In the dim, oppressive confines of the infamous dark room in the warehouse, where shadows clung to the walls like specters, Irene and Emelia were still held captive. Emelia strained against her bonds, her muscles taut with desperation, but her efforts proved futile. With a resigned sigh, she ceased her struggle, her breath shallow and uneven.

  “I can’t believe it… Jaxith can’t be dead. He’s always so vigilant, so calculated. Is this some twisted ploy to instill fear in us? But then why spare me?” Emelia’s thoughts spiraled as she recalled the moment John had dropped the dagger and retreated upon learning of her pregnancy. “There was something off about him—fear, perhaps? Or was it remorse?” Her mind churned with unanswered questions until a faint cough shattered the silence behind her.

  Emelia turned sharply, her heart pounding. Irene was stirring, her body wracked with coughs. Was she finally waking?

  “Irene, Irene, wake up!” Emelia whispered urgently, her voice barely audible but laced with desperation.

  “Irene! Are you alright? Please, say something,” Emelia implored, her fear mounting that Irene might be ill. Irene’s head lifted slowly, her eyes darting around the unfamiliar surroundings. She attempted to move, only to discover the cold, unyielding chains binding her to the metal pillar. Panic surged through her.

  “Irene, calm down. Look at me,” Emelia whispered, her tone firm yet soothing, drawing Irene’s frantic gaze toward her.

  “Emelia?” Irene’s voice trembled with fear.

  “Yes, it’s me. Keep your voice down. We can’t risk drawing attention,” Emelia cautioned, her words measured and calm.

  “Okay, okay… I’m sorry. Where are we? Why are we chained like this?” Irene whispered, her voice quivering as she struggled to comprehend the nightmare she had awakened to.

  “I don’t know where we are. As for the chains… we’re captives. That’s why they’ve bound us. There was a gag over my mouth earlier, but someone removed it. You didn’t have one, which means they didn’t expect you to wake up so soon,” Emelia explained, her voice steady despite the tension.

  “But why remove it from you? Aren’t they afraid you’ll scream and alert someone?” Irene asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

  “Perhaps we’re far from the village. And honestly, I’m too terrified to try after what happened,” Emelia admitted, her voice tinged with unease.

  “You sound shaken. Did someone hurt you?” Irene pressed, her concern evident.

  “No, but he was about to kill me. I don’t know what stopped him. He removed the gag, questioned me, and then decided I was of no use. He was going to kill me, but he hesitated and left. He didn’t even bother to replace the gag—probably because he didn’t care enough,” Emelia recounted, her voice hollow.

  “It’s a relief he didn’t harm you, but why the sudden change of heart?” Irene asked, her brow furrowed.

  “I don’t know. When he found out I was pregnant, he stopped,” Emelia revealed, her voice barely audible.

  “Maybe not all villains are entirely heartless. Wait—did you say you’re pregnant?” Irene’s eyes widened in shock as she stared at Emelia.

  “Yes. I was going to surprise you and Jaxith, but I decided to wait until I finished helping him with you,” Emelia confessed, her voice soft.

  “Jax? JAX!” Irene’s voice rose, her panic palpable.

  “Irene, lower your voice!” Emelia hissed, her tone sharp with urgency.

  “No, no, no… he was in pain,” Irene stammered, her voice trembling.

  “Calm down. What happened?” Emelia urged, her voice steady but insistent.

  “We were eating at the inn when Jaxith suddenly doubled over in agony. He collapsed to the floor, and I tried to run for help, but he grabbed my leg and told me to run. Miller burst into the room, and that’s when I realized… Miller had poisoned him,” Irene seethed, her anger barely contained. Emelia’s eyes widened in disbelief.

  “I tried to escape, but I felt dizzy and collapsed. That’s the last thing I remember. Your father betrayed us, Emelia. Jaxith trusted him more than anyone, and now he's dead because of me. Just like I warned him,” Irene’s voice rose, her anger boiling over. Emelia sensed the shift in her tone and knew she had to intervene before Irene spiraled out of control. Without Jaxith, Irene was a volatile force, and Emelia couldn’t risk her losing grip on reality.

  “Jaxith is alive. Please, calm down,” Emelia whispered, though she knew she was lying—or at least uncertain. After hearing Irene’s account, she wondered if John had been telling the truth. But she couldn’t let Irene lose hope. She had to handle this carefully. Irene was scared, alone, and teetering on the edge of despair. Emelia had to be her anchor, even if it meant weaving a fragile web of lies.

