Villain Ch 1792. His Miracle
Allen didn't move.
"I… was supposed to protect them," Caelreth choked. "I couldn't… stop the curse. I couldn't even stop myself."
"I don't think you ever let yourself try," Allen said.
Then—
"Soul Siphon…"
The black tether formed again, slamming into Caelreth's chest.
To drain.
The link turned into a web, every pulse of Allen's mana countering the infection that had become this man's legacy. Caelreth screamed, his body writhing as his shadow peeled away in long, melting threads.
The ground shook.
The very air shuddered.
Then—
A final explosion of darkness.
And silence.
Caelreth collapsed to his knees, normal now. A man. Not a monster. His size diminished, his armor cracked open like a broken shell. The Warden of the Old World—gray-haired, pale-eyed, bleeding—but whole.
Allen stood over him.
No arrogance.
No celebration.
Only gravity.
Only ache.
"…I'm sorry," Caelreth whispered. "I didn't mean to become… this."
