CHARACTER ONE — ZEPHYR ZAREK

CHARACTER ONE — ZEPHYR ZAREK

For centuries, the worlds of demons and angels have been locked in bitter enmity.

Yet long ago, they once shared a realm, their powers intertwined in harmony.

But envy festered within the hearts of the demons, drawn to the brilliance of the angels’ might.

Slowly, cunning and malice took hold—demons captured the angels and stole their divine power.

Thus began a war that would span the ages, a conflict that continues to this very day.

Zephyr Zarek did not believe in mercy.

He did not believe in goodness.

He did not believe in loyalty — only in survival, power, and the clarity of the game.

From the moment he could walk, he understood one truth:

the world is a chessboard, and everyone else is a piece.

Pawns, knights, bishops — all expendable. Only the king moves with purpose, and only the king survives.

Even now, centuries later in his mind, the battlefield was always visible, arranged in meticulous patterns. Angels, demons, humans — every soldier, every leader, every whisper of a traitor — all seen, all anticipated. He thought several moves ahead. There was no hesitation. There was no mercy.

A Throne Taken Too Early

When Zephyr was ten years old, his father ruled the Under World. A man who spoke of “honor” and “compassion” as if they could protect kingdoms.

“You cannot rule with a heart full of mercy,” his father once said, laughing at Zephyr’s quiet gaze. “You need kindness. You need fairness.”

Zephyr did not smile.

He did not argue.

He only waited.

Because kindness, he had learned, was a luxury the strong could not afford. The weak survived only for a moment — until the strong claimed what was theirs.

That night, he acted.

He did not raise his voice. He did not scream.

He removed the obstacle between himself and the throne.

By the morning, the Under World was silent.

The throne was his.

And the court whispered his new name:

The Blood Killer.

Not because of the blood that spilled —

but because no one who betrayed him ever lived to regret it.

He did not smile. He did not cry.

He only walked, and the world stepped aside.

Four siblings, all younger, all potential threats, were removed quietly, efficiently. No regret. No hesitation.

For Zephyr, they were obstacles, not family.

Survival required nothing else.

Since that day, obedience came automatically.

Not loyalty, not love.

Fear.

And fear was enough.

Eyes of the Moon, Hair of Night

Zephyr’s eyes were pale gray, glowing faintly like moonlight on a blade — beautiful from a distance, terrifying up close.

His black hair fell like shadows across his shoulders, dark as the endless nights of the Under World.

When he moved, the air seemed to pause.

Not because he commanded it, but because the world understood: he is dangerous.

Even demons — those who had served him all their lives — bowed low when he passed.

Not out of devotion.

Out of survival instinct.

His mind, like always, played a silent game.

The world was chess.

Every move mattered.

Every piece that moved incorrectly would be removed.

The Upper World Incursion

Now, his army had reached the Upper World.

The angels were stunned by the silence, by the order, by the black tents rising on the plains like ink bleeding across white paper.

Zephyr did not strike yet.

Chaos was not his tool — calculation was.

Every camp, every formation, every patrol was designed to provoke fear without fire, confusion without blood.

Arkan, his commander, stood beside him.

“My lord, the angels watch from the distance. They have yet to act.”

Zephyr smiled thinly. Not with warmth.

With understanding.

With menace.

“Good. Let them watch. Let them wonder. Let them fear patience more than flame.”

Arkan hesitated. “You plan to lure them?”

Zephyr’s gray eyes cut him like ice.

“I do not lure them. I prepare them.

The strongest moves when the opponent is certain of victory.

The foolish rush into the obvious trap.”

He leaned closer to the chessboard etched into the table, pale pieces in the shape of angels and demons neatly lined.

“Goodness,” he said softly, “is a weakness that believes itself clever.

I remove weaknesses first.”

The Capture of Digo

Hestia’s trusted assistant, Digo, had crossed into Zephyr’s territory.

He was cautious, clever, and completely unaware of the game unfolding.

Silas, the strongest of Zephyr’s soldiers, caught him before he could retreat.

No unnecessary harm. No spectacle. Zephyr hated waste.

Digo was brought before the throne.

He lifted his chin. “I am only observing. Release me and there will be no trouble.”

Zephyr studied him slowly.

Softly. Calmly. Like someone examining a piece on a board, considering its value, and calculating the optimal move.

“You serve her,” Zephyr said. “Which means you are valuable.

But value is not safety.”

He snapped his fingers, and Silas restrained Digo further.

Chains were silent, but their meaning was clear: move incorrectly, and the game ends.

“Your queen sent you because she trusts you,” Zephyr continued.

“Good. That is why you live.

But know this: if she comes with armies, he dies first.”

Arkan whispered, almost afraid:

“You truly wish to provoke her?”

Zephyr’s smile was almost casual.

“Yes. I wish to see if she is the myth they all claim — or just another pawn afraid of the board.”

The Letter

That evening, Zephyr penned a letter to Hestia.

Not threatening. Not impolite. Precise.

To Hestia, Queen Above:

Your servant is alive.

If you wish him returned, come yourself. Alone.

No armies, no games, no interference.

Come, and we will see whose will prevails.

Sealed with black wax, the letter traveled to her camp.

Zephyr leaned back.

“I do not need her to kneel,” he said softly. “

I only need her to reveal whether she fears losing… or fears death.”

In that moment, something rare flickered in him.

Curiosity.

Interest.

The faintest trace of obsession.

And in his mind, the first moves of a new game began.

The First Confrontation

When Hestia arrived — alone — the demons parted like waves.

Her presence was calm, controlled. Fearless.

But Zephyr noted the tension in her stance.

The way her eyes flicked to Digo — concern. Respect. Power.

He stepped forward, smooth, silent.

“You came,” he said. Gray eyes cold. Sharp.

“Many would have fled and screamed.”

“I came for my servant,” she said softly, piercingly.

He smiled faintly, a predator amused.

“Humans call that courage. I call it a test.”

“You call cruelty wisdom,” she replied, “but it is weakness.”

Zephyr’s laugh was quiet, chilling.

“And you call restraint strength, yet your servant trembles because of me.

Tell me, Queen of Light — are you strong because of justice,

or because you have never been broken?”

Her gaze locked with his.

“I do not kneel.”

“Everyone kneels,” he said softly.

“Some just do it later.”

For a heartbeat, silence ruled the world.

Two rulers, one light, one shadow.

Both calculating.

Both fearless.

Both playing the first moves of a game that could last forever.

***Download NovelToon to enjoy a better reading experience!***