Percival sat back, reminiscing about their childhood. He remembered how Jonathan always seemed to get into fights with other kids, which inevitably led to trouble.
Jonathan chuckled, embarrassed. "I didn't fight just for the sake of it. I only went after those who bullied others."
Percival laughed. "Always the hero type, huh, Jona?"
Jonathan smirked. "At least I wasn't flirting with every girl I saw."
Percival, a little sheepish, defended himself. "They came to me. I didn't do anything to make them like me."
Jonathan shook his head with a grin. "That only makes it worse, Percy."
Percival joined in the laughter, then snapped his fingers. The world around them shifted and began to warp, revealing a tapestry of their childhood memories.
Scenes unfolded: the two brothers playing together, their parents, the ups and downs of family life, the countless squabbles and reconciliations. Moments of joy and sorrow flooded the space around them, painting their shared history in vivid colors.
Suddenly, one memory stood out: a much younger Jonathan playing in the rain near a set of stairs. Jonathan's expression darkened—he remembered this day well. It was the day he slipped, injuring himself severely.
As the memory replayed, something new caught Jonathan's attention. His younger self crouched by the stairs, watching raindrops, when—out of nowhere—young Percival appeared and gently pushed him.
Jonathan watched in disbelief as his younger self tumbled down, screaming in pain, his ankle sprained, bones fractured. The younger Percival stood at the top of the stairs, staring coldly at his fallen brother.
The scene faded into other memories, but Jonathan sat frozen, processing the revelation. He turned slowly toward Percival, who was calmly munching on an apple, seemingly oblivious.
"What... what was that, Percival?" Jonathan's voice was tight with controlled fury.
Percival didn't respond immediately, absorbed in watching the memories unfold. When Jonathan asked again, louder this time, Percival cut him off, pointing excitedly at another memory.
It was their parents' funeral.
The scene played out under pouring rain. Everyone wore black, mourning the tragic loss of their parents, Elizabeth and Benjamin, who were murdered in a brutal massacre involving gifted individuals. Jonathan watched his younger self weep uncontrollably, but young Percival stood stoic, showing no emotion.
Percival's voice broke the silence. "Remember this day? The day our weak, pathetic parents were taken from us? Everyone cried, but not me. Not a single tear. Because they weren't worth it."
Jonathan's fists clenched, anger bubbling to the surface as Percival continued. "I learned that day how frail they were. How could gifted beings like us be raised by such... ants? I even hunted down their killer, thinking I'd feel something, but I didn't. That's when I realized—ungifted people shouldn't exist at all."
Jonathan erupted, standing in fury. "How can you say that about our parents? They gave everything for us!"
Percival simply snapped his fingers, dissolving the illusion around them. He turned to face his brother, his calm demeanor eerily unshaken. "Do you think I'm joking? Have you ever wondered where I've been all these years?"
Percival's eyes darkened as his tone sharpened. "Did you really think I was out there, living a peaceful life, marrying some princess, raising kids on a farm? No!" He slammed his fist into the wall, his voice rising with irritation. "I've been working tirelessly toward my dream. Unlike you."
He gestured around the room, his arrogance palpable. "Who do you think built everything you ungifted people use? The cars, the phones, the entire Industrial Revolution—those were my inventions."
Jonathan's heart sank. "Is that why you're here? To ruin what's left of our relationship?"
Percival's smile twisted. "No. I'm here for something else. That 'son' you adopted... he's my lab subject."
Jonathan froze. "What are you talking about?"
Percival chuckled darkly. "Your son, Xavier, isn't just any child. He's something far more... monstrous. And make no mistake—he belongs to me."
Fury ignited in Jonathan. "Don't you dare call my son a monster!"
"Call him what you want," Percival replied coolly, "but Xavier was never meant to be yours. I never expected someone like you to end up with him, but I suppose it's my fault for letting security slip at one of my secret bases."
Jonathan was reeling. But before he could react, Percival moved swiftly, approaching a portrait of Jonathan's wife, Fyodora. He opened a nearby case, revealing a stunning blue gemstone. "The Fable Stone of the Ivanovich family," Percival mused. "A source of limitless power, and now it's mine."
Jonathan's voice wavered slightly as he demanded, "What are you planning, Percival?"
Percival's grin widened. "Remember when I said I'd eliminate the ungifted? This stone is key to that. I've built an empire, brother. And with this stone, I'll burn the world before Xavier's eyes, killing everyone he loves."
Jonathan's blood boiled. "I won't let you walk out of here with that stone."
Percival's eyes gleamed with mockery. "Then stop me, brother."
Jonathan charged at him, only to find his fist passing through an illusion. Dozens of Percival's clones appeared, mocking him. But Jonathan saw through the trick, grabbing the real Percival by the collar and landing a punch to his face, knocking the stone from his hand.
Before Jonathan could grab it, Percival twisted reality, distorting the room into a nauseating whirl of cubes. Jonathan staggered, and Percival took the opportunity to land a vicious blow to his ribs, making him cough up blood.
The two brothers clashed in a brutal exchange of blows, their battle fierce and unrelenting. But Percival toyed with Jonathan, always three steps ahead, savoring the fight.
As Jonathan struggled to his feet, battered from the one-sided fight with his superhuman brother, Percival smirked and casually tossed the Fable Stone into the air. "If you want it so badly," he taunted, "then take it."
