Jarek stood frozen, astonished by Aeren's incredible strength. He had anticipated that Aeren might be slightly stronger than him, but as he watched the battle unfold, he realized just how far off he was. Fear gripped him, and frustration surged within. He glanced at the sword in his hand before turning to a man beside him, someone wielding an axe and a bow. This man had just drawn an arrow, aiming it directly at Aeren.
Jarek turned his head toward Duke and took a deep breath. "Sir Duke, do we have a chance to win?" He asked, hoping that the experienced Duke could provide some insight, as his own instincts offered no clear answers. Although he didn't expect much from Duke, he still yearned for some reassurance from the Duke of Sacaler.
"We have a legendary sword; we might have a chance," Duke replied, his voice flat and cold, as though he were resigned to facing an uncertain fate, but his face revealed nothing. Duke was feeling fear too, but he knew that he couldn't show it in front of Jarek, the child who would one day become the ruler of their world. Duke had to maintain a strong façade, even as anxiety simmered beneath the surface.
Jarek noticed the Duke's bow trembling—not from fear, but from tension—as the arrow was already drawn and aimed directly at Aeren. Just as the Duke prepared to release it, Jarek saw something in his expression: an unshakable resolve. Despite the horrifying scene they had just witnessed, the Duke stood firm, ready to confront a monster capable of erasing their entire existence if left unchecked.
Jarek forced himself to remember the stakes.
If they failed, everything—everyone in this world and beyond—could vanish in an instant.
The thought of losing against Aeren terrified him, yet the fear of losing the people he loved cut even deeper.
If I stand still… he'll kill them. The ones I care about. I cannot let that happen. I won't survive without them. I have to protect them all.
Thwip.
The Duke released the arrow, and it streaked toward Aeren, slicing through the air with deadly precision.
Jarek's gaze swept over the lifeless bodies scattered across the hall. Something inside him snapped awake. Magic and Aura merged and surged through him, flooding into the sword in his grip. The blade ignited with a fierce glow—light that seemed almost divine—but a heavy darkness coiled around it, swallowing the brightness and dimming the entire hall.
Jarek didn't hesitate.
He sprinted toward Aeren with everything he had.
The Duke's eyes widened when he realized what Jarek was doing. The arrow was still inches away from Aeren's eye when he shouted—
"Stop!"
But Jarek was already far ahead, too fast to halt.
"Damn it!" the Duke growled, immediately breaking into a desperate chase after him.
Aeren's eyes flicked toward the incoming arrow. In a single instant, his hand shot up—snatching it out of the air with effortless precision.
He turned back toward Marquis William. The man was barely conscious, swaying, blood pouring from his chest. Aeren stepped toward him, ready to finish what he had started. Killing William was necessary. Satisfying, even.
But then—
"AEREN, DIE!"
Jarek's voice tore through the hall as his sword slashed toward Aeren's throat. Aeren faced him head-on. The blade was already too close. If he did nothing, he would be decapitated instantly.
He had only one choice: lose something… or lose everything.
Aeren's cold eyes locked onto the incoming sword. His body twisted sharply to the right—narrowly avoiding a clean kill.
Jarek's blade carved into Aeren's shoulder instead, tearing deep.
At the same moment, Aeren sensed the Duke's arrow coming from the right.
Swish—
Jarek's sword grazed the side of Aeren's neck—slicing open flesh. Blood sprayed, the wound dangerously close to fatal. Jarek didn't stop; he pressed the sword down, widening the gash. Aeren's left shoulder was struck too, ripped open by the downward force.
Even so—
Aeren caught the second arrow before it reached him.
He stepped back, panting softly as blood dripped down his neck and arm. His left side was torn open. His shoulder is bleeding heavily. His neck was inches away from being cut clean through.
Across the hall, the sword in Jarek's hands blazed—divinity spilling out like a holy flame, illuminating the battlefield with spiritual radiance.
Aeren stood in its glow, injured but unbroken.
Aeren stood across from Jarek, his gaze fixed on the sword. He could see Dark Divinity spilling everywhere, its power surrounding them. The sight surprised Aeren; he hadn't expected to witness something like this. Blood leaked from his shoulder and trickled from his neck, but he kept his focus on the two men and the sword. Despite the pain, he sensed a glimmer of hope emanating from it. Aeren felt a surge of emotions, twitching at the abyss of hope. He never imagined he would reencounter hope in this desolate world.
"Hmm, so you have something that can harm me, huh? But be warned: if you use that sword too much, your body will shatter, or you'll turn to ash. It's better to let go of that weapon," Aeren said kindly, despite having been nearly killed by Jarek. He wanted to help Jarek understand the danger before he harmed himself with the cursed sword in his hand.
"Shut up, you bastard! You think I'm a fool?" Jarek shouted, noticing Aeren's blood dripping onto the ground. Strangely, he felt no remorse for his wounds, as if nothing had happened at all. "I will kill you." He glared at Aeren.
"Hmm, why do you want to kill me?" Aeren replied, genuinely confused by Jarek's anger. He questioned why Jarek felt this way, given that he had acted in self-defense, recalling all the events that had transpired at the auction.
Jarek froze at Aeren's question.
For a moment, he simply stared—at Aeren, at the corpses, at the people who had gathered their courage to kill the being standing before them. And as Jarek looked into Aeren's eyes, he realized something terrifying:
Aeren truly didn't know.
He wasn't pretending.
He genuinely had no idea why they wanted him dead.
Jarek's breath trembled. He looked down at the blood-soaked floor, unable to reconcile the two images in his mind:
—The monster who had erased existence before.
—And this boy asking innocently why they wanted to kill him.
He clenched his fists.
"Did you ever…" Jarek began quietly, then lifted his gaze, voice firm and heavy. "Did you ever destroy worlds? Entire existences where billions lived—people with hope, with emotions, people who loved, who hated, who wished for a tomorrow where they could succeed or fail, cry or laugh? Did you ever think about them when you killed billions before?" Jarek choked on his voice. He was barely able to say such words, feeling all the pain they should have felt when they died without knowing the meaning behind their deaths and the reason.
Aeren listened. And then—
He smiled.
A heartbeat later, laughter burst out of him.
"HAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Aeren's voice echoed through the hall. "Are you joking? Why would I care about mere puppets? Slaves? You speak as if they mattered." Aeren paused his laughter and said again, "I granted them the final freedom they deserve. I gave them a death without pain and freed them from the illusions they had been living. I extinguished the hope they carried with them throughout their lives. I am their truth, their reality, and their end." Aeren's words echoed in the hall as if he had done a great thing for the worlds.
Jarek's expression hardened.
"You haven't changed, Aeren."
The words came from behind him.
Suddenly, the ground beneath Aeren lit up—black and white spiraling together. A massive magic circle expanded across the hall, locking into place. Chains of light and darkness merged into a twisting pattern, forming a spatial bind far beyond ordinary magic.
In an instant, the chains shot toward Aeren.
They wrapped around his wrists.
His ankles.
His torso.
Even his neck.
Aeren's body was locked in place before he could react. He stared down at the chains, confusion flickering in his eyes. He didn't understand.
Not yet.