After the talk with Demiurge and the others, Arthur didn't return to Celestial Brews. He wasn't in the mood.
Instead, he made his way to his private chambers in Nazarick.
As he arrived, he saw Solution standing vigil at the door. Her posture was perfect, as always. The moment her eyes met his, she dropped to one knee, head bowed.
"Welcome back, Ancient-sama. The room is exactly as you left it," she said with her usual soft, elegant tone.
"Oh… thank you, Solution. You can get up," Arthur replied, his voice heavy with fatigue.
He was just about to enter when she spoke again.
"Would you like to have company for the night?"
In most cases, he would have welcomed it. Solution's touch, her presence—it was comforting in its own way. But not tonight. Not with the weight pressing on his shoulders.
Arthur leaned in and kissed her softly on the lips.
"Thank you for the offer, Solution… But I need some time alone."
"As you wish, my lord." She smiled gently, clearly pleased by the kiss despite the rejection.
Arthur entered the room and let the silence swallow him. He moved to the bed and lay down, staring up at the ceiling. Minutes passed.
A sweet, almost intoxicating scent hung in the air.
"…It seems Albedo was here," he muttered with a light chuckle.
Then a long sigh escaped his lips.
"Friday, why didn't I know beforehand that Demiurge was going to get attacked?" Arthur asked.
His ability Foresight, which enables him to see events before they happen. But the attack on Demiurge was something Friday didn't inform him about.
Arthur knew Friday wouldn't hide such a thing, as she knows that Arthur didn't like to see his subordinates hurt.
[Because I didn't see anything, Sir.]
That answer gave him pause.
"… What do you mean, Friday?"
Exactly what I said. The ability 'Future Sight' cannot see Throximus's future. From my speculation, they—]
"They accepted Ophis's power," Arthur finished for her.
Ophis—the Infinite Dragon God. A being not born of flesh, but of the very concept of infinity. She was the one entity Future Sight had never been able to predict.
Because how do you read a future that splits into infinite paths at every moment?
To look into her future was to look into endless chaos. A storm of possibilities with no beginning, no end.
Arthur closed his eyes.
"I still don't get how the Red Dragon is considered the strongest in canon," he muttered. "Infinity should trump Dream…"
But then again, he had no right to complain. In his destructive form, he stood beyond both. Beyond Infinity. Beyond Dream. Beyond all systems.
And he knew, without a doubt, who had discovered this weakness in his foresight.
"Was it Azeroth who discovered this weakness of mine?" Arthur asked.
[Most Likely, Sir, From what I understand, only he has the brain to pull this or maybe he accepted Lady Ophis's power increases his resistance.]
Azeroth is Arthur's second child, and he is his son between Aurora.
When Azeroth was born, Friday said to kill him, but Arthur, being a new father, refused her. So none of what is happening is Friday's fault.
Was it his fault? Arthur didn't know the answer to that question; he believed that he raised all of them with everything he got. Love. Power. Wisdom. The best of himself—and maybe some of the worst too. But he gave everything.
"I need to meet Throximus. Friday, open the gate to where he is. Arthur asked.
[Right away, Sir.]
Without hesitation, space twisted. Shadows curled inward, pulling at the edges of reality until a black vortex bloomed before him, swirling like a wound in the world.
Arthur didn't move immediately. He stood still, letting the hum of the vortex fill the room, the scent of Albedo's perfume still clinging faintly in the air.
He closed his eyes and whispered, more to himself than to Friday:
"…Let's see what my son has become."
🔹🔹🔹
Arthur emerged from the vortex and stepped onto the scorched, cracked earth. The red fog clung to his cloak like living tendrils, swirling.
Before him stood Throximus, his second-born son—born of Arthur and the Jötunn Queen Angrboda.
For anyone else, he was suffocating, but for Arthur, he was nothing new.
Sensing Arthur's presence, Throximus turned around and looked at him.
"Hello, Father." Throximus said, with a deep voice carrying across the field like thunder over an empty sea. "I was waiting for you."
Because Throximus was half Jötunn, his body was immense—easily twice Arthur's height—with muscle hardened by countless battles.
His upper body wore no armor. He needed none. His skin, black and red like charred obsidian laced with magma, shifted with unnatural toughness. It pulsed like it breathed, each breath releasing trails of black smoke and crimson mist.
What little he wore hung loosely—scarlet sashes tied with giant golden rings, charms of unknown origin, and blood-drenched cloth that barely concealed the raw destruction he embodied. Runes and carvings moved across his skin.
Resting on his shoulder, Billion Black radiated malevolence. The blade—a massive slab of blood-forged steel—was nearly as tall as Throximus himself.
[IMAGE HERE]
[You can't defeat him in this form—Incubus Form—as long he has Billion Black, Sir.] Friday said.
'I know that, Friday. Truthfully, I don't want to fight him but he didn't seem to agree with my opinion.' Arthur said to Friday mentally.
[Well, Sir, you are going to put him in the prison as his punishment so Of course, he is going to Resist.]
"Throximus," he called out, his voice was loud but not unkind, "if you come with me peacefully, we can avoid unnecessary bloodshed. There's still a way back."
Throximus barked out a sharp laugh, the sound booming across the crimson field.
"What's this? Cold feet, old man?" He mocked, grinning with a feral gleam in his eyes.
A faint twitch appeared on Arthur's temple. His brow furrowed. Old man?
He raised his gaze, his tone shifting—low, cutting, and absolute.
"Listen well, boy. In the hierarchy of predators… the lion does not fear the bark of a jackal."
The smile vanished from Throximus's face.
"Is that so?" Then Throximus put his sword to the ground. "Only one way to find out."
~~~
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