Atheron began to walk, swaying from one side to the other. He would pick up his spear from one corner of the room and place it in another. As he did this, his arms hung loose, and his back was bent. Kafka, on the other hand, had opened the window and was gazing at the starry sky. Every now and then, he would stretch his hand toward the heavens. Clenching his hand into a fist, he did it again, and again, and again. He was constantly exhaling, watching his breath materialize in the cold air.
Kafka slowly turned around. Compared to the sky, their room was pitch black. As if there were a glaring sun, Kafka brought his hand before his eyes and looked at Atheron. Atheron had finally noticed Kafka. But before he could utter a single word, Kafka spoke.
Kafka: "Are you ready?"
Atheron: "We don't have to do this."
Kafka smiled and staggered over to Atheron. He placed his hands on Atheron's shoulders. Raising his head with a melancholic laugh, he began to squeeze Atheron's shoulders frantically.
Kafka: "Then what will happen to them? What if they take Odasaku straight there? What if Nora locks herself in the magic tower again?"
Atheron: "But more lives..."
With sudden fury, Kafka slammed Atheron. Atheron instantly found himself pinned against the wall. Panting heavily, Kafka stared at his own fist. A small trickle of blood was escaping his hand.
Kafka: "My acquaintances are more important to me; what do I care about them? Until just now, I wasn't even sure any of them existed."
Atheron: "But!"
Kafka: "Are you going to stand against me?"
Swaying, Atheron stood up. Without saying a word, he grabbed his spear and left the room. When they saw Atheron's bruised and battered state in the tavern, they muttered, "He got what he deserved; that's what happens when you interfere between a father and daughter." Atheron did not care about a single shred of those words; clutching one of his arms, he walked toward that place.
For him, seconds felt like hours. The road grew longer and longer. Even the tiniest pebble on the path felt like a reason to turn back, yet he kept pushing his steps forward. He kept muttering to himself, "What did I do wrong?"
Finally, he stood before the door. Instead of breaking it open, he knocked gently. The door opened a few seconds later. Standing before him was Angelina. Seeing her, Atheron's pupils dilated and filled with chaos. He couldn't even pull his hand away from the door.
Angelina: "What happened? Did you forget something?"
Angelina's eyes drifted to the spear in Atheron's hand.
Angelina: "Why did you come with that?"
Angelina's voice sounded incredibly cold. In the background, the people enjoying themselves at the fair carried on, not caring in the least about what was happening.
Atheron: "Angelina..."
Atheron's eyes welled with tears. His chin trembled as he fought desperately to keep himself from crying.
Atheron: "Please, run away before I destroy everything."
Angelina delivered a sharp, heavy slap. Atheron showed absolutely no reaction; he just stood there.
Atheron: "I told you to run."
Angelina: "I will not run! I can protect my family and myself from a sniveling brat!"
Finally, tears began to stream down Atheron's face. He shaped his hand like a gun and pointed it at Angelina.
Atheron: "Then protect everything you have from me."
Suddenly, there was a massive flash of light, and Angelina was thrown against one of the stalls. Atheron began firing blindly in all directions. Instantly, the laughter was replaced by agonizing screams. Strangely, no one was attacking Atheron; in fact, they looked as if they pitied him. Atheron grit his teeth and pointed his hand with sheer wrath. When he saw the baby covered in its mother's blood before him:
Atheron: "Huh?"
Suddenly, Angelina grabbed Atheron's hand. A part of her skirt was torn. Blood was trickling from her head. The braids in her hair had come undone. Splinters were dug into her hands and feet.
Angelina: "Are you aware of what you are doing right now! I thought you were infatuated with me!"
Atheron: "So, you heard us."
Angelina: "DIDN'T YOU WANT TO ACCUMULATE MEMORIES THAT WE WOULD LOOK BACK AND LAUGH AT TOGETHER! AREN'T YOU DESTROYING THOSE MEMORIES RIGHT NOW?!"
Atheron: "I'm sorry, but..."
Angelina grabbed Atheron by his shoulders and began to shake him.
Angelina: "SOMEONE FORCED YOU TO DO THIS! THEY MUST HAVE! THEN RUN AWAY, DISAPPEAR, HIDE! AND WHEN THE TIME COMES, KILL THEM, NOT THESE INNOCENTS! AREN'T YOU A KNIGHT?!"
