75 Chapter 75
The soft creak of the floorboards marked the shift from one quiet corner of the building to another. Rin had finally composed herself, letting the water settle and the tension ebb away, leaving only a quiet, lingering frustration in its wake.
Elsewhere, in the room they shared, the air was heavy with a different kind of weight. Ko sat on the edge of the bed, elbows resting on his knees, hands clutched together, the faint glow of the city outside casting long shadows across the walls. His jaw was tight, and his chest rose and fell with uneven breaths.
Yoru lay back against the pillows, watching him, arms loosely crossed, expression calm but attentive. She knew the weight he carried—knowing Serenia's rage had been aimed squarely at him—and that it wasn't something a few words could fix.
"I… I fucked up, Yoru," Ko muttered finally, voice low, rough, and almost pained. "I didn't… I didn't mean to make her this angry. Serenia… she—she's basically my sister- and I just—" His hands flexed, tightening on themselves. "…I let her down. I let her feel powerless. And… I let Aruno walk away."
Yoru shifted slightly, sitting up to give him her full attention. Her voice was calm, firm, but gentle enough to ease the edge of his guilt. "Ko… you didn't make him leave. Aruno made that choice. No one could've stopped him, not even Serenia. You were doing what you thought was right at the time."
Ko's head fell forward, his forehead nearly touching his knuckles. "I know, I know… but she doesn't see it like that. She's—she's furious at me. And I can't… I can't get that out of her mind. I can't get her to… forgive me. Not yet."
Yoru's gaze softened, and she reached out, resting a hand briefly on his shoulder. "You'll have your chance. She'll come around. She's angry because she cares. That fire you saw? That's love. Frustration. Worry. And it's directed at you because she knows how much you care, too."
Ko exhaled sharply, a long, shuddering breath. "I just… I wish I could've done more. I wish I could've… told her everything, made her understand. But I was the only one who knew. I—ugh…" His voice caught, and he ran a hand through his hair, tugging slightly at the roots in frustration.
"You can't change the past," Yoru said softly, leaning closer. "All you can do now is be here. Be present. Be ready for when she comes back down. She will. She just… needs time to breathe."
Ko lifted his head slightly, meeting her eyes, the tension in his shoulders still there but less oppressive. "Time… yeah. I just… I hate knowing I hurt her. Knowing I made her feel like she had no control… That's the worst part."
Yoru's expression remained steady, reassuring. "She'll get over it. She's strong, Ko. Stronger than both of you think. You need to forgive yourself first. Then you'll be ready to help her through it."
Ko nodded slowly, exhaling again, this time a little lighter. The shadows in the room were still long, the guilt still there—but for the first time in days, he felt the smallest trace of clarity, a path forward.
Outside, the city hummed quietly, indifferent to the struggles within the building, as two people sat together in the dim glow, bound by loyalty, frustration, and the shared weight of caring too much for those they loved.
Yoru's hand stayed on Ko's shoulder, warm and grounding. She leaned in slightly, just enough so her presence pressed gently against him, letting him feel that he wasn't alone in the quiet turmoil he carried.
"I know it hurts," she whispered, her voice low, soft, and deliberate. "Seeing her like that… and knowing you couldn't stop it. But you were trying. That's what matters. That's what she'll see when she's ready."
Ko's jaw clenched, and his hands fell to his lap, fingers fidgeting. "I just… I hate feeling helpless. I hate knowing she's angry at me. I—ugh… I don't know what to do anymore."
Yoru tilted her head, her gaze steady and unflinching. "Then let me help you. You don't have to carry it alone."
Before Ko could respond, she moved closer, her hand sliding from his shoulder to cup his cheek. Her thumb brushed gently across his jawline. "You're not failing. Not to me. Not to anyone who matters."
Ko's breath caught, the simple touch unraveling some of the tight coil of guilt in his chest. He wanted to argue, to say he had failed, but her warmth, her presence, demanded silence.
Then, softly, Yoru leaned forward, pressing her lips to his in a gentle, lingering kiss. It wasn't rushed, not desperate—just steady, grounding, and full of quiet reassurance. Her hands stayed firm but tender on his face, holding him in place as if anchoring him to the present.
