Fallen General's Omega (BL)
Chapter 133: New light

Chapter 133: New light

I look at Roman seating opposite me, his expression carved from stone, his demeanor cold and detached. It’s a sight I never wanted to see, a reminder of just how far we’ve drifted. The years and memories between us feel like distant echoes now, fading with every second of his silence. Still, even now, even after all that’s happened, it hurts. The thought stings, settling deep in my chest like a wound that refuses to heal.

I force a sad smile, trying to reach him in some small way. "Always so mean, Roman," I say, my voice softer than I intend. But he doesn’t respond. His gaze doesn’t waver, doesn’t warm. There’s nothing there but an emptiness that wasn’t there before, and it feels like a blade twisting in my heart. I search his eyes, hoping to see even a hint of the man who once treated me like family, like a brother, but all I find is a wall of ice.

Memories surge forward, unbidden: moments of laughter, battles fought side by side, and the unspoken bond we shared as Sentinels. Roman was the one who searched for Thorne, even after I’d been sentenced, determined to save me when no one else would. He was my last hope. The only one who refused to abandon me completely. He was always there, like a steady pillar—a big brother, someone I trusted with my life and loyalty. But that’s all gone now.

It’s impossible to accept. I want to reach across this chasm between us, pull him back to the past where we were more than just shadows to each other. But Roman’s silence is unyielding, a reminder that the man I once knew may already be lost.

"If you have nothing to say," he mutters, his voice as hollow as his gaze, "I’m leaving."

He turns towards the carriage door, his movements clipped and final, as if he’s closing a door on everything we once shared. The panic rises in me, unbidden and desperate. Without thinking, I reach out, catching his hand, the worn leather of his glove rough beneath my fingers. For a moment, he pauses, and there’s a flicker, a split-second hesitation that makes me cling to this fragile moment.

"Roman..." The words choke in my throat, barely a whisper. I’m not even sure what I want to say, only that I can’t let him go without trying one last time. The weight of years hangs between us, the good and the terrible, and I want him to see that I remember it all—that I haven’t forgotten. But he stands there, unmoving, waiting for me to release him.

It’s so hard, letting him go, harder than I ever imagined. Yet as I hold his hand, I know this is likely the last chance I’ll have to reach him.

Eventually, Roman sighs, and for a fleeting moment, I catch a trace of affection softening his gaze. It’s a small thing, but enough to give me hope. He sits back down, his posture still guarded, but he stays.

"Listen, Victor," he begins, his tone heavy with exhaustion. "I don’t want to keep having this conversation. I’m tired."

"I know... I just thought..." I start, stumbling over my words, but he cuts me off before I can finish.

"Let’s put an end to these meetings. The situation here in the capital—it’s not good at all. It’s not good for Oliver, and it’s definitely not good for Zeke." My heart clenches at the mention of my son’s name; he says it with such finality, as though I’m endangering them both by staying, I probably am.

"I know you thought you were doing the right thing, trying to reach Thorne, but you don’t understand—and honestly, I don’t either." He pauses, searching for the words. "People like you and I... we’ll never understand the bond Thorne has with Noelle. You were asking a man who lost his pregnant Omega to simply ’tone it down’? Thorne doesn’t know if his beloved is alive or dead. Of course he won’t care about faceless souls who mean nothing to him."

The frustration builds in my chest, and I try to reason with him, pleading, "Roman, millions of people have died—left to rot in the streets, starving, crime on every corner... I don’t think it’s fair."

But Roman only shakes his head, a resigned look on his face. "That’s what you don’t understand. Thorne isn’t just some guy, Victor. He wasn’t when we met him on the battlefield years ago, and he isn’t now. You’ve built this image of him—a hero, a misunderstood man—but he’s not. I know that. Leona knows that. Raul knows that. Felix knows that. You’re the only one who doesn’t see it." His words hit like a slap, and I’m left scrambling to find something, anything, to say in response. But Roman gives me no room.

"I’ll always think fondly of our memories together, but, Victor, it’s time to part ways. I don’t think this is the life for you and that’s okay. Please, let go. Go to a village, leave the kingdom, settle down, make new memories. Maybe even have more children with Oliver." Roman shrugs, and his nonchalance stings.

In a moment of desperation, I blurt out, "Let’s leave together." I surprise myself by saying it, and the way Roman’s eyes narrow in faint amusement only twists the knife.

"You misunderstand me, Victor. I orchestrated the rebellions in Aspen and Narcio. I found the illegitimate heirs, set off a war for succession. I even paid a few commoners to rally others and fight back against authority. There’s no way a devil has angelic subordinates." His voice is laced with irony, as though he finds my naivety amusing, and it feels as though I’m truly seeing him for the first time.

The weight of it all bears down on me, and he notices the shift in my expression.

"Now you get it," he says, an edge to his voice. "And you think the others are innocent? That’s hilarious. Felix with his human experiments, Leona and her questionable training methods for her assassins, Raul’s ’strength’? Don’t tell me you think he’s naturally gifted. You were the vice commander, Victor. All you ever had to do was follow orders like a good little soldier." Roman stretches, languid and unbothered, then stands, as if this entire conversation has been nothing more than a tedious chore.

"Honestly, you’re not the good guy you think you are either. But that’s something for you to come to terms with on your own." He turns, heading towards the door, his voice final. "I’m leaving. Don’t ask for me again."

He pauses just before the exit, giving me a slight bow, his eyes devoid of any warmth. "Count Raymond." Then, without another word, he leaves, his silhouette swallowed by the darkness outside the carriage, taking

the last fragments of our bond with him.

Search the lightnovelworld.cc website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.