Arc#3 Chapter 49: Emptiness (Patreon)

“Now then!” Reivan spoke with enthusiasm, trying to rid his mind of the wonderful view he’d been unexpectedly treated to. From his spacial ring, he took out three black marbles that appeared to be made of some black glass-like material. “You three — Greyviel, Elvar, and Desmor — will have to swallow these slave pellets. This is the minimum concession I expect from you gentlemen.”

"Slave pellets?" Greyviel looked bewildered, staring at the contents of the youth's hand. "I've never heard of them before..."

"Understandable. This is the first time they're seeing use outside of test subjects, after all." Reivan fiddled with the three marbles, each the size of a pea. "Once swallowed, they are effectively the same as slave collars — except they skip the strangling and restraining part, going straight into the killing part. At first, I thought it'd be better to just make it blow up the person's stomach, but that would be far too gruesome, don't you think? And the victim could use it to take their master out on a journey to the afterlife together. As such, although I won't tell you for secrecy's sake, the way it'll kill the victim has been made more subtle."

Ignoring the strange looks on the three men's faces, Reivan smiled at them.

"This is much better than going around with a collar, no? This way, your status as a slave isn't apparent to anyone with two working eyeballs."

Desmor just looked uneasily at his elder brother, while Elvar’s face contorted into a grimace. They were both filled with apprehension, but still, the two said nothing. They likely knew that they weren’t in a position to negotiate after they barely kept their lives.

Greyviel, on the other hand, was different. With a slight frown on his usually calm face, he stroked his long white beard. “Is that not going too far, Mr. Ken? As the young lady mentioned earlier, harmony breeds wealth. I find it hard to fathom how we can truly work together if one side's freedom is restricted.”

Reivan's masked face remained impassive as he listened to Greyviel's words. He understood the old man's concern, but he couldn't afford to let his guard down. "Mr. Greyviel, I appreciate your perspective on harmony and wealth. However, in this particular situation, these tools serve as a necessary precaution. I don’t have the hobby of being betrayed, after all.”

“You don’t trust us.”

“Of course, I don’t. Of the two brothers, one’s a pedophile that had intentions of working with an organization like the silver cross, and then the fat one’s… well, dumb. I wouldn’t put it past him to reveal sensitive information without even noticing what he’d done."

The two brothers looked offended, but Reivan continued.

"And as for you, old sorcerer, your swift judgment to switch sides proves your wisdom and decisiveness, but otherwise makes your lack of loyalty apparent. Furthermore, your previous action of blowing Ballor — someone who should've been a comrade to you — to the other side of the room is enough proof that you can’t be trusted easily.”

“With all due respect, Mr. Ken, Ballor was a contemptible individual. Though I admit I personally felt annoyed by him, I believe most people would agree that the world would be a much better place without him.”

Elsamina nodded vigorously. “I agree with that part…”

Reivan could feel a smile form on his face as he listened to the red-haired woman.

‘It’s great that she’s speaking up now.’

If she’d remained too timid, it would have made Reivan’s plans for her a bit harder. But it seemed that he had worried for nothing. Throwing another glance at Elsamina, Reivan’s gaze was pulled to her chest area before he could stop himself, causing him to be relieved and sad when he discovered that she’d already fully covered herself up with the cloak he’d given her.

Turning back to the elderly sorcerer, Reivan stubbornly shook his head. “As I said, this is my minimum condition. Don’t worry, the only order I’ll be giving you through it is that you can’t betray me or the organizations I belong to. You all will remain mostly autonomous.”

Greyviel calmed down a little upon hearing his words, but there was still a bit of defiance in the old man’s eyes.

“And what if we refuse?”

Reivan chuckled as the knights on his left and right glowered menacingly at Greyviel, daring him to try anything. Even Xanthus placed his hand on the pommel of his sheathed blade.

‘The jammers have fully taken effect at this point. He can’t resist even if he wanted to.’

Whether it be sorcery or those runestone knock-offs called spell balls, both would be ineffective in this room — not after the imperial invention called spell jammers had destabilized the atmospheric mana in the surroundings.

And since the old man didn’t have a soul-bond or the expertise to use advanced magic power application, then he was currently as threatening as any other old man you could find off the street.

Greyviel likely knew this too since a resigned sigh escaped his lips. “I suppose this is the fate of the defeated.”

“Indeed, it is.”

The three men each took one of the slave pellets and looked at the tiny black object — the obsidian-like material glimmered faintly with minuscule runes similar to the ones present on a sorcerer's wand. With hesitation on their faces and a knight behind them prepared to part their heads from their bodies should they refuse, they all threw the tiny pellets into their mouths and swallowed with aid from glasses of water that Reivan gave out.

Their eyes shimmered with a piercing blue light before dimming back to their original state, signifying the irrevocable loss of their freedom.

“Wonderful.” Reivan clapped before standing up and stepping aside, gesturing at the door. “You can all leave now. And remember, don’t look for me. I will come to you.”

“Then I will take my leave.” Greyviel bowed respectfully before marching out the door, throwing a glance at Xanthus as he passed by.

