CHAPTER 52: FINAL GOODBYE

He took a step forward.

Toward the life he had lived as Sylas.

But his mind drifted to Arthur.

That life... was nothing but tragedy.

Everyone who got close to him—

Broke.

Corrupted.

Or died.

He stared ahead, but his thoughts sank deeper.

Maybe... if he let go of Ana, Elizabeth, and the others—

If he forgot them—

They wouldn’t be affected by his curse.

They could live normal lives.

He thought of Ana’s face.

How she watched her father die.

And suddenly—

The weight was back.

Heavy.

Sharp.

He clenched his jaw.

"You were right again, Merlin," he whispered.

"To follow the King... is to walk the path of ruin."

He wiped his tears.

Then looked at them—one last time.

Their memories surged through his mind.

Each moment crashing over him like echoes refusing to fade.

Then, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

It was Kay.

"That’s enough," he muttered.

His tone wasn’t angry. Just... disappointed.

Sylas turned.

Behind him stood the rest of his sworn brothers—Lancelot, Gawain, Percival, Tristan, Bors, and Galahad.

They didn’t speak.

They just stood there, silent. Watching.

Like ghosts he couldn’t let go of.

Their eyes said everything.

They were disappointed.

Like he had let them down.

"What are you doing?" Percival asked.

His voice was sharp. Cutting.

Sylas tried to answer, but the words came out broken.

"That’s the only way," he whimpered. "I have no other choice."

Tristan stepped forward, his voice soft—gentle, almost kind.

"It’s time to let us go."

"I can’t," Sylas whispered.

"I can’t afford to lose my sworn brothers."

He paused, choking on the next words.

"I’d be nobody without you all."

That’s when Lancelot punched him.

Hard.

Without hesitation.

"We’re here to make sure you make the right choice."

Sylas shook his head.

"I am making the right choice," he said, voice low. Strained.

"You don’t understand... this life—sometimes I forget I was born as Sylas."

He looked down at his hands. Trembling.

"I’ve lived longer as Arthur. Felt more. Lost more."

His voice cracked.

"I... I don’t want to trade that life."

Tristan smiled. Quiet. Soft.

"It was a life filled with tragedy."

Kay stepped forward and rested a hand on Sylas’s shoulder—just like before.

Warm. Steady.

"You have people who still need you," he said.

"Not memories. Not ghosts. Real people. Alive."

"Ana. Elizabeth. Lucian. Elaine."

Bors spoke their names like a list carved in stone.

"They’re your family now."

Sylas shook his head. His voice cracked.

"But without you all... who am I supposed to be?"

Lancelot didn’t flinch.

He looked him straight in the eyes—sharp, unwavering.

"You’re still our brother."

"Even if you forget us."

Then he stepped back.

One hand on his sword.

"So take what we give you..."

"...and win."

[System Notification]

Hidden Quest: Everything Has Its Price

Objective: Give up what holds your heart together.

He looked up at Lancelot—

And his face started to blur.

His name—he couldn’t remember.

His voice—gone.

[System Notification]

Progress: 1/7

Memory Deleted: Lancelot

Progress: 2/7

Memory Deleted: Percival

Gone.

Just a feeling left behind.

A faint warmth. A hollow ache.

Progress: 3/7

Memory Deleted: Gawain

Progress: 4/7

Memory Deleted: Bors

His brother in every battle.

Slowly being erased.

Progress: 5/7

Memory Deleted: Galahad

Progress: 6/7

Memory Deleted: Tristan

Progress: 7/7

Memory Deleted: Kay

His first brother.

His last anchor.

Gone.

[System Notification]

Hidden Quest Complete

Skill Unlocked: [Absolute Sword Aura]

Passive Effect (Domain Only):

+25% Physical Power

+25% Speed

Effect stacks up to 7 times.

Each time a sword shatters, gain 1 stack.

He stood in silence, his hand clutching at his chest, like part of it was missing.

Seven names.

Seven pieces of his heart. Erased.

All that remained was the ache.

And the memory of being close to someone—

But no idea who they were.

He fell to his knees and started slamming the ground.

Again.

And again.

Each strike heavier than the last.

The chain wrapped around his heart—it began to shatter, link by link.

The chest in the sky trembled.

Then slowly... it began to open.

Struggling.

Fighting to break free from the chain.

Greed turned his head, eyes shifting toward where Sylas lay—collapsed.

Once the chest shattered the chain and opened, his golden light spread across the field like ripples of fading fire.

Seven gold figures began to form around him.

Their shapes flickered.

Their faces... blurry.

Unclear.

Like memories slipping through fog.

One of them knelt beside him and removed the chain wrapped around his wrist—the one pinning him in place.

Then another helped him sit up.

Their hands were warm. Familiar.

But Sylas couldn’t see their faces.

He couldn’t hear their voices.

He tried to reach for them, but the image wouldn’t stay.

Like a dream already starting to fade.

He squeezed it until his knuckles turned white.

Trying to push away that feeling.

That emptiness.

