My hands wouldn't stop shaking.
Not from the cold seeping through the cave walls—but from Charlie's words, which echoed in my head like a cruel verdict.
"A wind blade… stabbed Father…" I whispered.
The words felt unreal as they left my mouth, hollow and distant, as if someone else were speaking through me. My ears rang, and for a moment, I couldn't even hear my own breathing.
"Yes," Charlie replied quietly. "Your father was struck down by a wind ability user."
Something clenched painfully in my chest, tightening until it felt hard to breathe. I instinctively pulled the book closer, clutching it against myself as though its warmth could keep me from breaking apart.
"Tell me everything," I said, my voice cracking despite my effort to stay composed. "Please… don't leave anything out."
Charlie didn't answer right away.
He closed his eyes, his expression heavy—as if he, too, had been dragged back to a place he wished he could forget.
And then, slowly—
The world dragged us back into that night.
---
The Patriarch staggered forward.
Blood spilled freely from the wound in his chest, soaking his robes as he coughed violently. Each breath sounded heavier than the last, yet he remained standing—his back straight, his will unbroken.
"No—Aldric!!"
Madam Reyes screamed as she rushed toward him, her voice tearing through the chaos.
Her footsteps echoed sharply against the floor.
The room froze.
Every clash of steel, every breath, every flicker of movement seemed to halt—as if the world itself had flinched.
The Patriarch turned his head slowly.
Not in panic.
Not in haste.
But with the weight of a man who already sensed the truth—
and feared it.
Standing behind him was Commander Roderic.
Wind curled faintly around his fingers, invisible yet unmistakable. His expression was calm—almost relaxed—with a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
For a moment, Aldric simply stared. His mind refused to accept what his eyes were seeing.
Roderic.
The man who had stood at his side for years.
The one he had trusted with his family's safety.
The one he had raised, promoted, and treated as his own family.
Aldric's fingers trembled faintly.
This wasn't fear.
Fear was familiar—something he had faced, mastered, and crushed countless times.
This was different.
This was betrayal.
Cold. Sudden.
And infinitely more painful than any blade.
His chest tightened—not from the gaping wound, but from the truth settling deep into his bones. Every memory rose at once: battles fought together, trust given without question, loyalty he had never once doubted.
His gaze slowly lifted.
"…Roderic?" Aldric whispered hoarsely.
The name slipped from his lips like a fractured question—one he never wanted answered, yet already knew the truth to.
The devil-masked man let out a soft chuckle, the sound low and deliberate, as if he were savoring the moment. He folded his arms across his chest, utterly relaxed amid the carnage, like a spectator enjoying a well-timed twist.
"You didn't expect that, did you?" he said lightly, his voice laced with unmistakable amusement. "To be struck down from behind—"
He tilted his head slightly, as though considering Aldric's expression.
"—by the one you trusted most."
The words sank in slowly, each one pressing deeper than the blade ever could.
Aldric staggered, forcing himself to remain upright as blood dripped steadily onto the marble floor. His gaze locked onto Roderic—still unable to accept what his eyes were showing him.
"Why…?" Aldric demanded hoarsely.
The word felt torn from his chest rather than spoken. His voice trembled—not from pain, but from something far deeper. His eyes searched Roderic's face, desperate for hesitation, for regret, for even a flicker of shame.
"Why would you do this?" he asked again, his glare burning. "After everything… why?"
For a brief moment, the room held its breath.
Then Roderic laughed. Not bitter. Not conflicted.
Amused.
Roderic let out a short laugh—light, almost casual, as if Aldric's question amused him.
"Why?" he echoed, tilting his head slightly. "You still don't understand, even now?"
His smile widened, stripped of all warmth.
"Because I gain far more standing with them than I ever did wasting my life serving you."
The words landed like a blade driven deeper into Aldric's chest.
"I treated you like family," he growled. "Trusted you. Gave you power."
Roderic shrugged. "But I never saw you as family," he replied coldly.
His eyes burned—not with pain, but with a furious, wounded disbelief. Power stirred violently around him, psychic pressure rippling outward in unstable waves, yet beneath the rage was something far more dangerous.
The shattering realization that loyalty, once given without question, had been nothing more than a convenient lie.
The masked man let out a pleased laugh. "How entertaining," he said. "Loyalty breaking always makes the sweetest sound."
Aldric clenched his fist.
"I'll kill you," he roared, psychic pressure exploding outward.
The masked man raised a hand lazily.
"Enough," he said. "Now tell me—do you finally understand why your power feels restricted?"
He gestured lazily toward Roderic.