The two brothers also moved to take their leave right after. Reivan had wondered how Desmor could have possibly made the trip here, but the question he never got to ask was immediately answered when Elvar pulled out a large and heavy-duty wheelchair from his spacial ring.

‘He’s surprisingly strong even though he looks so thin. Or maybe he’s just used to it?’

Elvar helped his obese brother climb onto the wheelchair and then pushed him out through the double doors, leaving Reivan, Xanthus, Elsamina, two knights, and a barely-alive Ballor in the chamber.

‘Whoops. Almost forgot about that guy.’

##########

Truth be told, Reivan had expected Ballor to die in the previous battle, perhaps as a shield for Valmir, their boss.

However, everything went far smoother than expected, since the ex-battlemage’s injuries were more severe than they had expected, making the battle end quicker. For secrecy’s sake, the knights had ended up using some consumables, but it wasn’t anything to cry over since the runestone they had used was easily crafted by Valter yesterday.

‘I have the darkness attribute too, so I should be able to do that eventually, right?’

An ordinary mortal may not have caught sight of it, but Reivan’s eyes were special. That’s why he was able to see what looked like a black hole swallow Valmir’s all-or-nothing attack.

‘That was so cool… Oh, wait a minute. Focus, focus… this isn’t the time for this.’

“Xanthus, could you drag that person over?” Reivan gestured lazily at Ballor and sat back down on his chair. He also procured one for Elsamina, but she refused, evidently preferring to stand.

“Understood.”

Following Reivan’s orders, Xanthus strode over to where Ballor was and literally dragged the man over, his thin body drawing a fresh trail of blood on the already bloody carpet. The silent warrior roughly set the unconscious sorcerer in front of where Reivan was sitting and then started stripping Ballor of anything that could be used to resist — a wand, a small enchanted dagger, and four spacial rings which contained a variety of items that the bastard had been hoarding.

As Xanthus did his work, Reivan did his best to accommodate the most pitiful person in the room. He took out a flask of water from a certain serpent’s stomach and offered it to her.

“Thank you, sir.” Perhaps because she’d already refused him earlier, she reluctantly accepted.

Reivan was very satisfied by her acceptance, thinking that the road to a harmonious partnership started with small acts like these. He took out a flask of his own, took a sip, enjoyed the coldness of the beverage, then poured the rest of the flask’s contents on Ballor’s head.

"Ugh!" Ballor groaned, his consciousness gradually returning. His eyelids fluttered as his mind seemingly struggled to regain stability.

“Good day, Mr. Ballor.” Reivan drawled, a sneer on his face as he sent Xanthus a glance.

With a blank look on his face, Xanthus kicked Ballor in the stomach, forcefully expelling the air from the sorcerer’s lungs. The sudden violent act made Elsamina flinch, but Reivan soon saw the corner of her lips twitch upward while she watched Ballor have a coughing fit.

Drool dripping from his mouth, Ballor raised his head and stared at Reivan with sharp eyes. “A kid…?”

“How rude. At least call me a young man.” Reivan chuckled. Despite his demeanor though, his thoughts were cold as ice.

'Should I just have him killed?'

Throwing him into Grimharbor Penitentiary was an option, but that had the possibility of connecting his persona as Ken — the gang boss — to Aizen. Creating some elaborate way to make it so that the authorities just so happen to find the criminal would be far too much of a pain too, so it would be better to not get the government involved in this.

While Ballor could have been useful under careful supervision, Reivan placed a higher value on Elsamina and her abilities. Considering their relationship, it was unlikely that she would align herself with an organization that included Ballor.

So, considering the situation, the choice was obvious — Ballor had to go.

And given his knowledge, worthlessness, and the likelihood that he lacked the necessary karma to be accepted into heaven, Reivan saw no alternative but to consign the man to the depths of hell.

Just as he was about to ask Xanthus to lop the fool's head off, Reivan was suddenly struck with a brilliant idea when he unconsciously threw a glance at Elsamina's chest for the umpteenth time.

'Isn't this perfect? She should be raring to have a go at this guy. It'll be the perfect way to build some rapport!'

Reivan nodded at his own brilliance before turning to the redhead standing to the side. “Well? What do you propose we do to this?”

##########

"Huh...?" Elsamina’s eyes widened and bewilderment crossed her face. “You’re asking m-me, sir?”

“Yes.”

Gaining confirmation, Elsamina looked stumped as her eyes fell on the man who’d caused her more than a decade’s worth of suffering.

The youth's beautiful blue eyes locked onto her as he spoke gently. “Ms. Elsamina, you of all people know what this man has done. And you know full well what he can do. I understand if your kind nature made you feel mercy for Desmor, but even a saint wouldn’t bestow compassion upon a bastard like this.”

“B-but why me…”

“Call it a gift from me. You get to choose his fate.” Ken smiled and looked down at the sorcerer. “Cut him, boil him, make him into a stew for all I care. I have no intentions of enslaving you, Ms. Elsamina, so you’re a free man now… Uh, a free woman, I mean. Let this be your first opportunity to exercise that privilege.”

