How?
Victor snarled. He grabbed the girl’s other arm, and headbutted her. She recoiled in pain, as he pinned her down.
How is she doing this?
He held the struggling girl. She was so weak. Why was she able to cast spells so easily? Why was she able to overpower his magic and dispel it like it was nothing while he had to struggle to do the same to her?
"I will kill you."
That was right. He miscalculated. He thought he could use Melas to rise up in the Infernalis. But that was a mistake; she was only going to bring him down. Even without freeing his prisoners, she would have made him look weak— bring his place in the Dark Crusaders down.
Victor brought his hands to her neck. The girl gasped for air, trying to pull him off. But she was still a child. And even if she had the strength of an adult, his grip was too tight. She was going to die here.
The young man callously stared down at her. She reminded him of Elena. So childish. So foolish. And only ever a burden to him.
He watched her punch weakly at his chest and he wanted to laugh. But suddenly, he paused. For a moment, he saw the fear in the girl’s eyes. He saw his own reflection in her silver eyes. He saw himself, as he stared down at her, grinning like a madman.
Victor hesitated. He thought his grip would loosen for a moment. But instead, it tightened. Harder than it ever was before.
"No," he said softly to himself. "I spared Elena because I was weak. But not anymore. You die tonight."
He was a Dark Acolyte. An exemplary student of magic. He learned from his mistakes.
As much as it pained him to do this. He had to. It only made sense. If he wanted to get his revenge on those who have wronged him, he had to get rid of every obstacle in his path. And Melas was one of them.
He did not want to. Truly he did not. But it was necessary. Logical. It made sense.
And yet, he felt pain. Pain in his chest. A warm feeling in his heart.
It was a weakness. One that would go away.
He told himself the feeling would go away.
Eventually.
He just had to get the job done.
.
.
.
It did not go away.
The pain in his chest stayed. The warm liquid continued dripping off the wound on his heart.
"H-hgh..."
Victor stumbled back. And the sharp feeling— no, the sharp object went away. Melas drew back her dagger as she clasped at her neck, coughing and panting.
"H-h— wh—"
Victor tried to speak. But nothing came out. Where did that dagger come from? He did not know. He did everything right. He won that fight! She should not have had that! He did not give it to her. He should’ve killed her.
Unless…
Someone else gave it to her.
That was right. Someone gave Melas a weapon to fight with. He did not know that. So it was not his fault he did not consider this. It was the fault of whoever gave her the dagger. It was their fault for not telling him.
He was not to blame.
The young man collapsed on the ground. And he saw the girl turn away from him. For a moment. But she mustered the courage to face him.
And as she looked at him with pitiful eyes. All he could do was curse her. And curse whoever it was who gave her the dagger. And finally, curse the world for letting him die.
Everything was to blame.
Everyone else was at fault.
Everyone.
Except for him.
***
I watched Victor as he slowly bled out. As the fire around me slowly stopped burning. The ceiling collapsed, and the silver moonlight of the night sky was the only thing illuminating the night.
And then—
I threw up.
I could not hold it in anymore, and I vomited in disgust. But I wiped away the bile and saliva from my mouth. And that was it.
I did not cry; I was not going to cry anymore. And if I did, it was not for Victor. I thought he was a good person— that he could have changed. But he did not.
So I did not mourn him. The only thing I mourned was the outcome— that he did not change. Maybe in some alternate reality, we managed to reach a compromise. And I could return to the Dark Crusaders; maybe face a punishment for freeing the prisoners, but nothing more than that.
Karna would be mad at me for a few days, but we’ll make up eventually. Gerritt would express sympathy for me, and Ihsan would not care too much. While Victor would train me as a Dark Crusader. To maybe become a Dark Sage.
However, it did not happen.
It was only another thing that never came to be. Just like if I never ran from Rin, Shang, Theodore, and the others. If I stayed with them, maybe they would have protected my secret.
It was just another possibility in this world of endless possibilities.
I hesitated for a moment. If my mom never died—
It would not have been a happily ever after. She and I would have been on the run from Inquisitors and the Church. But at least we’d be together— and that was all that mattered to me back then.
Now, however, I was alone again.
And I was not the same person as I would have been in those alternate realities. I had different priorities. Different goals. So I gathered whatever I could
