Valeria stood still, her grip loose on her sword.
‘Just what?’
Her eyes lingered on the young siblings, Riken and Sena, standing poised to strike, their expressions laced with pain so deep it seemed to weigh down their every movement. She could feel it as though it were her own—their sorrow, their fury, raw and uncontained, directed entirely at the man before them.
Her chest tightened, almost aching, as she took in the way they looked at the Whisperer, faces contorted with hatred far too vast for children to bear.
‘How could they be so young… and yet look at him that way?’
she thought, her gaze shifting to Lucavion. And when she saw him, her breath caught.
Gone was the usual smirk, the casual indifference he wore like a shield. Instead, his face was drawn, eyes shadowed with something she couldn’t quite define. Not amusement, not anger—something else entirely. His lips were pressed into a hard line, and in his gaze, there was a sadness that made her heart pause.
‘He looks… sad?
‘ The thought unsettled her, conflicting with the image of him she had known so far. Lucavion had always seemed invincible, untouchable. He wore his lightheartedness like armor, wielding it in even the darkest moments, as if to keep himself detached from the horrors around him. But now…
The memory of him at the marketplace flashed through her mind, unbidden—the way he’d looked at the dumpling. It had struck her as odd then, the way he’d paused, eyes softened, as if seeing something beyond the bustling crowd around them. That same expression was here again, though even heavier, more burdened.
‘He’s wearing that look again… like he’s lost in some memory,’
she realized.
‘But what could he see in them, in Riken and Sena, that makes him look like this?’
Her gaze drifted back to Riken, whose claws glistened in the dim light as he took a step forward, his body trembling with barely contained fury. Valeria felt a strange kinship with the siblings’ rage, something primal and bitter. They had been robbed of everything, twisted by pain, and forced to bear a burden far beyond their years.
‘Perhaps that’s why he looks at them that way,’
she thought, her own heart aching with a reluctant understanding.
‘Does he see himself in them somehow? A part of him he keeps hidden… beneath all the arrogance, the endless games?’
For the first time, Valeria wondered what lay beneath Lucavion’s smirk, what scars he might carry—scars hidden behind layers of nonchalance and witty remarks. She’d always assumed he was nothing but trouble, too reckless and self-centered to care for anyone but himself. But here, she could feel the weight of something much deeper, something she doubted he’d ever share.
‘Who are you really, Lucavion?’
she wondered, her gaze lingering on the faint sorrow in his eyes, the way he seemed to retreat into his own memories as he watched the scene unfold.
“You…you….”
Her thoughts were interrupted as Riken’s growl filled the room, low and deadly, his claws poised, ready to strike down the man who had stolen their lives. Lucavion’s hand fell to his side, as if in a silent gesture of permission, or maybe… respect.
Riken’s growl rumbled through the room, a sound raw with agony and rage, resonating in the silence. His claws glistened in the dim light, and he took a step forward, his trembling frame coiled like a spring ready to snap.
The Shrouded Whisperer, once smug and self-assured, was now reduced to a cowering figure, his haughty gaze broken, his body pinned by the weight of his own sins. And yet, there was no trace of mercy in Riken’s expression—only fury, untamed and violent, begging to be unleashed.
Without warning, he struck. His claws slashed across the Whisperer’s face, leaving dark, jagged marks in their wake. Riken’s strikes were relentless, each one more vicious than the last as if each swipe was erasing a fragment of the torment he had endured. He struck again, his hands raw with blood and fury, his breath ragged.
“You took everything!” Riken’s voice cracked, hoarse with years of suffering he could no longer keep in. “Our lives… our family… everything! You made us nothing!”
With each word, his strikes grew faster, each blow breaking apart another layer of hatred that had festered inside him for so long. The Whisperer, feeble and desperate, tried to shield himself, but there was no strength left in him, no power left to conjure illusions or manipulate. The truth had left him defenseless, naked before the very children he had twisted and controlled.
Valeria watched, her pulse racing, transfixed by the torrent of Riken’s fury. And as he poured his pain into every blow, something snapped within Sena as well. Her small, shaking frame seemed to harden, her face twisting with a resentment that had once been silenced, buried. She stepped forward, her fists clenched, her eyes blazing with a light Valeria hadn’t seen before.
“You lied to us!” Sena’s voice, though small, was sharp, cutting through the air with a force that belied her size. “You made us believe… you made us do all those things!” Her fists flew forward, striking the man’s side, each hit fueled by years of betrayal and bitterness, every one a testament to the lies she had carried within her fragile, young heart.
The Shrouded Whisperer tried to speak, his mouth opening in a desperate, stuttering attempt to defend himself, but Sena’s strikes silenced him. She hit him again, her anger bursting forth in waves, like a dam finally breaking, the water spilling out with unstoppable force.
Valeria felt herself drawn into their anguish, the unrestrained outpouring of resentment and hurt that these children, too young and yet too burdened, could no longer keep contained. Each blow they struck resonated with the echo of suffering Valeria had only begun to understand. It was as if they were not just hitting him but ridding themselves of every illusion, every haunting memory he had ever crafted.
Riken’s fists, bloodied and bruised, finally slowed, his body swaying as if drained by the weight of his own rage. Sena stood beside him, her breaths shallow, her face streaked with tears, her small body shuddering as the reality of what they had done began to settle in.
The room fell silent, the sound of their gasping breaths filling the stillness. And as they looked down at the man who had haunted their every nightmare, they saw not the monster he had once been, but a broken, feeble figure—his power drained, his influence shattered.
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“Haaaah…..Haaaaah…..”
The children’s breaths came in heavy, ragged gasps, their hands and arms streaked with blood, yet they stared down at the man before them with blank, unseeing eyes. Their faces were still twisted with residual anger, but they didn’t seem to care about the blood and didn’t flinch from the sight. It was as though this violence, this aftermath of broken bodies and crimson-streaked hands, was a scene they’d encountered too many times before. That thought sank heavily into Valeria’s mind, stirring something raw and unfamiliar inside her.
She clenched her fists, an unsettling frustration rising within her.
‘What kind of world forces children to become this… hardened, this resigned to cruelty?’
she thought, her chest tightening.
‘Is this what it means to be strong? To grow used to blood, to numb yourself against pain and loss?’
The question unsettled her, but the truth in it gnawed at her all the same. She had trained to be a knight with honor, to defend the innocent, to uphold justice. Yet here she stood, unable to stop these children from exacting their revenge in the most brutal way imaginable, unable to shield them from the violence they had been forced to live. It made her stomach turn.
‘What kind of knight am I,’
she wondered bitterly,
‘if I cannot even protect children from this suffering?’
She was so lost in thought that she almost didn’t notice Lucavion’s move. He took a single, silent step forward, his gaze fixed on the siblings, his expression as unreadable as ever. But something about the way he moved, slow and deliberate, caught her attention and pulled her from her tangled thoughts.
Valeria turned to him, her brow furrowing.
‘What is he doing now?’
she wondered, her mind racing as she tried to anticipate his next move.
Lucavion approached the two children slowly, each step careful, as if he were approaching something fragile. Riken and Sena, still breathing heavily, turned their heads towards him. Their faces, twisted in rage and grief, seemed frozen in that expression, as if they had forgotten how to be anything else. But Lucavion didn’t flinch; instead, he stepped closer, his hand reaching out, and he lifted it gently to rest on their heads, his touch light, almost cautious.
“You did well.”