Chapter 197

Chapter 197

Curiosity was the closest emotion Deon could pinpoint to describe the new feeling. It was the very reason he had volunteered to oversee Roxana’s final monthly evaluation just before her sixteenth birthday. It was on that day that he faced what he considered to be both the first and last pivotal turning point in his life.

A distant wind blew across Deon’s face to once again dishevel his hair. The tall grass around him swayed like ocean waves. He then inhaled the heavy, dusk-soaked air deeply. It was there in the midst of the tall grass that he finally found Nix.

At the center of the wafting field, the puppet’s golden hair glistened under the waning sun in a dazzling manner. Deon’s injuries had prevented him from going after his brother’s corpse sooner, but now the reanimated being stood still and in place as if he had sensed his killer’s presence.

He turned around to meet Deon’s gaze as the sun set behind him.

“Why...?” Nix spoke in muddled breaths as he stared at the crimson-eyed Agrece who was set on hunting him down until the bitter end. “Why won’t you leave me alone?”

He had grown sick and tired of absolutely everything. Not only was he plagued by seemingly endless nightmares, but a demon by the name of Deon Agrece had also evidently resolved to follow him to the deepest depths of hell if need be.

Although the puppet had already slashed his master and creator until he was essentially a rag doll, he had no desire to kill anyone else. Even so, the monster standing before him simply wouldn’t leave him be. The older man always seemed to be lingering behind him like a shadow.

The sunset scattered dizzying rays of orange light over the horizon as a soft breeze grazed Nix’s skin. There at the center of the field, the dark shadow closed the distance between them. The puppet could hear a demonic cry echo in his ears.

There is no end until one or both of us is dead.

He grit his teeth until the jaw of this boy who had remained at the age of fifteen for almost a decade tightened. In a flash, the two under a crimson-dyed sky began their clash.

Nix was not empty-handed since he had predicted something like this would happen as he left Yggdrasil castle. The doll who had merely stared blankly at Deon in the glass passageway was long gone. He repeatedly attacked the Agrece with all his might both to survive and to kill the man who stood before him.

The black-haired man felt a sensation akin to ecstasy as he watched his opponent charge at him full of malice, fury, and murderous intent. Roxana will certainly come here. It was merely his intuition speaking, but the Agrece felt certain of it. Even in the midst of battle, he could feel her presence closing in as the battle raged on.

On the day of her final evaluation, Roxana had cried as Achille’s image lingered in front of her eyes.

“Deon, you stay away,”

“I will not allow Achille to die by your hand again, you bastard.”

Indeed, that was the very moment. The moment when her own blazing crimson eyes pierced through him. He couldn’t help but stare as the tears fell down from her pale cheeks like shooting stars. For the first time, color had stained his colorless world. Even in the present day, he still couldn’t explain why she was so special. The only thing he was certain of was the yearning he felt whenever he looked back on that moment—when only her tears held meaning to him. But after that, he pursued her gaze more than ever with an obsession he could neither accept nor fully understand.

Then he began to ponder.

Why would Roxana ever shed tears for a disgraceful waste of life like Achille? What was it about him that made him worthy of her tears?

He had yet to find the answer to such questions. In that sense, he imagined that he was perhaps more similar to his father than even he initially thought. Much like Lante, he too felt no repulsion or hesitation when killing his own siblings, and Roxana had detested them both in secret. Even so, he had long ago predicted that he would meet the same fate their father had. Thus, at that moment, while facing off against Achille’s corpse, he began to ponder once more.

If I were to kill him again now, would she shed those same tears like last time? Would she weep for this thing that is merely a shadow of Achille?

Achille...

Even if she had become more like her other half-siblings and himself, she still reviled their ways and customs.

Fwish!

Nix’s weapon slashed a diagonal across his opponent’s chest. In the same instant, Deon moved his hand to tear into the puppet’s waist. Both drew blood as they inflicted wounds that splattered over the field in a crimson mist.

The Agrece raised his hand with the intent to pierce the blond’s heart next as he watched his opponent’s face twist. Achille had without a doubt been the most beautiful being in Roxana’s world. He had died in his purest and most magnificent form. That image of himself had imprinted itself on her memory for almost a decade already. In a sense, it gave credence to the saying that a person might disappear completely from the world, yet at the same time live on for all eternity inside the minds and hearts of others.

Ah...

In that moment, Deon finally realized what he had yearned for all along. If he were to kill someone Roxana held dear, she would never forgive him. That was precisely what he truly desired. After killing Achille once again...

Clang!

...he could die by Roxana’s hands.

Flutter!

In that moment of his epiphany, a kaleidoscope of red butterflies swarmed the field and blurred out everything in front of him.

“...op!”

A voice roared into his ears.

This is the moment. It was indeed the moment he had been waiting for all along. The time had finally come for his half-sister to protect her older brother from him.

In the midst of the crimson flurry that raged as though it would consume all in its path, Deon smiled for the first time in his life with satisfaction. That lingering doubt that had taken root in his heart since the day he had seen Roxana’s tears four years ago vanished.

If I were to die, would anyone cry for me the way she did for him?

Better yet...

If I were to die, would anyone shed such passionate tears of sympathy for me?

No... No, of course not.

It was only then that he was able to reach the blurry light that flickered in the distance. What Deon really wanted to see wasn’t Roxana crying over Achille.

Indeed, Sierra had been right. He could never kill her. Instead, he wished to die by her hand.

Only in that way could he become a permanent scar on her heart for all of eternity. Only then would the deep, empty void within himself finally feel full. Everything in the distance began to blur, as well as the person whose heart he had taken aim at and the one who had suddenly appeared from just beyond the horizon with the dusk serving as their backdrop.

Deon loosened his grip on his weapon. The sharp blade was almost directly in front of his eyes, but even that was soon blotted out by the red whirlwind.

He had never experienced a more delightful moment in all his life. It was as if he was glad to accept the fate of having his entire body torn to pieces by his sister’s little winged beasts. After drawing one last breath, he closed his crimson eyes and welcomed the equally crimson kaleidoscope preparing to devour him.

He hadn’t known until that very moment that nothing else would have been a more fitting end for him to meet. Although, even as he greeted death, he thought he was perhaps undeserving of such a beautiful ending.

* * *

Flap, flap, flap!

Without warning, a flock of birds flew across the darkening blood red sky. Sierra’s head turned to follow the cawing sounds she heard from up above. Her golden hair had been dyed orange by the setting sunlight and was now fluttering about in the lukewarm spring wind.

What is this fleeting sensation?

She could sense eerie waves of sharp air currents flowing toward her from afar. It wasn’t the sort of thing she could nail down, but something indeed felt off about the breeze as it swept over her cheeks. As she repositioned her grip on the basket she was holding, she stared in the direction the wind had blown in from.

“Sierra, dinner’s ready! Come back inside!” Maria called out to her from inside her humble dwelling, but her blue eyes continued to stare toward the last traces of sunlight on the horizon for quite some time.

Before much longer, she eventually sighed as the final serene view of the sunset graced her vision. Then finally, she turned her back to the darkening landscape and followed the bright voice that had continued to beckon her inside all that while.

A calm wind blew in, then seemed to linger where she had been standing for a much longer time.