Chapter 129: Maybe Its Me

  The Golden Desert of Zarateph was vast, ancient, and utterly unforgiving.

  It was a place where the concept of mercy evaporated alongside the morning dew. The heat didn't just radiate; it sucked the moisture from the air, the ground, and the flesh with a voracious hunger. The sun hung in the sky like a hateful, unblinking white eye, bleaching the color from the world and baking the sand until it was hot enough to blister skin upon contact.

  Water was a myth here. Shade was a lie told by shifting dunes.

  And hiding beneath the surface, waiting for the vibration of a single footstep, were the flesh-eating fauna—scorpions, worms, and lizards—that viewed anything living not as a guest, but as a meal.

  No man, no matter how skilled or brave, should ever be here unprepared. And certainly, never alone.

  Yet, a lone figure moved through this hellscape.

  Raito walked.

  He didn't have his rucksack. He didn't have his water skin. He didn't have his sword or his Core. He had left them all behind in the crater, abandoning his lifeline along with his identity.

  He held a dry, brittle stick—likely the dead branch of a withered bush—clutching it like a lifeline for balance. He swayed with every step, his boots dragging through the deep sand, leaving a trail that the wind erased seconds later.

  His breathing was shallow, a ragged, wheezing rhythm that scraped against his parched throat. He panted, his lips cracked and bleeding, his eyes half-closed against the blinding glare.

  He was a ghost walking through a burning landscape, driven only by the echo of his own guilt.

  Suddenly, his legs gave out.

  He collapsed, his head hitting the scorching sand with a dull thud. He didn't try to get up. He just lay there, letting the heat seep into his cheek.

  How long has it been?

  The thought drifted through his mind, sluggish and heavy.

  Since... since I ran...

  Was it days? Weeks? It didn't matter. Time had lost its meaning under the endless sun.

  His eyebags were thick, almost black, stark against his pale, sun-scorched skin. His lips were parched parchment. He was an empty husk, hollowed out by despair.

  How long ago since he drank? Ate? Nobody knew. Not even him.

  Actually, he had tried. Yesterday—or was it the day before?—he had found a desert mango growing near a dead oasis. He had tried to relieve his thirst, desperate for moisture.

  Yet, he couldn't.

  Every time he tried to eat, to drink, bile rose in his throat. He would just throw up, his body rejecting sustenance. Because every time he closed his eyes, every time he tried to swallow, the image of Yukari laying bloodied on the sand was too vivid. It was burned into his retinas.

  Even now, his hands still shook with the phantom sensation of her blood.

  As for sleep? Forget about it. Nightmares about her broken body haunted him to no end, waking him up screaming in the empty desert night.

  "I don't even know how I am still alive..." he rasped into the sand. "I would be glad if everything ended right now... I can't... see..."

  Rumble.

  The ground shook next to him.

  A group of flesh-hungry green scorpions rose from the sands, disturbed by his presence. Their chitinous armor clicked, their pincers ready, their stingers dripping with neurotoxic venom.

  An easy prey had been delivered to them on a silver platter.

  Raito closed his eyes. He didn't fight. He didn't run.

  "End it right here..." he prayed, begged the universe. "Please."

  Yet, his wish wouldn't come true.

  SQUELCH.

  As soon as the scorpions got too close, they shrieked.

  Tendrils of black flame burst out of Raito's back, moving independently of his will. They lashed out like vipers, skewering the scorpions instantly. The flames consumed them, eating away the chitin and flesh like a defensive mechanism designed to keep its host alive at all costs.

  Raito cried. His tears evaporated instantly under the heat before they could even streak his dirty face.

  "It happened again."

  He thought by throwing away his Core, his sword, his source of power—or what he thought was the source—he would be free. Free to be normal. Free to die.

  Yet, he couldn't.

  Because the darkness wasn't an external power gifted to him. It came from him. It was woven into his very being.

  "Just let me die," he sobbed, his voice breaking.

  He lay there on the sand, head down, defeated by his own survival instinct, as more scorpions were consumed near him in a silent, black fire.

  Raito slammed his fist into the sand.

  The impact sent a spray of grains flying, but it did nothing to alleviate the pressure building inside his chest. Every guilt, every regret, every moment of weakness welled up inside him, a toxic brew ready to burst his ribcage.

  And every lie.

  That's right. Lies.

  Lies he had never personally told anyone. Not even... Yukari.

  With a groan of effort, Raito turned his body over. He lay on his back, staring up at the hateful, blinding white sun. He forced his eyes to stay open, letting the light burn into his retinas.

  "Maybe if the sun itself claimed me..." he thought, a desperate wish for obliteration.

  But the darkness wouldn't let him.

  Swish.

  The black flames that had consumed the scorpions surged upward. They spread out above him, weaving together like threads of smoke and oil, creating a perfect, impenetrable umbrella. A shade hiding him from the sun's onslaught. The temperature dropped instantly in the unnatural shadow.

