Last Born Of The Des Chapter 63: Plan and Goodbye

Chapter 63: Chapter 63: Plan and Goodbye

Chapter 63 – Plan and Goodbye

"It’s a shame, isn’t it?" Cassius whispered, crouching in front of Maxim.

The man’s feet were plunged into a concentrated pool of crimson fire. He was howling, face painted in tears and snot, lips bloodied from biting them too hard through the pain, his body thrashing left and right as he desperately tried to pull his feet free.

It was useless.

With his left arm already gone thanks to Isolde, his balance was shattered. He could no longer move the way he wanted, the way he was trained to. And Océane had sealed his remaining arm within the earth.

He could barely move at all.

"I am genuinely sorry my fire isn’t quite what you put me through." Cassius said with a tone of real regret. "I wanted you to taste it properly. But oh well, this will have to do for now."

"I am sor—!"

"I don’t need your excuses." Cassius cut in, his voice going cold. "I need answers. Speak fast and clearly, we have things to do. So tell me, how do you know how to enter the Desdemona Mansion?"

He raised his index finger, a drop of blood trickling from it. He pressed the finger to the healed stump of Maxim’s severed arm and detonated the blood.

A soul-wrenching scream tore through the air, so sharp and piercing that space itself seemed to vibrate.

Cassius’s face didn’t flinch.

This man had tried to kill him. He would have died if not for Horus and Océane and his own breakthrough in that pit.

He had no reason to show mercy. And he wouldn’t.

He cut his finger lightly again then detonated again the blood deep inside the stump.

The explosion was painful but not lethal. His control over his essence had reached a frightening level of precision. And so he continued with a steady face.

The sight was chilling.

Maxim was a well-trained assassin. But his mind had been cracked open by the realisation of Olympias’s betrayal to the sect, on top of the mind-numbing shock of losing his arm.

With constant detonations along the stump and his feet immersed in fire — skin burned away, the flesh beneath growing black and charred, dangerously close to the point where nothing would be left but bone — it was no wonder he was writhing on the floor, pissing himself, crying like an animal about to be put down.

Behind Cassius, the four watching did so with varying degrees of indifference.

Horus was far too accustomed to cruelty to be moved. He had seen worse. He had done worse.

Océane was different, but not by much. Taken in by the Desdemona as an orphan and trained in a place where children like her died like worthless flies, she had learned quickly what the world could be. And she had been Cassius’s maid since he was born. She was used to the Desdemona’s ways.

Aissatou was an assassin, and her age had only made her sharper and hungrier to live on her own terms. This kind of scene was familiar enough.

Isolde simply didn’t care. If anything, what she was watching only confirmed what she already knew.

She smiled faintly, activating her Skill to muffle Maxim’s cries, arms folded under her chest, her sharp and striking figure a sight to behold.

While all four of them drifted through their own thoughts, Cassius continued drawing out the answers he needed.

The Fangs Sect had multiple clients, and some of those clients dealt in capturing White Monsters — monsters that had not yet consumed their First Evolution Target of their Path — and then controlled their evolution to meet specific demands.

His own mother, Sefira Desdemona, had apparently wanted a prototype on which to base her Blood Puppets. Something related to evolving one of her Skills, most likely.

For that, she had sought a Ravager of the Blood Path.

The Fangs had acted accordingly, providing what she requested, while quietly ensuring those Ravagers had been modified with a droplet of blood from a high-ranking Sect member embedded inside.

Afterwards, they linked the blood in the Ravager to the blood of that member, in a way that let the Ravager’s memories of its location, surroundings and movements pass through the shared blood connection.

Knowing his mother had used those beasts to guard certain parts of the Mansion, it was no wonder the Fangs had been able to navigate entry so quietly.

By the time Maxim had shared everything, he had already lost consciousness, body twitching against the ground.

Cassius stood, dusting his hands, frowning faintly.

’These people are dangerous.’ He thought. ’The fact that with all this ingenuity and considerable strength, not a single trace of them appears in the game only confirms it further.’

The most lethal enemies were always those no one could see coming.

