Chapter 548 — Heroes or Monsters?

Every person watching through screens and every witness standing in that frozen field...

All of them went completely still.

Most didn’t understand what he meant, didn’t grasp the implications behind the words.

But something about the way he’d said it, made their skin crawl anyway.

Then a voice emerged from the dimensional tear, feminine and carrying power that pressed against reality itself.

"It seems like you understand far more than I initially thought."

And the moment that voice sounded–

WHOOSH WHOOSH WHOOSH WHOOSH

–All four Patriarchs vanished.

Royce disappeared mid-breath, his orange eyes still wide with something approaching fear.

Ashford folded through space without a word, his grey hair the last thing visible before he blinked out of existence.

Cross simply stopped being there, the snow where he’d stood settling as if he’d never existed at all.

And Kinsley...

Kinsley’s pleasant smile returned for just an instant before he vanished, the expression carrying knowledge.

All of them fled without speaking, without explanation, without even attempting to maintain the appearance of authority.

The watching crowd erupted into confused murmurs.

"Where did they–"

"Did they just run away?!"

"Why would all four leave at once?!"

"What’s happening?!"

The Oracle’s voice continued, unbothered by their departure.

"Then do you also understand why I needed to–"

"Please excuse me, Oracle."

Damian’s interruption came soft but absolute, his feet already moving as he started walking towards where Lysander stood.

"I’ve had a very long day, and I still have a friend to bury."

The Oracle paused, silence stretching for three heartbeats.

Then her voice emerged again, carrying something that might have been understanding.

"Your bonded beast hasn’t appeared outside your body in quite some time, has it?"

Damian’s steps didn’t falter, didn’t slow down.

"You might not know this, but it’s currently struggling with its memories and powers."

The dimensional tear pulsed, golden light building at its edges.

"The fusion between your consciousness and its ancient instincts is incomplete. Without proper guidance, the conflict could tear you both apart from the inside."

WHOOSH

A beam of gentle golden light emerged from the portal, pure and radiant.

It descended toward Damian’s walking form, wrapping around him like warm water.

Then it entered his body through his temple, vanishing without resistance.

Warmth spread through Damian’s consciousness, settling somewhere deep.

The Oracle’s voice carried across the field one final time.

"The Seat of Humility is rightfully yours, Child of Light. That truth cannot be changed or taken away, no matter what happens next."

Her tone became almost reverent.

"I look forward to the day you show your brilliance to the entire universe in the Battle of the Chosen Ones. Until then, survive and grow stronger. Become what you were always meant to be."

Golden energy wrapped around Azareth’s kneeling form, beginning to drag him backward toward the tear.

"Master, wait!"

His eyes went wide, his hands reaching out desperately.

"What about His Holiness?! We can’t just leave him here after everything that’s happened! His enemies will–"

His voice cut off as the dimensional tear swallowed him completely.

CRACK

The rift sealed, reality mending itself where it had been torn.

And suddenly the field felt emptier, the weight of divine attention lifting.

The Chairman’s expression became serious, his casual demeanor vanishing completely.

He turned toward where the Sage stood silent in the distance.

"Sage."

His voice carried command wrapped in civility.

"Please come with me. I have many questions that need answering, and I suspect you’re the only one who can provide them."

The Sage’s masked face turned toward him, purple hair shifting.

"I was about to suggest the same, Chairman."

His tone remained neutral, giving nothing away.

"Though I believe my answers won’t satisfy you."

WHOOSH WHOOSH

Both figures vanished, space folding around them.

Leaving only Damian and Lysander behind.

The Marshal stood frozen, his face drained of color, his hands trembling at his sides.

Bodies littered the ground around them, Mafia members scattered across blood-stained snow.

Damian stopped in front of Lysander, Brian’s corpse still cradled in his arms.

His white hair fell forward, obscuring his expression.

"Marshal."

His whisper emerged soft but carrying clearly.

"Thank you for everything you’ve done. You’ve been nothing but kind to me."

’Kind?’

The thought crashed through Lysander’s mind like thunder.

’I dragged you through hell. I made you watch your friend die a thousand times. I forced you to kill him with your own hands.’

His throat closed, words dying before they could form.

’And you call that kind?’

Before he could speak, before he could find words to respond, Damian continued.

"I have one more favor to ask of you."

His voice remained calm, measured and perfectly controlled.

"The bodies of my people scattered across this field..."

He paused, the black fog curling around his legs.

"Please take them back to their families if they have any remaining. If they don’t, please lay them to rest beside their loved ones who passed before them."

Lysander found his voice finally, the words emerging rough.

"What about..."

He couldn’t finish, his eyes tracking to Brian’s body in Damian’s arms.

"Brian? Where should I–"

"I can’t lay him to rest at the place where they tortured him."

Damian’s interruption came absolute and final.

"I’ll find somewhere else. Somewhere clean, somewhere peaceful, somewhere that has nothing to do with any of this."

Silence fell between them, heavy and suffocating.

Lysander opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again without finding words.

What could he possibly say to that?