  He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut against the darkness that refused to leave him.

  "No, no. I won't let you die," the voice whispered to him, closer now, as if it were speaking from within his own throat.

  "You are me," Raito answered, his voice cracked and dry. "Please. Let me die."

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  "No, you can't," the voice whispered, sounding almost tender. "Because if you die... she will be sad."

  Raito choked. The voice was correct. It was the one truth he couldn't argue against.

  But how could he live with it? With the guilt? With the lies?

  He looked back, searching the archives of his memory. When was it that he started lying? He had promised Yukari to never lie. Both of them did, they vowed, when he proposed.

  But... he did. He had lied by omission. He had lied by pretending.

  Was it the underground coliseum?

  He remembered Azul Spira. The first time he noticed the Black Flame surging during a fight. The moment he noticed his power surges were stronger than they had ever been, fueled by a hunger he didn't understand.

  No... that was not it.

  His mind drifted once more. To the ocean. To the ship.

  It certainly was against that pirate... Black Beard? Rainbow Beard? A name not worth remembering.

  He remembered the sensation. The moment Koenka—no, the moment he—cut off the pirate's arms.

  It hadn't felt horrifying. It hadn't felt like a desperate act of survival.

  It felt nice. It felt exhilarating. A rush of dopamine and power that made his blood sing. He had finally started to become stronger. He had thought his Core had evolved to answer his wish to protect her.

  He couldn't wait to tell Yukari. Look! I'm strong! I can protect us!

  He had turned to her, a smile on his face, ready to share his victory.

  Yet...

  All he could see was her face. Not relieved. Not proud.

  She was shocked. She was scared. Her silver eyes were wide with terror, looking at him not as her husband, but as a stranger. As a monster.

  Yes... that was it.

  Raito covered his face with his arm, hiding from the shadow he created.

  That was the reason I started lying.

  From then on, this feeling of irritation, of simmering aggression, started to form itself inside of him like a pearl of hate.

  I am strong now, right?

  The question raced in Raito’s mind every day, a constant, buzzing static. So why are... why are they afraid? Why is she afraid?

  Every burst of aggression, every threat he spoke, every moment where his patience snapped—it was all... him.

  He remembered telling Malik to move or else he would kill him. He remembered it vividly. He remembered the thrill of the threat, the logic of it.

  How could I not? It was all me.

  He was strong now. He could protect Yukari. Anyone who stood in his way, anyone who delayed him or threatened her, should move. That was obvious. That was natural selection.

  So why... why is she looking at me with those eyes? Like I'm not me?

  So... he started lying.

  Every time Yukari asked, "What is going on with you?" or "Are you alright?"—every single question laced with concern—he dodged it. He played up his innocence, widening his eyes, forcing a confused smile.

  "What do you mean? I don't know. I don't feel different."

  The words that came out of his mouth were smooth, practiced reassurances.

  That was when I told myself, it's fine. She doesn't need to know. I just need to be like... that other part of me. The weak part. As long... as long as I can protect her.

  He thought back to the museum fire mystery.

  It was fun. I got to play Shillook, Raito smirked under his arm, a dark expression hidden from the world. But... I won't forgive Kaden.

  He remembered Yukari’s twisted ankle. She had been injured protecting him.

  Why didn't I activate my Black Flame sooner? It would have been good enough to consume Kaden's mad flame. She wouldn't have had to get injured.

  Raito at that time could only feel anger. Pure, unadulterated rage at his own hesitation.

  So when the chance arose... when I cornered that rat in that alley... I took it.

  He paid him back. He paid back the sin of injuring her hundredfold. He made sure Kaden would regret ever being born, ever drawing breath. He didn't care if the man was a grieving father or a victim of circumstance.

  He hurt Yukari. So he had to pay.

  Then he remembered again. Yukari’s terrified eyes as he held Kaden by the throat in the lantern light.

  Why is she so scared? he questioned the darkness. I got the bastard that hurt her...

  Even worse, Lady Lihua—her own mother—had attacked him. She tried to subjugate him, saying he got "corrupted."

  I became strong. For us, Raito thought, fresh tears streaming down his face, mixing with the sand.

  So he played up his act. He restricted this "power" as much as he could, suppressing the urge to destroy, at least until the royal wedding was over.

  But why? Why should I hold back?

  "I am not corrupted," he whispered. "I'm me."

  "That's right. I am me," the voice whispered back, becoming one with Raito’s own voice.

  Raito lowered his arm. He stared into the black flame above him.

  The voice. The thing that had been whispering sinisterly in his ear, goading him, comforting him. It was never an external source of corruption. It was never a demon or a god possessing him.

  "It was simply... Me," Raito said out loud.

  Then they dared to bench me, he thought, anger flaring hot in his chest. Taking an arduous expedition without me. What if Yukari got hurt?

  I came with Bob, chasing after them. And I was right.

