Chapter 19 – Dark Revelations III

Abel's laughter faded into a tense silence as both him and Corrin sat beneath the cherry tree, his lips still tingling from the kiss he had shared with her. The princess's gaze lingered on his, soft and full of something he couldn't quite put into words. The scent of cherry blossoms hung heavy in the air, mingling with the distant whisper of the wind. For a brief moment, everything was perfect.

And yet, perfection never lasted.

The memory of another time crept into his mind—a different night, under a different sky.

He could still hear the echo of footsteps reverberating through the ancient church as he walked toward its entrance, his dark brown coat sweeping the floor behind him. The doors creaked open with a groan, revealing the dimly lit sanctuary within. A single figure stood waiting for him, cloaked in the shadows cast by flickering candlelight .

The man's presence was unmistakable. Wizard Marshal Kischur Zelretch Schweinorg—the infamous wielder of the Second True Magic. His expression, as always, was an inscrutable mix of curiosity and skepticism, his crimson eyes gleaming like polished rubies beneath his silver hair.

Abel's boots echoed across the marble floor as he approached. The rosary in his hand swayed gently, the metal beads clicking softly with each step. He stopped a few paces from the old vampire, his green eyes cold and venomous.

"Wizard Marshal," Abel spat, his voice laced with disdain. "What do you want?"

Zelretch smirked, tilting his head in amusement. "Now, now… is that any way to greet an old friend?"

Abel's lip curled into a sneer. "Friend? Don't give me that crap." His voice darkened with raw bitterness. "You brought me to this world. You should have let Mark and Raziel kill me when they had the chance."

The smirk faded from Zelretch's face, replaced by a more serious expression. "Yes, I had a hand in bringing you here," he admitted. "But you're alive now. And you're not a mindless monster anymore. You should consider that a blessing."

Abel barked a harsh, humorless laugh. "A blessing? I'm a shadow of my former self. Death would have been a mercy. You knew the Zemurians would defeat me eventually, didn't you?"

Zelretch sighed, rubbing his temple as though the weight of countless lifetimes bore down on him. "Yes. I knew what the Zemurians were capable of. And I knew they would rise to the challenge if a threat like you appeared. But I also believed there was a chance for you to change. To find redemption."

Abel scoffed, his voice filled with scorn. "Redemption? There's no such thing for me. We both know that. Every curse I bear, every drop of hate in my veins—it was my choice. My burden. The Serpent dragged me into this dark existence, but I embraced it willingly."

Zelretch's expression softened, his gaze meeting Abel's with unexpected empathy. "You're right. You made terrible choices. But that doesn't mean you're beyond salvation. The fact that you're standing here, speaking to me instead of succumbing to your bloodlust, proves you've changed more than you realize."

Abel's sneer deepened. "Flattery will get you nowhere, old man. The only reason I haven't attacked you is because my rosary suppresses my bloodlust. And because I'm too weak to fight you."

Zelretch chuckled dryly. "Is that so? Then I suppose I should be thankful for your restraint." He folded his arms across his chest, his smirk returning. "Still, I'm surprised. I expected more aggression from you."

Abel's gaze darkened. "What good would it do? You're stronger than me. And I'm curious why you're here, in Zemuria. Were you bored? Was watching humanity crumble beneath the Aristoteles no longer entertaining?"

The old wizard's smirk faded into something more somber. "Boredom is the last thing on my mind," Zelretch replied. "And human struggles ceased being amusing long ago. I've seen empires rise and fall. I've watched worlds collapse and multiverses blink out of existence. Nothing surprises me anymore."

Abel narrowed his eyes. "Then why are you here?" He crossed his arms, his voice cold. "To mock me? The once-feared Dead Apostle who was defeated and tamed?"

Zelretch's expression grew serious, his crimson eyes gleaming with intensity. "No. I'm here because Roa has returned."

The air in the church seemed to grow colder. Abel stiffened, his eyes widening in shock. "Roa? That's impossible. He was killed by DEATH. The Retainer of the White Princess."

"So we thought," Zelretch said grimly. "But Roa has always been resourceful. He's found a way to cheat death again."

Abel's fists clenched at his sides. "How?"

"I suspect he was resurrected by a young Magus who serves now as his vessel," Zelretch explained. "It's not uncommon for Magi to tap into dark magic that messes with their own soul. But this time, he's stronger than ever. He's stolen power that doesn't belong to him."

Abel's gaze darkened further. "And what does that have to do with me?"

Zelretch's eyes narrowed. "Because Roa's actions will have far-reaching consequences—beyond just the vampire world. Zemuria isn't immune to his chaos. And you, Abel, are one of the few who knows how to stand against him."

Abel let out a bitter laugh. "You want me to fight my own creator? Seriously? One of Roa's incarnations sired me. You're asking me to destroy the very being who brought me into this existence." He shook his head, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "Even if I weren't restrained by this rosary, what difference would it make? Roa is centuries older and infinitely more powerful. You're asking a cub to take on a lion."

Zelretch's expression remained unwavering. "I'm asking you to make a choice," he said quietly. "To be more than what you were made to be. The lion may be stronger… but sometimes, it's the cub that surprises everyone."

The hunter chuckled darkly, his eyes gleaming with a bitter amusement. "Why don't you ask the White Princess? Dealing with Roa is her job."

Zelretch's expression darkened at the mention of the White Princess, his playful demeanor vanishing like a shadow under sunlight. "You think I haven't tried that? The White Princess is not an ally I can count on. Her priorities are her own, and Roa is not her only concern. I cannot rely on her to fix all my problems, and you know that as well as I do."

Abel sighed heavily, the weight of his predicament etched into every line of his face. "And you know that I am under-equipped and not strong enough to take my progenitor on. Even unrestrained."

Zelretch nodded slowly, his expression tinged with sympathy. "Yes, I am aware of that. But I'm not asking you to face Roa alone. I'll be there to assist you, and I have a few tricks up my sleeve that just might give us the edge we need."

Abel tilted his head, scrutinizing the Wizard Marshal with a wary gaze. "I see... yet it still is very perilous, what you're asking from me. Fighting Roa is no joke. That could be the worst threat I ever encountered. I won't do it without compensation."

Zelretch's lips curled into a smirk, a gleam of amusement returning to his eyes. "Ah, so mercenary-like of you. What kind of compensation is it that you want, then? Name your price."

Abel's gaze grew cold and distant, his voice steady and serious. "You ask me to take down Roa. The vampire who made me what I am. The one who caused at least as much, if not more, suffering than I did. Taking him down should be sufficient retribution for all my wrongdoings."

Zelretch studied him intently, his expression unreadable. "Agreed. If you can assist me in taking down Roa once and for all, I'll consider it sufficient retribution for your past deeds."

Abel shook his head slowly. "That's not what I mean. I mean that if Roa is defeated, thus ending our bloodline with me, it should be enough to end my current predicament. So... what I want is to claim what Father Graham denied me twenty years ago."

Zelretch's brows furrowed in confusion, his mind working quickly to piece together the hunter's meaning. His eyes narrowed as realization dawned. "You... you're asking me to let you die? Is that what I'm hearing?"

A cold, empty smile tugged at Abel's lips. "Not just dying. You are a sorcerer. You wield the Second True Magic. That means you've come into contact with the Root."

Zelretch's expression grew solemn as he processed the weight of those words. His voice lowered, his tone grave. "You're asking me to send you to the Root. To cross the Boundary."

