Chapter 55: Crimson Scales (Part Two)??
“Snap!”
The scroll fell from his hands.
That blood-red signature was so stark, so clear.
Outside Giant’s Maw Cave, the cold wind was still fierce, snowflakes fell continuously, causing the followers to shiver, their breaths forming white mist. Inside the cave, however, it was as warm as a furnace.
But at that mont, Alger felt as if he had fallen into an ice pit, collapsing to the ground.
His oath, his faith, his years of training and education, everything he had pursued—all crumbled in this mont.
He had trained tirelessly, honing his skills with the giant eagle, only to beco an accomplice to sacrificial slaughter.
He had sworn loyalty to Duke Brad, never imagining that the very man who knighted him was his greatest enemy.
He had absorbed the teachings of his family’s instructors, only to beco a puppet, an obedient hound.
All his battles and sacrifices, ultimately offered up to the one he hated most; it was like the tragic character from an opera.
—This was the ultimate negation of his life, the cruelest mockery.
The Alger of old had relied on hatred to blind his thoughts, allowing him to carry out missions without any concern for right or wrong.
But now, with the final veil lifted, all that remained was a bleeding wound and endless regret.
Alger knelt on the ground.
The scene of that massacre replayed before his eyes.
Buildings burned around him, people held torches aloft, cheering as they followed him, shouting slogans like “Expel the demons” and “Protect the citizens,” while a Tiefling mother, unard, clutched her child tightly, her tear-filled eyes pleading for rcy at his feet.
He rembered her last words before she died—
“Please, let my child live.”
Yet, blinded by hatred at the ti, he had struck her down with his Silver Eagle Sword without hesitation.
Accompanied by the distinctive, crisp cry of the eagle, he had killed her rcilessly.
He had murdered the mother, the child.
He had personally set fire to their settlent.
His actions were no different from those of the one he despised; in fact, he had been his accomplice.
He was no avenger.
Nor a righteous fighter.
He was rely an ignorant pawn, used by his enemy.
A butcher of innocents.
A pitiful fool who didn’t even know who he was.
“I’m sorry.”
His voice trembled.
He didn’t know if this apology was ant for drolash or for the dead Tieflings.
drolash’s jet-black eyes showed no emotion as he stood with his arms crossed, gazing at him coldly.
“Alger, it’s too late.”
“All of this has already happened.”
“And your apology holds no value to ; it only disgusts .”
Alger didn’t lift his head, trembling as he responded:
“Kill .”
drolash sneered, replying softly:
“If I had the power to decide your fate, you would have been torn apart in the dungeon long ago.”
“But look at yourself now. Like a dog without a ho. Keeping you alive in pain isn’t a bad idea.”
For an enemy he held as his archenemy, this forr paladin spared no harsh words.
Alger repeatedly slamd his head against the ground.
Blood began to trickle down his forehead.
Tears flowed down his face, mingling with the blood, blurring his vision.
He repeated:
“Please, kill .”
drolash watched him coldly before saying:
“You want death at my hands as so form of redemption, don’t you? The murderer killed by his avenger—a cliché.”
“You always assu so much.”
“Just like you assud that the bloodthirsty duke was a magnanimous man, placing the bla for your parents’ death on us, just like you assud you could massacre our people’s settlent without guilt.”
drolash stepped forward, grabbed Alger’s head, and lifted him forcefully.
He leaned close to Alger’s ear and whispered:
“Alger, your life and death have long been out of your own control.”
“The only reason you’re alive is that you still hold so value to Lord Cassius.”
Alger was thrown heavily to the ground.
Having finished, drolash stood aside with his arms crossed, watching coldly.
This Tiefling paladin had not been consud by his hatred; now, he was only concerned with ensuring his people’s survival. Alger’s life or death was irrelevant to him.
Cassius gazed down at Alger, his eyes showing no trace of pity.
“I told you there was no need to deceive you. I rely let you see the truth.”
“You should have known all of this.”
Alger knelt on the ground, blood continuing to flow.
“I should have… known.”
He murmured.
The flowing blood seed to clear his mind.
Alger finally regained his composure from the depths of despair, a newfound clarity in his gaze.
He couldn’t die yet; he had not dealt with the true culprit behind it all, had not avenged his parents, had not achieved his redemption.
Once dead, he would never have a chance to make things right.
In his mind, the face of Duke Brad Lackman appeared.
That face looked to be in his fifties, pale, with two ticulously grood mustaches, silver-frad glasses, black hair, and black pupils, occasionally tinged with a hint of blood-red.
His speech was always slow and deliberate, bearing a strong aristocratic accent that sohow did not feel forced.
In the past, Alger had thought of this face with deep admiration and gratitude.
Now, all he felt was endless hatred.
Thinking of this, Alger said in a low voice:
“I must live… to kill him.”
“Who?”
Cassius’s golden eyes held a hint of amusent, though he already knew the answer.
“Brad Lackman.”
The familiar na escaped Alger’s lips, but this ti he spoke it with firm determination, carrying an undeniable resolve.
“You alone cannot achieve that.”
“...”
Alger fell silent.
After a long, contemplative silence, he finally bowed, lowering his forehead to the dusty ground, his eyes unwavering with resolve.
“Lord Cassius, I swear my allegiance to you.”
“I am willing to give my life, to be your most loyal servant, to serve you with all my heart and soul. I will be the dagger in your shadow, the hidden blade in your hand, removing any obstacle for you.”
“As long as you will allow ...”
“To kill him.”
Cassius nodded slightly and said:
“I don’t need a so-called death warrior; that’s aningless. I need you to assist
in an experint.”
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