’Still, I’m not entirely blind.’ He added inwardly, looking toward Isolde. "I’m done with him for now." He said, walking toward Horus. "You can take him. Fortunately, only those with codenames in your Sect have the stronger Oaths."

"Because we know the most." Isolde said, glancing at Maxim. "Though he’s different. He knows more than his rank should have permitted because of his specific duties here. Yet Constantine didn’t tighten his Oath on him. He must be too occupied with the fallout of the recent mission."

She already knew it was the case.

She had made a significant mistake trying to locate Hatred of the Crimson Daggers. During the mission she had failed to poison a First Year Teacher at the Academy, forcing Constantine to intervene and kill the man himself to prevent her identity from leaking.

She was not thankful. He had done it for his own skin, knowing her failure would require him to answer to the Patron of Assassins.

No one in the Sect wanted to face that figure carrying news of failure.

’Still, I suppose my past failure helped us here.’ She mused.

She shook her head and moved toward Maxim.

Cassius was already speaking quietly to Horus, a hand on the old man’s shoulder, his face close.

"You understand what I’m asking?" He whispered. "Anesthesia proposed you money and help toward a cure for your tumour...all in exchange for getting you in contact with a shady alchemist for something she needed done. Come up with something specific yourself. You’re a Revolutionary, you know how to lie with conviction. Say you heard of the Fangs even if you never did. Even if they half-doubt you, they won’t outright dismiss it."

"They will kill—!"

"That’s very unlikely." Cassius cut in. "Your value is extraordinary because of what you know and what you’ve survived. You know that, Horus. Especially with your Sky Aspect. Sell yourself properly and you might get recruited. And with Isolde having crippled this man as a clear statement that she doesn’t accept failure among her own, your arrival will be a very welcomed contrast."

Horus was left without words. He knew Cassius was right. With his experience and background, he could present himself convincingly.

But all of it was dangerous. The kind of risk that had you kissing Vorn’s feet before it was over.

And beyond the danger, dealing with assassins was something a soldier like him had always despised. Assassins had nothing of the loyalty that bound soldiers to one another. And however old he had become, Horus was a soldier at his core.

Still, he had very little choice. He understood that even more clearly when he looked into Cassius’s glowing red eyes.

’These cursed families and their red eyes. Devils. Every last one of them.’ His eyes trembled. Then, after a long silence, he exhaled.

"I understand."

Cassius smiled, pleased. "I am many things, but I always keep my word." He tapped the old man’s shoulder. "I will do everything I can to find a cure for your tumour. Just hold on, Horus. And be useful."

"I know well." Horus said, his voice worn out, closing his eyes, the image of Seraphim Hood surfacing somewhere in the back of his mind. "You devils always keep your word. That’s the only reason, despite everything, you have loyal subordinates willing to die for you."

Cassius chuckled. "Then go do your part. And leave the cure to me."

Horus nodded. ’Guess it’s time to dust off some old skills.’ He thought, his head dipping as if reluctant, but there was a faint smile on his weathered face.

’Maybe... this is what I needed. That thrill again. Life and death. Danger and opportunity. Success and failure.’

He pressed his two handless stumps to his face, his body quivering quietly.

"All settled?" Isolde said. Behind her, Aissatou held Maxim’s limp body carelessly.

"Aye, darling." Cassius said. "I need to get back home before my family grows restless. Follow the plan and hopefully everything lands where it should."

"Alright." She stepped into him and hugged him. "When will I see you again?"

"I don’t know." He whispered, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "The Royal Family gathering is in two weeks. I need to prepare and train before walking into that room full of bastards. I’ll come see you when I’m back from that."

"Fine." She said. "Only through phones until then."

"Aye, darling."

They smiled at each other, then separated. Isolde and Aissatou put their masks back on and disappeared with Maxim.

Horus followed them, giving Cassius a steady nod before going. His task was clear, and his mind was already preparing for it.

Only Cassius and Océane remained.

"Let’s go, Océane." He said, after changing into fresh clothes.

"Aye, Young Master."

And so Cassius went home, ready to prepare for the next and last event before the Academy.

—End of Chapter 63—