Abel chuckled dryly, a bitter sound that echoed in the quiet church. "Not quite. If you have access to the Root, you also have the means to manipulate it."

Zelretch's gaze turned thoughtful, his eyes gleaming with curiosity. "You're right, I do have some access to the Root. I can see it, but I cannot enter it. But what do you expect me to do? I can't just casually alter the Root's essence to suit your wishes."

Abel's smirk deepened, his eyes glinting with cold resolve. "Even if it merely involves erasing some Records?"

Zelretch's expression tightened at the specificity of the request. "Erasing some records? That's a rather particular demand. But yes, that I can do. What kind of records are we talking about?"

Abel's gaze bore into the Wizard Marshal's, unflinching. "Myself. My entire being. From the beginning of my life to my end. I want to make sure that I cease to exist. That includes the human boy, Kyo Hirasawa. The Dead Apostle known as Kain. And the hunter persona I go by now, Abel Deville. I want them all erased from existence."

Zelretch's face softened, a flicker of understanding crossing his features. "You're asking me to erase your entire existence from the very fabric of reality. Are you truly certain about this? There would be no going back, no second chances."

Abel nodded, his expression unwavering. "Yes. I am very sure. Stopping Roa will be my final act of repentance. After that, Kyo Hirasawa shall disappear."

The room fell silent, the weight of Abel's request settling between them like a shroud. Zelretch studied him for a long moment, his sharp mind weighing every possibility.

"Very well," the Wizard Marshal finally said, his voice steady. "If this is what you truly want, then I'll do it. But there is one condition."

Abel's gaze sharpened. "What condition?"

Zelretch's expression grew stern, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. "You'll need to remain as you are until Roa is dealt with. I cannot allow you to pass on before then. Your help will be sorely needed to defeat him, and I cannot afford any distractions."

Abel inclined his head, understanding the gravity of the agreement. "Understood. I will stay alive like this and aid you against my 'father.' But after he is dealt with... I am done."

Zelretch nodded solemnly, his gaze steady. "Very well. It's a deal. Once Roa is dealt with, I will erase you from the Root. But not a moment before. You have my word."

…

Upon Abel's return, he found Kevin Graham seated at a desk in a modest office within the headquarters. Kevin appeared weary, dark circles under his eyes, a steaming cup of coffee cradled in his hand. Hearing Abel enter, he glanced up, his expression a mix of relief and concern.

"You're back... What happened?"

Abel met his gaze, his demeanor grave. "A lot of revelations came to light. I'm sorry to say this, Kevin, but I will be leaving Zemuria for good."

Kevin's eyes widened in surprise. He set his coffee down and rose from his seat, crossing the room to stand before Abel.

"Leaving? Just like that, without any explanation?"

Abel sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Zelretch... he has a job for me. A very dangerous one."

Kevin's brow furrowed, his concern deepening. "The Wizard? What kind of job?"

"A hunt. For a Dead Apostle. A very powerful one."

Kevin let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. "Of course it involves Dead Apostles... Why am I not surprised?"

"This one is different, Kevin."

Kevin's expression hardened, his arms crossing over his chest. "How so?"

"I told you that I was sired by my mistress, Elesia."

Kevin nodded slowly, recalling their previous conversations. "I remember."

"But that was only half the truth. You must know that Elesia wasn't a normal Dead Apostle."

Kevin's eyes narrowed, suspicion creeping into his gaze. "What do you mean? Was she more than just an ordinary Dead Apostle?"

"Yes... Normally, she wouldn't be a Dead Apostle at all. She was just a vessel. The real vampire, the one whose essence I carry inside me, is far more powerful and dangerous than she ever was."

Kevin's frown deepened as he processed this information. "Who is this true Dead Apostle, then?"

Abel took a deep breath before speaking. "His name is Roa. Michael Roa Valdamjong. The most powerful Dead Apostle to ever exist. He's nearly a thousand years old and has developed the ability to cheat death. By transmitting his soul upon his death, he can take over human bodies and reincarnate as them. The body becomes that of a vampire upon possession, just as it was for Elesia."

Kevin's eyes widened with each revelation, the gravity of the situation sinking in. "A thousand years, and the ability to take over human bodies... Just how strong is this monster?"

"Even before he became a vampire, he was an executor of the church, quite similar to the Gralsritter of Zemuria. Executors tasked with eliminating vampires and other heretics. But he was different. He managed to kill ten Demon Lords—original vampires who had lost control of their bloodlust and abused their supernatural powers without restraint—while he was still human. Then he became obsessed with immortality and turned into a Dead Apostle. He slaughtered all original vampires except one, leaving only the Dead Apostles as the vampiric species. He took the reins over them, terrorizing mankind until he was stopped."

Kevin's shock was palpable, his mind reeling from the scale of destruction Roa had wrought. "This Roa... Why are you being sent to hunt him down? And by yourself, no less?"

Abel sighed, his shoulders sagging under the weight of his mission. "Zelretch said he has a few tricks up his sleeve, but it could backfire as well. Be that as it may... this will probably be the last time we see each other."

Kevin's expression shifted to one of anger and concern, his fists clenching at his sides. "You act as if you're walking to your death, you know that?"

Abel remained silent, his somber expression speaking volumes.

Kevin sighed in frustration, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "Damn it, Abel... You could at least try to act like you don't have a death wish."

"I'm sorry. But taking down Roa... might very well be the last thing I do."

Kevin's knuckles turned white from the force of his clenched fists, his voice a mixture of annoyance, anger, and worry. "Last thing you'll do, huh? You make it seem like you're giving up already."

"I made a deal with Zelretch, Kevin. Taking down Roa is no small feat. So, in exchange for my help, I demanded compensation."

Kevin's eyes widened in surprise, suspicion lacing his tone. "Compensation? What kind of compensation?"

"For my help in dispatching Roa, Zelretch agreed to use his reality-warping powers to grant my request."

Kevin's confusion was evident, his brow furrowing as he tried to understand. "Your request? What did you ask for exactly?"

Abel took a deep breath, his voice barely above a whisper. "Erasure."

Kevin's eyes widened in shock, his breath catching in his throat. "Erasure? You mean... to erase your very existence?"

Abel nodded slowly, his gaze unwavering. "Yes. To erase all traces of my existence, to ensure that Roa's essence within me is destroyed completely."

Kevin's anger flared, his voice rising. "And what about those who care about you? What about the people you'll leave behind? Do their feelings mean nothing to you?"

Abel's expression was somber, his gaze unwavering. "That's exactly why I'm doing this, Kevin"

Kevin's frown deepened, tension carving lines across his face. His hand tightened around the mug he held, a bitter chuckle escaping his lips. "That's not what I'm worried about, damn it."

He set the cup down with a soft thunk and leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. His voice lowered, now serious, laced with concern. "Do you really understand what you're doing, Abel? Once you erase your existence… you're gone. Completely. No coming back. No miracles. No 'oh, maybe there's a loophole somewhere.' That's it. Curtains."

Abel nodded slowly, his voice calm, resolute. "Indeed. And thus, all the damage I've done—the lives I've ruined, the people I've hurt in pursuit of my own twisted desires—all of it will be undone."

Kevin's eyes narrowed, tension evident in his posture. He leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms, his expression conflicted.
"You're really okay with that? Just giving it all up? Throwing your life away for a shot at atonement?"

Abel remained silent for a moment, his gaze distant before he answered. "It's not about atonement, Kevin. It's about doing what must be done. The rosary you bound me with—it won't hold me forever. You know that. I know that. If there's even a chance that I become Kain again, that I fall back into that abyss… I can't take that risk."

