Revenge: A Path of Destruction
Chapter 121: Harvest of Karma (2)

Chapter 121: Harvest of Karma (2)

There was no scream. Just the clean sound of air parting and flesh separating.

Her head rolled to the side, eyes still wide, lips parted mid-word. Blood pooled outward, joining the growing river at Alex’s feet.

He exhaled once. Quiet. Then turned to the others—who now realized their silence would not save them.

Alex stood amidst the silence that followed Neferura’s execution, blood trickling from the edge of his katana like crimson tears. The scent of iron hung thick in the air, mixing with the wails and gasps of those still alive. Slowly, his gaze swept across the broken remnants of Khepri’s family, as if mentally listing who would follow next.

Then his eyes landed on Menkara.

The youngest son froze.

A flicker of hope died instantly as Alex began walking toward him. His breathing quickened. His feet instinctively shuffled backward, scraping along the floor, betraying his fear. His back hit a broken pillar, and he had nowhere to retreat.

Alex said nothing at first. Silence hung between them like a blade drawn but not yet swung.

When he finally spoke, his voice was calm. Unshaken.

"To be honest," Alex said, standing before the trembling boy, "I don’t have any personal grudge against you."

Menkara blinked, hope flaring for half a second.

"You were just... following your family," Alex continued, voice low, almost contemplative. "But that doesn’t mean you weren’t part of it."

Lady Lucy, Menkara’s mother, screamed in the background—her voice hoarse and desperate as she tried to crawl toward them. She clawed at the ground, uncaring that her hands bled. "No! Not my son! Please! Please!"

"But next time," Alex whispered, raising the katana high above Menkara’s head, "pray to be born into a better family."

The blade came down with mechanical finality.

A splash of blood. A soft thump. Another body joined the graveyard of royalty.

Lucy’s scream cracked as her son’s head rolled near her hands. She collapsed in sobs, clutching the air as if she could rewind time. But no god listened. No miracle came.

And now, only two remained.

Khepri’s First and Second Wives.

The First Lady Nandi was trembling with hatred rather than fear. Her voice, sharp and furious, cut through the silence like glass. "You bastard! You’ll never know peace! The gods will curse your name! You think this ends with us?! The earth will swallow you whole!"

Beside her, the Second Wife, eyes wet and jaw clenched.

Alex said nothing. He simply walked toward them as they shrieked and spat curses at him—rage, pride, and regret boiling into one last flailing tantrum of dying power.

His eyes met Nandi’s.

He said nothing at first, letting her scream.

"Rot in agony! I hope you suffer a hundred deaths! May your soul be torn apart in the afterlife! May every step you take be cursed by the gods you defy!"

Alex raised the blade.

"Please," he said flatly, eyes dull and voice devoid of all interest. "As if your word has any power, so keep quiet. And die."

The katana fell. Her curses ended.

Her head landed beside her daughter’s, mouths still twisted in mirrored fury.

Now, only Lucy remained.

Pale and trembling, her back against the cold marble pillar, her son’s blood soaking her gown. But she didn’t beg. Her lips curled into a grim smile as her eyes burned with tears and rage.

"I don’t regret it," she said, venom lacing every word. "Not one damn bit. If I had the chance again, I’d do worse. The way your clan member begged—oh, it was delicious. That fear in their eyes... the way they screamed—worth every moment."

Alex stared at her in silence, unblinking.

No change in expression. No shift in breath. No hint of humanity.

"Are you finished?" he asked softly. "If so—die."

The blade rose once more.

As it descended, Lucy screamed one final curse.

"I pray you die a dog’s death!"

But Alex’s voice interrupted her mid-curse, cold and merciless.

"Don’t worry. Your lesser clan will join you soon in hell. Especially your brother. So wait for them."

That was the last thing she heard before steel kissed flesh and everything went black.

Her rage turned to dread instantly, her eyes widening just before the light left them.

And then, once again, silence.

Only the sound of blood dripping. Only the weight of finality.

The Earth Clan’s ruling bloodline was reduced to corpses in their continent.

Alex exhaled softly.

There were still more names on his list. But for now... this Chapter was closed.

----

Alex stood silently amidst the bloodied remnants of Khepri’s line. His eyes, cold and unreadable, turned to the last surviving member of the ruling family still standing on the battlefield:

Thutmose.

The prince stood rigid, his expression unreadable at first—until one looked closer. Beneath his calm exterior a storm roiled: rage simmered in his eyes, confusion furrowed his brow, and helplessness clung to his posture. His fists were clenched so tightly that the skin over his knuckles turned white.

Alex slowly stepped forward, his bloodstained katana resting loosely in his grip. His voice, quiet but firm, broke the silence.

"I’m going to attack the rest of the lesser and intermedaite clans under you. At least the ones who joined willingly. They all need to understand—every action has a consequence. But before I go... I need to know if you plan to stop me."

Thutmose didn’t answer immediately. His jaw tightened. He exhaled sharply through his nose, eyes locked on Alex with something that hovered between defiance and resignation.

Then, his voice came out low.

"Even if I want to... I can’t stop you."

A pause. Then Thutmose raised his head slightly, voice edged with restrained emotion.

"But let me ask you something. When you killed Menkara and Neferura, you mentioned why they joined the war. So that means... You also know why I didn’t."

Alex shrugged, then replyed.

"Because I know you did it knowing fully well you won’t be able to go."

Silence fell again. Thutmose lowered his gaze, no longer able to meet Alex’s eyes. His fists didn’t unclench. He simply stood there, tension writhing through his body like barely held-in fire.

"Okay, then... can I ask you a favor?"

Alex tilted his head slightly, but said nothing.

"You’re about to wipe out more than seventy percent of the lesser and intermediate clans. If you do that... the balance will break. We’ll be overrun by beasts. So I’m not asking you to show mercy—just this one thing..."

His voice trembled at the edges, yet he pushed forward.

"Help us reduce their numbers. At least enough so we’re not defenseless. That’s all I ask."

Alex remained silent for a moment. Then he gave a small shrug.

"If you hadn’t asked... I would’ve done it anyway."

A flicker of surprise passed over Thutmose’s face.

Alex turned and walked to Nyxara, the great tigress still waiting nearby. He climbed onto her back with ease, bloodstained coat settling around him like the shroud of a wraith.

Before she moved, Alex looked over his shoulder one last time.

His gaze met Thutmose’s—and this time, there was a sliver of something in his voice. Not kindness. Not forgiveness. But a strange, heavy honesty.

"Don’t beat yourself up too hard. They weren’t the best family."

He paused.

"And remember—this world runs on power. I have it now. If you still plan to come after me one day..."

His eyes narrowed.

"Then do your best to become stronger than this. Because the way you are now... I’d cut you down with a single slash."

Then, with a soft growl, Nyxara turned and began to move. Her paws thudded against the blood-soaked ground. A few steps. Then faster. Then a blur.

Alex vanished into the distance.

And Thutmose remained behind, alone amidst the corpses of his bloodline, the last son of a shattered legacy, watching the shadow of judgment disappear into the horizon.

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