The night was still, save for the soft whisper of the wind as it swept through the crumbling remnants of the Val family chamber. The smoke from the incense mingled with the acrid stench of blood, making the air thick and suffocating. Edil's vision was blurry, his head spinning with the aftermath of the attack. His body felt like it was made of lead, every movement sending sharp spikes of pain through him. His once pristine robes, now stained crimson, clung to his skin, soaked with the blood of the battle he had narrowly survived.
His fingers curled around the amulet his father had worn—a heavy weight that seemed to anchor him to this broken reality. The amulet's cold metal pressed into his palm, grounding him in the moment. He could still hear the clash of weapons, the screams of men and women he had never known. The brutality of it all had caught him off guard, but now, as the silence of the chamber settled around him, the reality of the betrayal began to sink in.
"Why?" Edil whispered to the empty room, his voice hoarse and cracked from the exertion. "Why would they do this? Why did they take everything from me?"
His words were met with no answer. Only the distant howls of the wind and the soft crackling of flames remained, dancing in the wreckage.
The woman—the traitor—who had led the attack, stood at the center of his shattered world, her blade gleaming in the low torchlight. He could still see her eyes, cold and unfeeling, as she had struck him down. But now that she was gone, it was clear: they had taken everything.
His father was dead. His family's name was dishonored. The Val line had been torn asunder.
The truth gnawed at his insides. A deep, aching wound that went beyond the physical. He had been trained for years by his father, learned the alchemical arts, the ancient ways of his family, but none of it had been enough to prepare him for this. The feeling of betrayal, of being discarded like a broken tool, was suffocating. And the thought of his father—his protector—lying dead somewhere in the ruins of the family estate made him sick to his stomach.
Edil stumbled to his feet, his legs unsteady, his breath shallow as he gasped for air. His wound was deep, the cut on his shoulder still bleeding, but the pain barely registered in his mind. He had no time for it now. His mind was consumed with one thought—one purpose: revenge.
The ancient mountain, once a symbol of his family's power, now felt like a prison, a place of lost hope. As he moved through the wreckage, the bitter taste of ash filled his mouth. He could feel the anger building inside him, a fire that burned hot and vicious, threatening to consume him whole.
"I will make them pay," he muttered to himself, his hands shaking with the intensity of his fury. "I will make every last one of them regret what they've done."
His eyes scanned the destruction around him. The Val family had been known for their strength, their knowledge of alchemy, and their deep ties to the earth and spirits. But now, all that was left were shattered pieces, remnants of a life that had been stolen from him.
A figure appeared in the doorway—Bai Li, the eccentric cultivator from earlier. His expression was one of concern, his eyes wide as he took in the scene before him.
"Holy spirit, Edil! What the hell happened here?" Bai Li's voice was filled with disbelief, but there was no fear in it. He stepped into the chamber, his feet crunching over the broken stone, his eyes flicking to Edil's bleeding shoulder. "You look like you've been through hell."
Edil didn't answer right away. His eyes were fixed on the amulet in his hand, the weight of it pulling him down, reminding him of what had been taken from him. His mind raced as the anger surged, overwhelming every other thought.
"Bai Li," Edil finally said, his voice barely above a whisper. "They've taken everything from me. My father… my family… gone. They've thrown my bloodline into the dirt."
Bai Li frowned, his usual carefree demeanor replaced with a rare seriousness. "Who did this to you, Edil? The Maligalig House? Those bastards," he muttered, shaking his head. "I knew they were trouble, but to go this far… It's beyond madness."
"They're not just trouble," Edil growled, his grip on the amulet tightening until his knuckles went white. "They're the reason my father is dead. And they will pay."
Bai Li sighed, stepping closer to Edil. "You've got fire, I'll give you that. But this isn't just about burning everything down, you know. Revenge won't give you back what you've lost."
"I don't care," Edil snapped, his eyes blazing with fury. "Nothing else matters right now. I'm going to make them suffer. All of them."
Bai Li studied him carefully, his gaze sharp. "And what then, Edil? After you've burned it all to the ground? What will you have left?"
The question hung in the air between them, a stark reminder of the choice that lay ahead. The choice Edil had to make.
"I don't know," Edil muttered, his voice breaking slightly. "But I won't stop until I've made them regret it."
The two men stood in silence, the tension between them thick. Bai Li knew better than to push Edil further—he had seen the depths of rage that could blind even the most calculated minds. But even in the midst of all this chaos, Bai Li saw something else in Edil's eyes—a flicker of doubt, a seed of hesitation. It was clear that Edil was torn, caught between the raging storm of his desire for vengeance and the part of him that still clung to the idea of justice.
"Alright, then," Bai Li said, his tone softening. "You want revenge? I'll help you get it. But just remember, Edil, once you start down that road, it's hard to come back."
Edil didn't respond. Instead, he turned and walked toward the shattered remains of the altar, his hands shaking as he reached for the remnants of his father's work. He was done thinking. Done questioning. His mind was made up.
"Let's go," Edil finally said, his voice low but filled with determination. "The Maligalig House has made its choice. Now, I make mine."