least it would prevent an infection.

On the other side of the fire, Marcus sat alone, avoiding Delilah's gaze. He hadn't said a word either, unwilling to look in her direction.

Aziz had wanted to speak with him, to pry at the mysteries surrounding the boy from the Verdant Heart Sect, but Marcus wouldn't talk in front of others.

Their conversation would have to wait. Now wasn't the time.

"It's been a few hours. It should be done by now," Aziz muttered under his breath, scanning the treeline. 

His sharp eyes caught a disturbance in one of the bushes. With a sigh of relief, he watched as the long, limbless obsidian snake slithered out, weaving toward him with a sense of purpose.

Mal moved faster now, excitement evident as he sensed his master waiting. A faint smile appeared on Aziz's face—he couldn't help but admire his companion. Mal had grown thicker, more robust, and soon Aziz worried the snake would no longer be able to hide in his hair once fully grown.

The shimmering black scales were like no other, glinting in the light, and those purple jewel-like eyes seemed to hold the very marvels of nature.

Mal reached him, instantly coiling up his leg and onto his shoulder, rubbing his head affectionately against Aziz's neck, seeking the warmth of his body.

"How did it go?" Aziz asked, scratching Mal under the chin, where the snake liked it most.

"He did as you commanded, master," Mal hissed, his voice satisfied. "After killing the one who ran, I followed big meat straight to the camp and delivered the message."

Aziz breathed out, pleased. "And the finishing touch?"

"Yes," Mal replied, his forked tongue flickering.

Aziz nodded, his gaze turning cold. It must have been quite a sight for the new Star King to see his subordinate convulse in agony, eyes bulging as he died the moment he delivered the message.

Fear was crucial when declaring war. There was never any intention of letting the three live after they had wronged him.

There was no remorse in Aziz's heart for their deaths.

Is this the value of life? he pondered. Is a person's worth defined by their actions?

The thought disturbed him, despite everything. If people were judged by their actions or thoughts, who determined that value?

Could one person declare what was moral, what was not? In the worst case, such thinking could lead to more death.

More destruction. More suffering. There had to be a deeper truth—Aziz just hadn't found it yet.

"Master?"

Aziz blinked, realizing Mal had called his name several times, pulling him back to the present.

"The injured man in the woods," Mal continued. "What will you do with him? There was a stench of death on him. I passed him near the edge of the forest on my way back. He doesn't seem like he'll last long."

Another one?

Glancing back at the two sitting by the campfire, Aziz decided they could wait a little longer. It was best to check out this dying man first.

Invoking the shadows, Aziz vanished, shadow-stepping outside the gates, following the direction Mal's snout pointed.

Not far into the forest, Aziz heard the labored breathing of someone nearby. Moving with the stealth of a shadow, he didn't break a single branch as he approached the figure slumped against a tree trunk.

Fallen leaves covered the man's head and shoulders, evidence that he hadn't moved in hours. Kneeling before the barely conscious figure, Aziz sighed, brushing off a few leaves.

"What are you doing here, Roof?" Aziz asked.

Roof's head lifted slowly, his skull resting heavily against the tree. Aziz raised an eyebrow at the sight. He hadn't left Roof in this state—this was far worse.

The young noble had been beaten to a pulp, blood oozing from every part of him. His bones hadn't even begun to heal. Whoever had done this had shown no mercy.

Blood seeped from wounds covered in hastily applied herbs Roof must have found in the forest. His leg was still broken, meaning he'd crawled all the way from the eastern side of Peklo Forest to the south.

Roof's lips parted, trying to form words, but only a hoarse groan escaped.

Through his swollen, bruised face, one good eye focused on Aziz—not with a plea for mercy, but with something else.

There was still pride in that eye. It wasn't begging for help. It was giving Aziz a choice: leave him to die or help him. The decision was his.

"Who did this to you?" Aziz asked, his voice steady.

"My King's Hand," Roof rasped, barely audible.

The very men Roof had trained using resources from his benefactor had turned on him. Aziz stood there, uncertain.

He hadn't planned on taking care of so many people—it wasn't part of his original path. But Roof could still be useful.

For a moment, the two young men stared at each other, the forest around them eerily quiet, as though holding its breath, waiting to see what Aziz would do next. The branches above swayed in anticipation.

After a long pause, Aziz broke the silence.

"I still don't understand you, Roof. You're a mystery to me. Why act the way you did? Why sidle up to Nessa at first, pretending to court her, only to wage war on her later?"

Roof chuckled weakly, the sound rough and wet with blood. His bruised lips curled into the faintest smile before the effort sent him into a violent coughing fit.

Dark blood splattered onto the forest floor, and for a moment, Aziz thought the noble might not recover even with the help of the secrets of the Lowly Serpent Breath manual.

When the coughing subsided, Roof spoke, his voice faint but deliberate. "Because I needed her... at first."

Aziz raised an eyebrow, waiting.

Roof's head leaned back against the tree.

"Nessa is dangerous, but also naive. She needed allies in the forest, and I positioned myself as the most loyal of them. If she trusted me, she'd show me her hand—her weaknesses, her flaws. I thought I could break her from the inside. Act like I could be used. Act a fool. Make her depend on me, then take everything from her."

Aziz's expression remained neutral, but he didn't interrupt.

Roof exhaled sharply, his voice taking on a bitter edge. "But it didn't work. Nessa wasn't as simple as I thought. She didn't fall for tricks. She saw through me, kept her cards close. And when I realized she wasn't going to fall, I changed the plan." He hesitated, the memory clearly weighing on him. "I decided to kill her."

There was no drama in his admission, no theatrics. Just a simple statement of fact.

Aziz finally spoke, his tone dry. "Clearly, that didn't work either."

Roof let out a weak laugh, more bitter than amused. "No. It didn't."

He closed his good eye for a moment, his breath rattling. "Maybe I overestimated myself. Maybe I underestimated her. Or maybe I gambled wrong, but I played the hand I had."

Aziz regarded him in silence, his expression unreadable.

This wasn't the answer he expected, but it was an honest one. Roof hadn't acted out of petty spite or foolish pride. He had played a calculated game of survival and lost.

And now, here he was—broken, crawling to Aziz's feet for the slimmest chance to stay in the game.

Mal slithered closer, whispering in his ear, "Master, his breath is fading. He will die soon."

Aziz knew it. He could hear the man's heartbeat weakening with each passing second.

"Do you want to live?" Aziz finally asked.

Roof opened his one good eye again, uncertainty flickering in the depths.

"If you want to live, I can make that happen," Aziz continued, his voice calm but filled with promise. "But know this—there will be a price."

Seeing that Roof lacked the strength to respond, Aziz continued, "I'm planning to create a camp here in the forest—my own. The Divine Snake Cult. If you wish, you can join me. But know that in return, you will have to serve me."

Life or death. To live as a slave or die free of chains. That was the choice Roof faced. Aziz could see the uncertainty in his eyes and knew it wouldn't be enough.

Roof didn't care about being a slave—that much was clear. There was only one thing Roof truly cared about, and Aziz knew how to use it.

"I promise you this," Aziz added, his voice steady. "If you choose to join me, you will still have your chance for revenge. Though I am curious as to the reason why you want her dead, I will not pry. When the time comes, and if it suits our purpose, you will have my assistance."

Roof's eyes fluttered closed, and for a brief moment, Aziz thought he might refuse. Silence stretched between them, the forest still and watchful.

Then, Roof's voice rasped through the quiet.

"It seems I am indebted to you a second time, Ghost." He opened his one good eye, locking onto Aziz's intense, purple gaze. His voice, weak but earnest, broke the tension.

"Save me."