Chapter 257
Having delivered his grand speech, Erebus slowly lowered his hands, drawing a gaze brimming with chilling amusement towards Ryuu.
A wicked, knowing smile stretched across his lips, twisting his features into something both alluring and terrifying.
“Tell me, little elf,” he purred, his voice a silken thread, “was not every word I uttered both straightforward and beautifully poetic? Precisely the kind of truth you proud elves are so fond of enshrining within your revered holy texts?”
A jolt, cold and sharp, coursed through Ryuu.
A shiver, not of physical chill but of discomfort, traced a path down her spine.
Erebus’s words were a direct hit, striking at the very core of her being, at the intricate, often contradictory emotions she harboured regarding her own lineage and the traditions she was meant to uphold.
She clenched her fist, knuckles whitening, the desperate urge to refute him battling with the uncomfortable truth of his observation.
She had to deny him, to tear down the foundations of his twisted logic before its roots could dig deeper into her.
“If what you say is true,” she managed, her voice trembling but firm, a small, defiant spark in the vast darkness Erebus embodied, “then what is your true gain in embracing such malice? What compels you to mock my beliefs, to cast such a condescending gaze upon the very concept of justice?”
Erebus’s smile widened, a predator savouring its prey.
He answered with an unnerving ease, as if her question were merely a simple formality.
“My dear Ryuu, oh my wonderfully naïve elf,” he declared, sweeping an arm out in a grand, theatrical gesture that encompassed the ravaged chamber, “what else could I possibly need to gain but pure, unadulterated satisfaction?”
Ryuu’s breath hitched.
“Wha…” she stammered, her mind struggling to process the audacity of his claim.
“The pursuit of evil is, in essence, quite rudimentary,” Erebus continued, his voice now lower, almost a conspiratorial whisper, yet still carrying weight.
““Every evil act we commit, every shadow we cast, every life we extinguish—all are done in the name of self-satisfaction.” He paused, letting the words hang in the air, allowing their unsettling simplicity to sink in.
“Self-satisfaction, by its very nature, is a self-centred pursuit. It largely disregards the well-being of others, and therefore, it is met with their disdain. Extreme selfishness, when unbridled, can give rise to truly unpardonable behaviour. That, my dear, is what we – you people – have chosen to label as evil.”
Justice and evil, she had always believed, were diametrically opposed forces, an eternal struggle between light and shadow.
Justice found its anchor in law and order, in the collective good, in the harmonious balance of society.
But evil, as Erebus described it, was liberated from such confines.
It was an expression of individual will, unfettered by moral convention – the ultimate manifestation of freedom, which, in turn, was the raw, unadulterated essence of self-satisfaction.
Ryuu’s face drained of colour, her complexion turning ashen, mirroring the greying light filtering through the shattered windows.
This declaration, unembellished, left her utterly speechless.
There was no immediate retort, no clever argument to counter such a chillingly coherent philosophy.
Her gaze instinctively darted to Alfia, a silent plea for intervention, for a dissenting voice.
But Alfia remained impassive, her expression one of utter boredom, making it feel as though the claims of the evil god held significance.
Erebus’s frank confession, delivered with such gleeful conviction, shone with a perverse sheen of truth, twisting her world view into disarray.
Yet, Ryuu refused to yield.
She would not accept this twisted logic, not when the fate of Orario hung in the balance. Desperate to buy herself a few more precious moments, to stave off the crushing despair that threatened to engulf her, she flung another question at Erebus.
“In that case… why? What possible reason does all you said require the utter destruction of Orario?”
Erebus’s eyes, pools of ancient night, seemed to deepen.
“My domain, little elf, is primordial darkness. It is the underworld itself. To obliterate Orario is, quite simply, to transform this land into my very own realm.” He paused, his tone unexpectedly devoid of malice, instead carrying a strange, almost serene sincerity.
“What I do is perfectly natural, an inherent expression of my existence. For you mortals, what I strive for may appear as wanton destruction. But for me, it is nothing less than paradise.”
Observing the shock etched across Ryuu’s face, Erebus sighed, a faint, almost imperceptible sound of internal weariness.
“It seems my loftier ambitions remain far too abstract for mortal minds to truly grasp,” he mused, his voice losing its softer edge, “much like the aims of any true god.”
“How could anyone understand that?” Ryuu cried, her voice rising in a desperate crescendo. “You are insane!”
Erebus, however, remained unmoved.
The accusations of a mortal, even a principled one, held no weight against the vastness of his divine purpose.
“Alas, being misunderstood is an inherent part of evil’s fate,” he replied, a dismissive wave of his hand.
“Nevertheless, I have patiently indulged your inquiries. Now, it is only fair that you reciprocate.”
Ryuu visibly flinched.
The games were over.
There was no more stalling, no more evasion.
The trap had sprung, and there was nowhere left to run, nowhere to hide from the inevitable confrontation.
“I posed this question to you once before, Ryuu,” Erebus began, his voice dropping an octave, becoming laced with a cold, insistent edge.
“And rest assured, I took your answers to heart.” He mimed a thoughtful gesture, tapping a finger to his chin.
