Leon’s POV

Now that there was nothing standing between us, it was time for me to face Sesillian. His eyes darted around, wild and desperate, as he backed away.

“There’s nowhere left for you to run,” I said, my steps slow, deliberate as I closed the distance.

“Khhh…!” Sesillian gritted his teeth, eyes blazing with hate. “Anything and everything—you’re always ruining it all. I hate you… I fucking hate you, Mephisto!”

Hate me all you want. It meant nothing to me. That was just another futile emotion. His hatred couldn’t reach me, no matter how fiercely he clung to it.

“In fact, I hate you more, Sesillian,” I said, my voice steady. “I don’t hate just anyone, so consider this a special honor. Tonight, you’re going to die here.”

“You think I’m just gonna lie down and let you do as you please?!” His manic rage flickered into something frightened, but he wasn’t backing down. His eyes were still alive, that burning spark of survival refusing to dim. With a quick, jerky movement, he whipped out a dagger—a cursed sword, dark energy radiating from it, the aura thick and dangerous.

I recognized the type immediately. Cursed swords had their own malevolent consciousness, steadily eroding the mind of their wielder until they lost all sanity. But somehow, Sesillian’s eyes still held a glint of awareness.

“Fight all you want, it’s already written in the stars that you’ll die,” I said, my voice cold and resolute. “Struggle all you want—it’ll end the same.”

My resolve was absolute. I’d come to end Sesillian, and I wouldn’t hesitate.

In an instant, I moved, vanishing faster than human eyes could track. A thunderous boom echoed as I appeared next to him and delivered a devastating strike. The force launched Sesillian across the plaza, slamming him through a wall at the far end.

“Gah… cough… ngh…”

Half-buried in the rubble, he spasmed, coughing up a thick stream of blood. His chest heaved, bones cracked, shattered; I could feel the damage I’d inflicted. Yet somehow, he still clung to life.

“It hurts! It fucking hurts! It hurts! Aaaaaaaaaghhhhh!” His screams tore through the air, raw and guttural. Judging by his reaction, it was probably the first time he’d truly felt pain. Sesillian had never been a fighter; he was more comfortable manipulating from the shadows. Maybe the academy years ago had bruised him, but nothing compared to this.

Experience more on empire

“You fuck! You fuckkkkkkkkkkk! You—” He dropped to the ground, only to force himself up again, bones creaking, his face twisted with agony.

The pain must’ve been so intense it had knocked him out for a moment, only to jolt him awake again. He stumbled, groaning as he tried to catch his breath.

“You fuckkkkkkkkkk!” he screamed, rage contorting his features.

He swiped his hand, and before I could blink, one of his lackeys snuck up behind me, moving faster than any of his other puppet soldiers. The man’s spear shot toward my unguarded back.

“Gahahaha, shouldn’t have let your guard down!” Sesillian started to gloat, but his laughter died as soon as he realized I was still standing, completely unfazed by the attack. The spear hadn’t even grazed me. Had Sesillian forgotten about my Guardian? Or was he just that disoriented from the impact, maybe even driven mad by that cursed dagger?

Had he been watching closely, he would’ve seen a quarter-sized bundle of Guardian energy holding the spear at bay. I spun in mid-air, kicking the lackey hard enough to send him flying across the plaza before landing back on my feet. My gaze settled on Sesillian.

“G-Get him!” he shrieked, his voice trembling as he commanded the remaining minions under his control, those who hadn’t yet been snared by the vines, to attack.

But they were nothing more than flies now, buzzing in my way. I swept them aside with Guardian, flicking them away like insects.

“Is that all you’ve got?”

“N-No…! This can’t be…!” Sesillian’s voice cracked as he clutched at his hair, his face a portrait of despair. His knees gave out, and he dropped, almost crumpling under his own weight. I stared down at him with cold, unwavering eyes. If he’d been any other enemy, I might have killed him swiftly and been done with it. But Sesillian wasn’t just anyone.

He’d hurt countless innocent people and would have kept going if I hadn’t stopped him. The crimes he’d committed were unspeakable. What he’d done was nothing short of mass genocide. Killing him quickly wouldn’t satisfy justice.

No. Just killing him wasn’t enough.

I wanted him to feel despair first.

