Temple of the Demon Lord of Wishes

Ivaim gave Darian a slow, easy grin.

"You know, with that whole secretly-caring personality of yours, you don't have to fight in the arenas to help people."

Darian glanced at him briefly, his expression unreadable.

"I was born with the talent to fight. And I have my reasons for cultivating those skills... not just because I want to help people."

The words were steady, but there was an edge to them, one that made Ivaim hesitate for a moment before speaking again.

He rubbed the back of his neck, unsure of how far he wanted to push.

"If I told you that continuing to fight would get you killed... would you believe me?"

Darian's jaw tensed.

"No."

Ivaim frowned and looked off into the distance, his voice softening.

"The man who killed your father—he's planning to curse you."

Darian's brow furrowed, but he remained quiet.

"Once you step foot in the Coliseum of Chosens, there's no telling how you're gonna avoid it."

Ivaim warned.

Darian's voice was calm but edged with suspicion.

"How much do you know?"

"Not much."

Ivaim admitted, shrugging.

"But I do know this... he kept you alive all these years just for this moment—to pass the curse onto you."

Darian's expression didn't waver.

He paused a bit before finally replying.

"I know."

Ivaim blinked.

"Wait. You what?"

"I've known about the curse for a long time."

"You knew?" Ivaim's voice rose in disbelief.

"And you're still doing this? Still heading straight into it?"

Darian glanced at him before replying.

"I have to."

Ivaim's voice grew sharper.

"Your mother's been trying to keep you out of those arenas for this exact reason, and you're still willing to risk it? All of her worry—just tossed aside?"

There was a pause, heavy with tension.

'To be fair...

Ivaim thought grimly.

'Their whole family mess isn't my problem. But if this guy gets reborn as the Master of Cruelty... yeah, I can pretty much kiss my life goodbye.'

He sighed inwardly.

"You ever think about living for yourself, Darian? Or are you just set on dying for whatever reason you've cooked up in that stubborn head of yours?"

Darian didn't answer.

"You truly know nothing about my mother..."

Darian said, voice low but steady.

Ivaim tilted his head, brow furrowing.

"Enlighten me, then."

Darian's eyes remained distant, locked on some point far beyond the busy street where vendors called out their wares.

For a long moment, it seemed as if he wouldn't speak at all. But when he did, his words were measured, deliberate.

"Most people think that man wanted to curse me from the start..."

Darian began.

"But it wasn't like that..."

The weight of his words hung heavy in the air, drawing Ivaim's full attention.

"The curse was meant for my father."

Darian continued, his tone hardened by the memory.

"He was strong, powerful—capable of shaping the future in ways the man saw as dangerous. But strength wasn't the only reason."

Ivaim frowned.

"What do you mean?"

Darian's lips pressed into a thin line.

"My father was a good man. Despite all his power, he was still capable of kindness and love."

He paused, voice tightening.

"That's what made him eligible for the curse... the fact that he wasn't just strong, but compassionate towards others."

Ivaim's frown deepened.

"Then why didn't the guy pass the curse onto him?"

Darian's gaze darkened.

"Because of my mother."

Silence stretched between them, heavy and palpable.

"She made a deal..."

Darian said flatly, though a trace of bitterness laced his tone.

"When that man came to curse my father, my mother—Neli—offered someone else."

He hesitated for a breath, then added grimly.

"Me..."

Ivaim's eyes widened, disbelief flickering across his face.

"Wait.." he said slowly.

"You're saying Neli—your mother... personally offered her own son for the curse?"

He blinked, trying to wrap his head around it.

"That doesn't sound like her at all."

Ivaim muttered to himself.

The Neli he knew was fiercely protective and kind, a woman who would fight tooth and nail for the people she cared about.

A woman who literally helps out the neighborhood on a whim.

Darian's expression didn't waver.

"She didn't know me."

He said simply.

"I was just a child in her belly back then—unborn, nothing more than a possibility. But my father? She loved him. She knew him."

His voice grew quieter.

"And when it came down to it, she chose to save the man she loved over the child she hadn't met."