Kevin sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. He hated that Abel was right. "Damn it… You're not giving me a lot of ways to argue against this, you know."

Abel offered a faint smile. "I didn't expect you to."

Kevin stood abruptly, pacing the room as he ran a hand through his messy hair, muttering under his breath. "You're so damn stubborn. I swear, you and Joshua… Same brand of self-sacrificing idiots."

He turned back to face Abel, arms crossed tightly over his chest. "...There's no changing your mind, is there?"

Abel shook his head. "No. It's the least I can do—for you, for the people who suffered because of me. And besides…" His expression darkened slightly, a flicker of something dangerous in his eyes. "I can finally get back at the bastard who set me on this path."

Kevin's gaze hardened. "Roa."

Abel nodded. "My sire. The man responsible for everything. No matter what form he takes, I need to confront him again. There's no peace for me until I do."

Kevin's shoulders slumped. He sighed, shaking his head slowly. "Yeah… I figured as much."

There was silence between them for a long moment. Then Kevin's voice, quiet but firm, cut through the stillness. "...Just promise me one thing."

Abel tilted his head, curious. "What is it?"

Kevin stepped closer, his expression a mix of sternness and pleading. "Don't do anything reckless. Don't pull any of your usual stunts. And for Aidios' sake—don't get yourself killed in some stupid crusade against Roa."

Abel chuckled softly, though there was little humor in it. "I'll do my best. But Kevin… I have to face him. You know that."

Kevin sighed again, his frustration evident. "I know. And I know I can't stop you."

He ran a hand through his hair again, his voice lowering to a near whisper. "...Damn it all… What am I supposed to tell the others?"

Abel's expression softened. "Tell them… that Kain chose to pass on. Soon enough, you won't even remember this conversation. Zelretch's reality-warping will see to that."

Kevin grimaced, the thought making him feel like he'd been punched in the gut. "Forget? Just like that?" He scoffed, shaking his head in disbelief. "That's… That's a hell of a way to leave things."

Abel's smile turned wry. "It's better this way. Easier for everyone."

Kevin stared at him for a long moment before letting out a groan of pure frustration. "To hell with it. I swear, you're the most unbearable bastard I've ever known. You know that?"

Abel chuckled again, more genuine this time. "I know. That's exactly why I'm doing this."

Kevin's expression softened, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Damn it, I hate you so much right now… You jerk."

They stood in silence once more, the weight of their shared history hanging heavy between them. Kevin's gaze drifted toward the window, his voice thoughtful.

"...You know, you're probably the most annoying guy I've ever met. And that's saying a lot. Estelle Bright holds that title most days—but you?" He shook his head, smirking. "You're in a league of your own."

Abel chuckled. "Coming from you, I'll take that as a compliment."

Kevin sighed one last time, his expression sobering. "Listen, I'm not happy about any of this. But I think it's only fair to ask—if this really is the last time we see each other… Is there anything you want to say? To anyone in particular?"

Abel's smile faded. He looked down, thoughtful for a moment before shaking his head. "I've said enough. Some things are better left unsaid. It's easier that way."

Kevin raised an eyebrow, shaking his head in disbelief. "Aidios save me… You are absolutely infuriating. Why do I even bother?"

Abel shrugged. "Because deep down, you care. You always have. It's why you're still here."

Kevin groaned, running both hands through his hair in frustration before laughing quietly to himself. "Yeah, yeah… That's probably true."

The silence returned once more, but this time, there was a sense of finality to it. Kevin watched as Abel turned to leave, the reality of their farewell sinking in.

"Hey, Abel."

Abel paused at the door, glancing back over his shoulder.

Kevin's voice was soft, sincere. "...Take care of yourself. And if there's any chance, any at all, that you come out of this alive—you better find a way to let me know."

Abel's smile was bittersweet. "If I do… You'll be the first to know."

And with that, Abel Deville walked out of Kevin Graham's life—leaving behind a heavy silence, and a promise Kevin would never forget, even if reality itself tried to erase it.

The soft breeze rustled through the branches of the cherry tree, sending petals cascading gently around them. Abel sat in silence, leaning back against the tree trunk, his gaze distant as he watched the pink blossoms fall, carried off by the wind.

Corrin sat beside him, her legs tucked beneath her, her head tilted slightly as she observed him in quiet contemplation. She could sense the turmoil within him—something unspoken, something weighing heavily on his heart.

Abel sighed, breaking the silence. "...I was ready to erase myself."

Corrin's expression softened, but her gaze remained steady, unwavering. "I know. And you didn't."

He glanced at her, a faint smile playing at his lips. "No. I didn't. Because of you."

Corrin shook her head gently, brushing a lock of silver hair behind her ear. "No. I only reminded you that your life has worth."

Abel opened his eyes, gazing up at the petals fluttering down from the branches above. The soft pink hues contrasted sharply with the darkness he felt inside.

"...Worth." He repeated the word quietly, as if testing its weight. After a moment, he let out another sigh, this one heavier, burdened by years of guilt and regret.

Corrin placed her hand gently on his, her touch grounding him in the present.

Abel looked at their hands for a moment before speaking again, his voice quieter now, contemplative. "...Corrin, do you ever wonder? If things had been different… If I wasn't a hunter, if I wasn't tied to all of this—do you think we would've ended up like this?"

Corrin blinked, surprised by the question. She tilted her head slightly, thinking carefully before answering. "You mean… would we have met at all?"

Abel nodded. "Yeah. Would you still have… would you still have cared for me? If I was just someone ordinary—just a boy living a quiet, simple life?"

Corrin was quiet for a moment, her gaze thoughtful. Then, with her usual gentle conviction, she spoke. "I don't know if we would've met in the same way, or under the same circumstances. But…" She smiled softly, a warmth in her eyes. "I do know that, no matter what, I would've seen you for who you are."

Abel's expression shifted, something flickering in his gaze—hope, perhaps, or disbelief.
"And who am I, really? Without the vampire blood, without the hunter's creed… who do you see?"

Corrin's grip on his hand tightened slightly. "I see someone who's more than his past. Someone who's made mistakes, yes—but who's also chosen to keep fighting. Someone who carries the weight of his choices, but refuses to let that weight define him."

She tilted her head, smiling softly. "That's the Abel I see. And that's the Abel I care for."

Abel's gaze softened, his heart aching with the weight of her words. He lowered his head, his voice barely above a whisper. "I wonder… if what I feel for you is real. Or if it's just… my vampiric nature. The hunger, the infatuation—these impulses that make me crave what I can't have."

Corrin's expression didn't falter. Instead, she reached out, gently placing her hand on his cheek, making him meet her gaze.

"Abel." Her voice was steady, reassuring. "Your feelings aren't defined by what you are. They're defined by who you are."

Abel swallowed hard, his green eyes searching hers for any sign of doubt—but all he found was sincerity. "You really believe that?"

Corrin smiled, her hand still resting on his cheek. "I do. Because I know you. And I trust what I see in your heart."

Abel closed his eyes for a moment, letting her words sink in. The weight he carried—the guilt, the shame—felt just a little lighter in her presence. "...You're too kind, you know that?"

Corrin chuckled softly, her laughter like a gentle melody in the quiet air. "I've been told that before. But I don't think it's kindness—it's just the truth."

The two of them sat in silence for a while longer, the cherry blossoms continuing to fall around them.

Eventually, Abel spoke again, his voice more certain this time. "I still have a long way to go… to make things right."

