CHAPTER 172 – HAUNTED WEEPING
LYSANDER FARADEISS
After the chaos and devastation I unleashed at the leader’s summit, I flew toward the northern edge of the planet, where a rugged mountain range loomed like a jagged scar against the horizon. The peaks were shrouded in mist, their icy tips glistening in the fading light as if crowned with diamonds. Nestled within this remote landscape lay the last standing remnant of a bygone era: the forgotten Demonic Cathedral.
The Demonic Cathedrals were once places of reverence, dedicated to the worship of the Outer God Necross, much like the grand Cathedral Exas where devotees praised the Goddess Exceria. Yet, it had been centuries since anyone had uttered prayers in my name, my past incarnation, since the Dragonoid Liberation War had ended and left such traditions in the dust.
This cathedral, hidden from the prying eyes of radars and undetectable by magical wards, was shrouded in secrecy. Only those attuned to its presence could ever hope to find it. My Eye of Necross served as the key, unlocking its hidden coordinates, ensuring that no one would follow me to this sanctuary.
As I landed softly on the cathedral's ancient grounds, I shifted back into my humanoid form and gently cradled the unconscious Hiraya in my arms as if she were a princess from a forgotten tale. The towering gates of the Demonic Cathedral creaked open with a ghostly groan, welcoming me as though they had been waiting patiently for their god to return.
Inside, the cathedral exuded an eerie, otherworldly aura. The air was thick with the scent of incense long burned away, and the dim light filtering through the stained glass windows cast colorful, distorted patterns on the stone floor. Unlike typical cathedrals adorned with symbols of holiness, the altar here displayed a chilling monument: a gigantic needle crowned with the head of a dragon, its long horns spiraling menacingly. Though I knew it to be merely symbolic, the monument exuded an unsettling presence, as if it held some dark secret waiting to be unveiled.
I ascended the grand staircase and made my way to the right wing of the Demonic Cathedral, which housed a series of living quarters. The corridor stretched before me like a silent procession of forgotten rooms, each door concealing secrets of its own. I entered one of the rooms and was greeted by an unexpected sight: a pristine white chamber with plush red carpeting. The room was well-appointed, complete with a luxurious bed, a gleaming sink, a compact kitchen, and an elegant dining table. If I didn’t know this was a devilish sanctuary, I might have mistaken it for a suite in a five-star hotel.
I gently laid Hiraya on the bed, her figure delicate against the crisp white sheets, and brushed a few strands of her silky-smooth golden hair away from her face. The way the soft light danced across her serene features was mesmerizing.
“You are so beautiful when sleeping, Hiraya,” I muttered, the words barely a whisper escaping my lips.
An ache tugged at my heart. I longed to wake her, to speak to her, to pour out the apologies that weighed heavily on my soul. I wanted her to understand the reasons behind my actions. Yet, I knew that doing so would only disrupt my plans. I had to carry out the Purge of Humanity alone. The burden of being the villain in this twisted narrative was mine to bear.
Suddenly, the familiar roar of a jet engine echoed through the cathedral. It was a sound I had heard countless times before—the approach of the Windwalker Airship.
“He’s quite early,” I murmured to myself, a mixture of surprise and inevitability in my voice.
The noise seemed to stir Hiraya from her slumber. Her delicate elven ears twitched at the sound, and slowly, she opened her eyes. Her golden irises, like pools of liquid sunlight, met mine with a quiet intensity. She reached out and gently took my hand, her touch a balm for my troubled soul.
“Lysander,” Hiraya muttered, her voice a soft plea.
I immediately released her hand, feeling the warmth of her touch slip away, and stood up, a mix of regret and resolve tightening in my chest. Without a word, I turned and quietly walked out of the room, leaving her behind.
“Lysander, wait!” Hiraya called out, desperation lacing her voice as she stood and tried to follow me. But just before she could reach the threshold, I cast a Cage Spell. Ethereal bars of light shimmered into existence, blocking her path. She grabbed hold of the magical bars, shaking them futilely in an attempt to free herself. “Lysander!”
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“I am no longer the Lysander you know,” I said, my voice cold and distant as I turned to face her. “I am Necross.”
“No! I know you’re still Lysander! Don’t play like an edgy villain!” Hiraya shouted, defiance and determination burning in her eyes.
I glared at her, my eyes glowing an icy blue, and opened my rainbow-hued third eye to instill fear. The air seemed to crackle with energy, and a dark aura surrounded me. “I have killed the leaders of the elves, onis, vampires, and dwarves. Can you still call me Lysander after what I’ve done?”
