Revenge: A Path of Destruction
Chapter 82: Why? 13 (Flashback)

Chapter 82: Why? 13 (Flashback)

Alex’s breath hitched.

A weight crushed his chest, heavier than anything he’d ever carried on the battlefield. His fingers curled into tight fists, trembling. My fault... The words echoed in his mind, cruel and sharp.

My fault...

His legs buckled.

He stumbled forward, hands slamming onto the cold floor of the hideout, the smooth steel beneath his fingers turning slick from the sweat pooling in his palms. His eyes stung, but he refused to blink. Refused to cry. But no matter how tightly he clenched his jaw, no matter how hard he tried to keep it in—his mother’s voice still played over and over in his mind like a curse.

"They know what you could become... They’ll stop at nothing..."

He let out a harsh, broken breath. "So it’s because of me..." he whispered, barely audible, but each word carried the weight of a landslide. "Logan... Mogan... Dad..."

He slammed his fist into the floor.

"Because of me!"

The force left a small crack on the metallic surface, blood now dripping from his knuckles.

His shoulders heaved. Breath short. Gasping.

His mother had tried to protect him. They all had. But that protection had cost them everything. Logan’s calm strength, Mogan’s brilliant laughter, his father’s unwavering presence—gone. Even now, his mother’s voice came from a recording. A shadow of who she once was.

He hunched forward, pressing his forehead to the floor as if trying to bury himself beneath it, escape into the darkness.

"Why me...?" he rasped. "Why did I survive...?"

Nearby, Nyxara watched, her frame unmoving yet visibly stricken as—lowered her ears.

She didn’t blink. Didn’t move.

She just watched.

Her golden eyes shimmered with unspoken sorrow, unable to reach the boy who had never looked so small. She had seen laughter, play even show more maturity than some grown-ups. Saw him run headfirst problem with nothing but instinct and rage. But now... he was breaking.

And all she could do was bear witness.

The soft rumble in her throat wasn’t a growl but a lament.

Alex curled further into himself, knuckles bloodied and face pressed against the cold floor of the only home he had left. Grief had no words now—just raw, aching breath.

He was a demi-god ranked talent.

But right now, he felt powerless.

Alone.

And entirely broken.

Nyxara stepped forward, her small paws silent against the floor, each movement graceful. The flickering hologram still shimmered behind her, casting a faint glow over Alex’s slumped form as it seemed to have paused to give him the time to grieve, but he didn’t lift his head. He was somewhere far away—drowning in blame, in memories, in the crushing weight of loss.

She lowered herself beside him, her body curling protectively around his form without touching him yet. Her voice entered his mind, low and warm, like the hum of distant thunder softened by twilight.

"Alex... this isn’t your fault."

No reaction.

He didn’t even flinch.

She leaned closer, her snout almost brushing his side. Her golden eyes never left him, but his were shut tight, fists clenched, body trembling as if the sorrow was trying to tear him apart.

"You didn’t ask to be born with that talent. You didn’t choose this."

Still nothing.

Nyxara exhaled slowly, nostrils flaring as she pulled herself closer, her head resting lightly beside him.

"You loved them. Anyone could see it. Logan. Mogan. Your father. Your mother. You would’ve died for them... and that’s exactly why this wasn’t your fault."

Her voice wavered, just slightly. A beast like her wasn’t meant for these kinds of conversations. She was bred for war, survival, ferocity. But right now... she was trying.

"They died protecting you because they loved you. Not because you were a burden... but because you were worth everything to them."

A shudder passed through Alex’s frame.

But he still didn’t look at her.

He stared through the floor, eyes wide but vacant, breathing shallow.

Nyxara hesitated... then finally, gently, she pressed her head against his shoulder. Her fur was warm, solid, and real.

"Please," she said, her voice a low whisper, "don’t disappear into yourself. You’re all that’s left of them. If you give up on yourself... then they truly died for nothing."

And still, silence.

But this time, Alex blinked.

Just once.

A faint tremor ran through his fingers—less a breakdown and more a small, subtle sign that he was still here. Still listening. That maybe, just maybe, her words had reached the part of him that wasn’t yet shattered.

Nyxara stayed there, unmoving.

Waiting.

Guarding.

A soft click echoed from the console, followed by a faint hum as the frozen image of Alex’s mother flickered to life once more. Her warm, knowing eyes returned to the screen, and her voice—gentle, yet laced with wry humor—filled the quiet space.

"Are you through throwing your tantrum, Alex?"

Alex blinked.

His lips parted slightly.

It wasn’t the words that struck him—it was the certainty behind them. The fact that she had anticipated this, his anguish, his guilt and even his collapse.

He stared at her holographic face, a flicker of disbelief dancing in his storm-tossed eyes.

She smiled faintly, like a mother catching her child pouting behind a curtain. "Alex, darling... it’s not your fault." Her voice was softer now, filled with sorrow, but also unwavering strength. "You didn’t choose the talent—it chose you. So don’t feel bad about what happened."

He swallowed hard, but the knot in his throat only tightened.

Her smile faltered just slightly. She wasn’t trying to be strong anymore—just honest.

"To be even more honest... it was our fault. Mine and your father’s."

Alex stiffened again.

"We could’ve done more to protect you from this cursed world. From the other Higher Clans. But we didn’t." Her voice dipped, no longer hiding the regret behind it. "We gave up too easily. We didn’t want to be the ones to destroy the world... because if we’d fought back against the Higher Clans, that’s exactly what would’ve happened."

She paused, letting the words settle.

"We chose restraint. We chose the long game. But that choice... it cost us."

Alex’s breath caught in his chest.

Nyxara, still resting beside him, slowly lifted her gaze back to the screen. There was something in her eyes now—a flicker of understanding. Of respect.

Alex didn’t say a word, but this time, he didn’t look away.

The trembling in his hands had dulled. The guilt still clung to his chest like a shadow... but something about her voice, her expression—it was starting to cut through the fog.

A story that wasn’t over.

A truth that was just beginning.

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