Corrin nodded. "I know. And you'll have help along the way."

Abel glanced at her, a small smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "You?"

Corrin's eyes sparkled with quiet determination. "Of course."

Abel chuckled softly. "You really are something else, Corrin."

She smiled back, her expression warm and unwavering. "And so are you, Abel. Don't forget that."

Corrin tilted her head back, letting the cool breeze dance through her silver hair. The gentle flutter of cherry blossoms falling around them made the moment feel almost dreamlike. She glanced at Abel, who sat quietly beside her, lost in thought.

A soft smile played at her lips. "You know," she began, breaking the silence, "I didn't think you could be like this."

Abel raised an eyebrow, turning toward her. "Like what?"

Corrin grinned, a playful glint in her crimson eyes. "Like this. Gentle. Quiet. Peaceful."

Abel chuckled, a rare sound from someone so often burdened by his past. "And here I thought I was always gentle."

Corrin giggled, shaking her head. "Hardly. You're always brooding, serious… a bit intense, honestly. Not that I mind, but—" She leaned in slightly, her teasing smile widening. "Seeing you like this is nice. It feels… real."

Abel couldn't help but laugh softly, a genuine warmth in his expression. "Real, huh? So, what am I normally? Some kind of dark knight brooding in the shadows?"

Corrin pretended to think for a moment, tapping her chin with a finger. "Hmm… More like a storm cloud with extra fangs."

Abel laughed again, shaking his head. "You really know how to put a guy in his place, don't you?"

Corrin shrugged, her smile softening into something more tender. "Maybe. But I like this side of you. Sitting here, under the cherry blossoms… it feels like we've left everything else behind. The battles, the burdens, the bloodshed. Just for a little while."

Abel nodded slowly, his gaze drifting back to the falling petals. "Yeah. It does feel… peaceful. I'm not used to it."

Corrin leaned her head against the tree trunk, watching him quietly. There was something different in his eyes now—a calmness, a quiet acceptance that hadn't been there before. For a moment, she simply enjoyed the silence between them, before speaking again.

"Abel," she said softly, "after all of this… after the vampires are defeated, after the chaos ends—let's meet here again."

Abel turned to her, surprised. "Here? Under the cherry tree?"

Corrin nodded, her expression serious but filled with quiet hope. "Yes. Let's promise to meet here again. No battles. No burdens. Just… us."

Abel gazed at her, his expression unreadable at first. But then, slowly, a warm smile spread across his face. "I'd like that."

Corrin's smile brightened, her eyes sparkling with joy. "Good. It's a promise, then."

They sat in silence for a while longer, the petals continuing to fall around them like soft snow. After a time, Corrin stood, brushing off her cloak, and extended her hand toward Abel.

"Come with me," she said.

Abel looked up at her, puzzled. "Where to?"

Corrin's smile turned playful again, her hand still outstretched. "Through the kingdom. I want to show you everything."

Abel blinked in surprise. "Everything?"

Corrin nodded, her expression softening with a hint of wistfulness.
"When I was a child, all I knew, was the Northern Fortress—the walls, the towers, the same view every day. But I always dreamed of seeing the world beyond those walls. The forests, the mountains, the cities… I wanted to see it all."

She glanced away for a moment, her voice dropping to a soft whisper.
"And now, I have that chance. But more than that… I want to share it with you."

Abel stood slowly, taking her hand. His touch was firm, but gentle. "You want to show me the world?"

Corrin nodded again, her gaze steady and full of quiet determination. "Yes. Even the things I haven't seen yet. Let's explore it all together. The places we've never been, the sights we've never witnessed… everything."

Abel stared at her for a long moment, his golden eyes searching hers. There was something in her gaze—an unshakable resolve, a warmth that made his chest ache. "...You're serious," he murmured.

"Of course I am," Corrin replied, her smile never wavering. "Life isn't just about fighting and surviving. It's about living. And I want to live—to truly live—with you."

Abel's heart clenched at her words. For so long, he had seen himself as a shadow—something cursed, something that didn't belong in the light. But Corrin saw him differently. She saw someone worth saving. Someone worth standing beside.

Slowly, he squeezed her hand.

"I've never thought about the future," he admitted. "Not like this. I've always been focused on the next battle, the next threat… I never thought I'd have someone to share it with."

Corrin's smile softened, her eyes shining with quiet warmth. "Well, now you do."

Abel chuckled softly, a rare and genuine sound. "Then I guess I'll have to start thinking about the future, won't I?"

Corrin beamed, her joy radiant and infectious. "Yes. And it starts with this journey."

Abel glanced at the cherry tree one last time, the petals falling around them like a blessing. He turned back to Corrin, his smile warm and heartfelt.

"Let's go, then."

Hand in hand, they walked away from the cherry tree, the promise of a brighter future lingering in the air.

…

The path down the hill was serene at first, the soft crunch of their footsteps blending with the gentle rustle of leaves. Abel and Corrin walked side by side, their hands brushing occasionally but never fully clasping. The lake ahead shimmered under the pale light, its surface reflecting the silver glow of the moon.

Corrin inhaled deeply, her gaze sweeping over the peaceful scene. "It's beautiful," she murmured, her voice soft, as if afraid to disturb the quiet.

Abel nodded, his golden eyes scanning the horizon. "It is," he agreed, though his gaze held a sharper edge—ever watchful, ever wary.

They reached the water's edge, where the lake stretched out before them like a mirror. The world seemed still, almost frozen in time.

But then the air shifted.

A chill crept through the atmosphere, and without warning, a dense fog rolled in from across the water. It twisted and curled like ghostly fingers, swallowing the landscape in an eerie haze. The moonlight dimmed, and the lake's reflection vanished into shadow.

Corrin tensed, her hand instinctively reaching for the hilt of her sword. "Abel… something's not right."

Abel narrowed his eyes, scanning the mist. His senses sharpened, the familiar scent of death and decay lingering on the breeze.

And then—a sound. A low, mocking laughter, echoing through the fog like the toll of a bell.

The figure emerged slowly, stepping through the mist with an almost regal air. His black cloak billowed around him like wings, and his crimson eyes gleamed with predatory amusement. His pale lips curled into a smirk as he surveyed the two standing before him.

"Ah… the lovebirds," the vampire drawled, his voice dripping with condescension. "Have you finally made up? How touching."

Abel's expression darkened, his jaw tightening. He stepped in front of Corrin, shielding her from the vampire's gaze. "Baron Vordenburg," he said coldly. "I'm surprised. I didn't think you had the spine to show up in person."

Vordenburg chuckled, the sound low and sinister. "Oh, but how could I resist?" He spread his arms wide, as if welcoming them to some grand performance. "Such a picturesque scene. Two hearts entwined under the cherry blossoms, a romantic stroll to the lake… It's almost poetic."

Abel's eyes burned with quiet fury. "Spare me your theatrics. What do you want?"

Vordenburg's smirk widened. "Isn't it obvious? I've come to claim Corrin for myself."

His gaze shifted to Corrin, and his eyes gleamed with hunger.

Abel growled, stepping forward with a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Back off."

Corrin met his gaze without flinching, her hand tightening on her sword. "You won't lay a hand on me."

Vordenburg chuckled, his laugh dripping with scorn. He took a step closer, the fog parting around him like a red carpet, and the sound of his boots against the earth seemed unnaturally loud in the quiet night. His crimson eyes narrowed, scanning Abel with an unsettling deliberation.

