A Story That Becomes Someone's Nightmare -7-
Lightning crashed down amid the pouring rain.
—Rumble! The bolt created a flash of light, illuminating the man's dark smile right before Mikhail's eyes. Mikhail stared at the man in front of him. At the scar over his eye. At the black hair. At that unforgettable smile, his eyes bulging with bloodshot rage.
"..."
Mikhail forced his rigidly frozen body to move, drawing his sword toward the man. It was a first for him. Feeling this murderous intent toward someone. Wanting to kill someone. The impulse to tear them apart. All of it was new to Mikhail, who had always hung his neck on the noose of justice. Now, he raised his sword, raw killing intent pouring from him.
Mikhail shouted softly at the man.
"I'm gonna kill you."
Mikhail's voice, thick with fury, dripped with glistening malice. His eyes, fixed on the man with sticky hatred, held nothing but rage.
"If it weren't for you... if only it wasn't you!!!"
The man let out a hollow chuckle at Mikhail's erupting anger.
"Wow... what a masterpiece."
He marveled at the trembling tip of Mikhail's sword. His own creation was just too fascinating. Generally, every heretic archbishop was broken in some way. One had excessive inferiority complex. Another twisted art into something perverse. And this man before him was a heretic archbishop obsessed with the emotion of revenge.
Rain poured down on him as he smiled.
"How's it feel? Seeing me must make your blood boil, right?"
"..."
"It does."
"..."
The man spoke with nostalgic eyes, reminiscing about beautiful old memories.
"Remember back then? When you stabbed that little kid in the gut—shunk."
"Shut up."
"Your face was priceless. Gasping for air, hands shaking like shiver shiver."
"...I said shut up."
The man mimicked Mikhail's trembling hands, imitating the face of the boy he'd stabbed as a grown man. At the ridiculous sight, Mikhail swung his sword on impulse.
"Shut up!"
The man easily dodged and stepped back.
"Whoa, dangerous. You've gotten sharp."
He smirked at the rising aura from Mikhail and mocked him softly.
"I knew you had talent. From the moment you shunk that knife in... yeah, this one's got potential, I thought."
"Shut up... shut the fuck up!"
Mikhail lashed out wildly, emotions exploding as he swung his sword everywhere. The man narrowed his eyes sharply, drew a dagger from his bosom, and lunged at Mikhail's abdomen.
Just as the man's dagger was about to pierce Mikhail's gut—
"Get a grip, senpai!"
With a booming shout, Hanna's sword sliced toward the man's neck.
The man laughed incredulously and looked at her.
"What's this now? Two aura users? Man... the world's gone mad."
He made a troubled face, as if saying, 'The academy's full of talent these days.' With a deep sigh, he raised both hands.
"Can't beat this."
The man tried to retreat. Hanna kept her sword ready, eyes locked on him. He was still smiling. She swallowed hard, noting his darting pupils searching for an opening, gripped her sword tighter, and spoke to Mikhail.
"Get a grip, senpai."
"This is my fight..."
"I said get a grip."
Hanna spoke softly to Mikhail.
"Looks like you're the target. Focus on defense."
"I'll kill him..."
"Get a grip!"
Mikhail hesitated. He couldn't let the man in front of him escape. His feet stuck to the ground, reluctant to move. In the tense air that raised goosebumps all over, the man smiled and taunted.
"What're you waiting for? Run."
"Why aren't you running?"
"Isn't that what you're good at?"
"Why..."
"Aren't you running?!"
With a massive roar, the man kicked off the ground and charged. Mikhail reacted late to the sudden ambush, flailing his sword wildly. The man didn't miss the opening.
Grab.
Seizing Mikhail's neck, the man hurled him into a massive tree.
"Hahaha! Should've run when I told you to. Did you leave a bear doll behind like last time?!"
Urk.
Mikhail wiped the red blood trickling from his mouth with his sleeve and raised his sword. The man didn't wait, kicking off the ground again. A group of heretics blocked Hanna's path as she rushed forward, and the man stood before Mikhail with sword drawn.
"Finally, just the two of us?"
The man gripped his dagger in both hands and slowly approached Mikhail.
"Were you lonely without me?"
The aura leaking from Mikhail's exhausted body began to fade. He'd burned through his mana rapidly, unable to control his emotions. The man smiled at the dimming aura and thudded his foot down, lunging at Mikhail.
An endless exchange of blows began.
—Clang!
The forest echoed with the clashes—the man's sword swinging to end Mikhail's breath, Mikhail's swinging to end the man's. Trees shook with every strike, and the man's smile deepened.
