He had done it. He had killed them all. But the price had been too high, the cost too great. The cost of going Berserk with the amount of mana and skill level he had was too great, his body was burning up from the inside, blood spilled from his eyes,
As the last of his strength faded, he collapsed to his knees, his vision dimming, his lifeblood seeping from the countless wounds that covered his body. He lay down beside Christine, his hand finding hers.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "I'm so sorry." And then, with a final shuddering breath, he closed his eyes and let the darkness take him.
Aden's vision blurred, the edges of his sight fading to black. The rain froze mid-fall, droplets suspended like glass shards in the air. He knelt on the floor, blood pooling beneath him, a dark crimson stain spreading.
His breath hitched, once, twice, then stopped, his lungs still.
A hand gripped his shoulder, fingers digging into his flesh. He looked up, his movements slow, laboured. The city was gone, vanished like a mirage.
A crimson expanse stretched endlessly, the sky a wound-scab red, churning with blackened clouds. The ground beneath him wasn't normal, but the calcified remains of giants, ribcages arched into bridges, skulls hollowed into crumbling fortresses.
At the horizon loomed a stairway of fused swords, their blades rusted and weeping ichor. At its peak sat a throne carved from a single onyx meteor, and upon it, the figure.
It, he?, was a paradox, a being of contradictions, armour forged of liquid shadow, a crown of fractured starlight, and a face obscured by shadow.
The air around him warped, as if reality itself recoiled, unable to bear his presence.
"You clawed at life like a starving dog," the figure taunted, his voice a chorus of shattering glass and distant screams, echoing in Aden's mind.
Aden's hand twitched toward a shard of bone at his side, his fingers brushing against its jagged edge.
"I don't... want your pity."
The figure laughed, the sound peeling layers from the sky, revealing an endless void beyond. "Pity?" He knelt, his crown of starlight fracturing into a halo of needles, each one pulsing with an eerie light.
"I'm just handing over what's rightfully yours."
"You owe nothing to this world, Aden Vasco," the figure said, his voice layered, a chorus of growls and whispers, each one a separate entity, a separate being.
"Do you regret it?"
"Do you want to go back?, far before everything fell apart?"
Aden's vision blurred, the world around him shifting, blurring. The throne behind the figure pulsed, its onyx surface alive with screaming faces, soldiers, kings, monsters, all dissolving into smoke, their forms wavering, fading.
"How?.. How can i go back?"
"You fought hard," the figure said, his eyes boring into his. "But some wars aren't yours to win."
"Do you truly wish to go back in time?"
Aden on the verge of death, nodded his head in a dire attempt to persuade him.
"Why... Choose me?"
The figure's gauntlet seized Aden's jaw, cold searing through flesh to bone, a burning cold that spread through his body like wildfire. "Because"
"&%$#^%."
His eyes widened, his mind reeling. It was something he could not hear, could not comprehend.
The figure held out its hand.
Aden's words bubbled with blood, a sound of despair, of resignation. "Who... are you?"
The man's smile widened, stretching to his eyes, sharp as a knife, cutting through the shadows that obscured his face. "The King."
Aden reached out, his hand trembling, the realm vanishing around him, fading to nothing.
A sword materialized in the figure's free hand, a shard of pure void, edges vibrating with a sound like a collapsing star, a sound that shook the very fabric of reality.
Aden tried to fall back, but his body refusing to obey, but the blade was already plunging into his chest, piercing his heart.
Tremendous pain and pressure engulfed him, a universe collapsing into his ribs, his vision fading to black, his consciousness slipping away.
He woke up to witness an unpleasant event unfolding infront of his eyes.
"The verdict has been reached."
The Head Arbitrator's voice echoed through the grand disciplinary chamber, silencing the murmurs of the crowd. Aden Vasco stood at the center, his wrists bound by enchanted iron cuffs that suppressed his mana. The weight of judgment hung heavy in the air as the gazes of the Walpurgis Academy's Disciplinary Committee bore into him like nails hammered into flesh.
"Aden Vasco, you are hereby found guilty of first-degree murder."
Sunlight streamed into the room, illuminating the towering bookshelves and banners bearing the Academy's crest. The Head Arbitrator spoke again, his voice devoid of warmth or hesitation.
Shock rippled through the audience. The heir of one of the Empire's Five Great Houses had been killed, and there could be no mercy.
"You are sentenced to imprisonment under the custody of the Imperial Knight Order until further judgment is decreed by the Empire."
Several thoughts rambled in his mind, trying to find a reason for the situation he was currently in.
Above him, seated in an elevated section of the chamber, Duke Ed Vasco looked down at his son with cold, unreadable eyes. The patriarch of House Vasco, one of the Five Great Families of the Empire, was a man whose mere presence commanded both reverence and fear. His dark coat draped over his powerful frame, his every movement exuding an air of absolute authority.
Throughout the trial, Duke Vasco had not spoken a word. The only reason the Disciplinary Committee had not moved to execute Aden on the spot was because of him. The room had been thick with unspoken tension would Duke Vasco intervene? Would he wield his influence to overturn the verdict? Would he fight for his son's innocence?
But as soon as the sentence was declared, Duke Vasco slowly rose from his seat. He reached for his coat, draping it over his shoulders, and without a word, turned his back on the proceedings. A hushed silence fell upon the room as the members of the Disciplinary Committee exhaled in relief. The storm had passed. Ed Vasco would not interfere.
Aden's gaze followed his father as he strode toward the exit, his footsteps echoing through the chamber. No words of protest. No last glance. Nothing.
Heavy footsteps broke through the haze of his mind. A squad of Imperial Knights, in gleaming armour bearing the Emperor's crest, approached with military precision. One of the knights, a grizzled man with a deep scar running across his left cheek, stepped forward. His piercing gaze locked onto Aden Vasco as he rested a hand on the hilt of his sword.
"By order of His Imperial Majesty," he intoned, his voice steady and unwavering,
"You are to be taken into custody immediately."
"Take him."
Clamps tightened around his wrists as he was escorted. The enchanted cuffs dug into his skin, suppressing any attempt at resistance. His body, however, moved with unnatural grace. His senses were sharper, his instincts honed. Even as chains bound him, the oppressive weight of his own bloodlust filled the room like an unsettling storm.
A professor flinched. The Headmistress, usually composed, paled slightly. Even the knights hesitated. Despite his restraints, despite his fall from grace, Aden Vasco still radiated the presence of a predator.
The great doors of the chamber opened with a deafening creak. The academy's corridors, once familiar, stretched out before him like the path of exile. Students and faculty stood frozen as he was escorted out, their faces twisted in awe and fear.
For them, this was not the fall of a man. It was the march of a monster.
As he reached the courtyard, he turned his head one last time, gazing upon the towering spires of the Academy. The sky above was a storm of gathering clouds, mirroring the tempest raging within him.
But one thing was clear to him.
This was not his world.
This was not his crime.
But if they wanted a villain, he would become one.