79 - The Seed

He walked across the reddened, open field, dragging his world sword along the ground, stepping between fallen angels and crushing their wings beneath his boots. The field was awash in crimson, stained with angelic blood. Each step he took splattered more of it across the already-drenched earth.

His path led him to one particular body.

Dauz's.

|I won't... ever give up... I'll stop you...| Dauz's voice echoed through the blood-soaked air, loud enough for Evelyn to hear from the heavens above. Knight approached, looking down at his carved and punctured form.

Evelyn clasped her hand over her mouth, gasping, her eyes turning away from the scene.

|I'll do whatever it takes to bring you back to your senses... We're friends! And I'll make you remember it, one day for sure!| Dauz called, his voice resolute, defiance still burning in his eyes.

Knight stared back silently, meeting his gaze.

"Dauz..."

Evelyn's voice trembled in a mixture of awe and sorrow, drawing Knight's attention upward. For a fleeting moment, he caught the expression in her glowing eyes—sorrowful, yet full of admiration for the fallen angel. Something dark stirred within him, and he turned back to Dauz, gripping his sword tighter.

[It matters not how many times I end your life,] Knight began, his voice hollow as he raised the world sword, its edge aimed at Dauz's mouth.

[...I relish each moment I pierce your flesh, seeing the light leave your eyes every single time.] His voice reverberated inside Dauz's mind, a red spark faintly flaring within the depths of Knight's helmet.

[I will find that boy,] he continued, slowly driving the blade into Dauz's open mouth.

Dauz's eyes widened, a choked gasp escaping him as the sword inched further, deeper.

[And I will end your souls. Permanently.] Knight finished, his words hanging coldly in the air as the world sword pierced through flesh, the sickening sound echoing through the crimson field. Dauz's life drained away in agony, swallowed by the darkness.

Evelyn turned her face away, tears shimmering in her eyes.

[You... Bastard...!!] The goddess cursed as she looked at the scene; as Knight vanished into dark flames. ... Making his way toward the capital.

[No... If he reaches that boy... My plan...!]

"My Goddess..." Evelyn murmured, sensing her distress. "Why must Knight be kept from Van Hellix? He's unprotected, isn't he?"

[Evelyn,] the Goddess replied with a sigh, her golden eyes glinting coldly. [What affects a skill's potency?]

"...The user's mental state," Evelyn responded.

[Correct. A stable mind wields greater power. Magus Veil's passive works just as strongly on children as it does on adults.]

Evelyn's eyes widened. "So... even as children, his offspring would have developed feelings for him?"

[Precisely. For years, Magus Veil's brokenness weakened his influence. But as he raised his daughters, his strength returned, and only then his passives took effect—until he foolishly tried to end his life.]

The Goddess clicked her tongue in irritation.

[Hellix is no different; thus I plan to break him utterly. His strength has become a threat to me and all of Arataxia. He is immortal only because of his passive, Dark Soul. If his mind, his... Soul, shatters beyond repair and he dies in that state, he will not revive.]

Evelyn murmured, understanding. "The Demon Lord is the only thing holding him together... So that's why you made that deal with the Archdevil..."

[Yes... She—his one anchor—must be taken, not killed. Inner strength feeds on belief. If she dies loving him, he will endure. She must be taken, and he must witness it. Only then will he shatter completely, leaving him exposed... His passive weakened enough to slay him permanently.] She growled, her gaze fixed on the horizon.

[I even offered the Priestess visions of health, wealth, and joy if she betrayed Hellix and turned to my champion, yet she resisted. Fortunately, my champion took it upon himself to wear down her resolve... but it only weakened Hellix; it didn't break him. One more blow with the Demon Lord will bring him to his knees. Then he can be eliminated, permanently. But if that wretch reaches the capital, everything unravels. His escape alone… I know it will stir Hellix in ways beyond my control.]

"But why grant Van Hellix immortality in the first place, My Goddess?"

The Goddess cast a fleeting glance at Evelyn, noting her unwavering devotion before responding.

[Immortality was never mine to grant. Hellix was never meant to be summoned, and I cannot alter powers without sacrificing my own. I can only empower those who serve me, fueled by their belief and prayers.]

"Then... how?"

[There is a force within the void that assigns powers to summoned heroes. I can interpret and shape it, but its essence is beyond my control. Van Hellix is not mine—he simply crossed paths with Magus Veil during his summoning. His passive, Untrusted, was so potent it tainted even my perception, filling me with a childlike spite, twisting my own hatred into his abilities.]

"But... why does Knight's approach affect Hellix?"

[The Seed of Darkness. I confirmed it today, watching this bloodbath unfold. The wretch's power stems from the same origin in the void: Darkness. Hellix, summoned without grace to shield him, should have been annihilated by the void. Instead, it embedded him with darkness.]

[As the wretch draws near, Hellix's seed will stir and grow, unlocking powers that must remain dormant.]