Ko's eyes widened at first, caught off guard by the intimacy, but slowly he relaxed into her, closing his eyes and letting the weight of the past days slip away for just a moment. The room around them faded, leaving only the soft, steady beat of their shared presence.
When they finally parted, Yoru rested her forehead against his, voice barely above a whisper. "You're not alone, Ko. Never again. Not as long as I'm here."
Ko exhaled slowly, a tension-filled sigh that carried a mix of relief and lingering guilt. "Thank you," he murmured, his voice raw. "I… I needed that more than I realized."
Yoru gave a small, reassuring smile, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead. "Good. Now… let's just breathe for a moment, okay? Everything else… we'll handle it together."
Ko nodded, the first genuine trace of calm settling over him in days. For once, the storm inside his chest was quiet, and the quiet was enough.
"Darkness. Brightness. Two things that will always exist."
Caelith sat chained to his throne, the white and gold of his armor dulled by shadows. His golden eyes glimmered faintly in the dim light, unbroken by the bindings that held him.
Before him lay the body of Ryū. Silver hair flowed perfectly over broad shoulders, the crimson eye faintly glowing as though life lingered in its veins. Pale, godly, magnificent—but utterly vacant. Ryū's consciousness was gone, shattered by death; the body was a shell, a divine vessel waiting to be claimed.
Hikari knelt beside the corpse, her fingers tracing the intricate runes that now encircled the body like a cage. "It's ready," she whispered, voice trembling slightly. "I… I don't know how I did it. But… it's whole. Somehow, the body responded. He… it's stable."
Caelith's lips curved into a slow, cruel smile. "Whole. Perfect. Empty. Exactly as I desired." His voice was smooth, chilling, resonant with controlled malice. "No mind to fight me, no soul to resist. The perfect vessel."
Hikari's hands hesitated. "Are you… sure? The essence—"
"Do not question me," Caelith said sharply, golden eyes gleaming. "It is dead. Nothing remains of him. His mind is ash. All that is left is this body, this shell… and I will enter it as I see fit. The chains are gone, the throne meaningless. From here, Aruno's path is mine to shape—or to destroy."
The air in the throne room thickened, charged with anticipation. Caelith extended his hands, letting his essence stretch out like liquid shadow toward the corpse. Hikari chanted the final incantations, her voice trembling but steady, guiding the flow of energy, anchoring the ritual.
The body shivered slightly, a ripple passing through its divine form. The single crimson eye flickered once, then stillness returned. There was no recognition, no struggle. Just the faint pulse of godly energy, untouched, empty.
Caelith's golden aura poured into the vessel, flooding it with his consciousness. He could feel every fiber of the body, the perfect musculature, the divine reflexes. It responded instantly, without resistance.
Hikari's voice was tense. "It's… holding. It's taking you."
"Yes," Caelith breathed, savoring the sensation. "This is power without limit. This is freedom. This is the key to hunting Aruno."
The corpse shifted under his control, standing with the grace and authority only a godly body could hold. The crimson eye burned brighter, now entirely under his command. Every movement, every motion, every pulse of life in the vessel answered only to him.
He let out a slow, deliberate exhale. "No father, no mind, no obstacle. Only me. And now… the chase begins."
Hikari stepped back, awed and terrified. "It… it's you. Fully. Nothing of him remains."
Caelith's lips twisted into a faint, sinister smile. "Nothing. And Aruno… Serenia… they will see their father, their god, yet it will be me standing before them. They will realize too late what I have done. Every strike I make, every plan I enact… it is mine. All of it. And when I find him…" His voice dropped to a whisper, but it carried through the cold, vast throne room: "…he will understand that no one protects him anymore."
The chains fell with a final clatter, and the throne room was left in stillness. Only the faint hum of godly power and Caelith's presence filled the space. The body of Ryū moved freely now, a perfect, dead vessel under the complete control of a being with unmatched cunning and malice.
Where Caelith had once been chained, his original body now lay upon the throne, lifeless. Golden light flickered briefly along the bonds before his vessel—his original form—crumbled. Bone, armor, flesh, all disintegrated into fine ash, drifting like smoke before vanishing entirely. The throne was empty, save for the faint echo of what had been.