"Ah, yes. The great protector, the brave knight. Always so sure of your strength," he said, almost as if speaking to himself. "But you're not enough, Abel. You never were. Your time is running out."

The vampire's eyes flicked once more to Corrin, his lips curling into a smile that was all sharp edges and hunger. "I can feel it," he purred, his voice sending a chill through the air. "The tension, the desire, the yearning. It's almost palpable. A moment like this, where everything is ripe for the taking. Do you truly think you can stop me?"

Abel's grip tightened around the hilt of his blade, his knuckles whitening. His heart hammered in his chest as he stepped forward, his eyes blazing with fury and resolve.

"You've crossed the line, Vordenburg," Abel snarled, his voice low and dangerous. "If you think for one second that I'll let you lay a finger on her, then you're gravely mistaken."

Vordenburg's lips curled into an amused smile, but it didn't reach his eyes. There was a coldness there, a calculating darkness that made Abel's blood run colder than the night air. His gaze shifted, and for the first time, there was a flicker of disdain in the vampire's expression, as though Abel's defiance were nothing more than an inconvenience.

"Naive," Vordenburg murmured with a soft chuckle. "You are so naive, Abel. Do you truly think I have no plan to deal with you? That I would show up without taking proper precautions?" His voice carried an elegant venom, each word dripping with a sense of superiority. "You see, I'm not some brutish fool like Malkav Archangel. I don't rely on force or mindless brawn. No, my methods are far more… elegant." His lips parted to reveal a flash of sharpened teeth as he took another step forward, closing the distance between them.

Abel tensed, muscles coiled and ready, but there was something wrong—something in the air that felt off. The weight of Vordenburg's words hung heavy in the fog, and Abel could feel the hair on the back of his neck standing on end.

Then, without warning, Vordenburg raised his hand toward the sky, his voice rising in a commanding shout.

"Soul Lament!" he bellowed, his voice echoing through the dense fog like a bell tolling in the night.

The very ground beneath them trembled as a dark, unnatural energy erupted from the vampire's outstretched hand. The fog around them swirled violently, a choking, suffocating mass that twisted and thickened, swallowing everything in its wake. It was as though the world itself was folding in on them, every breath a struggle as the air grew dense and heavy with a malevolent force.

Abel's eyes widened with the sudden onslaught, his heart pounding as the fog thickened, curling around them like serpents. The cool, fresh air was replaced with a stifling, oppressive weight, and each breath felt like inhaling smoke. He reached out, grabbing Corrin's hand, but even that simple act of connection seemed to be swallowed by the thickening gloom.

"Corrin!" Abel shouted, his voice strained, but she could barely hear him over the rising chaos. She stumbled, trying to stay on her feet, but the suffocating fog made it impossible to see, let alone think.

The laughter of Vordenburg echoed from all directions, his mocking tone dancing in the fog as if the very mist itself was alive, taunting them.

"You think you can resist me, Abel?" Vordenburg's voice cut through the thick haze, cruel and triumphant. "You think you have power enough to stop what's already been set in motion? How quaint."

Abel's vision blurred, the edges of reality seeming to distort as the fog closed in around them. His limbs grew heavy, sluggish, as if every movement was being drowned in a pool of darkness. His breath came faster, ragged, and he tried to push through, but the weight of the fog seemed to press on him from all sides, stifling him. His mind screamed for clarity, for control, but his thoughts grew muddled, his body betraying him as the energy from Vordenburg's spell wrapped around him like a tightening noose.

Corrin, too, was struggling beside him, her grip on his hand weak and trembling. Her breathing became shallow, her vision unfocused. She tried to speak, tried to call out to him, but her words came out in broken gasps, lost in the oppressive void.

"Abel..." she whispered, but it was barely audible, drowned by the weight of the fog and the suffocating sense of dread that pressed in from all sides.

Abel's knees buckled beneath him, and he felt himself being pulled into a cold, dark abyss. He reached for Corrin, but his hand failed to find hers. The fog was a thick, impenetrable wall, swallowing them whole. His mind swirled, spinning in and out of consciousness as the last of his strength slipped away. The air around him felt like it was solidifying, pressing him deeper into the ground, pulling him toward something dark and inescapable.

The last thing he felt before the darkness overtook him was the faintest whisper in his ear, Vordenburg's voice laced with cruel satisfaction.

"Sleep, my dear Abel. Sleep, and know that you have failed."

And then, there was nothing.

…

Corrin's senses slowly returned to her, the oppressive fog of unconsciousness lifting as her eyes fluttered open. She was no longer at the lake, no longer in the world she knew. Instead, she found herself standing before a modern, sleek school building. The sharp lines and clean angles of its design stood in stark contrast to the heavy, oppressive aura that clung to the air. The sunset bathed the scene in orange and pink hues, but there was an unmistakable chill in the air, one that seemed to seep into her very bones.

She looked around, confusion flooding her mind. The surroundings were unfamiliar—alien, even. The sign in front of the campus read "Aramis Academy," but the name meant nothing to her. Her heart quickened as she scanned the campus, her eyes darting over manicured lawns, wide stone pathways, and buildings that were far too grand to belong to any school she'd ever encountered. The architecture was a fusion of modernity and tradition—glass facades that caught the waning sunlight, while stone statues stood like silent sentinels watching over the grounds. But there was a sense of stillness here, an emptiness that felt suffocating. As if the entire place were suspended in some strange, frozen moment in time.

The unsettling silence pressed in, and Corrin felt an odd sense of isolation, as if she were the only living thing on the campus. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sound of footsteps, and she turned just in time to collide with someone.

The young man who stood before her was unlike anyone she had seen before. He was tall, with striking blue eyes that held an intensity, and dark bluish-black hair styled into a spiky, swept-back look. A long fringe fell across his forehead, framing his sharp features. His expression was tense, his brow furrowed as if burdened by something unseen. He wore a long cobalt jacket, the fleece-lined collar standing high against the chill of the air. Two front pockets, with leather patches on the shoulders, gave his attire a rugged, almost military feel. Despite the modernity of the campus, his presence here felt oddly out of place.

"Excuse me," Corrin called, her voice a mix of confusion and urgency. "Who are you? Where am I?"

The young man didn't acknowledge her words. His eyes seemed to glance right through her, as though she wasn't even there. His expression remained unchanged, distant, and unyielding, as he walked past her with brisk, purposeful steps. He didn't slow, didn't falter, and certainly didn't respond.

Corrin's confusion deepened. Who was he? And why was he acting like she wasn't even speaking to him?

A sense of unease crawled up her spine, but she couldn't ignore the feeling that there was something important about him. Something that connected to whatever twisted fate had brought her here. Without thinking, she took a step forward, following him silently across the campus, her footsteps barely making a sound against the stone path. The place felt like a labyrinth, each corner leading to a new, unsettling discovery. The walls of the campus seemed to close in around her as she trailed behind, determined to find answers, even if they were hidden behind the cold gaze of the mysterious man in front of her.

She had to know where she was, and why she was here. She had no choice but to follow him.

The heavy silence of Aramis Academy was broken only by the soft echo of Corrin's footsteps as she followed the young man through the maze of darkened school corridors. The once pristine hallways now felt ominous, almost suffocating, as the walls seemed to press in on her. Flickering overhead lights cast long, distorted shadows across the hallway, and the air was thick with a staleness that made her throat tighten. Each step she took seemed to reverberate in the dead air, amplifying the eerie atmosphere around her.

