Chapter 231: Chapter: 231 I shall end your life today!

“It’s you!!!”

Ravan’s eyes opened so wide they began to hurt.

For a moment he forgot how to breathe.

Terror rushed into his chest and froze there.

His mind went blank.

“You… this… what are you doing here…?”

His voice broke. It did not sound like the voice of a king. It sounded like a man who had just seen a ghost.

The man floating in the air did not answer.

He wore a white robe, white as the snow below. The cloth did not move in the wind. It hung perfectly still.

His black hair fell softly over his forehead.

His blue eyes shone like clear ice under the storm.

His face was calm. Too calm.

Sharp jaw. Straight nose. Smooth skin.

If someone stared at him too long, their thoughts would slow down. It was not only beauty. It was presence. Heavy. Pure.

It was Vivian D Zenithara.

The boy who had vanished four years ago.

The boy who had once stood in Ravan’s way.

The boy who was supposed to be gone.

Vivian looked around slowly, as if he was only observing the weather.

His gaze stopped on the Clown.

The Clown’s cracked mask tilted slightly. His shoulders trembled.

“Kekeke…” he laughed softly. “You are finally ready… heaven’s child.”

Vivian did not react to the name.

He did not smile. He did not frown.

He simply shifted his eyes toward Ravan.

Their gazes met.

Ravan felt as if someone had placed a blade on his neck.

Vivian smiled. It was not a warm smile.

It was not a cruel smile. It was a calm smile.

“We finally meet, Duke,” he said gently. His voice was steady. Clear. “Or should I call you… the King of the North. Ravan Tramplin?”

The words hit harder than lightning.

Ravan’s fingers trembled. He could not answer.

Four years ago, after Vivian removed the curse, Ravan had felt uneasy.

A strange fear had stayed in his chest. But when Vivian vanished, that fear slowly faded.

He told himself the other continent must have taken him. They had shown interest before.

He convinced himself it was over.

But now…

Now Vivian was here. Standing in the sky.

And the aura around him…

Ravan felt it clearly. It was deep. It was steady. It was vast. Not wild like the Clown.

Not heavy like Sant. Not sharp like Vined.

It was complete. There was no doubt.

Grandmaster.

Ravan swallowed.

“No…” he whispered under his breath.

Below them, the soldiers on the wall began to notice the new figure in the sky.

Whispers spread.

“Who is that?”

“Another enemy?”

The air around Vivian crackled softly. Lightning moved along his shoulders like it belonged there.

He raised one hand slightly. The clouds above shifted. The storm grew darker.

The Clown laughed louder.

“Kekekeke… good… good… this is perfect!”

Ravan finally forced his voice out.

“You disappeared,” he said, trying to steady himself. ”

Vivian looked at him quietly.

“I appeared again,” he replied.

His tone was simple. Honest.

“Why now?” Ravan asked, though he was afraid of the answer.

Vivian’s blue eyes looked past him. Toward the wall. Toward the army. Toward the land of the North.

“To pay some depts.”

The pressure in the sky increased. The snow stopped falling. Even the wind seemed to step back.

Ravan felt sweat run down his back despite the cold.

He understood something in that moment.

This was not only about war. This was not only about Indrath.

This was not only about Sant or Vined.

This was about balance shifting.

The Clown floated higher, stretching his neck slightly.

“Come then,” he said softly. “Show me how far heaven has raised you.”

Vivian’s eyes returned to him. No anger.

No hate. Just certainty.

And that certainty was more frightening than rage.

Far below, the war drums continued.

Boom.

Boom.

Boom.

But up in the sky—

A different battle was about to begin.

“I will fight you,” he said to the Clown. His voice carried through the storm without effort. “Do not worry about that.”

He paused.

Then his gaze slowly returned to Ravan.

“But before that… I must say something to him.”

He looked back at the Clown.

“Would you wait for a while?”

His tone was completely neutral. It did not sound like a request. It did not sound like an order.

It sounded like truth.

As if time itself would pause because he asked.

The Clown’s eyes widened slightly behind the cracked mask.

For a brief second, his laughter stopped.

“Is he also on that path…?” the Clown wondered silently.

A memory flashed in his mind. Another man. Another presence.

Someone who also spoke softly, and the listener would fall into the rhythm of his voice without knowing.

Vivian was not the same. He lacked that heavy pressure of authority.

But there was something similar.

That quiet center.