But Caelith was not gone.
He was in Ryū's body—the godly corpse that had been painstakingly restored. The silver hair shimmered unnaturally, the red eyes burning with godly intensity. Yet it was not his true appearance; it was a borrowed form, alien beneath his consciousness. He flexed his hands, felt the power coursing through the body, and smirked.
Then the transformation began.
The body's surface shivered, as if a living shell were rearranging itself. The skin pulsed and rippled, muscles shifting beneath it. The silver hair darkened at the roots, slowly taking on the gold-blonde hue Caelith had always worn. The crimson eye blinked, then turned a familiar piercing gold.
It was a molt—slow, deliberate, terrifying. Ryū's body yielded to him, shedding its foreignness, reshaping itself into the figure he recognized as his own. White-and-gold armor-like patterns traced themselves along his skin as it solidified, his stance becoming familiar, commanding, undeniable.
But there was a mark.
On his left forearm, faint yet unmistakable, a sigil pulsed with a subtle crimson glow. He rotated his wrist, studying it, yet no memory or magic he possessed could decipher it. Its meaning eluded him entirely, an alien trace on his otherwise perfect form.
A low, dark chuckle escaped him. "So… even in a body not mine… some trace remains," he said. "A remnant. A reminder. Interesting." His golden eyes scanned the throne room, lingering on the ashes of his former vessel. "And… inconvenient. But I can work with it."
He flexed his fingers, testing the body's godly power. Every movement was fluid, deliberate, and infused with the overwhelming energy of a godly entity. The transformation was complete. Caelith was back, stronger, whole, terrifyingly powerful—but now he occupied a body that was not just a vessel; it was Ryū, Aruno and Serenia's father.
"And Aruno," he murmured, his gaze hardening, eyes glowing, "…he will feel the weight of what's coming. The Ghost will finally understand the reach of those who pursue him."
Caelith's steps echoed through the dim chamber, each one deliberate, measured, like a predator savoring the hunt. The golden glow of his eyes cut through the shadows of Ryū's body, now fully occupied and transformed to Caelith's own form, save for the faint, mysterious mark on his arm that pulsed faintly with an unreadable power.
Hikari's hands trembled, her voice barely a whisper. "I… I didn't know if it would work…"
Caelith's gaze softened for the briefest of moments, almost as if considering her efforts as genuine. "It worked," he said smoothly, almost conversational, before the predatory edge returned. "You've helped me… and in turn, you've made yourself useful."
He extended a hand toward her, moving with the speed of thought. His fingers closed around her the left side of her chest, and in an instant, the grip tightened with unrelenting, unnatural force. The skin and muscle bent beneath him as if clay, and a sickening snap echoed as bones gave way.
Hikari's scream tore through the room, a raw, shattering sound that made the very air shiver. Her knees buckled under the weight of Caelith's godly strength, but he didn't falter, didn't hesitate. His arm, impossibly long and unyielding, slid completely through her chest in one smooth, horrifying motion. For a moment, it looked as if her body had become hollow, a grotesque shell of woman.
Then, with deliberate care, he closed his fingers around her heart. The crimson organ, still beating in defiance for a heartbeat, was torn free, dripping blood down his arm. He held it aloft like a trophy, examining it with an almost academic curiosity, golden eyes glittering.
"Such… dedication," he murmured, voice calm, yet every syllable was filled with menace. "So fragile. So weak. And yet, so… useful."
The energy in the chamber flared, shadows writhing as though the darkness itself recoiled at his power. Hikari's body crumpled to the floor, a grotesque testament to the godly force now fully in control. Caelith stepped back, the golden aura enveloping him like molten sunlight, dripping shadows curling around the edges of the room.
His gaze shifted to the throne, now reduced to ash, and then back to the pulsing mark on his arm. It was unreadable, alien, yet the power thrummed in tandem with his own, as if mocking him. He flexed his fingers, blood dripping, the heart in his grasp still warm for a moment before slowing, succumbing to death.
"Aruno," he whispered, almost to himself, the name curling around the jagged edges of his intent. "Soon… you will face what it means to oppose me. And this time, there will be no mercy. No hesitation."