  He replayed the moment. The worm. The one Yukari missed. It would have killed her.

  And the mechanical beasts. The danger is all here. So why was I benched? If I never came here, Yukari would have...

  The horror of the hypothetical situation overwhelmed him. He gagged, dry heaving into the sand.

  "Yeah, that's right," he whispered, wiping his mouth. "I came. I followed her. To protect her."

  He remembered watching the two Lords—demigods in their own right—get beaten. They were no match for the might of the two mechanical beasts.

  Then, the order to retreat came.

  Retreat.

  Was that a joke? Coming from the War Empress herself? That had to be a joke, right? He had thought at the time.

  But it was genuine. They were going to run. They were going to leave the structure, and potentially leave the danger to fester.

  So... I had enough. If these weaklings kept being around Yukari, she would only get hurt.

  So he walked. He walked towards the beasts. It was time to let loose. It was time to show his full strength.

  And I was correct. Those beasts... they were nothing before me.

  He thought back to the fight. But then, once again, that vision flashed in his mind. Fresh. Vivid.

  He still remembered the attack coming towards him—a burst of flames and frost. His movement had been restricted by the trap. But no worries. He was strong enough to deflect it. He could have taken it.

  But then... I felt it.

  Yukari pushing him out of the way. Taking the full brunt of the attack.

  Why? he thought, tears streaming down his face again. Why... why is she still protecting me? I should have been...

  His mind raced. Her broken, limp body. The blood.

  And then... he couldn't really remember. Just that he surrendered himself more to the darkness, wishing for more power. Rejecting the reality.

  And then light. He saw her hands on his cheek. Then she collapsed again, still broken.

  Nothing mattered to me at that moment.

  Despite everything—despite his power, despite his victory—she was still hurt. Because of him.

  So... I gave away everything.

  He threw away the ring. He threw away the necklace. He threw away everything that had built him up to that point. Nothing mattered anymore. Because of him, she got hurt.

  He cried again, his body shaking with the force of his sobs.

  Back in Jinlun... she got hurt saving me from the prison. I tried to take the blame. I tried to die so she could still live as a noblewoman. Yet she chose me, and thus she got hurt.

  Then in Hanyuun, it happened again. She started eliminating people in the name of a tyrant warlord, all because I couldn't protect myself. Because that warlord used my life as a bargaining chip.

  So he picked up the sword. He tried to be better.

  But time and time again... despite everything... with the giant mechanical serpent... in Azul Spira with Emile... with the killer doll... she got hurt again and again.

  So, the only conclusion... the only correct answer... was that it was all because of him.

  "I am her bad luck," he whispered to the sand.

  So he had to leave. It was the only way to save her.

  "If only I never met her..." he sobbed, closing his eyes against the sun.

  Above him, the umbrella of black flame flickered. The darkness, which had been a solid sheet of void, began to fray at the edges, letting slivers of blinding white light pierce through.

  "Finally," Raito croaked, his throat raw.

  He looked up at his own power, at the manifestation of his will to survive.

  "Enough is enough," he said, his voice flat and final. "I'm done. Do not protect me anymore."

  The black flame wavered, pulsing as if arguing with him, but its hold on reality weakened.

  "She would be happier somewhere else," Raito whispered, the truth tasting like ash in his mouth. "With someone else. Someone strong. Someone who doesn't hurt her."

  He let his arm drop to the sand.

  "I am a failure."

  With those words, the black flame dissipated fully. It didn't fade slowly; it simply vanished, ceasing to be.

  The full, unmitigated weight of the desert sun slammed into him. The heat was a physical hammer, cooking his skin instantly. The air shimmered, thick and suffocating.

  "Yeah," Raito thought, feeling his consciousness unraveling like a loose thread. "It's enough. I'm tired."

  Right then and there, the adrenaline that had fueled his escape, the hysteria that had driven his steps, and the supernatural endurance that had kept him moving all evaporated. Both mental and physical exhaustion caught up to him in a crushing wave.

  He closed his eyes. The world was gone, taken by the darkness—not of the flame, but of oblivion.

  However, Raito was not the only one there.

  As soon as he went limp, a figure emerged from the heat haze, running toward him with silent, purposeful strides.

  The figure was clad in a ragged, sun-bleached cloak that blended perfectly with the dunes. Their face was hidden deep underneath a hood, obscured by layers of scarves.

  They knelt beside the fallen boy.

  "..."

  They tried to wake Raito up, shaking his shoulder gently.

  Raito was unresponsive, a doll with its strings cut.

  The figure moved their head toward his chest, pressing their ear against his sternum.

  Thump...

  Thump...

  Thump…

  Faint, slow, but there. A beating heart.

  The figure nodded once.

  With surprising ease, they picked Raito up, hoisting his limp body onto their back. They adjusted his weight, securing his arms, and then stood up.

  Without a backward glance, they moved, carrying the runaway deeper into the unknown.