Anthesis of Sadness
Chapter 31: The Monster and the Child

Chapter 31: The Monster and the Child

I had gathered enough evidence. They were no longer of any use to me. It was time to leave.

But before turning on my heels, I remembered the words of the God: Take the path on the right.

A doubt brushed over me. Had I really seen everything? Taken everything? I scanned the area one last time, searching for a detail I might have missed.

My gaze stopped on the slave. Slowly, I walked toward her.

Around me, the air changed. The warriors tensed, their hands tightening on the hilts of their weapons. Even Baron Vaelthorn made an almost imperceptible move, ready to intervene.

The tension was palpable.

I paid it no mind.

The girl stood there, facing me. Her empty eyes stared at a point beyond reality—extinguished, broken.

For a moment, I stood before her. Then...

Identification (Adept) - Name: ??? | Level: ???? | Race: Shapeshifter | She can become anyone. Her gift extends to those who give her their consent, granting them a new appearance at will. A race erased from history, for it can change at any moment.

A grotesque smile stretched across my face.

That God... He had truly given me the perfect gift.

The soldiers around me froze, their muscles taut to the extreme.

They didn’t dare speak, but worry was written in their eyes.

Ignoring their nervousness, I knelt down. With a slow, almost gentle motion, my hand rested on the child’s cheek.

Then, without giving her a choice, I forced her to look at me.

Her empty gaze got lost in mine.

A short question fell, simple, implacable.

But it had the effect of a spark in the dark.

—Do you want to live?

Shocked, perhaps by the question or the language I had used, I realized it wasn’t the one I’d been speaking before.

Around us, the warriors stirred, disturbed, seeing me speak in an unknown tongue.

Instinctively, I understood that my skill was adapting to my interlocutor.

Indifferent to their anxiety, I simply repeated my question.

—Do you want to live?

The girl, still confused, understood however that this might be the final choice of her life.

In a thin, crystalline voice, she finally replied:

—Yes, I do.

I could still feel the doubt inside her, but for now, it was enough: part of her wanted to move forward.

I stood up slowly, then turned to Baron Vaelthorn.

—I will take this child, if you will allow it.

He hesitated for a split second. Then, in an icy voice, declared:

—I will not allow it.

At those words, a dozen of his warriors charged.

The captain, faster than the others, reached me first, axe in hand, striking my flank.

I didn’t dodge.

I wanted it to be quick.

Pain did not frighten me.

The impact tore through my flesh, opening a deep gash along my side.

Blood gushed—my weapon, my signature. Every drop ready to cut through fate.

Hundreds of drops escaped from my wound, spilling onto the battlefield, sweeping over the soldiers’ bodies, carefully avoiding the girl.

The confrontation lasted only three seconds.

Then, the bodies fell, one by one, gaping wounds bearing witness to the carnage.

It was a one-sided massacre.

Ding!

You have defeated [Gorr’Shan Commander (Rare) – Level 52]!

You have defeated [Gorr’Shan Noble (Rare) – Level 32]!

You have defeated [Gorr’Shan (Evolved) – Level 37]!

You have defeated [Gorr’Shan (Evolved) – Level 34]!

You have defeated [Gorr’Shan (Evolved) – Level 35]!

You have defeated [Gorr’Shan (Evolved) – Level 38]!

You have defeated [Gorr’Shan (Evolved) – Level 38]!

You have defeated [Gorr’Shan (Evolved) – Level 39]!

You have defeated [Gorr’Shan (Evolved) – Level 37]!

You have defeated [Gorr’Shan (Evolved) – Level 36]!

You have defeated [Gorr’Shan (Evolved) – Level 35]!

Your class [Blood Warrior] has reached level 82!

A single order from the Baron had sealed their fate.

I am strong. Far too strong for them.

Taking the captain’s body beside me, I bit into his neck, drinking his blood.

My wound regenerated before my eyes.

I’m no longer human, I thought.

But if it was for her, to find Cassandre, to save my friends, I would lose my humanity without hesitation.

I approached the girl, who remained there, indifferent to the carnage around her. Her eyes were vacant, frozen.

Gathering the drops of blood I had scattered during the fight, I drew them into a sphere, concentrating my energy.

In an instant, the sphere turned into four sharp, swift, deadly blades.

I directed them toward her, freeing her limbs from the chains that bound them.

For the first time since the beginning, I saw a glimmer in her eyes. A spark of life.

But it vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

I took her in my arms, turning my back to the path leading to those who sought the girl. If that path led them to the lord, I had to stay away.

I walked in the opposite direction, silently moving through the shadows.

Soon, I vanished, carrying the child with me, leaving behind only the macabre traces of the recent slaughter.

The night spread over the world like an inky shroud, smothering the day’s oppressive heat. I walked without a word, my steps steady, relentless, across this barren land that seemed to stretch forever.

The child in my arms said nothing. Her frail body was light as a feather, yet I felt in her a weight far heavier than mere flesh. Her breath was faint, nearly imperceptible—and yet, it was there. She existed.