  “What makes you say that?” Irene asked, a flicker of hope igniting in her eyes as she fixed her gaze on Emelia.

  “I overheard the men outside talking about still not finding Jaxith,” Emelia whispered, her voice low but steady.

  “Are you sure of this?” Irene’s voice trembled with cautious optimism, her demeanor shifting dramatically at the possibility that Jaxith might still be alive.

  “Of course. Just lower your voice and calm down,” Emelia urged, her tone firm but reassuring.

  “Actually, it makes sense now. They must have kidnapped me to force my father to poison Jaxith and drug you. But knowing how much my father respects Jaxith, he must have given him something different—something to trick them, not poison him,” Emelia speculated, weaving a narrative she desperately wanted to believe. She couldn’t fathom the idea of Miller betraying Jaxith.

  “You’re making sense. Miller truly loves Jaxith. But you didn’t see him, Emelia. I’ve never seen him like that before. It sounded too real—like poison tearing through his insides," Irene whispered, her voice laced with dread.

  “Believe me, Irene. You know by now that Jaxith isn’t an easy target. I thought the same when he killed a couple of bears, but then he went on to slay a powerful demon and a rare beast like the Onohly. You’ve witnessed a side of him that we weren’t lucky enough to see,” Emelia whispered, her words carrying a quiet strength. Irene listened intently before lowering her gaze, her worry still evident.

  “Those must be the same men who sent that assassin after you, right?” Emelia asked, her voice barely audible.

  “Most likely, yes,” Irene replied, her voice tinged with unease. Emelia could sense the lingering fear in her.

  “Hey, I know you’re still worried, and I understand. But we need to focus on our situation here,” Emelia whispered, her tone pragmatic.

  “I’m not worried about that,” Irene murmured, her eyes fixed on the ground.

  “Then what is it, Irene?” Emelia pressed gently.

  “You wouldn’t understand,” Irene said evasively.

  Emelia paused, her mind racing. “You’re still worried about him, aren’t you?”

  “Forget it, Emelia,” Irene said sharply, her voice carrying a rare edge of seriousness.

  “You can’t hide it,” Emelia insisted.

  “It’s more complicated than you think,” Irene replied, finally meeting Emelia’s gaze.

  “There are no complications in looking up to an elder brother, Irene,” Emelia said softly, a warm smile playing on her lips. Irene looked at her in surprise before averting her eyes again.

  “It was obvious from the moment I saw you hugging him the night you lost control. But I didn’t realize how much you cared. He’s more than just someone helping you—he’s become like family. And he cares about you too. Don’t be afraid that your feelings are one-sided,” Emelia said, her voice comforting.

  “That’s the problem. I don’t understand why he’s doing all this. He’s sacrificing everything just to help me. I’ve told him twice to leave me or even end my miserable life, but he insists on staying. I’m so confused, Emelia. And now, I’m terrified that he’ll get hurt because of me,” Irene confessed, her voice breaking as she struggled to hold back her emotions.

  “That’s completely normal, Irene. There’s no confusion here. You’ve had friends your age, and someone you looked up to as a parent, but you’ve never had a caring older brother—someone who would do anything to keep you safe, who accepts you as you are, and helps you navigate your darkest struggles. That’s why you’ve become so attached to him, especially after he saved you from death and from that demon. I know this feeling too,” Emelia said calmly, her words soothing.

  Irene looked up at Emelia, her eyes searching for reassurance.

  “I know it’s still hard for you to talk about this, so I’ll tell you something funny. When Jaxith saved me from those bears seven years ago, I was just a young girl, easily swayed by my emotions. So, yes, I’ll admit it—I saw him as my prince for a year or two,” Emelia said with a playful smile, her eyes locking with Irene’s.

  “No way! You loved that idiot?” Irene exclaimed, her surprise breaking through her somber mood.

  “Yeah, I did. But I eventually realized it wasn’t love—it was admiration for my savior. I even tried dressing up nicely whenever he visited, but he never noticed," Emelia said, chuckling softly.

  “Yeah, that’s a typical Jaxith for you,” Irene said, a small smile tugging at her lips.

  “After a while, I started to understand my feelings better. Then I met Troy, and I finally learned the difference between admiration and love. In your case, he saved you from a demon, not just bears. So it’s completely natural for you to look up to him like that. I know the kind of charm Jaxith has—it’s subtle, but it’s there. He’s not the most social person, but there’s something special about him. That’s why we all respect him. And that’s why you see him as the brother you’ve always longed for,” Emelia explained, her voice gentle.

