Previously~
As the celebration carried on, Vincent quietly slipped away from the dining hall.
He walked toward the baby room, his expression calm—except for the slight smirk curling at the corner of his lips. He reached the door and placed a hand on it.
"Let's meet our dear reincarnators, shall we?" he murmured, a sinister glint flashing in his eyes.
CREAK.
The door slowly swung open.
—---------------------------------------------------------------
Location- Duskrane Castle, Duskrane County
Date- 25th, Month of Zephyris, XXXX
"Hello, brothers!" Vincent entered the room with a loud clap.
CLAP!CLAP!
"Congratulations! You guys have finally reincarnated." the baby boys looked at him in horror. Then, at each other.
Vincent smirked.
"Now, now please do the emotional stuff elsewhere. I'm here to talk about business."
"Aboo!" Leonatus(brown haired) protested.
"Gaah!Gaah." Raphaeldor(black haired) waved his hand with a frowning expression.
"Ohh! Please don't frown." Vincent placed a hand on his heart.
"You look terrible." the mood changed in an instant, Vincent's purple eyes shone with a frenzy expression. The smile on his lips, terrifying.
Just when Leonatus was about to cry for help.
"HUSH!"
Vincent placed a finger on his lips. The babes gulped, awaiting something sinister.
"Hahaha!"
The laughter stopped like a record scratch.
His head lowered, shadow swallowing half his face—except those eyes, now glowing with something ancient and cruel. The corners of his mouth curled upward, slow and unnatural, revealing teeth clenched in something between a grin and a snarl.
It wasn't just a glare—it pierced.
The air grew cold, suffocating.
In that moment, he looked less like a man and more like a demon wearing human skin—an oni stepping out of myth with wrath in its wake.
The babies could not hold it in anymore. Tears started forming in their eyes. Their bedding, wet.
But in a moment- Vincent went back to his jolly self- "Don't worry I'm just gonna seal your memories-" he placed a hand on his chin.- "For five years, maybe?"
The babies resisted turning their heads. They looked at him as if asking why.
The babies squirmed, tiny fists flailing, heads shaking violently side to side—as if trying to scream, "Why, Vincent?! Why?!"
Vincent just smiled.
Not the warm, uncle-next-door kind of smile. No—this was Vincent's smile. That slightly-too-wide, definitely-too-still smile that suggested he hadn't slept in three days and had been making life decisions under the influence of espresso and existentialism.
He tapped one of their foreheads with a single finger. "Shhh. No more questions. Brother Vinnie is doing you a favor."
The babies whimpered.
He sighed dramatically, glancing at the ceiling like he was speaking to the universe itself.
"Listen. I'm not letting a bunch of grown-up boys run around with toddler brains and unresolved emotional attachments to my aunt's chest. That's just…" he trailed off, waving a hand in a vague, spiraling motion. "That's weird, right? I'm not the crazy one here."
He was definitely the crazy one here.
But he hummed a little lullaby anyway, one finger glowing with the sigil's power, ready to erase memories like someone wiping chalk off a board.
"Sleep tight, little guys. When you wake up, you'll just remember cookies and rainbows. No chest trauma, I promise."
Vincent held them still in a second. Then a small sigil appeared on their foreheads.
A circle appeared, black spiral coiled from the center outward, jagged and uneven—like it was drawn by a shaking hand.
At its heart is a vertical slit pupil, set inside an unnervingly detailed human eye.
One half of the sigil is smooth and symmetrical, decorated with elegant lines and feathers—while the other is chaos incarnate: scratched, broken shapes, like a child crawling over art.
Hidden within the outer ring are tiny grinning mouths, some upside-down, some stitched shut. A cracked crown hovers above, just barely intact.
And dripping from the bottom curve… blood. Or ink. You can't tell which.
The children fell back to sleep. Vincent walked up to the window with a smile.
WHOOSH!
A sudden whoosh cut through the silence—like wind slicing silk.
The crow swept overhead, wings flapping with a deep, leathery fwump-fwump, trailing a rush of cold air behind it.
Feathers rustled like dry leaves, and a harsh caw! echoed as it disappeared into the gloom.
A letter dropped from the air at the window ledge.
In black ink, a name was written- Nvyhar.
A wax seal bore a symbol. A downward crescent moon cradles a vertical slit eye at the center—ever-watching, unblinking. Black feathers form a circular frame, from which three crow heads emerge: left, right, and down.
It was a letter from the God of Crows and Darkness, Nvyhar.
Vincent opened the letter-
—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dear,
Mad God Vinnie,
It's me, old man Nvyhar. I will croak in a few decades. What a fitting death for a false God. Mad God, since I introduced you to the God Realm you owe me a favour. Duel with me, kill me and find a successor for my powers.
Those old coots don't know about you. They still believe you and I died a year ago. I will take full responsibility, no one will ever find you. Please give this old man the honor of a last dance.
If you are ready, tear the letter.
P.S.- Bring some wine from your kitchen too.
Yours Truly
Nvyhar.
—----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Vincent smiled, an expression of sadness washed over his face. He tore the letter without a second thought.
TEAR!
WHOOSH!
Vincent had warped to a dark tunnel. obelisks lit the way with green flames. As Vincent exited the tunnel, he entered a large room. It was as big as a colosseum, a big green stone was etched at the centre of the ceiling emanating light, surrounded by numerous smaller stones.
Vincent looked up, on a tall altar sat Nvyhar.
Nyvhar appeared as an ancient man, draped in long, tattered robes the color of dying embers and crow feathers. His skin was pale, almost translucent, like parchment left too long in the dark. Wrinkles fold across his face like old maps—etched with time, sorrow, and secrets unsaid. His eyes were mismatched: one milky white, the other a deep void with a vertical slit, as if a crow's gaze had taken root within him.
Instead of a crown, he wears a circlet of broken iron feathers, hovering just above his brow, never touching.
Vincent smirked, he hunched his back. His hands went up to his face, hiding his maniacal smile.
"Old man, even after spending centuries in the God Realm."- he bent lower.- "Did you not understand why I am called the Mad God?"
He stomped his foot. "Even Aerithar the First Flame can't stand above me!" A pressure fell on the room. Energies began pulsating violently.
Nvyhar's altar crumbled, falling to ruin. Nvyhar rose up, his throne perfectly fine even among the rubble
"Let's dance!" Vincent stretched out his hand, opening his palm.
Purple energy covered Vincent, his form changed to that of an eighteen year old Vincent. His shirt and shorts transformed into a pair of tracksuit.
"You are not taking this at full power are you?" Nvyhar raised his brow.
"How?" Vincent tilted his head.
"That's an ordinary tracksuit." he pointed at the tracksuit.- " And it hasn't been washed for years." Nvyhar covered his nose.
"I am here for a dance, why be formal?"
"That strikes a nerve!" Nvyhar took out feathersword, a sword that looks like a thin needle, like a crow's feather.
[START]
A hologram glowed above them.
RUSH!
CLANG!