Chapter 478 — They Took It

"You–"

The man tried to speak, but Damian wasn’t listening anymore.

His legs gave out, dropping him to his knees on the stone, his hair falling completely forward to hide his face.

"I was so glad when my memories awakened."

His voice came out quieter now, but no less broken.

"Finally, after that wretched life, after being alone for decades, after dying alone with nobody who cared..."

His hands pressed flat against the ground.

"I finally had a family... I finally had people who loved me. A family who actually gave a damn whether I lived or died."

His breathing hitched.

"But then I found out about my real family. That they’d all been massacred. That my father had sacrificed his life just to buy a few more minutes for his wife and sons to escape."

One hand moved to press against his chest, right over his heart.

"My mother! She had to seal my bloodline and walk to her death carrying a decoy baby! Just so I could LIVE! Just so the enemies couldn’t track me and finish the job!"

His voice rose again.

"My brother! I could have had a big brother again! Someone–"

The words cut off as his throat closed completely.

"I tried."

His voice emerged as barely a whisper.

"I tried to keep everything bottled inside... I tried not to feel it. I kept myself busy with training and fighting and surviving. I told myself it didn’t matter because I never knew them anyway."

His shoulders were shaking now.

"But now, when I finally meet someone related to me by blood, when I finally felt what it was like to have a grandfather, to sit and talk and feel that warmth..."

BAM

His fist slammed against the ground.

"I just can’t! I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t hurt!"

BAM

Another hit, harder this time.

"I could have had all of this! All the love and care and warmth! Everything I ever wanted in both my lives!"

Then his head snapped up, his face twisted with grief and rage in equal measure, tears streaming down his cheeks unchecked.

"AND YOUR LITTLE BROTHERS–"

His voice became a scream that seemed to tear itself from his chest.

"THEY TOOK IT AWAY FROM ME! THEY TOOK EVERYTHING AWAY FROM ME!"

BAM BAM BAM

His fists slammed against the ground with each word, the sound echoing across the impossible peak.

"EVERYTHING!"

The final word tore out of him as the loudest scream yet, echoing across the impossible landscape.

His hands were bleeding now from hitting stone, but he didn’t seem to notice.

He just knelt there, panting and shaking, his hair hiding a face twisted with pain that had finally found its voice.

"You..."

The man’s voice was barely audible, tears streaming down his face in rivers.

"Who are you?"

"..."

Silence fell around them.

And after some time, Damian looked up at him, his face wet with tears, his crimson eyes blazing.

"I am the last surviving heir of the Bloodworth family!"

His voice was rough, scraped raw from screaming.

"The youngest son of Darius and Mariana Bloodworth!"

He pushed himself up slightly, still on his knees but straightening his back.

"Grandson of Desiderius Bloodworth!"

And for the first time in his life, Damian accepted the name that should have been his from birth.

"Damian Bloodworth!"

BOOM

The name hit the man like a physical blow.

’Damian... Bloodworth.’

Now everything was starting to make sense.

Why the statue had awakened him for this child.

Why the child had been so emotional upon seeing him, why those crimson eyes had looked at him with such complex feelings.

Why he seemed so desperate to become strong despite his young age.

All of it clicked into place with the crushing weight of tragedy.

Damian’s gaze dropped back to the ground, his voice becoming quieter but somehow more devastating.

"And now... I’m just a death sentence for the people who love me."

His shoulders curled inward, making him look smaller.

"I know I should move away from them... Leave Mother and Father and Luna before the world finds out my identity."

His voice cracked.

"But how could I? They’re all I have. They’re the only family I’ve ever known. I’m just... I just..."

The words dissolved into broken sounds.

"I can’t– I can’t leave them!"

His breathing hitched between the words.

"Even knowing– even knowing what I am puts them in danger! Even knowing staying makes me– makes me selfish! I just– I just can’t–"

Whoosh

Suddenly, arms wrapped around him tightly.