  The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

  “So… I’m not weird or selfish for feeling this way?” Irene asked, her voice tinged with vulnerability.

  “Absolutely not. In fact, I’ll tell you something I don’t think he’s shared with you. You remind Jaxith of someone very precious to him. That’s why he’s so determined to help you—more than you might realize,” Emelia revealed.

  “That’s strange. He never mentioned that,” Irene said, her brow furrowing.

  “Jaxith isn’t exactly the most talkative person. But he did tell me that. I’m not making it up,” Emelia assured her.

  Irene looked down, a small smile forming on her lips. “You know what? I’ve really started to like you, Emelia. You’re right about everything. I do see Jax as my brother. Even in my nightmares, I’ve called him that. I never told him because I thought he might find it strange.”

  “He knows, Irene. And you’re not strange. Sometimes, we get attached to someone and consider them family simply because they feel so close to us. Stop blaming yourself for everything. Jaxith told me about that part of you, and you really need to let it go. Accept that there are people who care about you, even after everything that’s happened,” Emelia said, her smile warm and encouraging.

  “Thank you, Emelia. You’re a good person. I see why Jax trusts you and Miller,” Irene said while looking back at Emelia, her smile genuine now.

  “Don’t mention it,” Emelia replied softly.

  Irene’s gaze drifted back to the ground. “I hope he’s okay. I don’t think I could forgive myself if he got hurt because of me.”

  “I think we need to focus on our situation now. Waiting for Jaxith isn’t our best option—he doesn’t even know where we are,” Emelia whispered, her tone shifting to one of urgency.

  “Alright. What do you suggest?” Irene asked, her voice cautious but willing.

  “Try moving your chains forcefully. Maybe your strength is growing—you might be able to break free,” Emelia suggested.

  “I’ll try,” Irene said, determination flashing in her eyes as she began to strain against the chains.

  Outside the room, in John’s dimly lit office, the air was thick with tension. John sat slumped in his chair, his legs jittering uncontrollably as he stared at the dagger clutched in his hand. The blade gleamed faintly in the low light, a silent reminder of the task he had failed to complete.

  “Please, I’m pregnant. Stop it.” The words echoed in his mind, haunting him. Emelia’s plea had struck a nerve, dredging up memories he had buried deep within himself—memories of a night that had shattered his life. The night he had believed he was on the verge of becoming a powerful dark caster, only to lose everything instead.

  Lost in his thoughts, John didn’t notice Edward entering the room. It wasn’t until Edward’s voice cut through the silence that John snapped back to reality.

  “John,” Edward said, his tone firm but not unkind.

  John looked up, his eyes hollow and distant, before finally registering Edward’s presence. “What’s the matter?” Edward asked, his gaze narrowing as he took in John’s disheveled state.

  “Nothing,” John muttered, his eyes dropping back to the dagger. Edward wasn’t fooled. He could see the turmoil etched across John’s face.

  “Did you kill her?” Edward asked bluntly.

  John hesitated, his grip tightening on the dagger before he shook his head. “No,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible.

  “I thought you wanted to,” Edward pressed, his tone laced with confusion.

  John remained silent, his gaze fixed on the blade as if it held the answers to his inner conflict.

  “John, listen,” Edward began, his voice growing more urgent. “We can’t let her go. We need to deliver the hybrid to Lord Blamore without leaving any loose ends. We’re not ready to deal with someone like Adam Aravos. He’s getting closer, and if he finds out what’s happening, he’ll be on us before we can escape.”

  John said nothing, his silence unnerving. Edward sighed, his patience wearing thin. “Fine. I’ll tell one of the guards to take care of her,” he said, turning to leave.

  “Stop,” John’s voice cut through the air, sharp and commanding. Edward froze, then turned back to face him.

  “John, what’s going on?” Edward asked, leaning against the desk and studying John’s face. John still refused to meet his gaze, his expression unreadable.

  “Forget about the woman. I’ll deal with her later,” John said, his voice low and strained.

  Edward frowned, his confusion deepening. He knew John well—too well—and this behavior was unlike him. It reminded Edward of the John he had seen years ago, coated in blood, with Alphonse raging at him. Something had shaken him to his core.

  “John, I know you. What happened in that room?” Edward asked, his tone softer now, almost pleading.

