Current…
Everyone blinked in horror, their minds struggling to comprehend what was happening before their eyes. It was as if time itself had slowed, trapping them in a moment they could neither control nor understand.
What the hell was going on here?
How had things taken such a drastic turn?
All they could do was hold their breath as only…
Step…
Step…
The sound of Aether’s footsteps echoed through the silent air, each slow and deliberate step. He moved forward with an eerie calmness.
His eyes were locked onto one person—the Master.
Thud!
Jack’s foot crashed against the Master’s body, sending him to his knees with a force that made blood spurt from his chest and drip from his wounded hand.
The Master gasped, his golden eyes widening in pure disbelief. His breath hitched as he processed the unthinkable.
Jack betrayed him?
The Master had always doubted others, always been cautious. He questioned everyone’s loyalty, even Alaric’s, despite Alaric being his most devoted subordinate.
But Jack… Jack was different. He never doubted him.
Not once!
“H-How could you—cough, cough,” the Master choked, his words breaking apart as thick blood gushed from his lips. His body refused to move, paralyzed as if it had reached its absolute limit.
He tried to lift his arm, tried to push himself up, but the weight of his own failure pinned him down.
His once radiant golden eyes began to dim, the life within them flickering like a candle in the wind. And then, as his vision blurred, he saw him… Aether.
Standing before him, his expression completely detached, his lips curling into something cold, something wicked.
“The winner was already decided long before the game even began… Snape,” Aether murmured, his voice dripping with a cruel amusement.
A slow, calculated smile spread across his lips as he crouched down, his fingers reaching out to touch the Master’s bloodstained lips. The crimson liquid dripped like an uncontrollable stream, slipping past his chin, and falling onto his tattered clothes.
“W-What do you mean?” the Master rasped, his voice raw and barely above a whisper. Every breath burned, and every second felt like agony.
Aether merely chuckled, his eyes gleaming with something unreadable,
“A dead man tells no tales, Snape,” he muttered under his breath, his fingers lightly brushing over the Master’s trembling lips, his touch mocking, taunting.
He watched as the once powerful man before him slowly lost the colour from his skin, his body beginning to wither away, his strength draining with each passing second.
The Master’s mind spun, grasping for answers, for explanations.
What had this bug done?
What kind of trick was this?
He didn’t understand, but one thing was clear—something unnatural was at play.
Still!
He couldn’t die… Not here. Not now!
He refused to accept this fate.
He needed to survive.
He needed to complete what he had started.
He needed to see her again.
‘M-Mother… P-Please…’ He begged silently, his thoughts growing desperate, clinging to the one thing that still mattered. But this time,
….
There was no response…. No divine presence reaching out to him.
Only silence!
His breath came in ragged gasps, his vision darkening, the world around him slipping further away.
The others stood frozen, still trying to process the horror unfolding before them. Dora glanced at Sandra, her eyes searching for answers, but Sandra only shrugged, equally lost. The Archpriestess stood still, her gaze heavy with something that resembled pity. And Mary…
‘What the fuck is happening here?’ Mary thought, her mind racing as she stared at Aether.
He was more than just a boy. That much was clear now.
But what exactly was he?
‘Nope. Still nope. I am not letting this cunning little bastard anywhere near my dear!’ she swore internally, making a mental note to keep an even closer watch on him.
Aether continued to stare down at the man before him, his expression unreadable as he slowly straightened his back… He was ready to end this.
And then—
“P-Please… don’t kill me.”
The words came out fragile, broken.
Everyone’s breath hitched as they turned their attention back to the Master. Even Aether’s brow furrowed slightly, his movements pausing for just a moment. The Master had lifted his head, his face now streaked with blood and desperation.
His golden eyes, dim yet still burning with a lingering purpose, stared straight at Aether with an expression no one had ever seen before.
“P-Please…” he whispered again, his voice trembling,
“I… I just want to see her.
I need to see her.
I want to talk to her… just once.
I want to hold her… just one more time.
I want to protect her… even if it’s the last thing I do.
P-Please…”
A single tear slipped from his eye, carving a path down his bloodstained cheek.
The Archpriestess lowered her head, as if unable to bear the sight.
Dora bit her lip, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment.
Sandra and Mary remained still, their expressions impossible to read as they watched the man before them break in ways none of them had expected.
Aether stared at the Master’s face, searching for any sign of deception, but what he saw wasn’t a lie.
This wasn’t a trick.
It wasn’t manipulation.
It’s genuine emotions…. truly!
The Master truly, desperately, needed this.
And then—
A sharp pain shot through Aether’s head, forcing him to let out a low groan as he clutched his temple. A strange sensation flooded his mind, something foreign yet eerily familiar…
“I.. I couldn’t protect her… I promised no one shall die on my watch and yet…. N-Noirix died!…” A golden-haired man trembled with teary eyes.
“I will be there whenever you feel low… Snape.”
A soft, pure voice echoed in his thoughts. And then—an image.
A young girl.
Her golden hair shimmered like threads of light, her delicate face so innocent, so untouched by the darkness of the world. Her eyes, bright and filled with warmth, held a kindness that could make even the coldest heart falter.
She wasn’t just beautiful.
She was divine.
She was an Angel!
Aether’s frown deepened as he forced himself to shake off the sensation, his fingers tightening into a fists as he inwardly asked, ‘What the hell was that, Log? Are those my previous iteration memories?’
!~Ding~!
[ Negative! Those things you sensed were not your own.]
[🩸 Alert: These are the transmitted emotions of your New Bloodkin, resonating through your connection.]