"He is the reason," the masked man said. "Go on, Roderic. Enlighten them."
Roderic gave a mock bow, a cruel smile playing on his lips.
"At tonight's party," he said calmly, "I dispersed an energy-defector drug into every dish using my wind manipulation. It's odorless, tasteless and undetectable."
He smiled.
"Everyone ate it—including you."
Aldric's eyes widened.
"That's why your control collapsed," Roderic continued. "Why your psychic dominance became unstable. Your strength was never gone… just strangled."
A low laugh escaped the masked man as he lifted a single finger and aimed it at Madam Reyes.
"Kill her too."
Madam Reyes gasped, horror flashing across her face.
Roderic moved instantly—lunging toward her without hesitation.
A burst of fire exploded between them as Charlie intercepted the attack, flames ripping across his arm as he blocked it. He staggered back, teeth clenched in pain.
"Charlie!" Madam Reyes cried.
Aldric roared.
Pure rage tore from his chest as psychic pressure exploded outward, the air warping violently around him. He hurled himself toward Roderic with everything he had left, killing intent blazing in his eyes.
"Charlie!" Aldric shouted, voice cracking with fury and desperation.
"Take Madam and save the children—GO!"
Charlie didn't hesitate.
The moment the command left Aldric's mouth, Charlie seized Madam Reyes's arm and pulled her toward the doorway, flames flickering instinctively around his body as he moved.
They were almost there.
Then—
The masked man lifted two fingers.
Casual. Effortless.
A sword lying among the fallen assassins trembled.
For a split second, it hovered—
Then vanished.
Too fast.
Too precise.
The blade pierced straight through Madam Reyes's head.
There was no scream.
No resistance.
Only a dull, hollow sound as steel met bone.
Her body went limp instantly, collapsing to the floor as if her strength had simply been switched off.
"Oh… nice hit," the masked man murmured, a soft laugh slipping from behind the devil mask.
Madam Reyes's eyes remained open.
They shifted weakly—past Charlie, past the chaos—locking onto Aldric one final time.
Her lips moved.
Barely.
"Save… the children…"
Then the light left her eyes.
Charlie froze for half a heartbeat, the world threatening to collapse around him.
Then instinct took over.
He quickly made up his mind and ran—locking the door from outside.
---
Charlie reached the office in a blur of motion.
He slammed the door shut behind him, hands already moving before his mind could catch up. A concealed panel slid open beneath his fingers. He tore the drawer wide, seized the bronze key hidden within, and spun on his heel, sprinting back into the corridor without looking back.
His footsteps thundered up the stairs.
Then he saw it.
At the base of the staircase lay the youngest son.
The boy's small body was crumpled unnaturally against the stone, eyes open but empty, a dark pool of blood spreading slowly beneath him. It crept across the floor in thin rivulets, soaking into the carpet like a cruel stain that would never fade.
Charlie's breath hitched.
For half a heartbeat, his legs nearly failed him.
But there was no time.
He forced himself forward.
Farther up the stairs, Leon Reyes lay amid fallen assassins, their bodies twisted in death around him as if he had fought until his last breath. His clothes were shredded and soaked through with blood, wounds carved deep across his torso and limbs. His chest rose faintly—barely—each breath shallow, fragile, stolen.
"Young Master Leon—!" His voice cracked despite his effort to keep it steady.
Leon's eyes fluttered open, unfocused, struggling to recognize the face above him.
The corridor was slick with blood, heavy with the scent of iron and death.
And time was running out.
"Young Master Leon!" Charlie knelt beside him. "We must go!"
Leon's eyes flickered open.
"…No," he whispered. "Save Arthur… tell him... I tried…" His fingers tightened briefly around Charlie's sleeve.
Then fell limp. Charlie closed his eyes for a heartbeat, then he ran again.
---
Charlie's voice slowly pulled me back to the present.
"And then," he said quietly, "I found you upstairs..."
My breath hitched. I remembered it.
The distant shouting. The smell of blood. The way his hand had clamped over my mouth before I could scream.
"I took you to the secret room—the one hiding the artifact they were searching for," Charlie continued. "And from there… I escaped with you."
His shoulders slumped as he bowed his head.
"I couldn't save anyone else."
Tears slipped down my cheeks without a sound. My chest felt hollow, as though something deep inside me had shattered and left only emptiness behind.
I pressed the book against my forehead, my breathing uneven, fighting the crushing pain swelling in my chest.
Charlie's hand came down firmly on my shoulder—steady, grounding.
"You are the last hope of the Reyes family."