What comfort could he offer that wouldn’t ring hollow?

So he just nodded once, sharp and certain, accepting the responsibility without argument.

Damian’s head dipped in acknowledgment.

Then he turned away, his boots crunching through snow as he started walking toward the edge of the field.

And nobody moved to stop him, nobody spoke and nobody dared break the terrible quiet.

Only when Damian had disappeared completely into the falling snow, did the whispers start again.

"Did all of that really happen?"

"They left just like that? No one even apologized?!"

"What is wrong with this world?!"

"Where were the Vice Directors of the Military Police?!"

****

[FederationWatch - Live Thread]

The forums exploded.

User_7823: What the FUCK did we just witness?!

CommonSenseGuy: Did you hear what he said? "Everything that happened today was part of the game."

BelieverInHeroes: Damian Valcor still chose to stay! Despite everything that happened! He is a true hero!

RealistCheck: Light Bearers value him more than our own leadership does. Think about that. An alien race showed more respect to our genius.

AcademyStudent_2027: He saved all those people at Lufen Portal. Killed a Young Chief alone. And this is how we repay him? By torturing his friends to death?!

MilitaryVet88: I’ve served for twenty years. I thought the Patriarchs were heroes. I thought they saved us. But watching them execute unarmed prisoners one by one... That’s not heroism. That’s terrorism.

The thread refreshed, new comments appearing faster than anyone could read them.

****

In Capitol City’s Victory Square, the massive public screen still showed the empty field where Damian had been.

Thousands of people stood packed together, their faces showing emotions too complex to name.

An old woman wiped tears from her wrinkled cheeks, her voice emerging broken.

"That poor boy... What did they do to him?"

Her grandson stood beside her, his hands clenched into fists.

"The Patriarchs are clearly jealous of his talent! They’re scared of his growth!"

Near the edge of the crowd, a middle-aged man turned to his wife.

"They’re not heroes at all, are they?"

His voice came out hollow, something breaking in his chest.

"Everything we’ve been told, everything we believed about them..."

His wife shook her head slowly, tears streaming down her face.

"They’re just monsters who won a war. And we’ve been calling them saviors for decades."

****

In the Eastern Region, dockworkers gathered around their tablet stood in stunned silence.

The scarred veteran with the prosthetic arm finally spoke, his voice rough.

"You all heard what that Light Bearer said, right?"

His remaining hand clenched into a fist.

"The Patriarchs have been killing our geniuses for decades!"

Understanding rippled through the group, cold and terrible.

"The Imperials wanted him dead so badly they were willing to do it in front of billions of witnesses..."

****

In the Southern Region, the bar had gone completely silent.

Miners sat with untouched drinks, their eyes locked on screens showing Damian’s empty kneeling spot.

One of them finally spoke, his voice barely audible.

"My kid brother died in a portal collapse three years ago."

His hands trembled around his glass.

"I’ve hated the giants ever since, blamed them for everything wrong in our world..."

He looked up, meeting other eyes.

"But after watching this... After seeing what our own Patriarchs did to a boy who just saved our people..."

His glass hit the table with a crack.

"Maybe we’ve been blaming the wrong enemies all along."

****

In the Western Region, mothers held their children closer, their faces showing fear mixed with dawning horror.

One father stood with his young son, both of them watching the broadcast replay.

"Papa..."

The boy’s voice came out small and confused.

"Why did they hurt the hero who saved everyone?"

The father’s jaw clenched, his hand tightening on his son’s shoulder.

"Because, son..."

His voice came out thick with emotion he couldn’t quite hide.

"Sometimes the monsters aren’t the ones outside the barriers."

****

In the Northern Region, the old woman who’d recognized Damian’s identity before, stood in falling snow.

Her grandson tried to guide her inside, but she refused to move.

"Grandma, you’re freezing."

"No."

Her voice came out firm despite the tears.

"I want to remember this moment exactly as it happened."

She looked at the screen showing the blood-stained field.

"I want to remember how they tortured him for being one of ’them’..."

Her hands clenched in the cold.

"Because someday, when he stands against them, when he makes them pay for what they’ve done..."

Her voice became harder.

"I would gladly go to afterlife and sing the song of his vengeance to every single Bloodworth!"

"Grandma, he isn’t a Bloodworth."

****

The world watched, and the world understood.

For two centuries, the Imperial Patriarchs had been heroes, saviors who defended humanity from extinction.

Their names were carved in monuments, their deeds taught in schools, their authority absolute and unquestioned.

But today, in front of billions of witnesses, the mask had slipped.

Today, everyone saw the truth beneath the pleasant smiles and heroic rhetoric.

They saw four powerful beings who cared nothing for the people they claimed to protect.

Who tortured a seventeen-year-old boy for having the courage they lacked.

Who executed his people one by one to force a reaction.

Who revealed their true nature through cruelty disguised as necessity.

And across every region, in every home and every heart, a question began forming.

A question that would spread like wildfire, that would burn through the foundations of everything the Federation had built.

If these were the heroes who saved humanity...

What did that make the boy they tried to destroy?