Xanthus then stepped forward and handed the confused Elsamina two things — a gun and the enchanted dagger that Ballor had on his person.

The youth gestured at the man on the ground. "End him immediately or end him slowly. The choice is yours."

Ken's words still echoing inside her head, Elsamina couldn't help but gulp as she looked at the objects in her hands. It wasn't her first time holding weapons, but she had only ever held them as a slave.

Now? She wasn't restricted by anything.

The freedom to do whatever she wanted with the weapons made her hands tremble. How many times had she dreamed about taking a gun and using Ballor's testicles for target practice? How many times had she wished to stab a fork into that hateful man's eyeball and twist it around while he screamed louder than the filthiest whore? And how many times did she wish for the gods above to enact justice by ridding the world of a living plague like him?

Too many to count.

Every time that man forced himself on her, let other people toy with her, or beat a new girl to death, Elsamina vehemently prayed to every god she knew.

To save them.

To help them.

To get them out of this unfortunate life.

'Now... Now I can do it myself.'

The gun would end things too fast, so Elsamina's gaze focused on the enchanted dagger — which she knew from experience had the effect of heating up after contact and making the victim more sensitive to pain. She could almost see the faces of all the unfortunate girls the dagger slew reflected on the surface of the blade, screaming at her to avenge them.

"You..." Elsamina looked up and bit her trembling lips as she neared Ballor, who was now tied up and laying face-up on the bloody floor. "My brother..."

"H-hey, don't come near me with that!" Ballor's sallow face was drenched with blood, sweat, and snot as he tried to slowly squirm away.

Unfortunately, Xanthus would break all of his hopes.

"You're moving too much, Ballor." The usually quiet knight casually placed a foot on Ballor's knee before stepping down.

A sickening snap echoed through the air, followed by Ballor's wild screaming. Barely ten seconds passed before another crack reverberated as Xanthus broke Ballor's other knee.

Elsamina flinched, stopping in her tracks. But she eventually regained enough courage to ask the burning question in her mind. "You said my brother was dead... Was that... Was that true...?"

"That..." Ballor seemed to be flickering in and out of consciousness, but his eyes seemed to regain some light at her words. "Th-that was a lie. I just s-said that... to mess with you. If you tell these guys to lay off, I'll take you to your brother. Only I know where he is, so..."

"He's lying. Just so you know."

Elsamina chuckled helplessly in despair. She did not need the mysterious youth's strangely confident remark to convince her that Ballor was lying.

'He's dead...'

Strangely, the realization no longer stirred anger within her. If that was a sign that she'd long accepted the fact, Elsamina didn't know. However, she knew she would never be the same after today.

With slow steps, she stepped toward Ballor and straddled him. It was something she'd been forced to do countless times in the past. This was the first and last time she would ever do it willingly.

"This is for you, Emil," Elsamina spoke to her little brother in the afterlife and closed her eyes for a moment. Once they opened, she slowly drove the dagger into the middle of Ballor's chest.

The room filled with the sound of his screams and the scent of burning flesh, yet Elsamina remained blankly fixated on the eyes of the man who had destroyed her life.

"AHHH! SHIT! STOP IT! I DON'T WANNA DIE! FUCK! FUCK!!"

Despite Ballor's fierce struggles, she continued to plunge the dagger deeper and deeper into his body...

"YOU STUPID FUCKING BITCH! STOP IT! STOP RIGHT NOW...!"

Slowly...

"IT HURTS! FUCK! SHIT! AGH...!"

Slowly...

"Stop it... please..."

...until the entire blade was buried within the wretched man's chest

"You b-bitch..." were Ballor's last words as his gaze gradually lost focus, his breath ceasing.

Still holding the hilt of the dagger, Elsamina was expressionless as he stared at the corpse's face. The stench of burning flesh continued to invade her senses, but none of that mattered to her right now.

'He's dead...'

Years and years and years of suffering, hatred, and oppression... Elsamina felt like Ballor's death provided an ending to that story.

'It's finally over...'

As the reality of what she had accomplished sunk in, Elsamina felt a multitude of emotions well up within her. Relief, tinged with a sense of liberation washed over her, feeling as if a heavy weight had been lifted from her soul after Ballor's demise.

'It's over...'

However, amidst the calmness that enveloped her, a pang of emptiness echoed within. Ballor's death hadn't magically erased all of the scars etched into her heart and soul. Nor could it bring back the innocence she'd been robbed of and the people he'd slain for frivolous reasons.

The object of her hatred was dead. And Emil, her little brother, was gone as well.

Elsamina didn't know much about the mysterious youth that would apparently take over the Silver Cross, but Ken didn't strike her as someone who would oppress the young girls back in Arkhan without reason.

So with that, Elsamina no longer had a purpose.

Nobody to loathe, no family to seek out, and no one she needed to protect.

Should she even continue living? Perhaps she could just use the loaded gun to end her own life right this instant.

Feeling lost and unsure, Elsamina turned her blank gaze to the mysterious youth, Ken, who had quietly watched the entire scene unfold.

"What do I do now...?"