A Brother’s Madness

Adrian gazed thoughtfully at the bearded man, awaiting his words.

“My brother, Gray, has already left this place.” The bearded man’s voice rumbled, a low growl like that of a beast.

“You’ll never pry a single word from my lips; in the end, you’ll all become his fodder anyway!”

Gray was likely the name of another Evil Seed.

Adrian’s eyes flickered, a hint of mockery gracing his features.

“Ah, a classic line for a minor villain,” Adrian remarked, scrutinizing the bearded man’s expression.

“If you truly don’t wish to reveal your brother Gray’s location, then you shouldn’t have allowed us to capture you.”

“Now that we have your blood, it will tell us many things…” Adrian shook his head with a feigned sigh of disappointment.

“You’ve truly doomed your brother!”

The bearded man’s face contorted instantly, his lips twitching, yet no words escaped him.

“Proceed, Your Highness,” Adrian said, turning his body.

Heronie stepped forward, plunging her sword into the bearded man’s chest.

The bearded man’s shriek tore through the night sky.

The wound on his chest was relentlessly seared by the red longsword, every drop of blood evaporating as it flowed, his flesh shriveling and cracking until he became a grotesque husk.

Heronie withdrew her sword, casting a cold glance at the corpse before remaining silent.

‘…’

****

Meanwhile, Ilisia wandered alone through the scene of the explosion, her steps slow, her expression distant.

Corpses lay strewn about like discarded rags, their eyes wide open in death.

They had bled to death.

These dead, by all appearances, seemed to be members of the troupe Charles had invited into the castle for a performance just recently!

Ilisia’s gaze drifted among the fallen.

She recognized one of them.

“Brother?” Ilisia’s voice was barely a whisper, squeezed from her throat.

She stepped closer, gazing at the familiar face.

“Il… Ilisia!” Charles’s voice trembled, laced with a mix of surprise and desperation.

“You have to help me! Quickly! Have you also become a Corrupt Seed? Excellent, just like me. Those two… they, they hunt our kind; you must help me…”

Ilisia’s brow furrowed, her gaze falling upon Charles’s slightly agape mouth.

Her brother’s canines were sharp as blades, and his other teeth had also grown unnervingly pointed.

They resembled a wolf’s fangs.

Instinctively, Ilisia ran the tip of her tongue over her own canines, abruptly noticing an unfamiliar sensation.

“Damn it, I knew I was forgetting something,” Adrian’s voice resounded from behind Ilisia.

“I forgot you had a brother who loved to stir up trouble.”

“What do you mean?” Ilisia asked, without turning around.

“Castles belonging to ancient families like yours typically possess a… uh… ‘restriction’ set by the gods.”

Adrian paused, then continued, “It’s specifically designed to defend against goblins, ghouls, and the like, as well as Evil Seeds and Corrupt Seeds.”

“Every time I inspected your family’s castle, it was perfectly intact. That is, until a few days ago, when I returned from the front lines and discovered it had been breached.” Adrian’s gaze fixed on Charles’s eyes.

“This… uh… ‘restriction’ requires a mixed potion made from the blood of at least three family members to be broken.”

Ilisia’s breath hitched.

A vivid memory flashed through her mind: Charles, just days prior, desperately pleading with her and their younger sister to cut their fingers and provide him with blood for a mysterious ritual.

Ilisia’s voice turned frigid, sharp as frost.

“Brother… you asked for my blood and our sister’s blood, all for this?”

“I was helping you!” Charles suddenly roared, his voice thick with a desperate sob.

“If Father loses the war and the rebels reach the city gates, we would be utterly defenseless!”

“I’m terrible with a sword; I was utterly humiliated by some bumpkin from the countryside at the jousting tournament.” Charles lowered his head, muttering to himself.

“Father looks down on me, Simon looks down on me… I just wanted to become stronger, to protect you all…”

“So you colluded with those monsters and led them into the castle?” Ilisia challenged Charles, her voice sharp with accusation.

“And you transformed yourself into this… this thing?”

Charles’s face twitched.

“I swear, I only wanted to… help you, help myself, help this family!” Charles cried out, tears streaming.

“You can feel it too, can’t you? My body is faster, stronger. What’s wrong with that?”

“Sister’s death…” Ilisia’s hand, gripping her sword, began to tremble.

“Does that also have something to do with you?”

Charles’s throat bobbed, and his body recoiled slightly.

“I… I didn’t mean to, Ilisia,” Charles pleaded, his voice tinged with desperation.

“I was too hungry. I tried my best to suppress it, but I simply couldn’t control myself.”

He gasped sharply, his gaze darkening as he cursed under his breath.

“Damn it… I should have left a few maids in the room…”

Ilisia’s fingers clenched tightly around the sword hilt, her knuckles turning white.

“Ilisia, do you know? I was originally going to devour you,” Charles suddenly chuckled, a low, chilling sound.

“But when I went to your room, I found you weren’t there, so I had no choice but to…”

“Then why… why did you use Sister’s blood to write on the wall?” Ilisia demanded.

“You were in the room when Matilda died, weren’t you?” Charles slowly lifted his head, his eyes vacant yet feverish.

He smiled.

“So, like this… haha… I found it amusing…” Charles’s tone was gentle, yet utterly morbid.

Ilisia lowered her head, rain sliding down her cloak.

“Matilda’s flesh… the sensation was exquisite.” Charles’s smile was truly terrifying.

“That was the first time I felt like I had become the protagonist of the world.”

“We were so good to you, and Father always hoped you would become an excellent heir…” Ilisia murmured to herself.

Her words were not intended for the brother standing before her.

“Why didn’t Father take me to war? He only wants to pass his position to Simon!” Charles roared.

Ilisia knew her brother had lost his mind.

“The moment Father faced a setback on the front lines, all you did was wail and lament.” Ilisia’s ice-blue eyes blazed with fury.

“Do you even have the audacity to ask?”

“Even you look down on me, little sister? It’s just as Gray said…” Yet, a morbid smile stretched across Charles’s lips.

“If I hadn’t fallen into a trap, I would have killed you all! I am the true master of the Wenser family!”

Charles’s eyes suddenly widened, only gurgling gasps escaping his mouth as his body convulsed violently.

The sword in Ilisia’s hand decisively pierced Charles’s throat.

Moments later, his blood rapidly evaporated from the wound made by the blade, his body shriveling until it became a dry, grotesque corpse.

Ilisia withdrew her sword, standing silently in place, wordless for a long time.

The cold wind tore at her cloak, and icy rain streamed down her cheeks, yet it could not wash away the shadows in her eyes.

Charles’s corpse lay at her feet, resembling a maggot drained of its flesh and blood.

Yet, Ilisia felt her emotions fading away.

Her pain, anger, and sorrow, even the slightest hint of satisfaction, vanished swiftly from her heart.