CHAPTER 307: CHAPTER 306 - ZEPHYR’S END.

The chamber was drowned in screams.

Vorun’s voice cracked against the walls, raw and shrill, as Siris’s laughter sliced through it like glass.

"Tell me," her voice rang from within the burning barrier, venomous and amused, "how did it feel when your brain froze solid? Did you hear the silence before it shattered?"

Another shriek. Chains rattled.

"What about when your kidney I froze bursts, the shards stabbing through your stomach, ripping your intestines apart?" She asked sweetly, her tone mocking. "Did you enjoy the sound of your own body eating itself?"

One could tell she was having a good time making a mess out of Vorun.

"STOP! STOP!" Vorun’s cries broke, devolving into hoarse sobs. "I beg you—enough! Enough!"

But his words meant nothing. His body would heal. He would scream again. Siris, however, had promised pain, and she would stand up to it.

Outside the barrier, Raven and Zephyr stood face-to-face, neither moving, crimson eyes locked against violet. Their silence was a contrast to the chaos behind them, and yet, it was heavier.

Zephyr’s gaze flicked once toward the sphere of black flames, then back. He exhaled softly, almost shaking his head at the futility of it all.

That was when Raven’s voice cut through the chamber. Calm. Cold.

"You really have no intention of dropping your ambitions, do you?"

Zephyr didn’t answer.

Raven’s claws tapped against Omni’s hilt as he stared at Zephyr.

Unlike others, Raven, who knew the plot, had read Zephyr’s end.

"I wish I had a chance to start over in a better family."

This was what he had said before he took his last breath.

After all, only a few were born villains, and although it looked like Zephyr was one of them, he wasn’t.

Since birth, he never had someone to tell him what the right thing was. His father ignored him while others tried to stay away from him.

The only one he had was his mother, but in her eyes, he was merely a tool that would help her and the royals take control of the Vaise family.

From the moment he began to understand the meaning of words, he had only heard words that could make him cold, ruthless, evil, and a Vaise-hating machine.

That was his life.

It was only after his death that he realized how meaningless everything was and how he would’ve been left with nothing once he reached the end of the path he was walking.

Raven knew that it was all the same even now because he hadn’t felt a single ounce of hate or bloodlust from Zephyr.

As he heard Raven’s question, something flickered in Zephyr’s eyes.

A shadow of regret, a buried memory—but just as quickly, it vanished, buried beneath his smirk.

He lifted his chin. "Draw your sword, little brother."

Behind them, Vorun howled as another organ burst within him. Siris’s laughter echoed, sharp and merciless.

Raven sighed and unsheathed Omni. The sword’s black edge gleamed faintly, pulsing like it was alive.

"Boss," Omni’s voice echoed in his head, casual and smooth like a wise friend. "Getting cold feet now?"

Raven didn’t reply to that.

Zephyr, on the other hand, had his grin widened when the blade appeared.

"Good. Although I’m not used to this body... it has some impressive abilities."

Dark energy rippled across his skin, sinking into his flesh until his whole body gleamed faintly, like a living ward.

"One of them," Zephyr said, his voice edged with pride, "is this. Anti-magic. Your magical attacks won’t work on me now."

Raven’s eyes narrowed. Then he sighed again, this time heavier, his tone almost... tired.

"Why are you still pretending, Zephyr?"

The words hit harder than any strike.

"You know you don’t stand a chance against me," Raven continued, his voice low, unflinching. "So why?"

Zephyr froze.

For a moment, the smirk faltered. His lips parted, and in a voice so quiet it nearly drowned under Vorun’s screams, he muttered—

"...Because I don’t want to look pathetic. Not in my last moment. Not in front of my little brother."

Raven’s heart stopped. His eyes widened, breath caught in his throat.

’Little brother.’

Never—not once—had Zephyr said it without venom. Without mockery. Without hate.

But now... Now there was no sarcasm. No disdain. Only truth.