That unbearable sense of something missing—

Someone missing.

But no matter how hard he held on...

The faces were gone.

"Such beautiful memories," Greed muttered.

First, Sylas struck down the golems—ensuring Ana was safe.

But before Greed could celebrate, Sylas blinked.

He reappeared above him—golden eyes blazing, consumed by rage.

He dropped from the sky like a blade cast down by the heavens, both swords crashing into Greed’s shoulders with the weight of gods.

The ground split beneath them.

Both blades shattered on contact.

And with them, two of the ghostly figures vanished.

His face pressed against the ground, Sylas slammed his foot into Greed’s ribs—

Greed screamed.

The impact left him sprawled across the field, coughing shadow like blood, his body twitching.

He tried to retreat—crawling backward.

Chains wrapped around him—not to attack, but to hide him from danger.

Desperation twisted his face.

He needed distance.

He needed space.

Chains erupted from his body like shattered steel, raining down with murderous intent.

A storm of blades, born of fear.

But Sylas didn’t falter.

He walked forward—calm, silent.

Moved through the chaos like wind through ruin.

Dodging.

Flowing.

Untouchable.

He stepped between the falling chains, then drove his foot into Greed’s stomach—launching him across the ground.

Dust exploded as Greed rolled, broken and scrambling.

Desperate, he lashed out.

Chains shot forward like spears.

One slammed into Sylas’s shoulder.

It tore through muscle—clean, brutal, deep.

Blood sprayed.

His body jolted from the force.

But that pain...

It was nothing.

Not compared to what was tearing him apart inside.

This pain—this hollow, burning ache—

It was deeper.

Heavier.

He gripped the chain.

With a sharp pull, he yanked Greed toward him—

Then swung his sword upward, slicing through the air.

The impact sent Greed flying.

One more figure disappeared.

Sylas picked up a fallen sword.

Without hesitation, he flung it toward Greed—fast, precise.

In the blink of an eye, he teleported.

Appearing above.

Two swords in hand.

He brought them crashing down—both blades slamming into Greed from above.

The ground cracked beneath the force.

Dust exploded outward.

Two more figures disappeared.

Faces he would never remember again.

Sylas stood over him as Greed lay broken on the ground.

His breath was heavy. His grip trembling.

He looked down at him, eyes hollow.

"Give it back," Sylas said.

"Give me back what I lost."

Greed smiled through bloodied lips.

"Never."

Chains erupted from the ground—twisting around him, coiling tight, forming armor across his body, link by link.

Sylas raised his sword.

"You think that will save you?" he asked, his tone heavy. Cold.

Then he roared—

And brought the blade down with all his strength.

The sword shattered on impact.

So did the last two figures behind him.

Gone.

He kicked Greed’s armored body, sending it skidding across the golden terrain.

"Did Lilith ever tell you a story," Sylas said, voice low, "about how I erased an entire nation by myself?"

He walked forward.

The ground cracked beneath each step.

The terrain shifted—like the world itself was holding back.

"I was betrayed," he continued.

"My best friend.

My lover.

They left me drowning in sorrow."

He stopped.

"A king saw that pain... and thought it meant I was weak.

So he tried to take my throne."

Sylas looked at Greed.

"You know what I did?"

Greed didn’t answer.

His eyes just widened—like he could see it.

The cities burning.

The screams buried beneath golden fire.

"I didn’t just kill them," Sylas said.

"I erased them.

That country doesn’t exist anymore. Not on maps.

Not in books.

Not in memory."

He took another step.

"You can look if you want. I’ll let you peek."

He said it with a smile.

It was wide.

Unnatural.

"You can see what I did to them.

Alone."

The sky turned black.

Not like dusk.

Not like night.

Like something devoured the sun.

The world held its breath...

As the King of Light vanished—

And something else took his place.

The Hollow King.

His sword exploded—

Not with light.

But with crimson energy that burned like wrath made real.

The ground shattered beneath his feet as Sylas launched forward, faster than sound.

A streak of blood-red fury, aimed straight at the heart of a god.

Greed’s eyes widened in terror.

Sylas raised his sword and began swinging wildly—desperate, wrathful, unrelenting.

Clang.

Clang.

Clang.

Each strike blocked.

Each swing broken.

Until the chains that made up his armor began to crack.

Then snap.

Then tear away—one link at a time.

His armor collapsed.

Greed reverted—his monstrous form peeling back to the withered, hollow creature beneath.

He opened his mouth to speak—

But he never got the chance.

Sylas grabbed him by the jaw, fingers digging into bone, and slammed him into the earth so hard the ground cratered beneath them.

Then came the swords.

One.

Two.

Three.

Each blade plunged into Greed’s body—ribs, shoulders, chest.

He didn’t stab to kill.

He stabbed to erase.

Greed screamed—

But it came out like steam from a dying machine.

His body flickered.

Then began to dissolve.

Sword after sword, Sylas kept driving them in.

Until there was nothing left.

But one item remained.

[Soul Core Fragments Collected: 200 / 400]