CHAPTER 398: THE EXPLOSION

The garden was too still for a summer afternoon. For summer in the North meant less snow and more cheerful shouts of the kids playing.

It was also normally the case with Talia and her group of friends, who, for some absurd reason, had been staying in Darkhelm Castle for the past month.

However, this time, they weren’t deciding what to play.

Not when Darius was standing opposite Silas Valaria, crown prince of the Empire.

For some absurd reason, Darius found the Valaria family loathsome. Their mere presence had him wrinkling his nose in disgust.

Once, when Silas Valaria offered him his hand with a smile, Darius had outright rejected the prince, earning the dislike of his mother and another lecture from his father.

Yet his hatred for Silas never lessened.

Raymond even joked that Darius had earned himself a rival.

A rival whom Darius wanted to destroy.

The sunlight shone on the faint curl of Silas’ lips. A smile that wasn’t kind at all.

Beside him, the dainty princess Talia tilted her head, her pale lashes fluttering with innocence.

Ethen lounged nearby, and Caspian — the newest addition to their little circle of elites — idly twirled a wooden practice sword.

"What are you acting crazy for?" Silas’ voice dripped with mockery. "Ain’t he just some kid? Let us all play together. It’s not like we’ll eat him or something. We aren’t like you, you lunatic."

Darius’ jaw tensed. His gaze was not on Silas, but on the dark slithers of malice curling around each of them.

They had become more visible to him since the day Xion had started ’curing’ him.

Talia spoke in her soft voice. "Brother Darius, why are you so bad? Maybe that’s why Auntie doesn’t want you. You should try to be more understanding, so someone will play with you too."

Her words were sugar sweet, but her golden eyes were cold little mirrors. As if she wasn’t the one to spread the rumors that he ate kids when annoyed.

That too, after he had given her his favorite flowerpot.

He could have endured it, really. After all, he had heard worse than this.

But then Silas’ royal guard appeared from the corridor.

In his arms, curled up like a sleeping bird, was his Xion.

The boy’s black hair looked soft under the sunlight. His lashes rested on pink cheeks.

After exhausting himself making a new ring, he’d collapsed into deep sleep. A ring that had the ability to amplify the lost mana.

Perfect match for the pendant that ate at this mana like some starved beast. It had helped Darius hide his newly gained power from his father’s eyes.

For that, he needed to thank Minato and the head priest.

However, even that couldn’t diminish his inherent hatred for the holy churches.

Maybe they were right when they called him a heartless devil.

But for Xion, he was just an Elf. And he had tried his best to play that role until now.

His nails dug into his palm as the kids gathered around his Xion.

Even now, when jostled, Xion only frowned faintly and slipped back into slumber. He was that drowsy.

"Oh my, he’s so cute," Talia cooed, clapping her hands.

Silas’ eyes narrowed at the tiny bundle. He stepped closer, squatting beside the kneeling guard, and reached out. His fingers brushed Xion’s cheek.

It felt soft and bouncy.

Before he could touch a second time, something inside Darius broke.

The shadows roared.

Mana slithered like serpents under his skin, burning hot, thick, and indestructible.

The pendant hanging on his neck strained against it, faint green light flickering — and then snapping out like a candle in the wind.

Suddenly, the ground trembled. The clear sky became dark as if covered by a black blanket.

And then, light and sound exploded into the world.

The blast was deafening.

A concussive wave tore through the garden, shredding hedges, splintering marble benches, and turning rosebushes into flying brambles.

The castle walls around them cracked like an eggshell, chunks of stone ripping free and crushing anything in their path.

Children screamed as blood sprayed in the air.

The royal guard who had carried Xion was flung back into a column. His bones breaking audibly before his body slid limply to the ground.

Darius’ new teacher, a seasoned mage, raised a shimmering barrier just in time to shield the prince and princess, but the backlash seared through his chest, and he collapsed.

By the time the dust began to settle, the garden was gone.