Angelina, too, had started to cry. She wiped her tears and stepped back.
Angelina: "Then I will sever your arm. I will cut it off and lay it before that bastard!"
Angelina gathered all the blood on the ground and merged it in the air. The blood coalesced into a massive sword. Just as the sword was about to swing...
Kafka: "This is why you vampires are so dangerous."
Angelina turned around in shock. Her skin was deathly pale. Blood she could not control was spilling from her mouth. Kafka had pierced Angelina's heart with his foil. Angelina collapsed to her knees, sinking down alongside Atheron.
Her hair fell forward, veiling her devastated eyes.
Angelina: "Did it have to be this way?"
Angelina fell to the ground.
Atheron: "ANGELINA!"
With all her remaining fury, Angelina lashed out at Kafka using the blood around them. The blood had hardened as if it were solid metal. Following the blow, Kafka was pinned against the wall of one of the houses. As Angelina let out screams of pure hatred, she fell to her knees. Blood began to flow from her eyes out of sheer rage. She clutched her heart tightly and bit her lip so hard she nearly tore it apart.
Angelina: "WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS? ALL OF YOU ARE BASTARDS!"
Angelina's eyes slowly grew dull; her voice was fading. Finally, her voice fell silent. In the middle of the square, she remained on her knees, her hair obscuring her face. Her hands were tense with rage. Even in death, she remained frozen in that pose.
Atheron mumbled a few meaningless words. Crashing to the ground, he forced himself up and staggered toward Angelina's side. He whispered Angelina's name millions of times.
Kafka: "Come on, get up."
Kafka spoke as if nothing had happened. Atheron could not help but look at him with utter disgust. He fought back his tears. His chin trembled, his brow furrowed, and his eyes filled. He drew a deep, ragged breath.
Atheron squeezed Angelina's hand, took the green fabric she had wrapped around her waist, and tied it around his own head. He stood up mindlessly.
Kafka: "Remember, the only thing that matters now is those we spent our time with."
Atheron: "There were innocent ones too."
As Atheron said this, he clenched his hands into tight fists. He could not bring himself to look up at the sky. He kept his head lowered, as if trying to hide it.
Kafka: "We killed them before they had the chance to sin. Do you believe in God?"
Atheron: "Yes."
Kafka: "Then keep believing. Because if you don't cling to that, something else will cling to you."
While Kafka tried to kill the people on the street in the swiftest, most painless way possible, Atheron was blowing everything to pieces. Kafka agilely leaped onto the vampires, drove his foil into their necks, and moved on to the next target he laid eyes on. Atheron, contrary to him, fired wildly here and there, utterly lost in his own despair.
In the end, a profound silence enveloped them. Even the air seemed to grow heavy, as if to punish them. It was as if the world had begun to weep to hide the blood spilled in vain. Though raindrops fell upon the pools of blood, they were but single drops. Even the streams of water had turned crimson.
The soles of their feet, their socks—everything was stained red. Everything in the fairground had been demolished. While Kafka checked the inside of the houses one by one, Atheron did not even bother.
Aside from the faint creaking of collapsing houses, no sound remained. The rain had long washed everything else away. Both of them began to walk toward the mansion on the hill. Neither wanted to break the silence. Atheron tightly held the hand he had used to fire. That hand could not stop trembling, and his palm and fingers looked as if they had ruptured. Kafka's face was covered in blood. There were fingernail scratches here and there across his face. The vampires, at the very least, had fought back when pounced upon.
The rain grew even heavier, making it increasingly difficult to walk. Debris swept away by the current blocked their path, and paintings floating in the water eroded their resolve.
In a barely audible whisper, Kafka was madly murmuring the exact same thing over and over. Atheron, on the other hand, could not tear his eyes away from the objects drifting in the water. With every step, they felt themselves sinking deeper into a quagmire. As they neared the mansion, the sound of music began to drift out. While blood ran like a river outside, the lights inside the mansion were bright and peaceful.
Kafka spat on the ground and turned around. He pointed to the mansion with his thumb.
Kafka: "Did you see?"
Atheron: "I saw it, don't shove it in my face any more."
Kafka lowered his head and slowly climbed the stairs. Atheron was right behind him. He knocked on the door three times and waited. Even then, the music did not stop. It was as if those inside did not care in the least about those outside.