The further she went, the more the campus seemed to morph into something unrecognizable. The glossy, modern façade of the academy had given way to an older, more decayed side of the building. The floors were cracked, the walls chipped and stained, as if the place had been abandoned for years. The chill in the air was no longer merely uncomfortable; it was suffocating, as if the building itself were alive and aware of her presence.

Corrin kept her eyes fixed on the young man ahead of her, his figure unwavering as he moved with a purpose. He paid her no attention, his pace quick and deliberate, as though he had no care for the haunting surroundings. His back was straight, his expression a mixture of contemplation and annoyance. As he turned corners and led her deeper into the building, Corrin couldn't shake the feeling that something was terribly wrong. She had no idea where she was, why she was here, or even who the man was, but there was a gnawing sense of dread clawing at her chest, urging her to turn back.

But she couldn't. Not yet. She needed answers.

After what felt like an eternity of winding through the dark halls, the young man finally reached a set of large, imposing double doors. Without hesitation, he pushed them open, revealing the interior beyond.

The moment Corrin stepped into the large hall, a wave of cold air washed over her, and a shiver ran down her spine. The sight before her made her stomach twist in horror.

Corpses. Corpses everywhere.

The floor was littered with the remains of men and women, their bodies twisted in grotesque contortions. The once-human faces were unrecognizable, shredded by some monstrous force. The air was thick with the metallic scent of blood, and the walls seemed to close in around her as she took in the nightmare that unfolded before her. The wounds on the bodies were savage, deep punctures at the throats, a telltale sign of vampiric feeding. The sickly, twisted nature of the scene made her stomach churn, and her hand instinctively went to her mouth to stifle the nausea rising within her.

But that was not the worst of it.

At the center of the room, stacked high like some grotesque monument, were more bodies. These were not merely dead; they were shriveled, as if their very life had been drained from them. The pile rose like a twisted hill of human remains, a grotesque testament to the horrors that had transpired in this place. It was as though the entire room had been designed to create a twisted altar, a display of death that would make even the bravest of souls recoil in disgust.

And then, atop that pile, seated like a twisted king on his throne of corpses, was a figure that stole the very breath from her lungs.

The young man lounged in the large chair, his posture relaxed, but there was nothing comfortable about it. His eyes, glowing an unnatural crimson, burned with an intensity that made Corrin's blood freeze in her veins. His hair—dark and styled into a sharp undercut—was disheveled, falling in wild strands around his face. His skin was unnaturally pale, almost as if life itself had been drained from him. He wore an open black shirt, the fabric hanging loose around his broad shoulders, but it was the markings on his skin that truly caught her eye.

Crimson symbols, glowing with an eerie light, coiled around his torso like a living serpent, wrapping around him like a curse. The markings were unmistakable—they were identical to the cursed marks Zio had placed on Abel, the same ones that had twisted his very being. But this… this was different. The markings didn't just sit on his skin; they seemed to consume him, as if they were part of him, writhing beneath his pale skin, a manifestation of his dark power.

As she stood frozen in place, her heart hammering in her chest, the man on the chair looked down on the other man she just followed. His eyes glinted with malice, a mocking grin tugging at his lips, revealing sharp fangs. He raised a glass of dark, amber liquid in one hand, swirling it lazily, before bringing it to his lips. The glass clinked against his teeth as he took a slow sip, never breaking eye contact with her.

In his other hand, he held a woman. A young woman, blonde, with delicate features and empty, hollow blue eyes. Her face was vacant, her expression one of deep resignation, as if she had long since surrendered to the horrors around her. The woman's body hung limply in the vampire's grip, as though she were little more than a puppet to him.

And then, it hit her.

The man before her, seated on the pile of bodies, was… Abel.

No, that wasn't right. This was not the Abel she knew, the one who had stood beside her, who had fought to reclaim his humanity. The man seated atop the pile of corpses was a twisted reflection of the person she remembered, an embodiment of the darkness that had once consumed him. This man was not Abel, not the one who had been redeemed by the church, but Abel when he was still Kain—the Nosferatu, the vampire persona that had taken over him before the intervention of the Septian Church.

The realization struck her like a bolt of lightning, a cold wave of terror washing over her. This wasn't a mere nightmare or hallucination. She wasn't seeing the future or some distorted version of Abel. No, this was a memory. This was Abel in the dark, unrestrained state he had been in long ago. This was the true monster he had once been, and she was now witnessing it with her own eyes.

Corrin felt her breath catch in her throat as she took in the horrifying sight before her. The man on the chair, lounging among the carnage, was more than just a predator. He was the essence of something ancient and dangerous. He lounged with the kind of ease only someone utterly confident in their power could possess. There was no trace of the kindness or the warmth she had known in Abel. Only cold cruelty.

The stench of death and decay was overpowering, the sounds of the room deafening in their silence. The only movement came from Kain himself, as he casually lowered his glass, his gaze never once leaving the young man who stood to his side. His lips curled into a sardonic smile, his voice dripping with mockery as he spoke to the other man.

"I told you to hurry, Van Arkride," Kain drawled, the words laced with dark amusement. "But because you took so long, I decided to have a little fun." He gestured carelessly to the pile of corpses surrounding him, a simple wave of his hand as if he were showing off his handiwork—discarded toys.

"Some poor souls couldn't resist... so I sank my teeth into them. And now..." He let the silence stretch between them, his gaze turning momentarily to the bloody chaos around him, as if it were nothing more than an afterthought.

Van stood frozen, his body taut with restrained fury. The sight of the vampire in front of him, was enough to make his blood boil. But it wasn't just the piles of mutilated bodies, or Kain's mocking tone that had him seething with rage. It was the woman he held in his grasp.

The woman's blonde hair hung limp as Kain wrapped a possessive arm around her waist, pulling her closer with an almost affectionate brutality. She gasped, as if seeking some kind of comfort from the monster holding her, her body pressing into his like a broken doll.

Van's breath hitched in his chest, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white. A deep growl rumbled in his throat, the word "bastard" slipping past his lips, low and venomous. His body trembled with barely contained fury, the sight of Kain's arrogance making his pulse spike with a hatred so pure it burned through his veins. The image of Agnès, so utterly vulnerable in Kain's arms, nearly drove him to his breaking point.

"Release her," Van demanded, his voice hoarse with the sheer force of his anger. "Now."

Kain's smile widened, an almost delighted glint in his eyes. He pulled the woman closer to him, tilting his head slightly as he looked at Van with cruel amusement.

"Your dear Agnès is mine now, Van Arkride," Kain taunted, his voice dripping with arrogance. "She will be the Castellan of my empire, ruling over Edith and soon all of Calvard by my side. My lover by night, and she will feed on the unsuspecting fools who cross our path."

The words, so casually spoken, made Van's blood run cold. Kain's claim over Agnès was like a slap in the face, a brutal declaration that he saw her only as a trophy—an object to be controlled, twisted into something unrecognizable. Van's heart clenched, the rage threatening to boil over, but it was the helplessness of it all, the way Agnès leaned into Kain, as if resigned to her fate, that nearly shattered him.

Van's breath came in ragged gasps. He clenched his fists so tightly his nails dug into his palms, drawing blood. The agony of the situation was almost too much to bear, yet he forced himself to remain calm, to hold onto the last remnants of his composure. Losing control now, giving in to the torrent of emotion surging through him, would only give Kain the victory he craved.

"What do you want from us?" Van's voice was steady, though the storm inside him raged like a wildfire.

