A stark contrast to the desolate landscape stood Isaiah Barrera. A man who, on the other side of the rift, commanded a different kind of power. A power built on skyscrapers, boardrooms, and the intricate dance of high finance. He was a titan of industry, a philanthropist lauded for his generosity, and an owner of a real estate empire that rivaled a senator's influence.

Yet, here he stood, not as the esteemed Mr. Isaiah Barrera, but as a grieving father stripped bare by loss. The coldness in his eyes wasn't the product of a calculating mind; it was the chilling frost of unabated grief.

"Selena," he began, his voice surprisingly gentle considering the circumstances. "It's a shame we never met under more pleasant conditions. My schedule," a sardonic smile flickered across his lips, "has always been a demanding mistress."

Selena, still trembling in Locust's grip, found herself speechless. Words seemed to elude her, caught in the undertow of his unexpected demeanor.

"Isaac spoke highly of you," Barrera continued, his gaze unwavering as it locked with hers. "Your leadership skills, your unwavering care for your team… he even dreamt of building a guild with you, something grand and lasting. How quickly the sands of time shift, wouldn't you agree? One moment brimming with dreams, the next… just memories."

His words, laced with a bitter sweetness, hung heavy in the desolate air. It was unclear whether he sought solace in these shared remembrances or used them as a cruel blade to twist the knife in Selena's gut. One thing was certain – this wasn't a man seeking vengeance. This was a man drowning in grief, desperately clinging to whatever connection remained to his lost son.

The air crackled with a tension thicker than the sand itself. Barrera's voice, though still surprisingly gentle considering the circumstances, vibrated with a barely controlled tremor. "So, Selena," he began, his eyes boring into hers with an intensity that threatened to rip the truth out of her. "Why did you kill my son? My only son."

Selena flinched, the words catching in her throat. "Mr. Barrera, I… I wasn't myself when we were inside the…" Her voice trailed off, swallowed whole by the chilling despair etched on his face.

Before she could finish her explanation, a stinging slap landed on her cheek. Tears welled up in her eyes, blurring the desolate landscape around them. "Please, Selena," Barrera pleaded, his voice thick with raw emotion. "Tell me the truth. Why did you take Isaac from me? Don't insult me with that ridiculous excuse about losing control inside a rift. A mere bagger wouldn't be able to wipe out your entire party under that same influence!"

The revelation hung heavy in the air. Barrera wasn't blinded by grief; a flicker of suspicion burned in his eyes. Finding out Alaric was an Untouched shattered the picture of a reckless murderer. Hatred contorted his features, a monstrous mask replacing the man who spoke of Isaac with a bittersweet fondness mere moments ago.

"My wife, Maria, Isaac's mother, you took her light too," Barrera spat, his voice laced with venom. "She couldn't bear the void you left after Isaac…" He choked on the words, burying his face in his hands.

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Selena flinched again, a wave of unexpected guilt washing over her. "Mr. Barrera, I… I truly am sorry, but…"

He cut her off with a gesture, his voice raspy when he spoke next. "We yearned for a child for years," he began, his gaze drifting across the desolate landscape, a million miles away. "A miracle some would say, it took us fifteen years… Isaac was our everything, the light that filled the emptiness in our lives. And you," he turned back to her, his voice hardening, "you ripped that light away."

He straightened, towering over her, his grief morphing into a chilling anger. "So tell me, Selena," he demanded, his voice an icy whisper, "why did you murder my son? What did he done, for you to take away his life?!" The question hung heavy in the air, a chilling prelude to the storm that was about to break. Selena, overwhelmed by his pain and her own guilt, could only stand there, the weight of his accusations threatening to crush her.

Tears welled up in Selena's eyes, brimming with a cocktail of guilt and sorrow. She understood – nothing she could say would erase the pain etched onto Barrera's face. "Mr. Barrera," she choked out, her voice barely a whisper, "I know you won't believe me, but what I say is the truth. Inside that rift… I lose control. My body's a puppet on strings, and all I'm left with are the horrific memories of the carnage I leave behind."

A shudder racked her body, the weight of the past bearing down on her. "But even without control," she continued, her voice gaining a sliver of strength, "I remember everything. And I regret… all of it."

She recounted the events leading up to the attack on the Tranquility Keep, the death threat she'd dismissed as a prank, a foolish mistake considering the chilling reality unfolding before her.

"The break-in, the fear…" she whispered, the tremor returning to her voice. "I had no idea… what I'd done to them. To cause such pain, such hatred…" Her gaze met Barrera's, a silent plea for understanding flickering in its depths.

"But now," she said, a newfound resolve hardening her tone, "I understand. It's you, Mr. Barrera. You're behind all of this. And if death is what you seek… then perhaps I can find some solace in accepting it."

She raised her head, meeting his gaze with a heartbreaking mix of defiance and resignation. "I'll accept it, Mr. Barrera," she declared, her voice ringing with a quiet strength. "But please, believe me when I say… I never meant for any of this to happen."

Barrera's face contorted in a mask of raw agony. His brow furrowed deeply, and with a heavy sigh, he squeezed his eyes shut. A single, glistening tear traced a path down his cheek, a testament to the storm of emotions raging within him.

Then, with a gesture of finality, he turned to one of his men, a burly bodyguard clad in a sharp suit. The man scurried forward, snapping open a gleaming steel briefcase at Barrera's unspoken command.

Inside, nestled in plush crimson velvet, lay a dagger. Not just any dagger, but a simple, worn blade – the first weapon Isaac had wielded as a fledgling Hunter. The weight of the memory, the symbol of a life so brutally cut short, seemed to press down on the entire desolate landscape.

"The Vermin Claws," Barrera rasped, his voice raw with emotion. "The only ones I knew who could orchestrate such… such an atrocity. Even if it cost me every last fortune I possess."

He traced the worn hilt of the dagger with a trembling finger, a silent apology to his son for not being strong enough to protect him.

"I don't know what horrors lie within that cursed black rift," he continued, his gaze hardening as it flicked back to Selena. "But this," he brandished the dagger, the tip glinting menacingly in the crimson moonlight, "this was Isaac's first step into the world of Hunters. A world you so ruthlessly ripped him away from."

An ideal death, using the very tool Isaac once held dear, seemed an impossibility. The cursed dagger, the one that had fueled the massacre, lay lost within the depths of the black rift. Yet, a twisted sense of justice, of recreating the final moments of Isaac's life, seemed to drive Barrera forward.

He raised the dagger, the point hovering a hair's breadth from Selena's throat. Her eyes fluttered shut, a single tear escaping the corner. But on her lips, a small, sad smile played.

"I'm truly sorry, Mr. Barrera," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "More than words can express. If my death can bring even a sliver of solace to your suffering, then perhaps there is some meaning in all of this."

The air crackled with a heavy tension, a morbid acceptance settling over Selena. This wasn't just about survival anymore. It was about offering a shred of redemption, a chance to ease the pain of the man who stood before her, consumed by grief.