[NOTICE]
sry for the "new chapters", I just moved CH72-76 to volume 7 and the only way to do that is to fucking delete them and then restore them to drafts and then post them again 🙄 blame webnovel
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[CONTENT WARNING]
This chapter is bloody.
.
.
.
Vander and Plutoryl are dead and gone.
There's nobody to avenge. Nobody to take vengeance upon. Serenity died with them. The House of Temperance has fallen, all in one swift, sudden, unstoppable blow. And I can't even be angry with Serenity for killing them. It's clear that her mind was fractured. She couldn't even recognize her own son right in front of her. The Goddess only knows what torment Aurora put her through since the day Vander fell. The sole consolation I can find is that Serenity is no longer a victim of Aurora's torture.
It's a hollow reassurance. Hardly a reassurance at all.
My friends are dead. I can hardly believe it.
I don't know what to do. I don't know what to feel.Â
Graves is still fighting. Still killing. Still carrying me on her back, though she has freed me from her tail so she can use it. I'm clinging to her as the only solid thing I have to hold onto. Although I'm able to take solace in knowing that she is an extension of Umbra, I desperately wish my Goddess were here to carry me instead.
I've lost the will to fight. All I can do is watch.
With a lethal, emotionless, methodical coldness, Graves takes lives in a swift and regular rhythm. She's doing exactly what I should be doing. Ambushing the biggest targets while they're distracted fighting our largest forces. Except she doesn't leave the kill for them to sweep up. No, she doesn't just turn the tide of the conflict, she ends it. The precision and efficiency with which she does so is something to behold.
It stands in fierce contrast to my ability.
Especially right now. I'm doing nothing at all.
I can't. I can't do anything. I couldn't save them. I couldn't reach them. I couldn't stop them from dying. I couldn't even help. Not in the slightest. What's the point of fighting if I can't do a single thing to save the people close to me? And yet somehow I managed to convince myself that I was capable.Â
What a joke. Capable? I'm useless.Â
I've always been useless. Powerless. Helpless.
Pathetic. I'm just fucking pathetic.
"Graves," I rasp, my horns pressed to her back as I hide my face in her. A faint flicker of hope begins to rise. I've just remembered. "Graves, were they… Like me? Like us? Immortal?"
"No." She stabs another waspwing dracofae through the heart and darts away. "Only us. Mother is extremely sparing with it."
"Damn it. But can she–I mean, she's divine, so can she bring them back to life somehow?"
"Goddess of the Dark. Not the dead."
Hope is dashed. I feel sick to my stomach.
"They're gone, Rose. For good."
I hide my face in her back again.
"Are you going to fight any more?"
"Will it make any fucking difference?"
A long and lasting silence hangs as she flies.
"Haunt." Graves lands on his long back, holding on as he backs off from fighting Primarch Justice and allows Alabaster to take over. With brutal objectivity that kind of hurts, she tells him, "Her Rose has given up. Morale is lost. Fix her."
"Can't say I blame her." Haunt is as sympathetic as ever. It's somewhat healing. Keeping his distance and launching yellow shots of lightning toward Primarch Justice while Alabaster clashes horns, Haunt asks, "Storm, is that true?"
I don't answer. I can't seem to speak.
"For a century now, our intelligence has claimed time and time again that Serenity was no longer herself. It was no mystery. And Vander was never able to break free from his guilt; he always believed he was the one to blame. And he knew damn well what was most likely to happen when he went to her. I'm not saying he chose suicide. What I'm saying is that… For Vander, it was an act of redemption. Whether she came to her senses or remained maddened by the lies she was fed, he was able to be there with his suffering mother. One final time. That is the choice he made."
I hate it. I hate that he made that choice. We need him. I need him. But he threw his life away. Without so much as a single goodbye. And now what? Now what?
"And that jester," Graves huffs, casting her dark magic in tandem with Haunt's lightning. "Always the savior. Always playing the hero."
"I'm certain Vander surprised him too. But Plutoryl couldn't just stand by and watch. He had to try something. Hardly any wonder he put Vander's safety first before his own life. That nephew of his was everything to him. And, likewise, Plutoryl blamed himself for everything, all of it, from the very beginning. Killing Vander's father is what sparked these circumstances within House Temperance. And in that sense, I think Plutoryl was seeking redemption just the same."
I hate that too. None of this had to happen. Neither of them had to die. Bitterness and resentment is bleeding into my grief and I don't have it in me to stop it. I'm angry with them both. I hate everything about this.Â
"Redemption. It's just fucking selfish. What about all of us who are left behind, hurt by losing them? Did none of us matter to them at all? Did I? Or is this anger selfish of me to be feeling?"
"Just because it's selfish doesn't mean it's wrong."
"Then I'm staying angry. At them. Bastards."
"Take that anger out on our enemies, storm."
Now I'm angry at Haunt too. I growl at him.
Then I take flight to rejoin the fight.
I'm going to fucking kill someone.
Hm. I've never killed a Primarch before.
I sprint forth and thread the needle between Alabaster's horns, driving mine forward with their axe blades raised. Instead of punching through, I hit Primarch Justice and nearly shatter my own skull as the impact hits right back and stops me in place. Right. He's divinely blessed, just like I am.
Rattled but no less livid, I rip my horns free and sink my talons into his neck, grasping hold with my claws too as I gnash my fangs into his flesh and stab at him with my dorsalblade. He roars and thrashes, beating at me with the heavy bludgeon of his hammertail and trying to throw me off, completely ignorant to the fact that he cannot. My hooked talons will not allow it. He cannot escape me.
My catalyzed electromancy booms as I'm struck by red lightning, which fiercely crackles and bursts as it runs down my spine and illuminates my red dorsal plating. Again and again, I call upon that same spell, crashing my electric might down on him over and over. The two of us claw at each other, gnashing fangs, writhing and twisting as we fight to the death, but I know that I am winning.
In the corner of my eye, I see that Graves is hovering near, simply circling us and watching. Alabaster whoops my name as she clashes with his Legend guards, and Haunt keeps his distance as well, fending off any arcanists who attempt to step in.
"Justice!" I spit as if it's venom. "Justice for whom? Justice for me! For Vander! For Plutoryl! For every other sorry soul you Primarchs have crushed on her orders! Justice! For! Us all! And most of all, justice upon you, Primarch! I sentence you to death!"
A roar splits my throat and stings my voice. My electromancy responds in kind to my fury. Lightning rages and ruptures and booms. I have lost all precision and caution. I am ripping into him like a wild fucking beast, tearing flesh from bone with so much frenzied fervor that I lose myself to the vicious and bloodthirsty violence. Mouthful by mouthful, I make mincemeat of the flesh of his neck and throat, chomping through crunching scales and plating as I dig for his esophagus, stabbing and slashing and cutting with my tail as I sever tendon and sinew and muscle, carving my claws so deep that they take, grind, and sharpen upon his bloody bones.
Even after he stops fighting, I continue killing his corpse. If only I could kill him again, and again, and again. Instead, I reduce him to nothing more than a stripped carcass, as if his flesh has been stripped by vultures, exposing broken red bones that are bent and snapped at odd angles, and I bathe in his blood as I devour chunks of his remains like the raw bloody meat it is.
I don't stop until my thirst and my hunger are satisfied.
With that, I kick off the carrion and send it into the sun.
"Graves! With me! We're going into the heart of it!"
"Yes, Her Rose. You've made artwork. It's beautiful."
"Red as roses. For my Goddess. You choose who's next."
She nods, then follows me into the storm.
Haunt and Alabaster to do the same.
It seems I'm in command now.