CHAPTER 125: CHAPTER 125: REVENGE

The hand closed around his throat like iron dipped in flame.

Four fingers only, but each one was a brand. Each scale was rough, ridged, as if carved from volcanic glass.

Aiden’s skin sizzled where it touched him. He could smell himself burning. The world shrank to the circle of that grip: his neck, his lungs screaming for air, the hammer of his pulse.

And yet—it wasn’t the worst pain he had felt.

The real agony had been when his ember had guttered out. When the tiny flame of mana that marked him as alive had flickered to zero, leaving him hollow.

He remembered that moment vividly—the sensation of being erased. Not killed, but emptied.

Compared to that, this was only pain. A smaller cruelty.

He forced a ragged grin, lips cracking under the heat. "Heh... we meet quicker than expected. Usually, this sort of reunion happens after an arc or two."

His words scraped out, half-choke, half-jest.

The abomination’s crimson eyes widened—and then he laughed.

"Hahaha .HAHAHAHAH.."

It was not a laugh of mirth. It was cavernous, jagged, a laugh that shook the air. Birds miles away scattered. Trees bent as though in prayer. Even the stones seemed to hum with the echo.

The beast who had massacred three cities bent his head back and howled laughter at the night sky.

And then, to Aiden’s shock, he loosened his grip.

The scales withdrew. Aiden fell to his knees, hacking for air, throat blistered and raw. His lungs dragged in breath like a man who had drowned and clawed back to shore. The ground itself seemed cool after the fire of that hand.

"Brave little one," the abomination said, voice rumbling like boulders grinding together. "You are right. We had a deal. And I..." He tilted his head, grin showing fangs sharp as swords. "I respect insanity. Especially the insanity of a fearless boy who dares grin at me."

The name he had given earlier still burned in Aiden’s ears—Aros, son of Ares.

Aiden coughed until he could stand again. He forced his body upright, spine shaking, golden eyes glaring into red.

He could barely breathe, but still he looked. Still he questioned.

"I saw them," he rasped, voice ragged. "The people. The children. Slain like animals. Why? ....What’s your goal?"

The silence after the question was sharp. The abomination tilted his head, as though deciding whether to answer or to end him.

Then, with terrifying suddenness, his hand closed on Aiden’s neck again—this time not crushing but lifting.

There was a dizzying rush.

The world blurred. Wind screamed past his ears. His stomach lurched as though the ground had abandoned him.

And then, in a blink, they were high above.

The sky stretched wide. Clouds curled beneath them. And below—

Destruction.

Aiden’s eyes widened until they hurt. He could see everything from this height: the three giant trees, once proud citadels of elven majesty, now ringed by ruin.

Fires burned at their roots. Smoke spiraled into the heavens. The cities that clung to those branches lay shattered, corpses scattered like fallen leaves.

The scale of it was obscene. An entire people erased.

Aros’s voice came low and cruel in his ear. "What do you see?"

Aiden’s throat tightened. He couldn’t look away. The fires painted the world red, ash drifting upward like lost souls. His stomach turned.

"I see..." He paused, searching for the truth hidden in the ruin. "I see destruction. Chaos. No—not chaos. A pattern. This wasn’t about fire. Or land. Or even war." He swallowed, tasting ash. "It was about killing. The elves. All of them."

His voice trembled on the last word.

He forced himself to look away from the smoke, to meet those blazing crimson eyes.

"Why? Racism? No. You’re not some petty supremacist. A bloodthirsty psycho? No—you let me live. You... you are doing this for..." He said.

The abomination’s grin widened, showing teeth like daggers.

"..Revenge," Aiden said quietly.

The laughter that followed was not madness—it was recognition. Feral, cruel, delighted recognition.

"At least," Aros said, lips curling, "you’re not an idiot."

He shifted, holding Aiden by the collar now instead of the throat, almost companionably, as though sharing a secret. His voice deepened.

"Yes. Revenge."

He gestured with his other hand, sweeping across the broken cities like an artist showing off a painting.

"I once lived there. In those halls. Among those trees. I was a child. My dragon blood not yet awakened.

My horns non existent. My ears sharper than theirs, sharper than the norm." His lips curled into a sneer. "And they hated me for it. They called me abomination.

They spat when I walked by. They whispered that my existence was heresy. That I was sin made flesh."

The words poured like venom. Each one heavy with years of festering.

"They beat me. Starved me. Locked me away. Laughed at me." His claws flexed.

"And when my blood awakened, when the fire of dragon and elf ignited in me... I remembered.

I remembered every name, every stone thrown, every blade turned against me. And now—" He looked down at the burning cities. "I give back what they gave me."

Aiden’s throat was dry. His mind screamed to stay silent. But his lips betrayed him.

"...Does it feel good?"

The question cut through the wind. For a moment, silence reigned between them.

Aros did not answer at once. His eyes scanned the burning forests, the rivers of flame. His grin faltered.

Finally, he said, low and almost reluctant, "No."

He tightened his grip on Aiden’s collar, lifting him higher until his feet dangled.

"This is not enough. Not yet. I will burn every elf alive. Until the last one screams. Until their name is ash. Only then will I be.... satisfied."

Aiden’s chest constricted—not from the grip, but from the weight of the words.

"No, you won’t," he said, voice hoarse but firm.

The red eyes flicked to him.

"You could kill them all," Aiden pressed, words spilling despite fear. "Slaughter every last elf. And it still wouldn’t be enough.

The hole they carved in you—it won’t fill. Not with bodies. Not with blood. Not ever."

For a heartbeat, silence. Then the grin returned, sharp as razors.

"You dare ...lecture me?" Aros said, almost laughing again. His arm pulled back, muscles coiling, ready to hurl Aiden like a stone.

"A human boy? You live because we have a deal. Nothing more. Nothing less."

The world spun. Air ripped past Aiden’s ears.

And then—impact.

His body slammed into stone. Armor shrieked against rock, sparks flashing as he slid across the cave floor. Pain flared along his ribs, his shoulder. He tumbled, rolled, and skidded—

Straight toward the glowing gate.

By sheer impossible chance, his body passed through its light. The threshold swallowed him whole.

And as he slipped into that other worl, his word, coughing blood, a crooked grin cracked his face.

"Damn," he muttered. "That was one hell of a throw."

The light closed behind him.

Leaving only the echo of laughter in the burning sky.