  John hesitated, his fingers tracing the edge of the dagger’s blade. Finally, he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “She’s pregnant.”

  Edward’s eyes widened in shock. He quickly pulled up a chair and sat beside John, his demeanor shifting to one of concern. “She reminds you of Cristina, doesn’t she?” Edward asked gently.

  John nodded, his shoulders slumping as the weight of his memories pressed down on him.

  “I know you haven’t moved past that night, John, but it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t know,” Edward said, his voice soothing.

  “It was my fault, Edward. No one else’s,” John replied, his voice heavy with regret.

  Edward sighed, then draped an arm around John’s shoulders, pulling him into a comforting embrace. “Things happen, John. I don’t want to dwell on it because I know how much it hurts you, but you need to understand this: your love and respect for your father drove you to act. You didn’t know she was pregnant. I know you would never have done it if you had.”

  John remained silent, his head bowed as Edward continued. “But you need to make a choice, John. Shisk will be back soon, and once he is, we need to leave. We can’t afford delays.”

  “I can’t let her die. Not while she’s pregnant,” John said, his voice firm now. “She’s skilled in alchemy. She could be useful to us. I can convince Father to spare her.”

  Edward’s expression darkened. “You know what Lord Blamore’s plans are. Once he’s done with the girl, everything will change. People like her won’t survive. Only the true believers—those like us—will evolve and serve the true God.”

  “I know,” John said, his voice weary. “Just… let it go for now, Edward.”

  Edward studied him for a moment before nodding reluctantly. “As you wish. It’s your plan, after all.”

  “Thank you, Edward,” John said, finally looking up at him. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  Edward smiled faintly and gave John’s back a reassuring pat. “You’ve always been like a son to me.”

  The moment of quiet was interrupted as John’s expression shifted, his focus sharpening. “Did you find anything about the hunter?” he asked.

  Edward nodded. “Yes. And if your theory about him being a Legnican is correct, then eliminating him was the right move. There’s a strong connection between the negative abyss and Legnica.”

  John listened, but his attention was suddenly drawn elsewhere. He raised a hand, cutting Edward off. “Listen,” he said sharply, his eyes darting toward the door of the room where Emelia and Irene were held.

  “What?” Edward asked, his brow furrowing.

  “Call a guard and follow me,” John ordered, his voice urgent. He quickly grabbed a potion from a drawer in his desk and strode toward the door, his movements swift and decisive. Edward hesitated for only a moment before following, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern. Whatever John had heard, it was enough to pull him out of his brooding—and that alone was enough to put Edward on edge.

  Irene strained against the chains binding her, her muscles taut with effort, and to her astonishment, the metal links began to loosen. The sound of the door swinging open interrupted her struggle, and both Emelia and Irene gasped as John strode into the room, his presence commanding and ominous. Edward followed closely behind, accompanied by a guard, his expression a mix of confusion and concern.

  “What’s the problem, John? Wait—how is she awake?” Edward asked, his voice tinged with surprise as he noticed Irene’s alert state.

  “That’s why I’m here. It seems she’s developing faster than anticipated,” John replied coolly, kneeling before Irene and studying her face with an unsettling intensity.

  “Get away from her, please!” Emelia pleaded, her voice trembling with fear. John ignored her, his hand reaching toward Irene, who recoiled with a snarl.

  “Get your defiled hand away from me, or I’ll cut it off!” Irene growled, her teeth bared in fury.

  John withdrew his hand, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “Exactly as I’d heard. You’re a fierce one, aren’t you? But you don’t realize how valuable you are. Your left eye—it’s different from your right, isn’t it? Something’s changing in you, isn’t it?” he said, his tone calm but probing.

  Irene’s eyes narrowed. She didn’t know how he knew about the subtle changes she’d noticed in herself, but she refused to give him the satisfaction of an answer.

  “I suppose if I asked, you wouldn’t tell me anything,” she spat.

  “It won’t matter either way. Lord Blamore will deal with you, and you won’t need to know the details,” John replied dismissively.

  “Sorry to ruin your plans, noble boy, but Jaxith will be here any moment, and all of you will be asskicked,” Irene shot back, a defiant smirk on her face.

  “Irene, stop!” Emelia interjected, her voice sharp with warning.

  John’s smile widened. “The hunter? Ah, that gives me an idea.” He straightened, his gaze never leaving Irene’s. “The hunter is dead, hybrid,” he declared, his voice cold and deliberate.

