Chapter 9: The Weight of Guilt
Elvas sat through the school day, his mind a blur, the weight of Kalia's death pressing down on him like chains. Every tick of the clock dragged, every whisper in the classroom scraped at his ears, and still he couldn't shake the thought.
If he had chosen differently—if he had gone after Auran, if he had slept with Liora—would Kalia still be alive?
The words from the system pulsed in his head, a cruel rhythm he couldn't escape:
[Player terminated. Remove from existence.]
His throat tightened. Did I cause it? Did I make her death happen?
Her face, frozen in that black-and-white sketch inside the book, wouldn't leave him. The way the memorial poster had shown her smiling felt like mockery.
He gripped his desk, muttering under his breath, the words shaky. "It can't be my fault. I didn't know. I didn't mean—"
The bell cut him off, its shrill cry snapping through the haze. Chairs scraped, footsteps thundered, laughter mixed with grief. He couldn't stand it. He shoved his books into his bag and rushed out, his chest pounding.
He needed space. He needed silence. Somewhere the noise in his head couldn't follow.
The bathroom door creaked as he pushed it open. The smell of bleach clung to the air, sharp and cold. He moved to the sink and braced himself on the porcelain, staring at his reflection.
The face that stared back was pale, haunted. His eyes looked hollow, shadows sinking deep around them. He barely recognized himself.
"Why does this keep happening?" he whispered, his grip tightening until his knuckles went white. "Why does everything bad follow me?"
The door banged open. Slam.
Elvas's stomach dropped.
Marcus.
The vampire's red eyes gleamed in the light, cruel amusement curling his lips.
"Not you," Elvas muttered, turning fast, desperate to leave before anything started. He wasn't in the mood. Not today.
But Marcus stepped in his path, shoving him back against the sink with one heavy hand. "Where you running to, demon boy? We're not done."
Elvas's jaw clenched. "If you want a fight, take it to the field. I'm not in the mood."
Marcus laughed, the sound sharp and mocking. "In the mood? You think you get to decide when I come for you?"
Two shadows slipped in behind him—Mark and Luke. His lackeys. They grabbed Elvas's arms, pinning him hard against the wall.
Marcus leaned in close, his fangs catching the light. "Last time, you got lucky. Moving all fast, dodging me. What was it, huh? Demon blood finally waking up?"
Elvas growled low, twisting against the grip, but the wall dug into his back. "I don't know what you're talking about. I don't want trouble. Just let me go."
Marcus's grin widened, his eyes narrowing. "Oh, I want trouble."
The fist came fast, slamming into Elvas's gut. Pain exploded through him, knocking the breath out of his lungs.
He gasped, doubled over, only for another blow to crash against his ribs. Then another.
Marcus laughed, cruel and loud, while his friends kept Elvas pinned. "You're nothing. A weakling hiding behind his demon name. Next time you won't be so lucky."
He shoved him down, letting Elvas crumple to the floor. Their laughter echoed off the tiles as they walked out, the door swinging shut behind them.
Elvas groaned, clutching his side as he forced himself up. Every movement burned. His hands trembled, his jaw tight. "Damn vampire," he spat under his breath.
He staggered out of the bathroom, ignoring the looks of passing students. Whispers followed him, a low murmur he couldn't bother to decipher. He kept moving, each step heavier than the last.
By the time he reached the cafeteria, the ache in his body blended with the storm in his mind. Kalia's face. The book. Marcus's blows. It all swirled together, a weight he couldn't carry.
Then the speakers crackled to life.
"All students, report to the main hall immediately."
The voice was sharp, urgent, leaving no room for questions.
Elvas frowned, his heart sinking. "What now?"
He joined the stream of bodies flowing toward the hall, the air thick with whispers. Everyone was on edge.
And when he stepped inside, his breath caught.
On the raised platform stood the rulers of Avalon—the seven clan heads.
All of them. Together.
The vampire king, tall and cold, his gaze like sharpened glass. The werewolf lord, scarred and hulking, his presence a wall of power. The siren queen, her hum vibrating low in the bones, her beauty sharp as knives. The witches' and wizards ruler clutched a staff, eyes glowing with restrained fury.
Beside them stood the Nephilim, black wings folded tight, her face unreadable, and the fae queen, shimmering with a cruel sort of elegance. At the end of the line, the revenant loomed, his dead eyes hollow pits, his very presence a shadow swallowing light.
Elvas's chest tightened. "All seven…? Together? This isn't just bad—it's the worst."
Beside him, a boy whispered, voice shaky. "They only gather for war. Or worse."
Elvas shook his head, eyes fixed on the platform. "Whatever it is, it's bigger than war."
The vampire king stepped forward. His voice thundered, filling the hall, demanding silence.
"The beast has been set free."
Murmurs rippled through the students.
"After years of being sealed, it is loose again. No one is safe."
Elvas's pulse quickened. Beast?
The king's gaze swept the room. "Whoever holds the book, whoever is its host, plays a dangerous game. For every task completed, for every wish granted, a life must be exchanged."
The words sliced through Elvas, sharp and merciless. His stomach dropped. His hands shook.
Kalia.
The system's voice.
[Player terminated.]
His breath hitched. "No…" he whispered. "He's talking about me."
The fae queen glided forward, her voice smooth but cutting like a blade. "The demon system is free. It spreads death with every step. If you see it—report it."
Her gaze swept the crowd, and Elvas swore for a moment her eyes lingered on him.
"The book must be destroyed," she finished, her words a decree, her tone final. "Or we all will be destroyed instead."