Chapter 545 — Her Goal

The Sage stood among the Patriarchs, his masked face tilted upward toward the sky where crimson lightning had torn through storm clouds moments ago.

The ancient voice still echoed in his mind, that declaration resonating across dimensions.

"The True Demon of the universe finally awakens."

His hands remained clasped behind his back, his purple hair shifting in wind that carried falling snow.

’Big Brother...’

The thought formed with weight that pressed against his chest.

’You were the greatest hero humanity could ever have.’

His gaze tracked the fading patterns of light overhead, seeing beyond the physical storm to the metaphysical shifts happening beneath reality’s surface.

’The strongest warrior, the bravest man, the one who saved countless lives without ever asking for anything in return...’

His fingers tightened fractionally against his robes.

’But in order for our world to survive what’s coming, we never needed another hero...’

His gaze found Damian’s kneeling form, white hair falling forward to obscure his face, black fog still seeping from his body.

’We needed a demon of our own.’

The Sage’s breath escaped slowly, invisible mist rising in the cold air.

’Someone willing to sacrifice everything, someone who can bear the weight of harsh choices, someone who will become what our enemies fear most...’

His masked face remained fixed on Damian’s kneeling form.

’I’m sorry, Big Brother.’

The thought came quiet and final.

’But the piece we needed to sacrifice to win this game... was always going to be you.’

****

Beside him, the three other Patriarchs stood with their eyes fixed on the sky as well, their expressions somber and troubled.

None of them were seers, none of them had heard the proclamation that echoed across existence itself.

They’d only witnessed the crimson lightning, felt the thunder shake reality, sensed the shift in the universe’s fabric without understanding what it meant.

Their faces showed confusion mixed with unease, their senses warning them that something monumental had just occurred.

Something that would change everything.

But they remained silent, waiting for answers that weren’t coming, watching the sky return to normal without explanation.

****

And Kinsley...

Kinsley’s smile had vanished completely.

He stood up slowly, his pleasant mask dissolving as he looked down at where Damian knelt beside him.

’Was I truly mistaken?’

The thought cut through his certainty with uncomfortable edges.

’I was so sure. The resemblance, the timing, the circumstances, all of it pointed toward him being the last Bloodworth heir.’

His blue eyes tracked across Damian’s white hair, the black fog still seeping from his skin.

’But no Bloodworth has ever controlled their instincts. Not one in their entire bloodline’s history including... that man.’

His jaw worked as pieces clicked together with reluctant acceptance.

’It seems Brother Royce was right after all. All of this is just a fucking coincidence.’

He took a step closer, snow crunching beneath his boots.

’But even if he isn’t a Bloodworth...’

His gaze lifted back to the sky, finding where the crimson lightning had blazed moments before.

’I’m getting a bad feeling about this.’

He stopped directly in front of Damian, close enough that his shadow fell across the kneeling figure.

His voice emerged quiet but carrying clearly across the silent field.

"It seems you really were adopted from Bloodmoon City after all."

He paused, letting that acknowledgment settle.

"All of this was just a misunderstanding, coincidences that aligned in... unfortunate ways."

His blue eyes never left Damian’s obscured face.

"My apologies for putting you through such an ordeal based on suspicions that proved false."

The words should have carried relief, should have meant the danger had passed.

But Kinsley’s expression remained serious, his posture rigid.

"However..."

His head tilted slightly, the gesture almost curious.

"After having lived for so long, after witnessing countless events across decades, I’ve developed a very good sense of intuition."

He crouched down slowly, bringing himself to Damian’s level, his face coming close enough to see through the curtain of white hair.

"An instinct that has kept me alive through situations that killed beings far stronger than myself."

His blue eyes blazed brighter, studying every micro-expression he could find.

"So tell me, Damian Valcor..."

The name came out deliberate and weighted.

"After everything I put you through today, after watching your people die one by one, after being forced to end your friend’s life with your own hands..."

He paused, letting the tension build.

"Do you... hate me?"

Silence crashed across the field like someone had cut all sound.

Thousands of people held their breath, cameras focusing, every eye locked on the two figures.

Royce’s voice cut through the quiet, carrying disapproval.

"Brother Kinsley, I think that’s enough."

His orange eyes tracked between the Patriarch and Damian’s kneeling form.

