Chapter143: The Crimson Storm and the Shattering of the Fortress of Loyalty
A Futile Effort Within the Mist
The night had reached the absolute zenith of its darkness. A red, murky rain fell over the house like the very blood of the heavens. Diyari, whose body was half-paralyzed by the agonizing black mark etched into his spine, clawed at the walls with bloodied fingers, struggling to stand. He had made his decision; he could no longer bear to watch Rina and the child burn before his eyes due to the malice of his grandmother—his mother's mother.
Diyari gripped his red sword, but the blade had grown so heavy it felt as if the weight of all the world's sorrows was forged into its steel. He turned toward the direction where he knew his grandmother sat, weaving the destruction of his life.
Diyari: (In a hoarse voice, thick with a stifled sob) "It cannot be like this... I must not fall here! Grandmother, if you can burn my body, you cannot kill my will! I am coming for you... I am coming to untie the knots you have bound into my fate with these wounded hands!"
He took a single step, but as he moved to leave the courtyard, the mark on his back erupted in flames. It felt as though a thousand glowing daggers were driven simultaneously into his vertebrae. Diyari collapsed face-first into the mud and mire of the courtyard.
The Dialogue of Defeat and Despair
Rina stood by the window, watching the scene with cold, merciless eyes. To her, Diyari was nothing more than an "ugly" wretch wallowing in the dirt.
Rina: (In a loud, mocking voice) "Look at him... look at the hero who wants to save the world! Diyari, you can't even stand on your own two feet—how do you expect to face your grandmother? You are mindless because you believe loyalty can break sorcery. Look at yourself... you are just a weak beggar drowning in your own blood!"
Diyari: (Lifting his head from the mud, his eyes crimson with pain) "Rina... I am here for you... for this child whose color is fading... please, just once, look into my eyes as you used to... trust me for just one second!"
Rina: "Trust? In whom? In someone whose body is covered in black marks? You are ill-mannered because you dare to bring this terrifying state near my child! Go... go and never return. The world has no place for the weak like you."
The Peak of Conscience and the Collapse of the Soul
Diyari attempted to rise once more. Gathering every ounce of his remaining strength, he plunged his sword into the earth and used it as a crutch to stand. But from afar, his grandmother cast a new spell, making the ground beneath his feet feel like a crumbling abyss. Not only did he fail to move, but his sword slipped from his grasp and shattered.
Diyari: (With a primal scream that tore through the sky) "NOOOO! Why? Why does everything I do turn into failure? Was my one mistake so gargantuan that even the God of Love turned His back on me? Grandmother! Do you see? I am broken! I am ruined! My soul is scorched for a loyalty that no one sees! I have gone mad in the midst of this family betrayal!"
Inside the room, the child began to wail so loudly that it drowned out the sound of the rain. Diyari felt every heartbeat as a needle piercing his son's body. This was his greatest defeat: not only could he not leave, but he had become the source of agony for his only flesh and blood.
Kneeling in the Ash
Diyari, with his bloodied back and shattered spirit, remained in the middle of the courtyard. He neither triumphed nor moved. All that remained was the killing silence that follows every total defeat.
Diyari: (Whispering to himself with a trembling voice) "Fine... let me stay. Let me be the sacrifice. If my efforts only bring more pain to Rina, then I will remain in this mud. But know this, Grandmother... though you break my body, though you turn Rina into my enemy, though my child fears me... I am still here. I will not leave. I will become the coldest, loneliest warrior in the world, but I will never turn my back on this ruined home."
Rina shut the window, and the light went out. Diyari remained in absolute darkness under the crimson rain—broken and alone. The black mark on his back continued to glow like a nail fastening his love to the coffin of death.
Wirtten by : Dlin_myth