A heavy silence surrounded us, broken only by the rustle of wind lifting waves of sand. I could feel her gaze on me—that broken stare, void of emotion. She asked nothing, hoped for nothing. She hadn’t even tried to hold on to me when she was freed.

But she hadn’t struggled, either.

Was it acceptance, or simply the expression of a being too worn down to protest her fate?

I didn’t ask. Not yet.

My gaze swept the horizon, searching for shelter. We needed one, temporary, for the night.

My wounds had closed. The massacre had been swift, but not without cost. My mind reminded me with each step—blood control remained exhausting.

And then, I saw it. An old ruin, half-buried under the sand. From afar, it looked like a mirage, a ghost of the past lost in the middle of this endless desert. I approached without hesitation.

Inside, it was dark, abandoned for centuries. Broken columns lay scattered, and the walls were marked with symbols I did not immediately recognize.

But it would suffice.

I laid the girl down on a relatively intact piece of stone. She didn’t react. Motionless, frozen in a nameless waiting. Her opaque pupils seemed to peer into a night vaster than mine.

I crouched before her.

—Do you have a name? I finally asked, breaking the silence.

A long moment passed. Then, in a whisper, a response.

—... I don’t know.

Her voice was soft, faded, like a murmur suppressed for far too long.

She didn’t know. Or she no longer remembered.

That was no surprise.

I tilted my head slightly, staring at her, my eyes probing her expression. She wasn’t lying.

—Do you want one?

She didn’t answer right away. Her gaze drifted into the shadow behind me.

Maybe she didn’t understand the question.

Maybe she had never even considered the possibility.

Then, at last, she nodded slowly.

I thought for a moment.

A name. A single word that could restore her existence.

—Lysara.

I let the name escape my lips, awaiting her reaction.

She blinked.

Then, in a breath more fragile than a breeze, she repeated:

—... Lysara.

The wind swept through the ruin, lifting a cloud of dust. I watched her expression, searching for a sign, a reaction. Nothing more than a whisper.

But it was a start.

I rose slowly.

—Sleep, Lysara. We leave at dawn.

She didn’t move. I wasn’t even sure she could sleep.

But it didn’t matter.

I turned toward the entrance of the ruin, gazing into the night.

The silence of the night wrapped around me as I stared at the horizon. The moon, pale and solitary, watched over the sleeping desert, casting its silver glow over the undulating dunes. The wind blew gently, raising wisps of sand that died at my feet.

I wasn’t truly tired. My body bore the marks, yes, but my mind remained alert. Caution was essential: we were far too close to those who might come after Lysara.

The Lord of the Iron Citadel... was he a real threat? In my conversation with the Baron, I had felt that Lysara truly mattered to him.

I hoped he wouldn’t be willing to do anything to get her back.

I let my mind wander for a moment, recalling the massacre. The blood, the muffled cries, the fear in their eyes. I felt neither pride nor remorse. It was just one more step toward my goal. Toward Cassandre.

A barely perceptible movement behind me brought me back to the present. I glanced at Lysara. She hadn’t moved, but her eyes were open, fixed on me. She was watching me, silent, attentive. I wondered what she saw in me. A monster? A savior? Perhaps she didn’t even have the words yet to define what I was.

I slowly approached again, crouching in front of her.

—You’re not sleeping.

She didn’t answer immediately, then gave a tiny nod.

—Why?

A silence. Then, in a whisper, she said:

—I’m scared.

It wasn’t fear of the present moment. It was older, etched deep inside her, something that wouldn’t vanish in a single night.

I took a deep breath. What could I say? Promise she was safe? That would be a lie. No one ever truly is.

—The chains are gone, Lysara.

She lowered her eyes, hesitant.

—But I still feel them.

I understood. It wasn’t the iron that had bound her, but the memories, the invisible wounds no one could break for her.

—Then walk.

She raised her head, surprised.

—Keep moving. One day, they’ll be just a memory.

She stayed silent a moment, then her eyelids slowly closed. Fatigue was finally taking over.

I stayed there, watching over her, listening to the wind.

Thinking back on everything that had happened since I arrived in this world, I no longer recognized myself. I, the man who used to speak so little, had changed so much.

Was it the stats? The strength I gained day after day? Or... was it her? Cassandre, and now this child.

I had become more confident, sharper, but also... more human in what I refused to lose. Even if my body belonged to the night, my heart had not yet fully fallen.

I had just given a name to a forgotten one. And in her eyes—even if it was just the flicker of a star—I had seen what I no longer dared to seek: an answer.

As long as someone answered me, I wasn’t truly alone.

Lysara.

Perhaps she was it—this second chance. Not for redemption... but to pass on what I still had left.

A spark.

A trace.

A voice.

So I would keep walking. For her. For me. For Cassandre. For Lucas.

Dawn was approaching. It was time to walk again.

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