Revenge: A Path of Destruction
Chapter 83: Why? 14 (Flashback)

Chapter 83: Why? 14 (Flashback)

"Now that your mind is calm," she began, her voice steady—like a thread trying to hold together fraying fabric—yet it still held that unmistakable softness only a mother could carry, "let’s continue our conversation."

Alex remained motionless. His hands had finally stopped trembling, fingers now curled loosely over his knees, but the crushing tightness in his chest lingered, like a hand pressing down on his lungs. His throat felt dry. Still, he listened—because how could he not?

"As I said before, it wasn’t your fault, so don’t let it bring you down."

Her eyes, gentle just moments before, gradually hardened—not with anger, but with something more controlled. A resolve forged in silence and sorrow. The warmth in her voice cooled like cooling embers, and her expression shifted from the fragile tenderness of a mother to the unreadable calm of someone who had long since accepted the storm that never stopped.

"Now... to the real issue."

Something in the room changed.

The air, once heavy with grief, took on a new shape—dense and sharp, like the moment before a lightning strike. Nyxara, ever alert despite her quiet posture, lifted her head. Her golden eyes flicked toward the screen. Ears twitched once, twice. She felt it too. The shift. The weight behind the words. The truth about to be unsealed.

"There was always one question I couldn’t get out of my mind," she said, her eyes narrowing slightly, as if even recalling it caused her skin to bristle. "Why did Lie Yan do what he did?"

"At first, I thought it was just Lei Yan being Lie Yan—paranoid, power-hungry, and wanting to expose the truth about the other clans. Maybe he just wanted to prove that the rest of us were lying about our children’s talents."

Her voice dipped lower, softer, as if it wasn’t meant for anyone but herself—a confession whispered to the past. It trembled with restraint, as though she stood on the edge of a memory too painful to name.

"But everything changed the day your father went to speak to the Thunder God."

Alex’s breath caught.

The Thunder God.

"He went seeking advice—guidance—about what to do with your talent. We were desperate, scared... we didn’t want to make a mistake that would destroy everything."

She paused, the corner of her mouth twitching in remembered pain. Her shoulders shifted slightly on the recording, as though the very memory weighed her body down.

"And that’s when the truth came to light." She leaned closer to the camera now, shadows dancing across her face as the flickering light around her dimmed. Her voice changed again—still calm, but now edged with something acidic. Bitterness. Rage buried so deeply it had turned cold.

"It was never just Lie Yan."

A silence followed.

Not the quiet kind. But the kind that pressed into your ears, hollowing everything out. The kind that made a room feel too small. A stillness so complete even time seemed reluctant to move forward.

Alex felt it claw at him from the inside.

Only Nyxara’s breathing filled the space now—slow, deliberate, and unusually quiet.

The moment stretched on, and somewhere deep inside Alex’s heart, he knew—huge was coming.

"All of it..." she said slowly, "was a scheme. Crafted not by a single heir or one clan, but by the other Higher Gods themselves."

Alex’s breath caught.

"Because it seems..." she said, eyes locking directly into the camera—as if speaking to her son across time, across death—"even the gods fear a demi-god rank talent."

The words slammed into Alex like a wave of thunder.

And for a moment, even the silence itself seemed to hold its breath.

The image of his mother stayed frozen for a moment before flickering back to life. Her gaze now looked heavier—eyes shadowed with burdens she never got to share while alive.

"I don’t really know the reason why or how exactly," she admitted, her voice quieter now, as though even saying it aloud carried danger, "but it seems... a god benefits from having a demi-god under them."

Alex’s brows furrowed, still kneeling, his mind racing.

"As you already know," she continued, "the Thunder God wasn’t always one of the Higher Gods like the rest. He climbed his way up—through war, through bloodshed. He earned his seat... by force."

"And it got to the point where he became... stronger than all of them," she said, voice trembling with awe and fear. "He became the symbol of war, of destruction and of power. The only god feared by other gods."

She paused, as if weighing whether to go on, then exhaled slowly.

"The others couldn’t let that stand."

Alex’s fists tightened unconsciously.

"They tolerated his power. Barely. But another step up? Another breakthrough—especially one aided by a demi-god talent..." her voice dropped to a whisper, "and they knew. If he were to claim you—if he were to raise a demi-god under his own realm—"

"He’d become unstoppable." Alex finished the thought under his breath, eyes widening in horror.

His mother gave a small, sad smile through the screen. It barely touched her eyes, more habit than hope, a gesture worn thin by the years and the truths she’d buried.

"Which brings us to now."

Her features began to change. That faint softness drained from her face like warmth fleeing from winter air. Her posture straightened, her chin lifted slightly—not in pride, but in grim readiness. His mother became something else—something forged in long nights of fear and calculation.

Her expression grew colder. Sharper. A blade honed by necessity.

"This isn’t just about clan politics anymore, Alex. It’s not just about Lie Yan. Or the Fire Clan. Or even the Thunder Clan."

Her eyes locked forward, and for a moment, Alex felt as though she wasn’t looking at the screen, but through it—through Nova, through time itself. As if she knew he’d be watching, years or miles away, and she was staring directly into his soul.

"The Higher Clans are after you doing the bidding of their own gods... but so are the Higher Gods themselves pulling some strings to put you down."

Alex’s entire world felt like it had been flipped inside out. His heart stumbled in his chest. The room seemed to tilt slightly, like the ground beneath him had shifted. The weight on his shoulders—already suffocating—had just grown monstrous.

And for the first time since the video started, the room felt cold. Truly cold.

Even Nyxara, ever fierce and composed, lowered her ears and stepped closer to him, her tail curling protectively around his legs. Her low, rumbling breath filled the silence, but she said nothing.

Because what could she say?

When the gods themselves feared you—what hope was there in hiding?

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