"But... Knight isn't a summoned hero! He is a resident of this world! H-he couldn't have gained this power, could he?"

[... Even us gods tire of monotony, Evelyn. Who's to say there isn't another force beyond our perception, a being that amuses itself by toying with our struggles?] 

--------------------------

'Panic attack. Give me a fucking break,' he thought, scanning the blood-soaked, wrecked apartment.

Ten corpses lay scattered around him, his body drenched head to toe in their blood.

'I feel completely calm,' he told himself, though his heart felt as if a scalpel were slicing it open—a small, precise cut, exposing... something hidden beneath his shattered armor, slowly seeping out.

It didn't feel red.

This time, he let it happen. It was almost routine, disturbingly familiar. He remembered that he could go without breath for 37 hours—he'd tested it, training in the mermaid's ocean to prepare for escape.

'This is nothing.'

The last man looked up at Van, trembling as he soiled himself, surrounded by the bodies of his fallen comrades. Van's gaze was cold, detached. Casual.

"A-ah... I... I c-can't ask you t-to spare me, can I...?" he stammered, his voice weak and quivering.

Van remained silent, taking slow, deliberate steps toward the cowering ex-knight—the last of the group that had trashed his apartment.

'Shit...!! SHIT...!! He's not letting me walk out of here after killing everyone... How the hell did he get this strong?! We messed up... Meaty or not, he's still a summoned hero...' The man's thoughts raced as he frantically crawled backward, matching each of Van's advancing steps.

He glanced back toward the open window, the darkness outside beckoning as his only escape. But he knew it was hopeless. If he tried, Van would throw something, just like he did to the other knight who attempted to flee through that very window—one clean shot to the head, and it was over.

He'd seen it firsthand in this battle.

Every non-physical and binding spell simply bounced off Van. And the few that landed didn't leave a scratch.

All the rune-masters had fallen, their spells too slow to connect with Van.

Even an A-ranked summoned spirit—the Guardian of Wind—remained here, though invisible to those without attunement to the ARCANE realm; a realm where all spirits reside, said to be the Gateway to Arataxia itself. It was fading slowly, lying helpless and dying in the ruined apartment after its caster's death. It had tried to trap Van in a vacuum, sealing off all air, but Van's chest continued to rise and fall effortlessly.

'This crazy bastard's lungs are stronger than an A-ranked spirit's magic… he's breathing through a vacuum?! Give me a fucking break…! First that WHORE-Magnet friend of his, and now him! Why… why does everything go right for these summoned freaks?! Just because they got summoned?! FUCK OFF!' the man's mind snarled as he clenched his teeth, his fist pressing hard against the bloodstained floor.

"Any last words?" Van asked, his tone indifferent.

'Might as well let him say his piece. I'm going to kill him, either way. He's survived longer than anyone. He's earned it,' Van thought, feeling a lump forming in his chest—as if sprouting from the incision, from the cut in his heart.

"...Yeah," the man spat, flinching before forcing a twisted grin. "Go FUCK yourself, Meaty."

Van sighed, standing over him, then raised his foot above the man's head, ready to crush his skull.

The man squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the end...

... until a voice gently cut through the silence.

"Hey, Van," she called from the doorway, her figure framed against the closed door, standing just beyond Henry's lifeless, groinless body.

Van halted, recognizing the voice, and slowly turned his head.

'Now...!' he thought, bolting toward the window. He rocketed through it, using muscle-strengthening magic to propel himself into the night.

Van glanced back, watching his target escape.

"What a shame," she murmured, stepping casually through the pools of blood on the floor toward him.

"He's going to be a problem for you, isn't he? Why did you hesitate?" she asked, wrapping her arms around his abdomen, leaning into his back.

Van kept silent, lowering his gaze.

"Were you, perhaps, being considerate of me?" she teased with a soft, sly smile. "How... cute."

Silence lingered between them as she pressed against him.

"Varlog used his last two stones to plead with me to come. I thought you were in real trouble," she murmured, her hand tracing the stains on his bloodied clothes. "But you seem just fine."

Her arms roamed around him, her touch possessive.

"Or... is there something you want to tell me?" she whispered, tightening her hold.

Van's mind flashed to the events of the night—his former party members, their words, his own. And Varlog's warning echoed in his mind.

The affection Alicia showed him was fleeting, Varlog had said. Nothing real. If he wanted to keep her, he'd have to constantly seduce her, constantly strategize.

'Right... I was honest with them, and they left.'

'I can't burden her with any of that… I mustn't. She's the only one I absolutely can't lose,' he thought, swallowing hard as his chest tightened with each deep breath.

"They were just a nuisance, so I killed them. And if there's something I want to say..." He turned to face her, still in her embrace, his gaze steady as it met hers.

"... it's that I can't wait to be done with this place."

The thing growing in his chest spread its roots—insidious and invasive, carving deeper into his flesh, entwining itself around him as if to anchor the foreign presence taking shape within.

