Chapter 11: False Fear
Deep within the ruined gallery, Jasper's life ebbed away like water poured onto scorched earth.
"I wonder how my brother felt when he died…"
The thought drifted through his fracturing mind as violet flames guttered low around his body. His eyes, once sharp with Mana Sight, grew glassy, unfocused. Memories rose unbidden: the lightless pit beneath sir Hilary's mansion, the suffocating dark where he and Albert had clung to each other like drowning men. How they had learned to summon fire just to see each other's faces. How those same flames had eventually become the only warmth in that endless night.
"I don't want to die… I don't want to!"
The scream echoed only inside his skull. With his final breath he forced the technique one last time.
"Fire Lung!"
A desperate gout of purple flame erupted from his mouth, wild, ragged, aimed straight at my chest.
It never reached.
My body opened like a hungry maw. The flames poured inward, drawn inexorably into the abyss at my core. Realization crashed through him like breaking glass.
"Albert… Albert!"
His mind shattered on the name. Panic flooded every remaining thought, fear, grief, helpless rage. Somewhere, someone had to hear. Someone had to save him.
But no one did.
Deep inside my soul I felt it, the sharp, piercing sorrow that belonged to him alone. It clawed at the edges of my own emptiness, trying to find purchase. My consciousness snapped back violently. Pain split my skull open like an axe through dry wood. Blood trickled from my nose, warm against cold skin.
I faced him.
For one heartbeat my expression softened,genuine sadness flickering across scarred features. Then I hardened. My hand closed around his throat. One sharp twist.
The light left his eyes.
His body slumped to the marble floor with a dull, final sound.
I collapsed beside him.
Despair rushed in, not his, but mine. Pain radiated through every nerve, every bone, every vein still burning with incompatible aura. My hands shook. My breath came in shallow, ragged bursts. This was not the first time I had broken beneath the weight of what I had become. But familiarity did not dull the edge.
"Echo Pulse."
I forced the words through clenched teeth.
Violet-black waves exploded outward from my aura core,again and again, each one dragging the excess energy our of my chest. My body vibrated violently, skin glowing brighter with every pulse. Temperature spiked. Sweat steamed off me in thick clouds. Muscles locked. Joints screamed.
I fell sideways, shoulder striking stone.
Still I did not stop.
Pulse after pulse after pulse, each one weaker than the last, but each one carving away another sliver of the raging foreign aura gained from the talents within me . The purple flames inside me slowly dimmed, forced into submission by sheer, stubborn repetition.
Meanwhile, Caleb fled.
He moved like a man possessed, leaping over shattered balustrades, vaulting fallen statues, boots cracking marble with every frantic step. The false fear he had worn earlier peeled away like cheap paint, revealing raw, manic excitement beneath.
"Hahaha, that guy… he's insane! Damn, I love this!"
He burst through a shattered window into the night garden. Moonlight washed across his bloodied form, his reattached wrist sealed in thick crimson aura, face split in a wild grin.
Battle-step techniques ignited beneath his feet. Air compressed. He launched skyward in explosive bounds, each leap carrying him higher, farther. Wind howled past his ears.
"Damn, Helga… where did you find such a demon?"
He twisted mid-air, palm blazing with dense energy. Space itself seemed to wrinkle and tear before his strike.
Crack.
A rift opened, jagged, temporary, reeking of spatial mana.
"I must bring him to my side."
He landed lightly on the far side of the garden wall, platinum-rank aura flaring bright enough to cast long shadows across frost-covered hedges.
"Father must never know I invaded one of his battle trials just to have fun."
An excited, almost childish smile split his wild features.
"Blind devil… we will meet again."
His laughter echoed once, sharp, gleeful, then faded into the northern dark.
Back inside the mansion, I lay sprawled across cold marble.
My body refused to move. Every muscle felt turned to lead. Breath came shallow and slow. Yet something had changed.
I could feel it.
The pulse of life, faint at first, then stronger, returned to every corner of the building. Servants moving in distant halls. Guards patrolling outer walls. Even the small, skittering life of insects beneath floorboards. The strange, lifeless veil that had smothered the world earlier had lifted as abruptly as it had fallen.
I exhaled, weak, trembling.
Then I felt footsteps.
Light. Almost silent. No detectable aura flow accompanied them, none at all.
My body could not rise. Could not fight.
I waited for death to arrive.
"Ohh… my sweet boy."
The voice was velvet and iron,.familiar, possessive, inescapable.
Madam Helga knelt beside me. Cool fingers slid beneath my shoulders, lifting me effortlessly into her arms. I lay limp against her chest, too drained to struggle.
"I was too weak…"
"I think I prefer you this way," she murmured, tracing the fresh burns and scars across my face with surprising gentleness. "Vulnerable. Honest."
I forced words through cracked lips.
"Madam Helga… please… unhand me."
Her gaze fell upon me, serious this time, stripped of its usual playful cruelty. Something almost tender moved behind those beautiful eyes.
"Congratulations," she said softly. "You have passed Lord Aron Deveron's first trial."
The words struck like distant thunder.
I wanted to demand answers, about the trial, the domain, the lifeless world, the battle rank, but strength failed me. Darkness rose like black water. My head slumped against her shoulder.
I drifted into dreamless slumber.
Helga remained kneeling for a long moment, staring down at the unconscious boy in her arms. Her fingers brushed white hair from his scarred brow. She looked deeper, past flesh, past bone, into the roiling abyss of his soul.
"I wonder how far you will go in this harsh country of Fortsterling," she whispered.
Obsession flickered across her features, sharp, possessive, almost reverent.
"As I found you eight years ago, lying in the blood of wolves, here you reaped such a scene once again."
She rose smoothly, cradling him like something infinitely precious.
"Burn the corpses that remain in the building."
Her voice carried no louder than a breath, yet shadows stirred.
Several maids materialized from the darkness, silent, lethal, black-clad assassins who had waited unseen. Their movements were precise, mechanical. No questions. No hesitation. They moved toward the bodies of Jasper and several bronze ranks, preparing cleansing flames and spatial bags to erase every trace.
Helga turned away, carrying Liam deeper into the mansion's.
The night swallowed them both.