Raven knew that Zephyr had done many wrong things until now. That guy had tried to kill him, but because he knew Zephyr’s ending, he felt like he should give Zephyr a chance.

The problem was that he couldn’t make that decision because it wouldn’t merely affect him but also those around him.

If, by chance, Zephyr was putting on an act right now, and later, he stabbed Raven in the back or harmed someone close to him, then Raven didn’t think he would be able to forgive himself.

Raven’s teeth clenched. His grip on Omni tightened as guilt dug its claws into him.

"Damn it..." He muttered, his voice cracking with something he didn’t want to name. "Now you’re making me feel like the bad guy."

For the first time, Raven hesitated.

Zephyr’s face hardened as he noticed it. He shook his head violently, a raw shout ripping from his throat, "Then if you won’t make a move—I WILL!"

He shot forward, body blurring with speed.

But to Raven, it was slow. Too slow. Each step, each twitch of muscle stretched into eternity.

’He’s weaker... slower... than he’s ever been.’

For Raven, who could face level ten beings now, the current Zephyr was nothing.

He could end the guy in a thousand ways. A whisper of Destruction. A flick of Voidfire. A breath of Soul Freeze.

Instead, he decided to end it painlessly.

He stepped forward once, and Omni raised to shoulder height, already using the sword’s power.

Then, it all happened in the blink of an eye.

One instant, Raven was standing before Zephyr, and the next, he was behind him.

Blood dripped from Omni’s black edge, pattering softly against the stone.

Zephyr’s body froze mid-motion, eyes widening. His thoughts were fractured, scattered like shards of glass.

’Maybe... I should’ve... accepted his offer...’

The world tilted. His vision darkened. Then his head slipped from his shoulders and hit the floor with a dull, final thud.

Silence swallowed the chamber. Even Vorun’s screaming felt distant now, muffled beneath the weight of the moment.

Raven turned slowly, crimson eyes fixed on the body of his brother—no, not his enemy, not his rival. His brother.

At least at the last moment, he was a brother.

"I hope you live a better life next time," he said as he saw Zephyr’s soul leaving his body.

Above all, for the first time, Raven had killed not a demon, not a beast, not a monster—

—But a man.

The thing was, he didn’t feel that bad about it.

Omni hummed in Raven’s hand, the sound lazy, almost like a man leaning back in his chair.

"Y’know, boss, I heard somethin’ once. They say killin’ another human hits different. Makes ya sick, keeps ya up at night, all that dramatic jazz."

Raven glanced at the blade, still dripping crimson. "Yeah. I’ve heard that too."

"And? You feelin’ sick? Stomach turnin’? Gonna start writin’ poetry about the blood on your hands?"

"...No." Raven’s voice was quiet but certain. "I don’t feel sick. Not really."

Omni chuckled, smooth and rolling like dice on a table.

"That’s what I figured. Maybe it’s ’cause you’ve been poppin’ demons left and right, eh? Big, ugly things that scream like toddlers gettin’ their candy stolen. After that, what’s one guy shaped like a human?"

Raven exhaled, his claws flexing at his side. "...Maybe you’re right. When you kill enough monsters that wear human skin, the line stops mattering."

"Exactly. Plus, c’mon—look at who you iced. Your bro might’ve called you ’little brother’ at the end, but he wasn’t exactly a saint, was he? Guy had more skeletons in his closet than an ossuary."

Raven almost smiled at that. "You make it sound so simple."

"That’s ’cause it is simple, boss. You did what had to be done. Nothin’ more, nothin’ less. Don’t let that guilt bite too hard, or I’ll start thinking you’re soft."

Raven shook his head, finally sheathing the blade. "I’m not soft. Just... tired."

He turned at last, his crimson gaze rising toward the floating sphere of black fire. Vorun’s shrieks had long since broken into pitiful whimpers, the sound of a man more corpse than alive.

His posture straightened as he let out a breath. "Time to end the doctor now."