"He's not foolish," a calm yet resolute voice cut through the tension. "He's brave—and willing to stop you from going down the wrong path."
Laden's eyes flickered, momentarily breaking the ice-cold mask of indifference as he turned toward the source of the voice. His brows furrowed slightly, and his lips pressed into a thin line. "Not you too..." he muttered, as his gaze fell upon Adams, who slowly limped into the hall, his body wrapped in bandages, bruises visible beneath the wrappings.
Adams' every step seemed to cause the floor to groan under his weight, each movement painstakingly slow, but his posture was straight, his eyes unwavering despite the clear toll his injuries had taken on him.
Lovigary's eyes widened in shock. "What are you doing out of bed?" he exclaimed, rushing to his brother's side. The concern etched on his face was palpable as he reached out, gently but firmly taking Adams' arm to steady him. "You should be resting, brother."
Saryna, who had been standing off to the side, took a step forward instinctively, her hand hovering mid-air as though she wanted to help Adams as well. Her face was a mix of concern and hesitation, her lips parted as she searched for the right words. "Lovigary is right," she finally managed, her voice softer than before.
"You're by no means ready to be up and walking around, Adams." But despite her words, she stopped herself from getting closer, her hand lowering as uncertainty flickered in her eyes.
Adams glanced at Saryna briefly, then back at his younger brother, and smiled—a weak but genuine grin that crinkled the edges of his bruised eyes. He chuckled lightly, though the sound was pained. "It's better I die than watch Father fall off the deep end," he said, his voice carrying a light-heartedness that belied the gravity of the situation.
His grin widened just a fraction as he looked down at Lovigary, who was still holding him up. "And don't worry about me," Adams added, patting Lovigary's arm gently, "a little injury like this can't keep me down."
As Adams spoke, his eyes flicked back toward Laden, a shadow of disappointment and frustration flashing across his usually confident expression. His hand briefly tightened on Lovigary's shoulder before he straightened himself, pulling free from his brother's supportive grip, though his body swayed ever so slightly as he did.
Laden watched this with a blank expression, his lips tight and his eyes narrowing slightly, though no words left his mouth. For a moment, his gaze lingered on Adams' bandaged form, the slight tremble in his limbs as he stood. His son—bloodied and battered—still stood before him, defiant. But Laden's face betrayed nothing, only a flicker of something unreadable passed through his eyes.
Lovigary, feeling the tension between Adams and their father, stood closer to his brother, his hands still hovering protectively near Adams in case he faltered again. He looked between them, his chest tight with emotion, trying to hold back the overwhelming mix of anger and sadness threatening to spill over.
"Adams," Lovigary said quietly, "You don't have to—"
Lovigary stood frozen for a moment, his legs weak beneath him, his breath catching in his throat. His heart pounded in his ears as the reality of what was about to happen hit him. His
Elsewhere
Adams and Laden appeared in a barren, desolate wasteland. The ground beneath them was cracked and dry, with jagged rocks littering the landscape and a cold wind howling through the emptiness. It was a place that mirrored the distance between them now—a father and son, once bound by blood, now standing on opposite sides of a fractured world.
Laden took in his surroundings, his sharp eyes scanning the horizon. One moment, he had been in the ruined halls of his family home, and now, in the blink of an eye, he was here. He turned slowly, his face as emotionless as ever, but there was a flicker of something dark in his gaze. His voice, when he spoke, was low and hollow.
"So, you still have the strength for tricks like this," he said, his lips curling into a bitter line. His eyes finally settled on Adams, who stood a few paces away, battered and bloodied but upright.
Laden's expression didn't change as he continued, his voice dripping with cold certainty. "I have to admit, if you weren't injured, if you weren't hanging by a thread, I'd have no chance against you." He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in, his eyes narrowing with cruel satisfaction. "In fact, you'd wipe the floor with me. But you're not at your best, are you?
You're at your lowest point, barely holding on." He took a slow step forward, his towering presence casting a long shadow over the cracked earth. "Which means I win."
Adams stood silently, his breath shallow and labored, his body screaming in pain with every movement. The damage Ashura had inflicted on him was severe—his bandages stained with fresh blood, the weight of his injuries threatening to crush him with every passing second. He should be resting, recovering, but rest wasn't an option. Not now.
His father was about to cross a line, and if he didn't stop him, there would be no turning back.
Adams met his father's gaze, his own eyes filled with a mixture of exhaustion and determination. His face remained calm, though the effort it took to stay upright was visible in the slight tremble of his legs, the tension in his jaw as he fought through the pain. He didn't respond to his father's words because there was nothing left to say. Laden was right—Adams wasn't at his full strength.
But this wasn't a fight for victory; it was a fight to save what was left of his family, a fight to prevent Laden from making a choice he could never undo.
His silence seemed to irritate Laden, who scowled, taking another step closer. Adams could feel the weight of his father's aura pressing down on him, cold and suffocating, like a storm waiting to be unleashed. The air between them was thick with unspoken tension, and yet, despite the overwhelming odds, Adams' resolve never wavered.
Even at death's door, he stood tall, determined to do whatever it took to stop the man before him—his father—from becoming something unrecognizable.