"Yes!"
"..."
"That look in your eyes, dying to kill me—keep going, more!"
Mikhail gritted his teeth and swung. He wanted to grant the man's death wish, slashing madly.
"Haaah!"
The man smiled, blocking Mikhail's attacks.
"Hahaha! This is fun. So much fun!"
"Shut that mouth!"
"Hah... it's thrilling. Good thing I spared you back then."
Matching Mikhail's speed effortlessly, the man spoke to the sweating Mikhail.
"You know?"
In a low whisper, leaning close.
"After you ran, that little kid."
"..."
The moment "little kid" left the man's lips, cracks formed on Mikhail's face.
Little kid. He'd always wondered what happened to the boy left behind after he fled.
Noticing the subtle change, the man swung his sword wide and whispered again.
"He survived?"
"What...?"
"He clung to my leg so stubbornly. I stomped his face over and over, but he wouldn't budge."
"...No."
The man's chuckle deepened the cracks on Mikhail's face. The man's lips twitched at the trembling sword tip.
"I was gonna kill you too, originally."
"Kill the kid, kill you, all of it."
"But."
The man continued.
"He wouldn't let go!"
Mikhail screamed at the words.
"Shut up...!"
His sword swings, fueled by rage-filled shrieks, wavered with emotion. He knew it could be a lie. A ploy to break his focus. But the churning feelings weren't something he could control. That boy would have done it. He was sure of it. The kid who'd been kind without expecting anything... he could've...
"Uwaaaah!!! I'll kill you!"
Because he believed the boy could have. Mikhail spat boiling fury and roared. Like a man possessed, he swung wildly, blooming his aura to slay the man before him.
Growing stronger. Yet the man laughed maniacally, not hiding his twitching lips, as if savoring the moment.
"Yeah! And do you know what I did?!"
"..."
"What I did to that kid about to die?!"
"Uwaaaah!"
The man cackled like he'd seen a hilarious play and said casually.
"Sold him to the heretics?"
"..."
"You know what they do to civilians, right? You've heard the rumors."
"..."
The man sneered loudly at Mikhail's shaking eyes and scolded him.
"Famous rumors, and you didn't know?"
"Poor little kid."
The man drew a deep breath and swung his sword wide.
"Burned alive, and you didn't even know."
His dagger sliced through tree and Mikhail alike, whistling through the air. Thud—Mikhail staggered. The man kicked his body and said.
"They said they'd buy him if he was still breathing."
"..."
"So I sold him."
—Clang!!!!
"While you were playing in comfort! He was probably underground, without even water."
—Scraaaape!
"Waiting for rescue!"
—Halt.
The man smiled at Mikhail's frozen sword.
"Burned to death. You didn't know?"
The bright aura from Mikhail's body flickered out. No mana left, no strength to endure. Mikhail stared blankly at the man, lips bitten, eyes welling with tears. Reveling in the expression, the man smiled.
"How's that?"
"Stop..."
"Fun, right?"
The man pressed his dagger to Mikhail's throat.
Mikhail, drained of all power, raised his trembling hand to his sword—but it wouldn't move.
"Say hi to the little kid for me."
'Though he's probably dead.'
As the man's blade flashed toward Mikhail's neck—
Mikhail closed his eyes, tears falling.
"Farewell."
Just as the dagger touched Mikhail's throat—
"Enough."
A cold male voice halted the man.
—Halt.
The man stiffly turned, looking back. He felt killing intent that could freeze his body solid. An eerie aura like an apostle's. Swallowing hard, he faced the youth in a black mask standing there, smiling at him. Dressed in black uniform, simply staring—the sight chilled the man to the bone. The terror of the guillotine. The chill that his head might fall with any move. He stared at the youth.
And Mikhail slowly opened his closed eyes.
—Little kid. A shadow covering the darkness. A massive back shielding the fear of death. The melancholy mood.
For a moment, it felt like seeing the boy's back. Tears flowed as Mikhail gripped his sword hilt tight.
'Again... to this guy.'
Having received help from the man he hated most in the world, humiliation surged. Mikhail bowed his head and dropped his sword.
—Clang.
After a long silence, the youth slowly spoke.
"How about calling it here and heading back?"
The man, eyes trembling, replied to the youth.
"What if I say no?"
"You die."
Crazy bastard.
The man let out a hollow laugh and said to the youth.
"Just one question. Who the hell are you?"
"A person."
"No..."
The man spat in disgust.
"What do you do?"
The youth smiled brightly.
"Their guardian."