The west wing of the Darkhelm Castle smoldered, windows shattered into glittering shards.

In the center of it all, Darius stood like a stone, his silver hair tousled by the force, his eyes as cold as midwinter.

He held Xion in his arms.

Xion was spared from any harm, as if the world itself had chosen to spare only him.

Without a word to anyone, Darius turned and walked away.

He carried Xion up to his bedroom in the east wing. Inside, the heavy oak door slammed shut.

Gently, he laid the finally awake Xion on the bed... and then retrieved something from the desk drawer.

A slender golden chain.

Kneeling at the bedside, he fastened it around drowsy Xion’s ankle. The clasp clicked shut, the faint chime of metal sounding far too soft for what it meant.

"Stay here, Xion," Darius murmured, brushing the boy’s hair back from his face.

When Xion blinked his blue eyes at him in confusion, Darius laughed.

"This way," he tugged at the chain, making Xion aware of the new accessory on his little body. "No one will be able to take you away from me."

Something in that sound, in that click, tore through the haze of Xion’s dreams.

Memories flooded in.

He saw hands reaching for him in another life, cold steel around his wrists, voices calling him a pet.

A raw, animal scream ripped from his throat.

It wasn’t the cry of a frightened child. It was grief — old, deep pain that gnawed at Xion’s heart.

The sound pierced through realms, reaching the ears of one who had been watching.

Goddess Myrthia was already alerted by the earlier explosion. It was her charm that had protected Xion from any harm.

When she noticed how, in mere minutes, the things had changed so much, she made a quick decision.

Better to tear them apart now, before the bond between angel and mortal became something unbreakable.

Light enveloped Xion. His scream was cut short, his body fading from Darius’ grasp like mist.

And just like that, Xion was gone.

Darius stared at the empty space on the bed for a long time.

There was no rage. No tears. Only the slow cooling of something vital inside him.

The light inside his eyes dimmed until it became colder than the snow in midwinter.

Memories of Xion became dull, edges blurring until they were indistinct shadows. A blurry boy’s bright smile, and then even that was gone.

What remained was the gift Xion had unknowingly given him. The ability to see the writhing shadows of greed, envy, and malice coiled deep in people’s hearts.

It was with those new eyes that Darius discovered his father’s filth.

Theodore Darkhelm had a lover he kept hidden from his legal wife. The woman was no noble, just a pretty ornament who whispered what he wanted to hear.

If it weren’t for the wealth and political power Royal Princess had brought to the marriage, Theodore would have discarded her long ago.

She was, to him, nothing more than a vessel — one who had failed to ’produce’ a son worth showing the world.

But Darius’s mother was no gentle victim.

When she found the lover, she didn’t scream or weep. She waited until Theodore was away, then arranged the corpse over his bed. Severed limbs wrapped in silk were sent to Theodore like grotesque gifts.

If anything, Darius had learned that from his mother.

"You know I have good taste in fabric," she said, touching her dress made from the same silk he wrapped the limbs. "Not like some cheap whore from the roadside."

Darius had watched the tightness in Theodore’s jaw, the helpless fury in his eyes.

He was building his empire on his wife’s dowry and the crown’s favor. Without her, he was nothing.

And she knew it.

Perhaps that was why, one year later, when Darius gave her a choice to either remain silent in her wing or return to the palace as a widow, she chose neither.

She slit her own wrists in the bath, water blooming red around her pale skin.

Darius did not mourn her. He simply couldn’t. The essential thing for mourning was grief, and he somehow seemed to reserve it for one person.

At least, he hoped there was someone worthy of his emotions.

The coldness that took root after Xion vanished never thawed.

He slaughtered Theodore in his regal bedroom.

By morning, the Archduchy’s servants welcomed their new master.

Darius was crueler than Theodore. He rarely smiled, spoke less, and seemed to see straight through the skin into the rotting core of anyone who stood before him.

Hence, Darius Rael Darkhelm was born to rule over the snowy edges where none wanted to venture.