Chapter 462 — That Hateful Man
6 min read ·
"Years went by... They grew up strong and talented because I was strong by then. My Aura, my bloodline, it had evolved through all that struggle and loss."
Felix’s voice carried something like pride, brief and quickly suppressed.
"They joined the military despite everything. Both of them were talented, and rose through ranks faster than their brothers had. They married and had children of their own."
He stopped again, his breathing becoming heavier.
"And my wife also got pregnant again... She was finally happy, having grandchildren to fill the house with noise and life."
CRACK
The glass in his hand cracked slightly, hairline fractures spreading through the crystal.
"Then one day, I received their belongings."
His voice dropped to barely above a whisper.
"Both of them... My son and daughter, the twins who were supposed to be strong enough to survive... Died in service to mankind."
Damian’s hands tightened on his own glass, watching Felix’s back as the older man’s shoulders began to shake.
"I couldn’t take it anymore!"
The words came out ragged, control slipping entirely.
"My entire bloodline felt cursed! All my brothers were dead! All my children were dead! Everyone I loved, everyone who carried my blood, they all died fighting for a Federation that just kept taking and taking and taking!"
He set the cracked glass down, pulled out a fresh one from somewhere and poured with hands that trembled visibly now.
"So when my new-born daughter grew up, when Lyandra started showing interest in the military..."
His voice became harder, carrying venom directed at himself.
"I forbade her! I told her she was never allowed to join, never allowed to follow in the footsteps that had killed everyone else I loved!"
’I understand now.’
Damian could see where this was going, pieces clicking together with terrible clarity.
"But she was just as stubborn as me..."
Something like helpless affection bled through the pain in Felix’s voice.
"She wouldn’t listen, wouldn’t back down, wouldn’t accept that her father knew better! She wanted to fight for humanity just like everyone else in our cursed bloodline!"
He drank again, the alcohol disappearing faster.
"I could only protect her from the shadows... Pull strings, manipulate assignments, ensure she got paired with the strongest teams and kept away from the worst portal breaks."
His hands clenched into fists.
"But she joined a special military program as a recruit where she met... Alaric Valcor."
The name came out with poison that made the temperature drop.
"And she started following him into one danger after another... Never once considering what would happen to her mother or me if she died as well!"
Felix’s voice rose slightly, control fracturing.
"Every mission, every portal, every report that came through military channels. I read all of them, tracked every single movement, and lived in constant terror that the next one would be the one where she didn’t come back!"
He turned slightly, enough that Damian could see his profile.
Tears were threatening to pour down the older man’s face.
"They became known as the Twin Terrors! Legends among commoners, heroes who fought alongside regular soldiers instead of hiding behind like the children of Imperials!"
His laugh was broken.
"But my wife and I, we only knew one number!"
He held up his hand, showing all five fingers, then did it again, then again.
"Fifty-eight times!"
His voice cracked completely.
"That’s how many times I thought she had died! Fifty-eight separate incidents where reports came through saying Lyandra Onyx and Alaric Valcor were missing or presumed dead, casualties of portal breaks or Monster attacks or missions gone wrong!"
Damian’s chest felt like someone had wrapped chains around it and was pulling tight.
"Fifty-eight times I prepared to bury my last living child! Fifty-eight times my wife collapsed because she couldn’t survive losing another baby! Fifty-eight times we waited in hell until confirmation came through that somehow, impossibly, she’d survived again!"
Felix’s hands were shaking badly now, alcohol spilling as he tried to pour.
"And then..."
He stopped, his whole body going rigid.
"..."
The silence stretched for several heartbeats.
Then he drank without finishing the sentence, his throat working as he consumed the entire glass in one motion.
"Years later, I heard the news of them retiring."
His voice became quieter.
"Even though I’d severed ties with my daughter, even though I’d told her she was dead to me when she married that bastard against my wishes, I was relieved."
He paused.
"For the first time in years, I could breathe without wondering if she’d be alive tomorrow."
His hands set the glass down.
"But when I personally researched the reason for their retirement, when I dug through military records and civilian documentation to understand why they had suddenly withdrawn from active duty..."
Felix’s voice became cold and hard, all the previous emotion transforming into something sharper.
"Adopting a child... That was the reason. They’d found some orphan with crimson hair in Bloodmoon City and decided to raise him as their own."
Thump Thump Thump
Damian’s heart began pounding in his chest, each beat louder than the last.
"That’s when I realized something."
CRACK
Felix’s hands clenched on the desk hard enough to crack the wood.
"Alaric Valcor, that hateful man who’d stolen my daughter and dragged her through fifty-eight brushes with death, hadn’t actually stopped putting her in danger at all."
His voice dropped to a whisper that carried more weight than screaming.
"He’d just put her life in the greatest peril it had ever faced by bringing that child into her home..."
Damian’s breathing became shallow.
’He knows.’
His hands tightened on the glass until his knuckles went white.
Then Felix’s head turned as he looked at Damian for the first time, taking in the crimson hair and eyes.
Tears gathered in those eyes, pooling at the edges but not falling, held back by sheer force of will.
And his voice came out quiet but absolutely certain.
"Isn’t that right, Damian Bloodworth?"
The name hung in the air like a death sentence.
Damian’s entire body went rigid, his breath catching in his throat.
The glass in his hand trembled, alcohol threatening to spill over the rim.
Felix Onyx stared at him across the desk, black eyes locked on crimson, his expression showing nothing but the weight of too many funerals and the terror of watching his last living child walk toward the same fate.
And in a room full of photographs showing people who’d died protecting what they loved, two men sat with a secret that could destroy everything they held dear.
One who’d spent years carrying a name he’d never known belonged to him, until recently.
And the other who’d spent those same years burying every trace of that secret, erasing evidence, silencing questions, and praying his family wouldn’t be swept in the storm that consumed every Bloodworth.