Aether’s eyes flickered as he processed the words, his gaze instinctively shifting back to the Master.
The man lifted his trembling hands, his forearms missing, his body on the brink of collapse, and yet—
“P-Please…” he begged once more, his voice nothing more than a whisper, yet carrying a weight that pressed against Aether’s chest.
Aether bit his lip for a moment, his jaw tightening before his expression turned completely serious. His voice was cold, unyielding. “You should have thought about that before you started experimenting on those innocent lives. You stole their futures, twisted their bodies, shattered their minds. And now, you beg for yours?”
The Master, still kneeling, lifted his face, his skin pale, his breath uneven, struggling to hold onto life. His body trembled from the pain, his blood pooling beneath him. His lips quivered as he forced out his final truths,
“Y… You don’t understand…” He coughed, blood spilling down his chin, his voice weak yet laced with a haunting certainty. “What is coming… no one knows… no one but me. I have seen it. I have built a place, prepared for it… You think killing me will save you all?” A bitter chuckle escaped his lips, ragged and broken. “No… you are fools. What is yet to come… is inevitable… nothing will stop it…”
Aether’s gaze darkened, “What do you mean?”
The Master’s body sagged, his weight barely held by his shattered limbs. His voice, though barely above a whisper, carried the desperation of a man clinging to his last shred of hope.
“Please… I… I just need to see her one last time… and say…
I love her… P-Please… just once…”
Aether’s teeth clenched, “Damn it… talk to me,” he pressed.
His voice grew sharper, more demanding. “What do you know about the Ebon Stone in the Zephyra Empire?”
Yet, instead of answering, the Master’s lips trembled, his voice faltering.
“P-Please… I… love… her… No… Luna… I…”
A lump formed in the Archpriestess’s throat. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, her fingers curling tightly into fists as she held back a cry. A single tear slipped down her cheek, but she refused to make a sound.
Dora turned away suddenly, her hands flying up to her ears as if shutting out his voice could erase the guilt suffocating her chest. She couldn’t hear this. She couldn’t bear it. Because in the end… all of this… was her fault.
“Come on… Damn it! Tell me!” Aether groaned, his voice shaking with frustration. He needed to know. He needed answers about Zephyra. Time was slipping through his fingers like sand, and this man—this damn man—was drowning in his regrets instead of speaking the truth.
“I… I protected her… It’s my fault… I… need to protect her…” the Master mumbled, his voice fragile, his words fading into the cold air.
Aether fell silent, ‘Come on man’ he gritted his teeth as his eyes wavered slightly forming tears on them.
His heart pounded as he stared at the broken man before him.
It felt… like looking into a mirror?
The Master was a shattered soul, a man who had lost everything, clinging to the last remnants of a dream.
Aether’s fists trembled. His gaze lifted toward the sky, a bitter thought slipping past his lips in a heavy whisper. “Maybe… maybe we aren’t so different after all… Master.”
He knew what kind of man he was.
He had no illusions about it… Seeing the Master like this—seeing his desperation, his grief, his failure—it was painfully clear.
They were the same.
If Aether had been powerless, if things had played out differently… would he have done the same?
Would he have crossed the same lines, committed the same atrocities, in a desperate attempt to protect the one he loved?
Maybe.
Maybe not.
Who knew?
Not many could claim to truly understand themselves.
Aether wasn’t here to pass judgment on the Master’s sins. He wasn’t acting out of some moral obligation, as if killing this man would make the world right again.
No!
Aether was simply protecting the people he loved.
That was all.
And in the end, that made him and Snape—two broken souls, walking different paths yet suffering the same fate.
Taking a slow, deep breath, Aether’s grip tightened. His voice was quiet, almost a whisper.
“May you have a better life in your next one,” he murmured, stepping backward. His movements were swift, fluid—his arm swung in a deadly arc as he slashed down toward the Master’s neck.
Or so he thought…
“…”
“…”
Sandra and Mary blinked, staring at Aether in confusion.
Aether just motioned like he was cutting but in reality…
Slowly, his gaze lowered to his right hand and saw…
Nothing.
His fingers twitched, gripping at empty air.
A moment of silence passed.
Then, awkwardly, Aether let out a dry chuckle. “Haha… My mistake,” he muttered, though something in his chest tightened.
Why had it felt so real? Why had he moved as if something had been there?
Something he holding but not really?
He clenched his empty fist again…
[….]
Anyway—
Shaking off the strange sensation, Aether reached into his storage and pulled out an actual sword before positioning it against the Master’s throat.
The dying man barely reacted. His once golden eyes were already dulled, his breathing slow, unsteady.
“P-Please… I… must protect her…” the Master whispered, his voice nothing more than a fragile echo. His eyes, though lifeless, still held that desperate plea.
Aether’s grip wavered. Just for a moment.
Then, he shut the hesitation out of his mind and,
Ssshhh!
Chhhkkk!
A sharp, wet sound sliced through the air.
Everyone’s eyes widened in shock.
…. But it wasn’t what they had expected.
A pair of metal twin swords had impaled him from behind, lifting him off the ground like a body hanging on a sword!
His breath caught. His vision blurred, blood dripping down his lips.
And then—
“Fu~Fu~ Did you forget about me, darling~?”
A sultry voice purred from behind him, laced with amusement.
The first hooded figure had finally made her appearance after all this time.
“AETHE–“
Sssllcckkkk!
Before anyone could react—before even an inch of movement could be made—
Aether’s neck was sliced.
Thud!
!~Ding~!