She looked up at him, repeating his words softly. "They were just a nuisance, so you killed them."

Her crimson eyes softened, strands of red hair falling across her forehead, partially concealing the glint in her gaze.

"That's... very like you. Direct," she murmured, holding his hands in hers. "And yet... it feels strange. Like it's not even you speaking." She leaned closer, searching his eyes. "Are you sure there's nothing you want to share?"

"... No. Nothing," he replied, though his chest tightened, the ache burrowing deeper.

"I see." She released his hands, stepping back.

"... Under any other circumstances, I would've called you back," she continued, her tone firm once more. "But Varlog is weakening. And he promised to help Varolon... Demons keep their promises, no matter what. You understand that, don't you?" She watched him, and he nodded.

"So... keep him safe, and finish this quickly, please. I have a feeling... it must be done soon." She looked at him intently, a glint of worry in her gaze.

"I didn't know he was unwell. How sad," Van said flatly, barely recalling the wound on Varlog's shoulder.

Alicia flinched at his indifferent tone.

"He's not sick—just old. He's lived far longer than most demons. His days are numbered," she replied softly, a sigh escaping her as her gaze drifted.

"Make sure he's safe until this farce is over," she added, casting a grim look out the window toward the capital. "So he can spend his final days in the Demon Realm... not here. And so..."

She turned back to him, her eyes softening, "... that you will also return to me."

"... I'm here now. You could stay tonight, if you want," he offered.

"No, Van. You're not with me. Not truly. You're somewhere else."

"... Is it because I don't shout at you to marry me anymore? Is that what you want?" he asked, a faint twitch betraying his frustration.

"...No," she replied softly, then, more firmly, "but I'm not blind. I can see there's a side of you you refuse to share with me. Whatever you're carrying now has grown so vast, so grotesque, there's barely any of you left."

He looked down, the lump in his chest swelling, his heart feeling as though it might burst at any moment...

"But I'll wait for you."

At her words, it stopped—just for a moment—as if somehow listening, pausing within him.

"As I told Varlog," she continued, "I will never be in the arms of another, neither in jest nor in truth. Because... I want to see that hidden side of yours, even if it started with you screaming at me." She chuckled, flicking her fingers as crimson flames swept through the apartment, reducing the blood, bodies, and every trace of carnage to ashes.

Van glanced around, his shoulders easing slightly as he took in the now-cleaned apartment—though the broken furniture still lay scattered, untouched.

"I can't repair furniture," she said lightly, heading for the door and placing a white parchment on the table beside it.

"That's something you'll have to do on your own," she murmured, her gaze lingering on him for a moment before she slipped out, the door clicking shut behind her.

'I don't want to fix anything. This is all just… temporary,' he thought, feeling the familiar numbness settle in. 'It can stay broken. I don't care about anyone here anyway.'

As if in defiance, the foreign presence within him finally settled. The ache in his chest faded, replaced by a strange, pulsing calm.

For the first time in this world, a message prompt appeared before Van's eyes.

[The Seed of Darkness Bears Its First Leaf]

[ARCANE Stat Unlocked!]

'...?' Van's expression remained stoic as he stared at the dark message, though a faint flicker of confusion crossed his gaze.

Arcane…! He inhaled sharply, a slight tremor passing through him as he absorbed the word's meaning. Not even Magus… had this stat figured out…!

Another message appeared.

[You are now slightly more in tune with the Void surrounding you.]

Van gulped as the entire apartment plunged into darkness. Shadows thickened, swallowing every corner, and whispers stirred, circling him like a low, sinister chant.

"What…!?" he murmured, his voice barely a breath as he looked around, uncertain whether to move or speak.

Everywhere he looked was shrouded in darkness.

For the first time in over seventeen years, he froze in fear, his body rooted in place. He could feel it—a towering presence of unimaginable power looming above him, as if it were studying him, assessing his very soul.

[...Remain steadfast.]

The words reverberated through him, calm yet deafening as they echoed violently in his skull.

"Wha…!?" he gasped, clutching his ears as he dropped to his knees. The voice felt disturbingly familiar, rattling his mind even as it remained steady and unhurried.

He clenched his eyes shut, trying to escape the overwhelming sensation, and when he reopened them, he found himself back in the apartment. The darkness was gone.

"What…?" he breathed, his voice shaky. "What just happened…!?" His eyes drifted around the room, his senses heightened, as if still attuned to the strange presence of the Void.

Then, he saw her—a woman with white hair in a flowing gown, lying on the floor beneath him, her chest rising and falling with each shallow breath. Beads of sweat glistened on her seamless, smooth face. A faint breeze circled around her, swirling in delicate patterns, as if shielding her.

"...Who are you?" Van asked, his voice wavering yet firm, still shaken from his brush with the Void as he took in her otherworldly presence.

The woman's eyes widened, a flicker of disbelief flashing across her face.

[Guardian of Wind]: "You… can see me!?"