“’Good deeds done without promise of reward. Upholding that value at all times and striking down evil wherever it rears its ugly head,’ if my memory serves me correctly.”
“Stop…” Ryuu whimpered, clutching her head as if to contain the swirling chaos within.
“Is that still your answer now, elf?” Erebus pressed, his voice unwavering, “Or has the cruel hand of reality altered your convictions?”
“Stop!” Ryuu shrieked again, her voice ragged with strain.
Erebus leaned closer, his eyes boring into hers.
“Have you been thanked, Ryuu? Have you been rewarded for those values in the face of such overwhelming evil? Has your commitment to ‘good’ brought you anything but despair?” He pushed relentlessly, each word a finely honed blade.
“Can you genuinely look me in the eye and declare that it hasn’t affected you? That your cherished justice still stands unblemished and strong? That you haven’t stumbled, haven’t buckled, under the crushing weight of all that expectation, all that pain, all that loneliness?”
“Please, stop,” Ryuu pleaded, her voice cracking, dissolving into a desperate whisper.
She squeezed her eyelids shut, burying her face in her hands, desperately trying to block out his relentless assault.
“Listen to me, elf!” Erebus’s voice escalated, cutting through her desperate attempts at self-preservation.
“I know you wish to cast me as the ultimate villain in this sordid affair, but understand this: I am offering you a chance to make the right choice.” He wasn’t going to allow her a graceful retreat. With a calculated cruelty, he plunged the verbal knife deeper.
“So I shall ask again, Ryuu: what, precisely, is your justice?”
Ryuu could offer no reply.
Her body convulsed, collapsing into a crouched, quivering heap on the floor, eyes and ears still tightly sealed against the harrowing reality.
At this sight, a guttural, triumphant laugh erupted from Erebus, echoing through the broken chamber.
“Hahahahahahahahaha! Behold! Justice herself has nothing to say, plummeting into despair with such pathetic ease!” He swept his dark hair back with a flourish, his face contorted into an expression of unhinged madness.
“You have deeply disappointed me, follower of Astraea! But in a perverse way, I am glad. For if even you can no longer believe in justice, then this city is truly finished. The populace will no longer cling to your hollow lies!” he declared dramatically, his voice resonating with the finality of a death knell.
Ryuu remained curled on the shattered floor, a fragile, broken doll, utterly incapable of retort.
“Oh, my poor little egg of justice,” Erebus cooed, his tone laced with a sickening condescension, “don’t tell me you are already cracked beyond repair?” Seeing Ryuu remain unresponsive, he turned his gaze towards the gaping hole where the stained-glass window once stood.
Outside, the sky was beginning to deepen, a bruised purple bleeding into the horizon, signalling the somber close of the fourth day of the relentless war against the Evilus.
“Seeing you in such a state… it got me pondering about those children from the Bahamut familia,” Erebus muttered, a malicious grin tugging at the corners of his lips.
“The Astraea familia has proven itself a disappointment. I wonder if they would offer a more… entertaining display.”
…………………………………………………………………………………
As the sky further darkened and the embrace of night drew ever closer, various adventurers across Orario began their weary return to their assigned camps, preparing for the arduous night defense.
Meanwhile, the elite Einherjar of the Freya Familia were still locked in their brutal, internal battles, striving to devour each other’s strength – a concerning development given the city was in the throes of a desperate war.
Yet, because the evilus had not initiated any drastic new offensives, Finn, chose not to interfere.
He knew well that any disruption would only incite their wrath, causing them to turn on him for disturbing their sacred Folkvangr.
His concerns lay elsewhere.
Finn had far more pressing matters weighing on his mind, chief among them the sudden, unexpected appearance of Alfia and Erebus in the western sector of the city.
Their arrival had been sudden and unexpected, yet miraculously, there had been no casualties amongst the adventurers present.
Thinking of Draco, Finn couldn’t help but allow a faint, relieved smile to touch his lips.
This was now the second instance where Draco had managed to save lives from the champions of the Evilus.
First, he had rescued Allen and Ottar from the monstrous clutches of Mors and Zald.
Now, he had successfully extracted Lyra and Kaguya from Alfia’s grasp, emerging from the brutal encounter without suffering any major injuries.
It was reassuring to know that such an emerging prodigy stood on their side.
Orario’s adventurers, despite their numbers, were severely lacking in true powerhouses, especially those capable of standing against the calamitous might of the evilus three monstrous champions.
The realization that there was one more capable warrior, someone who wouldn’t simply become cannon fodder in the face of such overwhelming evil, was a deeply comforting thought.
With one more vital piece added to his intricate plans for a decisive counterattack, Finn reached for another report resting on his table, his gaze sharp and calculating.
He would wait.
He would plan.
And when the opportune moment arrived, he would push back.
………………………………………………………….
As the final vestiges of a brutal day faded into twilight, giving way to the cool embrace of night, the members of the Bahamut familia found their way back to the northwestern camp.
Weary and dust-streaked, they sought the meager shelter that offered a semblance of safety, all except for their goddess, Bahamut herself.
