If there was one thing demonic supernaturals did above all else, it was disloyalty and lack of unity.
They could stand on the sa side, but that alone never guaranteed the qualities one would expect from a proper team.
Brian looked at the gray figure with rage burning in his eyes, but he soon cald down, listening absentmindedly to what the man was saying.
A few seconds later, Brian's breath ca in ragged pulls as he forced himself to steady his emotions.
The gray robed figure glanced back at him, finally satisfied that the boy was listening.
"After years of planning," he said casually, as if recounting a boring story, "we finally succeeded in doing what no single race in Hell could accomplish alone."
"As you know," the man continued, "the Aurora group was never alone in its dissatisfaction. Other races felt it too. Minor races, major ones, small and large alike. Many despised the way the realms were being governed."
He stepped forward, boots crunching over shattered stone.
"For the first ti in a very long while, they ca together as a movent."
"There were three pillars to the plan," the gray figure said, raising a finger. "First, we kept the strongest existences in Hell occupied."
A second finger rose.
"Second, we stalled long enough for the Demon Lord of the thirtieth floor to revive. That alone pushed several of our plans forward." There were many things the demonic supernaturals within Aurora
wanted to achieve, but due to their status as Aurora humans, they could not act openly.
The reason was simple. Many races would turn against Aurora solely because it was humans taking action.
The goal of the demonic faction was never to destroy the realm. It was to control it.
That was where the Demon Lord of the thirtieth floor ca in.
If anything went wrong, the bla could easily be placed on the Demon Lord instead.
There were many more layers to it.
Then the gray figure raised a third finger.
"And third, we moved to seize control of the realm gates leading into Hell."
The gray figure's smile faded slightly.
"That part, like the second one," he said quietly, "was never ant for everyone."
"It was ant for Aurora and for a handful of other races who chose to follow our lead. Mostly minor races who saw the Aurora group as their banner."
He scoffed.
"And out of all three plans," he said, his voice turning sharp, "that was the one that failed."
Brian's nails dug into his palms again.
"All that preparation was made useless by a youth who was still wet behind the ears."
"Michael."
The na surfaced like poison in Brian's mind.
No matter how many tis Brian tried to bury it, it always rose again, uninvited and unwanted, sitting at the center of his thoughts like a thorn that had grown roots.
Since the day he was born, Brian had never truly taken anyone as a rival.
Not the so called geniuses.
Not the instructors who praised him with complex smiles.
Not the peers who tried to asure themselves against him, only to crumble after a single exchange.
He had grown up believing the world was arranged in layers, and that he was born above most of them.
Then Michael arrived.
A boy with nothing.
A boy who should have been crushed early and forgotten.
Instead, he rose.
Fast.
Too fast.
Why.
The word scread inside Brian's skull, so loud it nearly drowned out
the gray figure's voice.
Why did it have to be him?
He was handso.
Even that annoyed Brian, because it was effortless. Michael did not
try, and people still looked twice. Girls smiled. n respected him.
Then there was a loving family, or at least sothing close enough that it still counted in Brian's eyes.
Then there was power.
Real power.
Brian did not understand why all of it was happening to one man, as if Michael were the main character of the world itself.
Why did he have all of this?
What was the secret?
Inside his head, Brian scread the question again and again until it
felt like his skull itself was shaking.
Why.
Why.
Why.
Then the truth rose up, simple and ugly, and Brian could no longer
avoid it.
Jealousy.
Yes.
Brian admitted it silently, and the admission tasted like ash.
He was jealous of Michael.
That was why he hated him.
Not because Michael had wronged him.
But because Michael existed, and shone brighter than him every
single ti by an unbearable margin.
And that was also why, deep down, a part of Brian felt a dark, shaful satisfaction at the gray robed figure's words.
The demonic faction had taken notice of Michael.
Good.
He wondered how long Michael had left to live.
Still, despite those thoughts, there were more pressing matters at
hand.
"What do we do now?" Brian asked. "If the first floor plan failed, then
what is left?"
The gray robed figure did not answer imdiately.
He turned his head slowly, as if Brian had just asked sothing childish, and his eyes glead with cold amusent.
"You are the Vice Hall Master's son," he said, "yet you speak as though
you understand nothing."
Brian's fingers curled.
"To be honest," the man continued, his tone lazy but sharp, "you are
not even worthy to hear the full structure of what the hall prepared."
"But," he added, as if granting rcy, "I will enlighten you."
He began walking in slow circles.
"The movent was never of one mind," he said. "Most races only
shared one thing. Resentnt. Hatred for how the realms are run. Hatred for the chains around their throats."
"So when we moved, we moved together only for the parts that
benefited everyone. After that, each group chose its own thod to bring chaos to its realm."
Brian frowned. "aning?"
"aning," the gray robed figure replied, "the races that did not follow Aurora's banner scattered and pursued their own paths."
A faint smile touched his lips.
"And we," he said, "had our own path as well."
Brian's eyes narrowed. "Through the first floor."
"Yes," the figure replied. "Through the first floor and through the
Demon Lord."
"The Demon Lord?" Brian repeated, confused. "Wasn't he revived just
to cause more chaos?"
The gray robed figure looked at him as if he were slow.
"Of course he causes chaos," he said. "That is what he is."
His eyes sharpened.
"But do you really think we would release sothing we cannot
control?"
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