Rise Of The Dual Bound Sovereign

CHP 3: Swallowing Pride

“Mom!” Seeing the blood dripping from her lips, Azrael's face paled. For a moment, he froze, staring at the blood staining the sheets as panic gripped his heart.

Then he hurriedly rose from his chair and rushed toward the door.

“Nana!” he shouted urgently. “Nana, quickly!”

Just then, an elderly woman dressed in a maid's uniform hurried down the hallway as quickly as her aging legs would allow.

"Young Master Azrael, what happened?" she asked anxiously the moment she reached him.

"M-My... my mother..." Azrael stammered, his voice trembling as he pointed toward the bed.

Seeing the panic on his face, the elderly woman immediately understood that Helene's condition had worsened once again.

Without wasting a second, she turned around and hurried away.

As she left, Azrael returned to his mother's bedside and tightly held her hand.

At that moment, he felt utterly helpless. Watching her suffer while being unable to do anything about it felt like a knife twisting inside his heart.

The room fell into silence save for Helene's weak breathing.

After a few minutes, the elderly woman returned carrying a bowl of medicine. Seeing her arrive, Azrael quickly stepped aside, allowing her to move closer to the bed.

The elderly woman carefully supported Helene and gently fed her the medicine spoonful by spoonful.

As the medicine took effect, the pain on Helene's face gradually eased and her breathing slowly steadied. Before long, the exhaustion overtook her and she drifted into a peaceful sleep.

The moment Helene drifted off to sleep, Azrael finally let out a sigh of relief. Carefully, he adjusted the blanket around her and gently tucked her in, making sure she was comfortable.

Beside him, the elderly maid remained silent for a moment before gesturing for him to follow her outside. Azrael cast one last glance at his sleeping mother before quietly leaving the room with her.

Once they were far enough away, the elderly maid led him to a secluded corner of the hallway.

"Young Master Azrael..." she began hesitantly. "Madam Helene's condition is deteriorating far more rapidly than before."

Azrael's expression immediately darkened.

"The medicine I gave her just now can only ease her pain and help her rest," the maid continued. "It does nothing to treat the root cause of her illness."

Azrael remained silent, his hands slowly clenching into fists at his sides.

Seeing his reaction, the elderly maid let out a weary sigh.

"I didn't want to be the one to tell you this, but..." She paused briefly before continuing. "Madam Helene truly doesn't have much time left.”

Azrael's fists tightened even further, his nails digging into his palms.

For a few moments, neither of them spoke.

"How long?" he asked after a while, his voice barely above a whisper.

The elderly maid lowered her head.

"I cannot say for certain," she replied softly. "But at the rate her condition is worsening... I'm afraid she may not have many days left."

A heavy silence followed.

Azrael stood there motionless, his face unreadable. After a long while, he simply nodded. Without saying another word, he turned around and walked away.

He wandered through the estate aimlessly, the words of the elderly maid replaying endlessly in his mind. The rain had long since stopped,but the coldness in his heart remained.

—-------

The following morning…

"Have you heard? Young Master Lucien arrived late last night."

"Of course I heard. I was one of the guards stationed at the main gate."

"I heard Miss Mirabelle came with him as well."

"Tch... She really left Azrael for young Master Lucien. I mean I would do the same if I were in her shoes. Azrael is merely a cripple while his brother, Lucien is a blue grade talent, the difference between them is clear even to a blind man."

In Aetherion, there were seven known elements—Fire, Water, Earth, Air, Lightning, Darkness and Light element, each graded into six colors—Red, Orange, Yellow, Blue, Purple, and the legendary Violet grade.

Not too far away, Azrael who was standing behind a corridor pillar overhead everything.

The entire estate was already buzzing with talk about the banquet being held that evening—a celebration for Lucien’s return and his recent breakthrough into the Fusion Plane.

At first, Azrael remained indifferent to everything they said. Even the insults directed at him failed to stir any reaction.

But the moment he heard Mirabelle's name his expression darkened. For a brief moment, memories he had tried so hard to bury resurfaced.

He didn’t want to think about her. He had forced himself for so long to forget what they once had.

But now, he no longer had the luxury of ignoring it.

If Mirabelle truly stood beside Lucien now, then she might be his only path forward.

Since he could not reach his father, he would have to go through Lucien—the one favored by the entire Valcroy family.

And to reach Lucien… he would have to use his past bond with Mirabelle. Even if it meant swallowing his pride and begging her to speak to Lucien on his behalf regarding his mother’s condition.

Finding her location wouldn’t be too difficult for Azrael despite the size of the estate. All he needed to do was pay attention to the casual gossip exchanged between maids and guards, and he could gradually narrow it down.

After searching the estate for nearly thirty minutes, Azrael finally found her.

She was standing alone near a quiet courtyard garden, overlooking a small fountain at its center.

Water gently trickled from the carved stone structure, forming soft ripples that reflected the morning light. Around it, carefully maintained flowers swayed slightly in the breeze, adding a rare sense of peace to the otherwise cold estate.

She stood there silently, as if completely detached from the world around her, her gaze fixed on the calming scenery in front of her.

She had grown even more beautiful than the last time Azrael saw her, her features having matured slightly with time.

Azrael took a deep breath, steadying his emotions, before walking toward her.

Hearing his footsteps, she turned her head slightly, to see who was approaching. The moment her eyes landed on him, her brows knit faintly.

"Hi..." Azrael said awkwardly as he stopped in front of her.

"What do you want?" she asked flatly, her voice devoid of warmth, as though she were speaking to a total stranger rather than her former fiancé.

Azrael hesitated for a brief moment before exhaling. "I'll get straight to the point. I need your help."

At that, her expression remained unchanged.

"You know about my mother's illness. It's gotten worse over the past two years, and her condition is now critical. If she doesn't receive treatment soon, I’m afraid…"

He stopped midway, his voice trailing off unable to finish the sentence.

"So what do you want me to do about it?" she interrupted coldly. "I'm not a healer, nor am I an alchemist."

Azrael clenched his fist slightly.

"I can't reach my father. He considers me a disappointment… a disgrace to the family. He refuses to allocate even the smallest amount of resources to me," he said bitterly, before continuing. "And you know how he treats my mother."

Mirabelle tilted her head slightly, her gaze calm and unreadable.

"Let me guess," she said. "You want me to speak to Lucien on your behalf regarding your mother's condition, so he can convince your father to authorize treatment. Is that correct?"

"Yes," Azrael nodded.

"And why would I do that?" she asked without hesitation.

"Mirabelle..." A trace of disappointment flashed across Azrael's face. "Do you really have no compassion left for her? She loved you. She treated you like her own daughter. How can you be so heartless?" By the end, the pain and frustration he had been suppressing finally spilled into his voice causing this voice to rise several notches.

Mirabelle tilted her head slightly and let out a faint chuckle, seemingly finding his outrage amusing.

"To be honest, I never cared much for her," she replied indifferently. "I always found her far too clingy for my liking.

As she spoke, her gaze drifted toward the garden nearby.

"You can only imagine the sense of relief I felt when she became bedridden. I finally no longer had to spend every waking moment indulging her little attempts at mother-daughter bonding.”

Azrael froze.

For a moment, he simply stared at her, unable to believe what he had just heard. His lips parted as if to say something, but no words came out.

How blind had he been?

How deeply had he allowed himself to be deceived by the image he had created of her in his mind? The woman standing before him was nothing like the girl he had once loved.

After quietly admiring the scenery for a few moments, Mirabelle turned back to him.

"Well, you could always try asking Lucien yourself. Who knows? He might be feeling generous to—"

"Ask me what?" A voice suddenly interrupted her.