The gem spiraled slowly downward, gleaming in the light. Desperate, Jonathan leaped to grab it—but it was exactly what Percival had planned.
With a sinister smile, Percival pointed his finger in a mock gun gesture, aiming directly at the gas tank behind Jonathan. In a chillingly calm voice, he whispered, "Bang."
The explosion was immediate and violent, obliterating the house in a massive fireball. Debris rained down as the structure crumbled, engulfed in flames.
From the wreckage, Percival emerged unscathed, not a single mark on him. He dusted off his shoulders with casual indifference, his eyes locking onto the figure of his nearly unconscious brother.
Jonathan lay in the rubble, the left side of his body horrifically charred, two limbs missing, barely clinging to life. Groaning in agony, he coughed up blood as Percival approached.
Laughing coldly, Percival looked down at him, his voice dripping with mockery. "Did you really think you could be the hero, Jonathan? Pathetic."
Jonathan didn't respond. He lay there, groaning in agony, blood spilling from his mouth with every labored breath. The pain was unbearable, his body was broken and burned beyond recognition. All he could do was struggle to stay conscious as Percival's cold laughter echoed around him.
Percival loomed over Jonathan's broken body, a twisted smile on his face. With a swift, merciless motion, he plunged his hand into Jonathan's chest and ripped out his heart. Jonathan gasped, his breath shallow, eyes wide with shock.
Holding the still-beating organ in his palm, Percival examined it with cold indifference. "This?" he said, his voice calm and dripping with malice. "This is the heart they say is so pure, so full of love?" He chuckled darkly. "It looks ordinary to me, brother. Just like any other." He sighed, shaking his head. "I guess we'll never know what made you so special."
Jonathan's voice, barely a whisper, broke the silence. "Why… why do you do this, brother?"
Percival turned slowly, his eyes narrowing as he met Jonathan's gaze. "Why? I have always hated you." His tone was calm, almost conversational. "Weak, powerless, and yet you were loved more than I ever was." His lips twisted into a sneer. "But… I loved you," Jonathan croaked, tears mixing with the blood on his face.
Percival scoffed. "Love? I don't need your love. I don't need anyone's. What I want is power—absolute power. Power to crush the gods themselves, to rule over all creation." His eyes gleamed with madness. "And I will stop at nothing until I achieve it."
Jonathan, wracked with pain, managed to speak through gritted teeth. "You're… insane. You'll never succeed."
Percival crouched beside him, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Oh, I've already succeeded more than you know. Remember Fyodora? Your beautiful wife?" Jonathan's eyes widened in horror. "Yes… she didn't just 'contract' the Black Death. I poisoned her, injected her with a toxin I created myself, right under your nose."
Jonathan stared, speechless, the weight of Percival's confession too much to bear.
"I had hoped it would kill the child too. As I didn't want another monster like Aleksander being born," Percival continued, his tone casual. "But Violet survived. Pity she was born with those… disabilities. Still, watching Fyodora die was satisfying enough. The way she suffered, the life slowly draining from her eyes... now that was a sight worth savoring."
Tears streamed down Jonathan's face, the pain of betrayal sharper than any physical wound. Percival gripped Jonathan's jaw, forcing him to look into his eyes."You always preached about love, calling it the world's guiding light," Percival sneered, his voice laced with venom. "But now, brother, I'll show you just how hollow that light is. I'll show you the depths of true darkness."
With a brutal motion, Percival slammed Jonathan's head against the wall. "And you'll watch, from wherever you end up, as I make your son suffer. As I make them all suffer."
He turned and walked away, his cruel laughter echoing through the burning wreckage. Percival left Jonathan to bleed out, helpless, as the house—once filled with the warmth of family, love, and cherished memories—was consumed by flames, reduced to smoldering ruins.
Outside the ruined house, Percival's henchmen waited for him, their uniforms immaculate despite the carnage.
"How did it go, my Lord?" Seraphina asked, her voice laced with anticipation.
"It was… delightful," Percival said, a twisted grin on his face.
Glad to see her master enjoying himself after working tirelessly for so long, Seraphina smiled with satisfaction. She snapped her fingers, causing the bloodstains on Percival to disappear instantly.
With another snap, she secured Jonathan's heart and the Fable Stone in a safe container, while Yuto draped a lavish black coat over Percival's shoulders and handed him a cigar. Percival nodded in approval. "Ah, thank you, Yuto," he said as Seraphina lit the cigar with another flick of her fingers.
"You're welcome, my Lord," Yuto replied, standing proudly.
As he took a deep drag from the cigar, Percival's eyes narrowed slightly. "By the way, where are Heinrich and Sage?"
One of Percival's henchmen, Raven, knelt and bowed her head in apology. "We sincerely apologize, my Lord. Sage and Heinrich said they would arrive with Grande Valhalla before you finished with your brother."
She then muttered under her breath, frustration lacing her tone. "Yet they aren't here... Those two know how to get on my nerves."
Percival chuckled. "No need to worry, Raven. Let them have their fun. After all, it's only the beginning."
Just then, Violet, Aleksander, and Xavier arrived home. Their eyes widened in shock as they stared at their childhood home, engulfed in flames, slowly burning to the ground.
"Father!" Violet and Xavier screamed in horror, realizing that Jonathan had stayed behind, refusing to celebrate the Day of Heroes with them this year.