Ivaim exhaled sharply, the weight of the revelation sinking in.

"Does that mean your father is still alive?"

He muttered.

"Yes." Darian admitted.

"The man plans on freeing my father once the curse has been passed on to me."

Ivaim's brow furrowed.

"And you're just okay with that? Taking on a curse that was never meant for you?"

"No one is ever okay with it."

Darian replied evenly.

"But it doesn't change what needs to be done."

"Why?" Ivaim pressed.

"Why not just walk away from all this madness?"

Darian's answer was simple but resolute.

"Simply because I love my mother."

Ivaim blinked, surprised by the quiet conviction in his tone.

"You're risking everything for the person who handed you over for this curse? That makes no sense."

Darian's eyes didn't waver.

"She's the only family I have left. And more than that... she was just trying to save the man she loved. Maybe it was wrong, but I understand why she did it."

He paused, voice lowering.

"I wouldn't be here without her. That's enough."

They made their way back to the modest inn where they'd been staying.

The scent of roasted meat and stale ale lingered in the narrow corridors as they stepped inside.

Ivaim frowned as his eyes landed on Darian, who was shoving clothes and gear into a travel bag with methodical precision.

"Where are you going?"

Ivaim asked, suspicion creeping into his voice.

Darian didn't look up.

"The competition for the Coliseum of Chosens is in four days. Time to start heading there."

Ivaim's stomach twisted.

He went silent for a moment before saying sharply.

"If you intend to go there just to accept the curse, I won't allow you."
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'Damn it...'

Ivaim thought bitterly, his jaw tightening.

'So there's really no convincing this guy. He planned on accepting the curse from the start!'

The weight of the realization hit him hard.

'The moment he gets to the Coliseum, we're basically dead...'

Darian zipped up his bag and stood, his expression unreadable.

"Move," he commanded, voice cold.

Ivaim clenched his fists, his ability sparking to life.

The air grew heavier as he activated [Whisper].

"I said stay."

Ivaim's voice echoed softly, tinged with unnatural force.

Darian's steps faltered.

His brow furrowed as a strange sensation gripped his body—a momentary loss of control that made his muscles hesitate against his will.

Ivaim stepped closer, his eyes narrowed as he continued to use [Whisper].

"Listen to me, Darian. You're not some noble sacrifice for the greater good... You're just the easiest target. That curse is your mother's way of washing her hands clean of the problem and hoping it goes away."

His voice sharpened.

"She's not saving you. She's sacrificing you. And you're just going to lie down and let that happen?"

Darian's glare burned with defiance, though doubt flickered beneath it.

"You don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't I?" Ivaim pressed.

"She didn't make that deal for your sake, Darian. She made it to save herself and your father. She was fine throwing you to the wolves before you were even born. And now you're going to walk straight into that Coliseum and let them finish the job? That's pathetic."

Silence stretched between them, thick and heavy.

"Move..."

Darian said stubbornly, though his voice lacked its usual bite.

Ivaim's tone was relentless.

"You think giving up makes you strong? It doesn't. It makes you a coward. Don't just roll over and let your life be taken like it means nothing. Fight for it, Darian. If not for her, then for yourself."

For a moment, Darian's expression flickered—uncertainty, conflict, and perhaps something resembling a bitter understanding.

But just as quickly, the stoic mask returned.

"You really do talk too much..."

Darian muttered, his tone weary but grudgingly respectful.

Ivaim grinned faintly. "Yeah, but this time I'm right."

Ivaim let out a bitter laugh, though there was no humor in it.

'And here I was thinking my life was complicated.'

He shook his head.

'That's some twisted family loyalty right there.'

Darian's eyes flickered with something raw—grief, anger, maybe both... before the usual stoic mask slid back into place.

"It doesn't matter now." He said flatly.

"What's done is done."

But Ivaim could see through the façade. "You sure are stubborn..."

Darian didn't respond, but his silence was answer enough.

"I said... move."

Darian said as he pulled out the sword on his back.

Ivaim's eyes narrows as he activated [Whisper] once again.

"And I said stay here."