Kain's grin never faltered, dark and sinister, as he leaned back in his chair, clearly enjoying the torment he was causing. His gaze flicked briefly to Agnès, his lips curling into a smirk as he turned back to Van.

"I want this world—and Agnès—to belong to me," Kain said smoothly, as if the entire world were his for the taking. "But first and foremost, I will complete the ritual of my mistress."

Corrin stood there, motionless, a silent observer in the midst of the twisted scene. Her heart hammered in her chest, her mind a whirlwind of confusion and disbelief. She couldn't understand what she was seeing, why she was here, why she felt like an invisible presence, unable to touch the horrors unfolding before her. It was as if she were caught in a dream—a nightmare—and yet, the emotions surging through her felt all too real.

She could only watch as Kain continued to revel in his cruelty, his smile growing wider, more twisted with every passing second.

A cold dread gripped Van, the weight of Kain's words sinking into him like a blade. Each syllable Kain spoke was a new layer of horror, a deepening spiral of darkness that coiled tighter around Van's chest. "And what exactly does this ritual entail?" Van's voice was taut with tension, his breath coming out in shallow gasps.

Kain's smile widened, sickly sweet and unnervingly serene—a grotesque parody of innocence. He relished every second, each word dripping with malice as he spoke. "The offering of blood. An entire town's worth of blood. And I've decided to sacrifice Edith."

The revelation hit Van like a physical blow. His vision swam, and his chest tightened as the full weight of Kain's words settled in. Horror surged through him, rage quickly boiling to the surface, battling with the sickness rising in his gut. Edith—his home, his sanctuary—was now the target of this twisted ritual. Kain intended to butcher an entire town of innocents, people Van knew and cared for, all for some dark and perverse ceremony. The mere thought was enough to make his stomach turn.

"You... you can't do that!" Van's voice cracked, the fury and disbelief in his tone palpable. His fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white, the tension rippling through his body as he tried to keep his composure. His heart thundered in his chest, a fire of protective anger roaring to life within him. The image of Edith, its streets stained crimson with blood, the people slaughtered like sacrificial lambs, filled his mind. That image pushed him to the edge, the surge of rage nearly blinding him to anything else.

"You're not sacrificing an entire city!" Van shouted, his voice trembling with barely contained fury. His breath came out in ragged gasps, the weight of Kain's twisted words suffocating him. "Not while I can still fight!"

He stepped forward, anger and desperation fueling him, infusing his every move with a newfound resolve. He couldn't allow this monster—this abomination of all Abel had been—to destroy Edith, to erase everything and everyone he had come to cherish. He couldn't stand by and watch as Kain's darkness spread. "I won't let you hurt anyone else," Van declared, his voice resolute despite the fury bubbling up inside. "Not if I can help it."

Kain chuckled darkly, the sound low, mocking, and laced with cruel amusement. "Oh, how amusing," he sneered, his eyes glinting with contempt. "The Spriggan wants to play the hero and monster hunter. Didn't Mark tell you the story of Chapelwaite? How I laid waste to his hometown, turned its citizens into vampires, and killed all his allies? And so, it will begin again. Just here, in Edith, first. But eventually, all of Zemuria will follow."

"You're a monster," Van spat, his voice thick with disgust and barely suppressed rage. His hands shook with the intensity of his fury, his body tense with the effort of holding back from lashing out. "A goddamn monster."

Kain's laugh echoed through the cold, silent night, his amusement unfeeling and devoid of any humanity. The sound reverberated like a mocking echo, as if the very concept of Van's righteous anger was a joke to him.

Corrin, still trapped in her ghostly state, was a silent observer to the unfolding nightmare. Her body felt frozen, her heart heavy with the weight of what she was witnessing. Each word from Kain sent shockwaves through her, the cruelty and coldness of the scene making her insides twist in disgust. Van's anger mirrored her own, though she couldn't act on it.

The helplessness was suffocating. She wanted to call out, to scream, to do something. But her voice remained silent, her form immobile as she was forced to watch, powerless in the face of such overwhelming horror. She couldn't reach Van, couldn't comfort him, even though she could feel his struggle—the burning fury in his chest, the desperation in his voice as he tried to fight back against the monster in front of him.

The sight of that city, as it would become, swirled in her mind. The streets stained with blood, the people Van loved turned into nothing more than prey for Kain's twisted ritual. The weight of what Kain had planned pressed on her chest, a suffocating reminder of how far Abel had once fallen. This was a monster of darkness and death. And all she could do was watch as Van stood alone, facing the monster who had claimed everything he held dear.

She felt like an echo of herself—an empty observer trapped in the past, unable to change what had already happened. The pain, the terror, the helplessness—it all washed over her in waves, drowning her in a sea of unspoken anguish. She longed to reach out, to comfort Van, to stop this nightmare from continuing. But all she could do was bear witness, her heart aching with every passing second, knowing there was nothing she could do.

The entire scene dissolved into darkness. Corrin felt a cold chill rush over her, a suffocating stillness consuming the air. Her vision swam in the black void, her heartbeat thundering in her chest. She tried to call out, but no sound escaped her lips.

…

As suddenly as the darkness had descended, it lifted, and Corrin found herself standing at the edge of a lake.

Her heart raced, still reeling from the images she had witnessed. Abel—he was there beside her, his form slumped and defeated. His body trembled ever so slightly as he knelt on the ground, his head lowered as though the weight of the world was upon him. His usual composed and confident demeanor was gone. Instead, he looked broken, lost.

And across from them, standing in the fog, was Vordenburg, his figure barely visible through the mist that clung to him like a second skin. He was watching them with an expression of dark amusement, his lips curled in a twisted grin. The sight made Corrin's skin crawl.

"Well, that was certainly intense," Vordenburg commented, his voice dripping with malicious pleasure. His eyes gleamed as he observed the two of them, the weight of his presence pressing down like a heavy stone.

Corrin, still trembling from the haunting memory, pushed herself to her feet, her voice tinged with frustration. She could barely look at Abel in his current state, his exhaustion and despair too much for her to bear. Still, she turned to face Vordenburg, her eyes burning with questions, with rage.

"What... what was that?" she demanded, her voice laced with exasperation, as if she couldn't believe what she had just witnessed.

Vordenburg's grin only widened, the sadistic pleasure evident in his eyes. "Ah, you don't know? That was a little gift from me to you," he said with mock sweetness. "That was the power of my ability—Soul Lament—one of my most potent curses. It forces its victim to relive their most traumatic memories, to experience their pain, their fears, their regrets... all over again." He chuckled darkly, his voice smooth but laced with venom. "And you've just had a front-row seat to one of Abel's darkest memories."

Corrin's breath hitched in her throat. The words hung in the air like an oppressive weight, the truth of it sinking in with an overwhelming heaviness. Abel's memory—the rawness of it, the pain, the terror—was something she couldn't easily shake. The cruelty of it was almost unbearable.

"You..." She took a step toward Vordenburg, her fists clenched at her sides. "You monster."

Vordenburg didn't seem phased by her fury. His amusement remained unchanged, even as he stepped forward, the mist swirling around him. He relished in every ounce of her discomfort, his sadistic glee practically oozing from him.

Corrin could feel her anger beginning to boil even more. But there was something else—a gnawing feeling in the pit of her stomach, something that made her feel small and helpless in this moment. She had witnessed Abel's past, but what was it that made him fall so far, to become the man he was before the church's intervention? And now, she couldn't even comfort him. She couldn't help him.

Her voice trembled, barely a whisper as she spoke. "Abel... What happened to him?"

