Chapter 47: So F**king Be It!

The moment of hesitation had earned Kai his retribution. He staggered away from me, and I tried to pursue immediately—still not sure if I really could kill someone, despite the fact that my own life depended on it.

Just as I tried to chase him forward, something slammed into my head from the side, making my entire brain ring.

I saw white for a moment.

The world suddenly screamed into my ears, nothing making proper sense anymore. I could feel blood dripping down beside my eyes, rolling down my jaw in warm rivulets. The metallic taste of it reached my tongue. I stopped, my gaze blank as I turned to the bastard that had struck me—cold, unbelievable expression fixed on my face.

“Kai! He promised to help me survive, he’s the one!” Kael shouted, staggering back, his hand-sized hammer falling to the ground with a dull clang.

My senses dove underwater. Nothing mattered anymore at that point—not survival, not morality, not the fading echo of whoever I used to be before this gate. I was consumed by so much rage that there was only one thing that was going to satisfy this moment.

His death.

’I should’ve known it was my destiny to kill this bastard.’

I ignored Kai for a moment and darted toward the deadweight, immediately striking Kael’s face with the fist that was holding a dagger. The hilt connected with his cheekbone. A good crunch.

He staggered back. As he fell, my hand drove the other dagger straight into his ribs—sliding between the plates of his armor like it was designed for exactly this betrayal.

He screamed, summoning his Heroic Spirit immediately.

“Ironhold!! Kill this bastard!!”

In that moment, the pain in his voice filled me with a strange kind of glee. Not joy, exactly. Something darker. Something I’d examine later, if I lived long enough to have regrets.

’Oh, you see how that felt…’

He had fallen to his knees, holding his side. Blood had soaked the tunic beneath his armor, dripping through his fingers in thick drops that pattered against the stone.

His summon materialized beside him—but instead, Kassie moved. She covered the distance in less than a second and kicked the summon away like a football. It flew and crashed into the cavern wall with a sound like breaking pottery.

’Good girl.’

I bent down, grabbed his hair, and slammed the pommel of my dagger into his face. Multiple times. The rhythm of it became mechanical, purposeful. At some point he started screaming, but I didn’t care—my heart was enveloped in rage, my outside reaction cold and brutal. Clinical, almost.

And Kai? He just stood there, hands resting on his sword.

He observed with a nonchalant look on his face. Like he was watching a play.

Even as Kael began to cry for his help, he did not move. Neither did I stop punching his face with the pommel of my dagger—even after he had stopped moving, even after the screaming had died to wet, ragged breathing.

Not until Kai’s cold voice rang out.

“So… you are capable of violence. As expected of Minister Marlowe’s last son.”

Something seemed to register back into my head as I stared at Kael’s unmoving body, his unrecognizable face. The blood. The damage I’d done with my own hands.

Something flooded my consciousness. Was it pain? Was it loss?

Something I couldn’t quite discern.

I slowly brought myself to my feet, feeling numb. Feeling nothing at all, really. That was worse, somehow.

My gaze returned to Kai.

“This is a pointless question.”

“Yet you’ll still ask.”

“Why are you doing this?”

Kai leaned away from his sword, holding it straight in one hand. Casual. Relaxed. Like we were discussing the weather.

“Why, you say?” He pretended to think about my question, tilting his head with theatrical consideration. Then flashed a grin at me—too wide, too bright. “Because the church wants it to be so… the church’s desire is my desire.”

I narrowed my gaze.

“What the fuck? Are you under a bondage spell?”

His grin once again looked maddened. The expression of someone who’d found religion in all the wrong places.

“Quite the opposite, Cade. I’ve never felt so free… so loved.”

He truly looked so happy at that moment. Rapturous, even.

He raised his sword and shot at me.

We met and moved around each other, throwing steel at each other. Some strikes slipped through, some were perfect blocks. I pivoted and tried to stomp on his foot, but the bastard removed it quickly and kicked my shin, making me retreat with a painful groan.

“What? You thought that trick was going to work twice?”

“Yes, you fool!”

I exclaimed with frustration, immediately straightening to receive his attack. I trapped his sword in the middle of my crossed daggers, managed to bear the weight for a moment, and sent a kick straight into his belly, pushing him back.

As he staggered back, I dove in without hesitation—hooking him in a shoulder-to-belly grapple and pushing him further until both of us fell to the ground. Quickly, I punched his hand with my dagger’s hilt.

He groaned and instinctively released his hold on his sword.

Immediately, I smacked it away—metal scraping against stone—and brought down my daggers toward his chest.

But the bastard immediately caught my wrists.

He clenched his teeth, veins standing out on his neck.

“You really are ready to kill me?!”

“What, you thought this was a stage play?”

I forced my hand down, but his strength was sufficiently holding. The muscles in my arms burned with the effort. Seeing that his strength was quite commendable, I used the force to yank both his hands wider and smashed my head into his face.

He yelled.

“Owww, fuck you!! Bastard!”

I slammed his face again. The impact jarred my skull, made my vision swim for a second.

’Worth it.’

If it would take my rock-hard head to kill this bastard, then so fucking be it.

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