She remained locked in a tense, isolating struggle with Falazure, the evil dragon god.
Since the first day, Falazure had remained eerily quiescent, a dormant volcano threatening eruption, a ticking time bomb whose detonation was an unknown horror awaiting them all.
This passive stalemate, concentrated entirely around the Hephaestus familia workshop, meant that Bahamut had to dedicate her full, undivided attention to containing him.
Consequently, it was one of the many reasons why Draco and his familia members had been unable to update their status sheets.
Huddled within the cramped confines of a makeshift shelter, Draco gathered his familia for a small, simple meal.
He had diligently scrounged for and prepared a few basic food items—a thin, watery stew, potatoes, dried meat, spices and some hardtack—a far cry from the bountiful feasts they once shared.
It felt like an eternity since they had all sat down together, the rhythmic clang of swords and the distant cries of death replaced, for a fleeting moment, by the quiet clinking of spoons.
Looking across their young faces, illuminated faintly by the moonlight, Draco could see the mental and physical exhaustion etched onto each feature.
Their shoulders slumped, eyes heavy-lidded, movements slow and deliberate.
They ate in a suffocating silence, each spoonful a chore, a grim necessity.
The very air seemed heavy with unspoken burdens, a stark contrast to the lively banter that once enlivened their meals, transforming them into joyous sibling gatherings.
Now, the quiet felt dreary, proof of the the war's insidious grip.
This protracted conflict had spared no one, but it had carved particularly deep scars into the Bahamut familia.
Their inherent strength had thrust them into pivotal roles, exposing them to horrors that would shatter the spirit of any ordinary child.
While they had painstakingly forged a degree of mental fortitude, it was a fragile shield against the relentless tide of suffering, especially when witnessed day after day without reprieve.
Breaking the heavy quiet, Draco, who had been the first to finish his meager portion, cleared his throat.
“How’s the food?” he asked, his voice attempting a lightness he didn't feel.
Vasiliki, managed to muster a faint, tired smile.
“It’s good, Draco-nii. Thank you.”
“Hmm,” Michalis agreed, his words muffled as he still chewed slowly, eyes fixed on his bowl. Clair, Dimitra, Nikolaos, Eleni, and Vasileios merely offered a collective nod, their gazes unfocused, before silence descended once more.
‘Ugh, this is infuriating’ Draco thought, his mind racing for a thread, any thread, to weave into conversation.
This unnerving silence was unprecedented between them.
Every potential topic that surfaced in his mind circled back to the gruesome events of the past four days, each one more depressing than the last.
There was no joy, no respite to be found in recounting their recent experiences.
With a soft groan, Draco stretched the kinks from his stiff muscles, his gaze drifting upwards.
Above them, the night sky was a vast, cloudless canvas, painted with the brilliant silver glow of a full moon.
The clear expanse gave the illusion of the moon hanging impossibly close, a celestial lantern.
Stars, countless and shimmering, glittered like precarious chandeliers, each pinprick of light a distant, indifferent observer of their earthly turmoil.
‘What a breathtaking night’ Draco mused, a wave of melancholy washing over him.
Drawn perhaps by his quiet wistfulness, the others, having finished their meals, slowly leaned back, their gazes following his to the celestial expanse.
A shared sigh seemed to ripple through them, a silent acknowledgment of the same melancholic beauty.
The gentle symphony of cricket chirps and the soft buzzing of unseen insects provided an oddly soothing backdrop, creating an atmosphere of fragile, fleeting peace amidst the chaos.
“Reminds me of when we lived in the forest” Michalis muttered softly, reminiscing about the past.
“Hmm” Vasileios and Nikolaos hummed in agreement, closing their eyes to savour the moment.
“I wish the night would remain this peaceful,” Eleni murmured, leaning her tired head against Draco’s side.
Like everyone else, she was utterly exhausted, yearning for the deep, dreamless sleep that paranoia often denied them.
“I wish so too,” Dimitra echoed, taking his other free side, her eyelids already drooping, heavy with the weight of unshed tears and unspent fear.
Draco didn’t mind his younger sisters’ clinginess, finding a small comfort in their closeness.
Yet, the subtle, almost imperceptible, yet undeniably sharp gazes from Clair and Vasiliki behind him made the moment subtly uncomfortable.
Not wanting to be left out, Clair and Vasiliki snagged his tail, snuggling around it before closing their eyes.
‘Sigh, these girls’ Draco thought, glancing around at all his sibling, noticing something odd.
“Have they already all fallen asleep” Draco observed, in surprise.
Being careful, Draco turned his gaze back to the sky.
Staring at the moon for a while, he soon began to feel drowsy, so he closed his eyes.
Although his current posture was awkward, he was exhausted from the days event, so sleep came quickly.
‘Please be a peaceful night’ was the last thing he thought before his mind fell into slumber.
Little did any of them know the true horrors that fate, relentlessly cruel, had meticulously prepared to unleash upon them beneath the deceptive calm of this very night……
A/N: Feel free to read ahead on pat3on and donate.