The man had dropped to his knees as well, pulling Damian against his chest in a tight embrace.

Damian’s body went rigid for a heartbeat, then collapsed completely into the hug.

His hands came up to clutch at the man’s robes, his face pressing against his grandfather’s shoulder as the tears kept coming.

"Why..."

The man’s voice was thick with tears.

"Why didn’t you just tell me the truth when you first came here?"

"I didn’t– I didn’t want to–"

Damian’s voice came out muffled.

"I didn’t want to destroy your– your peace."

He struggled to get the words out between sobs.

"I didn’t– didn’t want to take that away from you. You were just– just a fragment, you didn’t– didn’t need to know about..."

He couldn’t finish.

The man’s arms tightened, one hand moving to cradle the back of Damian’s head.

"My silly grandson~"

His voice was thick with tears, but it carried warmth that made Damian’s chest hurt.

"..."

They stayed like that for a long time, neither speaking.

Sometimes people didn’t need words to communicate what mattered.

The sun continued shining overhead, unchanging and eternal, while two people with crimson hair held each other and grieved for a family that had been stolen from them both.

After some time, the man pulled back slightly.

His hand came up, thumb brushing away the tears still streaming down Damian’s face.

"Men of the Bloodworth family don’t cry like babies."

Damian’s mouth twitched, something that might have been the ghost of a smile.

"Says the man who’s bawling his eyes out."

"I’m just a soul fragment, it doesn’t count."

The man’s lips curved into a small smile.

"That’s cheating."

"I’m already dead, I can cheat as much as I want."

Despite everything, despite the pain and grief hanging over them, the banter felt natural.

A moment of lightness in the crushing weight of tragedy.

They sat there as the tears gradually stopped, both of them taking deep breaths and trying to compose themselves.

The man’s eyes were still wet, his face showing the tracks of tears, but his expression had settled into something calmer.

He looked up at the sky, his voice becoming quieter.

"Little Damian." The address carried affection. "Just now, everything you told me about our family and me dying... Is that true?"

Damian’s voice came out as barely a whisper.

"Vice Director Felix Onyx of the Military Police was the one who told me about you dying and your body never being found."

He took a breath.

"He’s the father of my adoptive mother... Nobody knows much about what happened that night. Everyone who asked questions disappeared."

"Military Police."

The man’s voice was soft, distant.

"If it’s those kids saying it, then it must be true. They wouldn’t lie about something like that."

Damian looked at him, hope flickering in his chest despite everything.

"But your body was never found."

His voice became more urgent.

"Maybe you’re still alive somewhere. Maybe you survived and you’re just–"

The man turned to look at Damian directly, his expression carrying sad certainty.

"Little Damian, if I was really alive somewhere in this world..."

He paused, his crimson eyes boring into Damian’s.

"Do you think ’they’ would have had the courage to slaughter my family?"

The words hit like a physical blow.

Damian’s eyes dimmed, the hope extinguishing as quickly as it had flared.

’Of course. Only by first making sure that the strongest is gone... they would have–’

The man’s hand settled on Damian’s shoulder, squeezing gently.

"Little Damian, can you tell me about your life? About everything you mentioned earlier?"

His voice was careful, gentle.

"I want to understand what happened to you, what you’ve been through."

The man hadn’t forgotten how Damian’s breakdown had happened earlier, how the pain had come pouring out in fragments and broken pieces that painted a picture of suffering he couldn’t quite grasp yet.

He needed to know the full story, to understand what his last surviving grandson had endured.

Damian sat there on the peak, the sun warm on his face, and began to talk.

He told the man about his first life, about dying alone in a world without Aura or monsters.

About this new life’s first fifteen years of happiness with a family who loved him.

About memories awakening and shattering that peace, about discovering his real parents had died to save him.

The words came slowly at first, then faster.

And the man listened, his hand never leaving Damian’s shoulder, his face showing every emotion as his grandson’s story unfolded.