Vordenburg's laugh was cruel, cutting through the fog like a knife. "That's a question only Abel can answer, my dear. But I'll tell you this—Soul Lament shows the truth. And in that truth, you will find nothing but darkness." His words hung in the air like a cloud of doom, and Corrin could feel the weight of it pressing against her chest.

Her fists were still clenched, her nails digging into her palms as she glared at him. She was furious, desperate to do something—anything—to stop the torment, to bring Abel back from this abyss. But Vordenburg was right: she was powerless in this moment. She could only watch, helpless, as the fog continued to twist and curl around them, obscuring the path forward.

She turned back to Abel, her heart aching as she took in the sight of him. He hadn't moved since the memory ended. Was he even aware of her presence? Was he aware of anything, or was he lost in that dark memory, trapped by the torment of his past?

The realization hit her like a sharp blow to the chest. No matter how much she wanted to reach out to him, to help him, she couldn't. He was trapped in this strange, oppressive space, bound by the curse of Vordenburg's power. And as she looked at Abel—broken and vulnerable—she realized she couldn't protect him from this.

For a moment, everything felt impossible.

But despite the weight of despair that seemed to cling to her every breath, Corrin wasn't ready to give up. Not yet. Not while there was still a chance to save Abel from this darkness.

"I won't let you win," she said quietly, her voice low but resolute. "Whatever it takes, I will help him. I won't let you control him any longer."

Vordenburg's grin faltered just slightly, his amusement flickering as he regarded her with an almost curious expression. "How sweet," he sneered, "but in the end, it's all the same. Abel will fall, and there's nothing you can do to stop it." His words carried a finality, as though he was certain of his victory.

But Corrin knew, deep down, that she couldn't stop now. She couldn't give in to this oppressive darkness. No matter the cost, she would fight. For Abel. For herself. For the future they both still had to fight for.

The weight of the memory still clung to Corrin, suffocating her every breath, as she knelt beside Abel's motionless body. The mist that had swallowed them earlier seemed to still haunt the air, wrapping around her like a cold, oppressive blanket. Abel lay there, crumpled and limp, as though every ounce of life had been drained from him. His expression was vacant, like a man lost in the void of his own torment.

Tears burned at the edges of her vision, but she refused to let them fall. Instead, Corrin clenched her jaw, forcing herself to stay focused, to act. She could not afford to break down now, not when Abel needed her most.

With a low, strained exhale, Corrin gathered her strength. She leaned down, wrapping her arms around Abel's torso, her hands brushing against his cool, lifeless skin. The sight of him so broken—so defeated—sent a pang of anguish through her chest. Yet she didn't hesitate. She would not let him stay like this. She couldn't.

The Dragon Stone, nestled securely in her pouch, pulsed with a warm, familiar energy as she pulled it from her side. The stone thrummed in her grasp, its power calling to her like an old friend, like a reminder of what she could do—what she had to do.

Corrin's heart raced as she held the stone up, channeling her will into it, her voice steady but thick with determination. "I won't let you stay lost, Abel," she whispered, the words barely escaping her lips before they were swallowed by the night.

A crackling surge of power enveloped her, the familiar sensation of transformation coursing through her veins. Her bones stretched, her skin burned, and with a violent, shuddering breath, she was consumed by the transformation. Her body was reshaped, her form growing larger, wings sprouting from her back with an unfathomable grace. The world around her spun and shifted as her consciousness expanded. She felt the rush of air fill her lungs, the wind against her scales as the weight of her human body melted away.

Corrin spread her wings wide, her dragon form roaring to life with a thunderous beat. She looked down at Abel, his unconscious form still cradled in her claws. She held him gently, but with a fierce protectiveness, ensuring that nothing would harm him. With a mighty thrust of her wings, she soared into the night sky, her heart pulsing with urgency. She couldn't leave him behind—not after all that he had suffered, not after all he had endured.

The ground below became a blur, and the sky stretched out before her, dark and infinite. The cool night air bit at her scales, but Corrin ignored it, focusing solely on the path ahead. She flew with purpose, her wings slicing through the air with practiced grace, driven by the unyielding will to return Abel to safety, to restore him to the person she knew he could still be.

The familiar landscape of the region stretched out beneath her, and in the distance, the cherry tree loomed, its blossoms faintly glowing in the dim light of the moon. She pushed herself harder, urgency driving her forward. The sight of the tree brought a sense of calm, of familiarity, of home.

As she approached the hilltop where the cherry tree stood, Corrin descended slowly, her massive wings beating with rhythmic power as she touched down on the earth. The transformation was not without its strain, but she had done this countless times before. Her dragon form began to shrink, her bones returning to their human shape, her wings folding in as she landed gracefully on the grass.

Once again, she was human, but now she felt an unshakable sense of urgency, an undying need to heal him. She carefully laid Abel's limp form down against the ancient trunk of the cherry tree, his head resting against the smooth bark. The cool wind swirled around them, but the tree seemed to offer a sense of solace, as though it, too, was offering its support.

Corrin opened the small pouch at her waist and pulled the blood bag, a gift that might help restore Abel's strength, to pull him from the brink. She placed it beside him, her hands trembling slightly as she checked to ensure the bag was still intact. The blood within was rich and potent, yet she knew that the physical nourishment wasn't what would truly bring him back. It was something far deeper than that—something that could only come from within.

She sat beside him, taking in the sight of the man she had come to love, the one who had fought with her, bled with her, and shared so much of his soul with her. Yet now, she saw only the remains of a man struggling with his past, with the darkness that he had tried so hard to escape.

The memory of what she had witnessed in the fog replayed itself in her mind—Kain, the monster Abel once was, reveling in his cruelty, his thirst for power, the chaos he had unleashed. And yet, even after all of that—after seeing the horrors Abel had endured—Corrin refused to give up on him. The man she had seen in the memory was not the Abel she knew. That man had been lost to the darkness, but he was not the man who stood beside her, who fought for what was right.

Corrin reached out, brushing a lock of hair away from Abel's forehead, her fingers lingering for a moment before she leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to his skin. It was soft, tender—a promise. Her voice, though quiet, was filled with sincerity and longing. "I love you, Abel. Not for the monster you once were, but for the man you've become. The one who stands by my side, the one who fights for others, the one who—" She paused, her throat tightening. She wasn't sure what else to say, only that she needed him to hear her words, even if he couldn't respond. "Please, come back to me."

Her hand trembled as she gripped the hilt of her sword, the cold steel a stark reminder of what lay ahead. She couldn't stand idly by. Not when there was a battle to be fought. Not when there was a monster like Vordenburg to stop. The curse that had twisted Abel's memories into something darker had to be broken, and she was the one who would do it.

Her resolve hardened as she stood, her sword drawn, gleaming with a sharp edge in the moonlight. The faint glow of the cherry tree illuminated the scene, casting long shadows on the ground. She couldn't lose him—not now.

"I won't let him win," she muttered to herself, her voice steady and unwavering. Her sword was raised high, her stance ready. "Vordenburg, you will pay for this. For all the pain you've caused. I won't let you hurt him again."

With one last look at Abel, her heart aching but resolute, Corrin turned away, her steps firm and purposeful as she began to make her way down the hill. Her blood burned with determination, her sword held tightly in her grip as she prepared to confront the man who had tortured Abel's soul. This fight wasn't just for her—it was for him, for them, for everything they had fought for. She would not let Vordenburg's darkness consume him. Not now. Not ever.