“Kekeke…” the Clown chuckled again, softer this time. “So you know.”

’No wonder they call him heaven’s child.’

“Of course,” the Clown said, waving a hand carelessly. “I will wait. Take your time.”

Vivian gave a small nod. Nothing more.

Then he turned fully toward Ravan. The snow began falling again, gently.

“Ravan Tramplin,” Vivian said.

The name sounded different in his mouth.

Not mocking. Not respectful.

Just precise.

“You might not know this,” Vivian continued, “but recently… my wife, Charlotte, became pregnant.”

The words were simple.

But they hit Ravan harder than lightning.

“You know her, right?” Vivian asked.

Ravan swallowed.

“Yes… I know her.”

His voice had lost all arrogance. All pride.

It was not because war had humbled him.

It was because he felt small.

Small in front of the calm man who stood in the storm as if the world was beneath him.

Vivian nodded once.

“In this time,” he continued, “I should be with her.”

His blue eyes softened just a little.

“I should be beside her. I should make her smile. I should hear her worries. I should be there when she brings our child into this world.”

For a moment, the lightning around him dimmed. Just slightly.

Then his gaze sharpened again.

“But instead…”

The air grew heavy.

“I am here.”

Ravan felt his throat tighten. He understood now. This was not about battle glory.

“Do you know why?” Vivian asked calmly.

Ravan could not answer.

Vivian stepped forward in the air.

The space between them shrank.

“It is because you forced me to,” Vivian said.

His voice did not rise.

It did not shake.

But something inside it had changed.

“When I was a child, I was never the brightest in the worldly sense,” he continued. “But because of your greed… you placed that curse on me.”

Ravan felt it. Not lightning from the sky.

Lightning inside his chest. It struck again and again.

Fifteen years ago.

He remembered that night. The ritual room. The Clown beside him.

He had thought the boy would die quietly.

No witness. No noise. No consequence.

Then seven years ago—

Vivian cured it. And exposed him.

At that time, Ravan had only felt anger.

Annoyance. He never imagined this moment.

“You thought I would become a hindrance,” Vivian said softly. “So I had to suffer my whole life.”

He stepped forward in the air.

Snow moved around him but never touched him.

“My father suffered.”

“My mother suffered.”

“My brother suffered.”

“Our home broke.”

He closed his eyes.

For a moment, the storm seemed distant.

“Everyone forgot how to smile.”

A faint tremor moved through his voice.

“And the one who suffered the most… was my Charlotte.”

His eyes opened slowly.

Blue. Cold.

“Since the day we met, she chose me.”

“If I had asked, she would have abandoned the world for me.”

He paused.

“And she did.”

Images flashed through his mind.

Charlotte. Her face pale.

Her eyes empty. Her hands covered in blood.

In that dream-like state, she had slaughtered hundreds.

Not for power. Not for pride.

For him.

Vivian let out a quiet breath.

“There was also my son…”

His voice lowered.

“The child I could not hold.”

The air felt tight.

“Do you know how it feels,” Vivian asked, still calm, “when you cannot touch your child the moment he comes into this world?”

Ravan said nothing. His teeth ground together.

Anger burned in him. Anger at weakness.

Anger at fate.

And beneath it—

Regret.

Not regret for the act.

Regret that he had failed to finish it.

Vivian gave a small chuckle.

“It is fine,” he said. “You would not understand.”

The calm in his eyes vanished.

Cold replaced it. He snapped his fingers.

A black sword appeared in his right hand.

It did not shine. It did not glow.

It swallowed light.

Vivian slowly drew it from its sheath.

The moment the blade came free—

BOOM.

A wave of killing intent exploded outward.

It crushed the air. It stabbed into Ravan’s mind.

Ravan flinched.

His body moved back on instinct.

“How can such…” he muttered, retreating further.

The killing intent was not wild. It was focused.

It was meant for him alone.

“I will—” Vivian stepped forward.

His forehead trembled.

With a sharp cracking sound, two long goat-like horns pushed out from his skin.

They curved backward, dark and smooth.

His black hair began to grow.

It fell past his shoulders.

Past his chest.

Down to his waist.

Metal rang softly as it extended, as if each strand was forged.

His ears sharpened.

His presence changed.

The sky darkened above him.

Lightning wrapped around his body like chains.

He looked at Ravan.

There was no calm now.

Only decision.

“I shall end your life today.”

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