  “You’re lying!” Irene’s voice wavered, her bravado faltering. “He’s still alive!”

  “Don’t listen to him, Irene!” Emelia urged, her voice desperate.

  “Bring me the sword,” John commanded. The guard hurried out and returned moments later, carrying Jaxith’s distinctive blade. John took it, holding it up for Irene to see. “Whose sword is this?” he asked, his tone mocking.

  Irene’s breath caught. “That’s the Obsidian Titan! How did you get it?” she demanded, her voice trembling.

  “From his corpse, of course,” John replied, his smile cruel. “You saw him writhing in pain, didn’t you? The poison he ingested causes internal decay. It’s one of the rarest poisons—no known antidote. There was no way he could have survived. Lord Blamore warned him: protecting you was futile, and he sealed his own fate. I bet you’re blaming yourself now, aren’t you?”

  Tears welled in Irene’s eyes as his words sank in. She looked down, her shoulders shaking with suppressed sobs. But then, something strange happened. Her left eye began to tear—not with water, but with blood. The sight was horrifying, and even John took a step back, his smirk faltering.

  “So, you care that much about Jaxith, do you?” John taunted, though his voice lacked its earlier confidence.

  Irene’s head snapped up, her left eye glowing a menacing red, the pupil a stark blue amidst the crimson. Veins of black spread around her eye, the pressure visibly distorting her features. She lunged forward, the chains creaking as they strained against her strength.

  “DON’T YOU DARE SAY HIS NAME WITH YOUR FILTHY TONGUE!” Irene roared, her voice shaking the room. “I’LL BREAK THESE DAMNED CHAINS AND RIP YOUR HEAD FROM YOUR BODY! DO YOU HEAR ME, COWARD? I’LL KILL YOU AND EVERY LAST ONE OF YOUR BASTARDS!”

  The room trembled as her voice echoed, and a red vapor began to emanate from her hands, the chains sizzling and melting under the dark energy. Emelia stared in horror, barely recognizing the girl she had come to care for.

  “Hold her head and open her mouth!” John barked. The guard obeyed, pinning Irene’s head and forcing her jaw open. John poured a potion down her throat, his movements swift and precise. Irene fought back, biting down hard on the guard’s hand.

  “Let go of me, you bitch!” the guard snarled, delivering a brutal punch to Irene’s face. She released his hand, blood trickling from her mouth as she slumped back, her energy waning.

  “Stop this madness!” Emelia screamed, her voice raw with anger. “Can’t you see how much pain she’s in? She’s just a girl, for the gods’ sake! Are you all monsters?!”

  “Looks like you need to know your place too.” The guard said angrily while walking towards Emelia.

  “Guard, out. You’re dismissed for now. And don’t hit anyone again. Replace the hybrid’s chains. Understood?” John ordered, his tone icy as he prevented the guard from hitting Emelia.

  “As you wish, Mr. John,” the guard muttered, clutching his injured hand as he left.

  Irene’s breathing slowed, her body growing limp as the sedative took effect. Her eyes fluttered shut, but she remained conscious, her mind trapped in a haze of pain and despair. “I’m sorry, Jaxith,” she whispered, her voice barely audible. “I’m just a curse to everyone around me. Forgive me.”

  “What was that?” Edward asked, his voice uneasy.

  “I was testing her,” John replied, his tone clinical. “I needed to confirm the strength of her demonic side. As expected, it’s growing more powerful. The sedative should have kept her unconscious for hours, but her dark energy is accelerating. I’ve given her a stronger dose, but at this rate, we’ll need an even more potent sedative to control her during the journey.”

  “What journey?” Emelia demanded, her voice trembling with fear and anger.

  “You’ll see soon enough,” John said cryptically, turning to leave.

  As John and Edward approached the door, they were met by Shisk, who stood panting in the doorway, his face pale with fear.

  “What’s the problem, Shisk? Why are you in such a hurry? Did you complete the task Mr. John assigned you?” Edward asked, his tone impatient.

  “The hunter,” Shisk gasped, his voice trembling. “He’s alive!”

  John and Edward froze, their expressions shifting from confusion to dread. Emelia’s eyes widened as she overheard the exchange.

  “What do you mean, he’s alive?” John demanded, his voice sharp.

  “He’s alive!” Shisk repeated, his fear palpable. “I saw him!”

  A chill swept through the room as the implications of Shisk’s words sank in. The hunter—Jaxith—was alive. And if he was coming for them, none of them were safe.