"The boy has proven his identity beyond any doubt. There’s no need to continue tormenting him when–"

"Hate you?"

Damian’s whisper interrupted Royce’s words, soft but somehow carrying to every corner of the field.

"Why would I hate you?"

Kinsley’s eyes narrowed slightly, his head tilting.

Damian remained perfectly still, his voice emerging without inflection or emotion.

"In this world, weakness is the greatest sin anyone can commit."

His hands remained wrapped around Brian’s cooling corpse.

"The strong devour the weak, the powerful crush those beneath them, and survival belongs only to those who can bear its price."

The black fog continued pouring from his body, spreading across the snow.

"Everything that happened today was simply the cost I paid for being weak."

His voice never wavered, never cracked, carrying conviction that felt absolute.

"For lacking the strength to protect what I cared about, for failing to prevent any of this, for being unable to change the outcome..."

A pause, heavy with implication.

"The only one I have any right to hate..."

His white hair shifted slightly in the wind.

"Is myself."

The words landed with finality that made several people in the watching crowd shift uncomfortably.

Silence spread outward from the two figures, heavy enough to press against everyone within earshot.

Kinsley remained crouched for a long moment, his expression becoming unreadable.

Then he stood, his movements deliberate and controlled.

"You know, once you had proven yourself not to be a Bloodworth, I had planned to spare your life."

His voice returned to its pleasant tone, almost conversational.

"You’re one of the most talented geniuses I’ve encountered in my very long existence. Your potential is remarkable, your growth rate extraordinary."

He gestured broadly, encompassing the assembled military forces and watching reporters.

"If humanity wants to survive against the monsters threatening us from every direction, we desperately need more people like you."

His hand fell back to his side.

"But sadly..."

The pleasant mask cracked, revealing something cold and certain underneath.

"My intuition tells me that letting you live would become the greatest regret of my entire life."

His eyes locked onto where Damian knelt, still and silent.

"And my intuition has never been wrong. Not once across all these years."

His hand rose, palm extending toward Damian’s bowed head.

"So I must–"

Power began gathering around his fingers, blue light flickering as energy condensed.

Time seemed to slow down, reality holding its breath.

Lysander’s body tensed, his legs coiling to launch himself forward.

’Why?!’

His thoughts raced, confusion mixing with desperate urgency.

’Why is he still trying to kill him after everythi–’

The Sage’s voice resonated directly into his mind, cutting through the panic.

"There’s no need for you or Felix to do anything now. Especially you, don’t let them realize where your loyalty lies."

’But he’s going to–’

"Her goal is achieved. She won’t let him die."

Lysander’s movement froze, his body caught between action and stillness.

’What are you talking about? What goal? Whose–’

"Just watch."

The command carried finality that made further questions die unspoken.

Kinsley’s power reached critical mass, the air around his palm distorting from concentrated energy.

"–kill you anyway."

The words finished his earlier declaration.

But before the gathered power could release–

CRACK

Reality tore apart beside Kinsley, a dimensional rift opening in the air with edges that crackled golden light.

WHOOSH

Golden energy exploded from the tear, slamming into Kinsley with force that sent his body flying backward.

BAM

The Patriarch crashed into the snow beside his brothers, his attack dissipating before it could form completely.

And from the dimensional tear, a figure emerged.

Eight wings spread wide, golden hair flowed past his shoulders and a face carrying beauty that felt wrong.

The Light Bearer stepped fully through the rift, his boots touching down on snow-covered ground.

His voice rang across the field, carrying disdain that made the words land like physical blows.

"Kill him?"

His eight wings flared wider, golden light bleeding from the feathers.

"Know your place, you pathetic worm."

His eyes found Kinsley’s form, blazing with contempt.

"The filth of this world dares to raise its hand against one chosen by powers beyond your comprehension?" He paused. "You should be on your knees begging forgiveness for even entertaining such thoughts!"

Everything had happened so fast that most people hadn’t even had time to process the dimensional tear opening.

Now they stood frozen, minds struggling to catch up with what their eyes were showing them.

Whispers began spreading through the crowd like wildfire, overlapping and building.

"Is that... a Light Bearer?!"

"I’ve never seen one before... They’re so beautiful..."

"Eight wings... What rank does that even mean?!"

"What’s happening?! Why would a Light Bearer appear here?!"

"First the giant war, now this?! What’s going on with the world?!"