Kafka: "Atheron, all of them are bastards, enjoying themselves without a care in the world!"
Atheron: "Nora once said something."
The rain was pouring violently, as if trying to kill them both. Every single drop stung. Atheron paid little heed to what Kafka was saying. Looking back at the wreckage behind him, he said:
Atheron: "She said when you kill a killer, the number of killers in the world remains the same..."
Kafka: "This will never happen again."
The door slowly opened. Standing there was the man who had greeted them this morning. The music was still blaring from inside. Curious onlookers inside were stealing glances at the door without making it obvious. Some had already begun to gossip. The sound of fluttering fans, irritating laughter, and high heels echoed from within.
Large Man: "What happened, youngsters?"
The large man turned his gaze to the street. The buildings that should have been there were reduced to ruins. The flood carried bodies along with memories. Standing before him were two monsters. The large man laughed at this sight and scratched his beard. His eyes seemed to search for others.
Large Man: "Are you going to kill me now?"
Just as Kafka was about to attack, Atheron stepped in front of him.
Atheron: "Why didn't you stop us while we were doing this? You are strong enough to stop us."
There was a fire burning in Atheron's eyes that had never burned before. That fire was either going to burn everything down or light the torches.
Large Man: "If I had stopped you, would you have been safe? More to the point, could you have returned?"
Atheron: "BUT AREN'T THEY YOUR FAMILY? YOU COULD HAVE SAVED MORE LIVES!"
Large Man: "What would have happened if they saw me attacking a human? You would have started another hunt, even for the vampires who had nothing to do with this."
The large man turned his back to them. Behind him, Atheron was having a nervous breakdown.
Large Man: "Now, leave."
Atheron succumbed to his rage and, despite his trembling hand, triggered an explosion right there. The large man, however, gathered all the blood mixed in the water and trapped the explosion within a tiny sphere. He spun around furiously. His eyes were blood-red. He raised his hand and shielded the mansion using the surrounding blood. Eyes had already gathered at the mansion's windows. They were laughing, thinking the children out there were fools.
Kafka could no longer stand being watched like this. As the voices grew louder, the large man approached them with heavy steps. Kafka grit his teeth, gripped his foil tightly with his calloused hands, and lunged forward. Every time he missed a thrust, he shifted directions and tried again, but it meant nothing to the large man. He evaded every movement effortlessly. He looked as if he were mocking him. As for Atheron, every time the man tried to strike, he redirected the attack with his spear. After every clashing sound of friction, Atheron would slip behind Kafka.
The man looked at them and sighed. It was as if he found fighting utterly pointless. He stepped back and dipped his hand into the water. Seizing this moment, Atheron and Kafka aimed for the man's neck with all their might. But just as his neck was about to be severed, the man pulled his hand back, gripping something from the water, and parried both attacks. The children shuddered from the recoil and recoiled into a corner. In the man's hand was a thin but rigid sword made of blood. It looked frozen. Yet, it carried an unyielding poise that could not be easily broken. He brought the sword to eye level, placing one hand behind his back. He pointed the sword at the children, who were deliberately trying to gather energy, and looked at the reflection with disgust. He swung the sword swiftly toward our boys; the blood mixed in the water solidified along that path, rising as a thorny wall. Both of them dove aside at the very last second.
The man swung the sword a few more times like that, and then, almost teleporting, appeared right beside the children. The boys flinched. Acting quickly, Atheron aimed to sweep the man's legs. Sliding along the ground, he swung his spear rapidly, but the man stepped directly onto the tip of the spear and froze the blood mixed in the water. As the blood began to climb upward, Atheron pulled his arm back at the last second. Taking advantage of this, Kafka stepped onto Atheron's back and managed to slash one of the man's eyes. A faint smile played on their faces. They quickly retreated. Aside from the music inside the mansion, all sounds fell dead silent at that moment.
From inside the mansion came the sound of a sword scraping against marble. Following condescending words from within, screams began to rise. The interior of the mansion seemed to plunge into chaos. Before long, the windows of the mansion were stained with blood. Some of the severed limbs were slamming against the glass.
Outside, a breathless battle for survival raged on. The attacks were relentless, each one heavier than the last. With bodies trembling from the recoil, they took turns warding off the strikes—first one, then the other. The ringing of metal clashing had finally made their ears bleed. The man stamped his foot hard onto the ground, and the blood rose in layered barriers. Fleeing for their lives, the duo caught their breath in a corner, gasping desperately.