Tears welled in Hiraya’s golden eyes, threatening to spill over as she placed a hand on her chest. “I know you’re still in there! I know you’ve done horrible things for a reason. I know you, Lysander! Whatever you saw in the memories of my past self, I can understand it. So please, settle down, and let’s talk it out.”
Her words cut through me like a blade. Despite the atrocities I had committed, she was still willing to understand, to offer her support. But that was precisely why I had to bear this burden alone. Hiraya had a greater role to play in the future, and I needed to protect her from the darkness within me.
My heart felt as if it were being torn to shreds, but I couldn’t let that sway me. I clenched my fists, summoning the steely resolve that had carried me this far, and stared at her coldly. “Can we still settle down and talk it out after what I’ve done to our friends?”
“What?” Hiraya’s eyes widened in shock as she gasped, her breath catching in her throat. “W-What are you talking about?”
“Kate. Gaeun. Charlotte. And Meike.” I listed the names, each one a dagger in my heart, my voice a cold monotone. “Even after what I have done to them, will you still understand me?”
“Why…” The strength drained from Hiraya’s body as she sank to the ground, her fingers still clutching the bars of the magical cage. Her voice was barely a whisper, trembling with disbelief. “Why are you doing this, Lysander?”
Seeing her crumble before me shattered my spirit, the sight of her tears cutting through my defenses. The woman I loved was on her knees, weeping, and I knew that if I continued to look at her, I would falter. My resolve would crumble, and I couldn’t allow that.
I forced myself to avert my gaze, turning away from her heart-wrenching sobs. Each step I took toward the exit felt like a betrayal, the weight of my choices pressing heavily on my shoulders. As I moved down the corridor, the ornate walls of the Demonic Cathedral seemed to close in around me, the echoes of my footsteps swallowed by the oppressive silence.
The sound of the woman I love weeping would haunt me for the rest of my life. It was a melody of sorrow that would echo in my heart long after I left her behind, a reminder of the path I had chosen and the sacrifices it demanded.
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As soon as I stepped out of the cathedral doors, the colossal silhouette of the Windwalker loomed above me, its dark shape blotting out the sun. The airship's engines thrummed with a low, resonant hum that vibrated through the ground. At the front stood a tall, brown-skinned man with spiky black hair and eyeglasses, his demeanor composed yet commanding. An armband emblazoned with the number 8 was fastened around his bicep, symbolizing his honor as the last of the Erudites.
This man, Lyon Blacknote, owed his life to me more than once. I had warned him to stay away from the Empire’s Sanctuary when Johnny and I uncovered Gazelle’s plan for a blitz invasion. He was the only surviving Erudite in this timeline because of my intervention, the last remnant of a brilliant lineage.
“Lyon Blacknote,” I muttered his name, acknowledging him as I approached. “You’re almost too fast. It’s been just three days since we borrowed the Windwalker.”
“The Fast Travel Function is too convenient,” Lyon replied, adjusting his glasses with a precise motion. He handed me a folded piece of paper that seemed to materialize from his sleeve. “I’ve completed the list of coordinates for all human settlements. The AI in the airship has already recorded them, so you’ll be able to move in and out of human cities without any trouble.”
“Great.” I unfolded the paper, glancing at the meticulously written coordinates. “Thank you for this.”
The list was extensive, detailing every known human settlement in painstaking detail. Each coordinate represented a new chapter in my plan, a step closer to the culmination of my grim mission. I felt a mix of gratitude and resolve as I tucked the paper into my coat pocket, ready to face what lay ahead.
“So…” Lyon said, a cautious smile playing at the corners of his lips. “Are you sure this is the path you want to go down?”
I paused, feeling the weight of the decision resting heavily upon me. “I can no longer turn back.” My gaze fell to the ground, where shadows stretched long and dark. “Humanity shall be purged by my hands.”
Lyon's expression shifted, his eyebrows curling into a frown. “I thought you were gathering the coordinates to protect humanity as the king wanted.”
“That’s the thing.” I met his gaze and forced a smile, one that didn’t reach my eyes. “I lied.”
With the practiced speed of a warrior who had crossed too many lines, I drew my katana. The blade sang through the air with a whispering hiss, and before Lyon could react, I thrust it into his throat. The blade pierced through flesh and bone, emerging from his jaw and continuing upward, the bloody tip protruding from his forehead like a grotesque unicorn’s horn.
“F-Fuck you… Lysander.” Lyon wheezed, his voice a broken rasp. Blood bubbled from his mouth, staining his lips and dripping with each syllable he forced out.
I pulled the sword free, watching with hollow eyes as Lyon crumpled to the ground. His body lay sprawled, lifeless, as a crimson pool spread beneath him, the slick, dark liquid reflecting the dim light of the cathedral.