Sesillian looked like he realized, too late, that he was about to face something far worse than just death. His eyes blazed with hatred, lips pressed tight until a trickle of blood ran down from where he’d bitten them in rage. Only moments before, he’d had everything in his control. everyone was supposed to follow his tune. The taste of sudden defeat must’ve been maddening for him. That was why, as he glared daggers at me, his hatred completely overpowered his fear.

I shot forward again, my knee slamming square into his nose, a sickening crunch echoing as he careened back, slamming hard into the wall.

“Kahak!” The air shot out of him with the impact, his breath rasping.

I grabbed a handful of his hair before he could slump to the ground, forcing his battered face to meet my eyes. Without hesitation, I punched him—again and again, my fists colliding with unrestrained fury. This wasn’t nearly enough punishment, not yet. His face was unrecognizable, the nose flattened, blood pooling around his mouth and dripping from torn skin. Sesillian had always loved his face more than anything else. It felt only fitting to ruin it beyond repair.

Then, out of nowhere, a fireball blazed towards us, scorching white-hot and crackling with energy. It held force but nowhere near enough to harm me. One of his mages, stuck within the twisting vines, had desperately cast it. In return, the vines constricted tighter, and then fell limp.

Turning back to Sesillian, I found him somehow on his feet again. There was a dangerous sheen to his eyes, veins bulging with an ominous purple hue as if they were about to burst from his skin.

“Overdoshing could kill me… but if I’m going to die, I’ll take you with me…” he snarled, his voice almost inhuman.

Overdosing? Had he taken one of those damned pills that ramp up mana to dangerous levels, overloading the user’s physical abilities? The frenzied look in his eyes confirmed it. I mean, his body mirrored the same twisted transformation I’d seen back then when I fought Norman.

“Mephishtoooooooooooooooo!” His roar filled the air, body ragged and torn, yet he forced himself forward, charging toward me in a last, frenzied rush. Blood streamed from his mouth, his broken shoulder dangling uselessly at his side, the cursed sword still clutched in his hand, trembling but gripped tightly.

With a flick of my leg, I kicked his chin, the force lifting him a few inches off the ground. He didn’t go flying, though. All the force had traveled through his body. As he staggered, dazed, I raised my leg high above and brought it down with a brutal axe kick. My heel connected with his skull, driving him into the ground, cracking the floor beneath him in a tremor that sent splinters flying. Blood spurted from his forehead like a fountain, and his eyes rolled back into his skull as consciousness finally left him.

As Sesillian’s head rebounded, I drove my foot into his skull again, sending him flying into the air. His body spasmed as he fought against losing consciousness, his will forcing him to hang on. As he tumbled back down, I grabbed the collar of his tattered clothes, holding him upright. He flailed against my grip, but his weak thrashing amounted to nothing more than a pathetic struggle.

“And you didn’t even get to use your sword…” I said, my voice laced with a mock pity that must’ve felt like salt on his wounds. It was true—he hadn’t swung the cursed blade even once.

“Fuck you… You’re dead… I was shupposhed to be victorioush… but you ruined everything!” His words slurred, a mix of defiance and desperation.

“I didn’t ruin shit,” I replied coldly. “I stopped you, and I took revenge for every person you hurt and killed. Don’t you think this is fitting for scum like you?”

“Shut up! I’ll fucking kill you! I’ll fucking kill you!” he spat, his eyes wild.

“Go ahead and do—” I started, taunting him further, but something felt wrong. My eyes darted to the altar, and suddenly it hit me.

“Fuck!”

I’d forgotten something crucial—Charlotte wasn’t the only one outside the royal family with royal blood. Duke Merca… he was the son of a prince who’d lost his claim to the throne years ago. His daughter… she would be royal too.

“Gehehehe! You’re too late… You’re far too late…” Sesillian wheezed with a twisted grin.

Duke Merca, caught in a haze of hypnosis, led his daughter, equally hypnotized, onto the platform. I watched as he raised a blade and started to drive it straight into her heart. I threw Sesillian aside and lunged toward the altar, desperate to stop it. But I was too late. Duke Merca’s blade had already pierced her chest, and the life drained from her in an instant. Then, as her heart stilled, something erupted outward from the altar.

Darkness.

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