The man walked toward them leisurely. He tapped the sword gently against his hand, watching the children intently. His head tilted from side to side.
Large Man: "Did you see? The blood you spilled only made your opponent stronger."
The man locked his piercing gaze onto them. As he said this, his voice was incredibly clear and metallic—completely devoid of emotion, terrifying. He closed in on Kafka instantly. Kafka could barely catch the man's movement out of the corner of his eye.
With a swift sword strike, the man kicked Kafka. Just as Kafka was about to fly backward from the kick, the man conjured a wall of blood. In that instant of shock, blood spat from Kafka's mouth; he had almost bitten off his own tongue. Before he could hit the ground, the man struck with his sword to finish him off, but Kafka caught the blade with his bare hands.
The sword had already pierced straight through the center of Kafka's right hand. With his left, he gripped the blade near the hilt. The blood from his hand dripped onto his face. He tried to see ahead through his bloodshot eyes. The man was taken aback by this move.
Large Man: "You really struggle hard to live. Yet just a few seconds ago, you were completely silent."
Kafka's voice was broken. He spoke between ragged gasps. Even though the blood from his hand was dripping into his mouth, he spoke with a roaring fire in his eyes.
Kafka: "I promised someone! I told them we would return, that I wouldn't change, and that I wouldn't let them down!"
With the last of his strength, Kafka shoved the sword aside.
Large Man: "You are just like a bug..."
He let Kafka fall. As Kafka fell, he spread his arms wide, as if trying to embrace the man. Though his smile looked as if he had found peace, his eyes screamed the exact opposite. In a remarkably gentle voice, he muttered:
"See you, Father."
The man was too late. He spun around quickly. Behind him was a bomb ready to detonate. Just as the man was about to stop Atheron, he caught sight of a baby falling out of the corner of his eye.
The baby was opening and closing its tiny hands. It was smiling despite falling. In fact, it seemed pleased to feel the wind against its skin.
Large Man: "RYANN!!"
The man turned his back on Atheron to save the baby, utterly disregarding what would happen to himself. Just as he was about to reach the baby...
The baby's skin suddenly melted away, and in its stead emerged a dark-eyed figure with droplets dripping from their hair. Kafka had pushed the man. The man, in the shock of that moment, couldn't even open his mouth. Kafka's eyes were burning with a fierce blaze. Atheron, without a single care, unleashed his legacy.
A massive explosion erupted in the air.
Atheron shielded his eyes with his hands. The sheer force of the explosion shattered the barrier the man had made. Flesh was scattered everywhere by the blast. Pieces of flesh rained down onto Atheron's face.
In horror, Atheron wiped the flesh from his face. His voice trembled. He didn't even want to walk.
Atheron: "Kafka?"
Atheron looked around frantically. He picked up one of the pieces of flesh clung to his trousers. His face contorted. His pupils were tiny. He opened his mouth, and just as he was about to scream, someone covered his mouth.
Kafka: "Shh."
Hearing that familiar voice, Atheron spun around quickly. Without saying a word, he threw his arms around Kafka. Kafka, however, just stood there. He didn't move a muscle. He simply stared at the ground. Though Atheron's face remained expressionless, he held him tightly, trying to soothe his own soul. Kafka gently pushed Atheron away.
Atheron: "Kafka, I think this is enough... There is no need to spill any more blood. The rest..."
Atheron covered his mouth to keep from throwing up as he caught sight of the mansion's interior.
Kafka tried to see his own reflection in a puddle of blood on the ground. He tucked his hair behind his ear.
Kafka: "We're already killers. If there's anyone left, let's take them down. Besides, our title won't change; this is the opportunity of the century."
With hatred in his eyes, Kafka advanced toward the mansion. Strangely, though he was just walking, his gait was terrifying.
Atheron: "But this is..."
Kafka silenced Atheron. Atheron flinched at his presence and did not continue his sentence. From far away, they could feel someone's laughter. They were under the gaze of someone arrogant enough to look down on everything.
Kafka: "Let's go, things might get harder after this."
When the duo stepped inside the mansion, all the lights had gone out. Not a single presence could be felt inside the dark mansion, save for a baby. They did not care about bumping into things in the darkness. Their minds were set on only one thing... They slowly went right from the stairs.
Before them was a vast parlor. With every step, they could hear the splashing of a liquid on the floor. In that darkness, a piercing shriek echoed. Both of them snapped their heads in that direction. Someone was passing right by them. The scraping sound of a sword dragging along the marble could be heard. The jewels and iron of the hilt glinted. Blood was dripping from its dragging tip. In the reflection of the blade, Atheron and Kafka saw their own soiled faces. They couldn't even react to it.
Woman: "DIE ALREADY!"
It was an incredibly primal scream. The man standing there simply laughed at this.
The First: "My lady, my physical strength is almost non-existent. I only have patience, that is all."
The woman stood up. Her crimson eyes and snow-white hair were among the few things visible in the dark parlor. She raised her hand, focusing her power into a single point.
Woman: "Your immortality must have a limit!"
The woman was panting heavily. Suddenly, the entire parlor lit up. Seeing the miserable state of the King, Atheron and Kafka dropped their weapons from their hands. Standing before them was a figure with long, pure white hair tangled together, crimson eyes still resting quietly beneath white eyelashes, wearing a white dress that was stained red in places. It looked as if snow had fallen upon her.
The woman attacked the King with absolute fury. The King met this attack with a laugh. Just as the woman was about to tear the King's head off with her bare hands, a child wielding a scythe materialized behind her, draped in a black hood that obscured everything except for glowing yellow eyes shining in the dark.
Rule 4: "Zero told me your thread has run out..."
The child killed the woman in a single, swift strike without even blinking. He laid her low with that sole blow. As the woman's head rolled on the floor, her eyes tracked the child who had struck her down. The child's voice was remarkably low and sincere.
The child then retreated to a corner and began to mutter.
Rule 4 Death: "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't want to take your life, but I must, otherwise the order will be disrupted. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I am a very savage person... Please forgive me."
Rule 4 was clawing at his own skin, trying to tear out his hair. Every visible part of his body was covered in scratch marks.
While Rule 4 sat in the corner biting his nails, Kafka and Atheron ran toward the room where the baby was.
Rule 4 Death: "That baby has a lot of thread left; I cannot allow you to kill it."
Rule 4 suddenly blocked their path. Instead of attacking, he simply stood before them. He moved in a highly autonomous manner, looking as if he were not a living being. He narrowed his eyes further and further. A voice echoed from beyond the stairs.
Zero: "Shi, do not try to stop destiny."
Shi stared beyond the stairs with a piercing gaze. With complete lack of emotion, he uttered, "Yes," and vanished in an instant.
Though Atheron and Kafka traded a brief glance, they quickly burst into the baby's room. In the room, a maid stood frantically beside the baby. Upon seeing Kafka and Atheron, the woman began to stammer in terror. She leaned against the cradle just to keep herself standing.
Maid: "P-p-please d-don't kill m-me..."
As Kafka drew closer, the maid quickly thrust the baby toward them.
Maid: "TAKE THE BABY, TAKE IT! B-B-BUT DON'T KILL ME!"
The woman had offered the baby to them, throwing herself at their feet. She was begging, letting out wretched shrieks. Kafka stepped back in disgust, shaking his leg to free himself from her grasp.
Maid: "I-I UNDERSTAND! YOU DON'T WANT TO S-SOIL YOUR HANDS ANYMORE! T-THEN I WILL KILL THE BABY MYSELF!"
The woman pulled a small dagger from her pocket. Holding the small dagger with both hands, she was about to plunge it into the baby when Atheron snatched Kafka's foil and drove it straight into the woman's skull. The woman collapsed instantly. Grabbing her by her hair, Atheron lifted her dead body and began slamming her head against the edge of the cradle. As he did this, the only sound was the crushing of flesh and bone striking wood. The baby began to cry, screaming at the top of its lungs. Atheron tossed the woman aside. Kafka swallowed hard and leaned against the wall.
Atheron sank to the floor, took the baby into his arms, and began to rock it gently. The maid lying beside them had a face that was completely unrecognizable. It would have looked better had it been burned in a fire. Atheron pressed the baby to his chest and began to sing lullabies with a trembling voice. The tears in his eyes seemed to have dried up. He was trying to comfort the baby as if it were his own lifeline. Kafka, with his head tilted onto his shoulder, his mouth slightly agape, his lips parched, watched it all with hollow eyes.
End of Chapter