The Transcendent Godslayer
Chapter 54: Regrets

Chapter 54: Regrets

"What do you mean you can’t find him?!"

Ariel’s roar shook the air, his fists crashing down on Luiz like an unrelenting storm.

Each blow landed with the force of a falling mountain, sending out shockwaves that shattered the ground beneath them.

The two men; so vastly different from their usual selves, stood in stark contrast to their former images.

Ariel had lost his usual calm and composed demeanor. His face was twisted with rage, marred by fury, his once-refined elegance replaced by the savage wrath of a man driven beyond reason.

He descended on Luiz like a barbarian, his brutal strikes devoid of skill or finesse... just raw, unchecked power.

And Luiz; the once-proud patriarch, always radiating regality and authority, now curled up like a bullied child in a corner, bloodied and broken, as the Saint’s unrelenting fists crashed on him.

Bruises and deep wounds marred his body, his clothes torn and soaked in blood. His face that was hidden with his arms as he curled like a ball, was swollen and battered... barely recognizable beneath the damage.

He looked disheveled, beaten and helpless.

A man utterly crushed beneath the weight of loss and failure.

It was a surprise he was still alive.

Azarel stood at a distance, watching as his brother thrashed his own son.

And yet, he did nothing.

He didn’t step in, neither did he didn’t speak up. He just watched.

Was it wrong? Yes. Was it a bad thing? Absolutely. Was it evil? Without a doubt.

They, as Saints, had failed in their duty.

They had searched every inch of Xenith and still found nothing. If there was anyone to blame, or be punished for incompetence, it was them.

But who could punish them?

Who had the power to discipline Saints?

Could a child punish their own parent when the parent was at fault? Perhaps.

But only if the child had power... power like the law, a court, or an authority greater than them.

On Ares, however, things were different.

Here, truth belonged to those who wielded power. And Saints wielded power.

There was no authority that could rule over them... At least, none that was known, no court, absolutely nothing.

That left a truth that was simple: Ariel was venting his frustration on Luiz, and Azarel wasn’t going to stop him.

Because, in a way... It made sense.

The Saints of the Crimson family had been preoccupied. They had been outnumbered by enemy Saints, barely holding their ground. They had no time to focus on anything that didn’t pose an immediate, catastrophic threat.

But sometimes, it wasn’t the grand moves that toppled empires.

A single wound to the foundation... and the whole house crumbles.

And the one who should have been guarding that foundation had failed.

Why hadn’t Luiz gone for Kallen himself?

Why had he stayed back to fight instead?

Azarel knew the answer. And somehow he hated it.

Luiz had chosen duty over love.

Maybe it was the right choice... Maybe it wasn’t. But it had cost them dearly.

And even if Luiz had gone to Kallen... Would he have been able to stop whoever had done this?

Whoever had eluded the senses of Saints?

That person had to be a Saint themselves—perhaps one on their level, possessing an ability that could hide from the Saints of the Crimson family.

Perhaps it was someone with a treasure... a relic powerful enough to mask their presence, deceive their senses, and snatch Kallen away without a trace.

Either way, this enemy was dangerous.

Azarel exhaled sharply. His crimson eyes darkened.

"Ariel."

His brother’s name left his lips like a command.

Ariel stopped. His fists unclenched, fingers trembling with barely contained rage.

Ofcourse he had already made all of these deductions too. He had always known.

And yet, he still had to do it.

From the very beginning, both he and Azarel had disagreed with Luiz and the way he acted cold and apathetic toward Kallen.

But Luiz had done it anyway.

It was understandable as it was for Kallen’s protection. The forces after him were numerous and very soon he would have to face them... If he wasn’t already in their hands.

And now, maybe... that gamble had gone horribly wrong.

Ariel stared at Luiz’s trembling figure.

The sight of him bruised, bloodied, trembling while curled up like a weak child, and yet silent, sent a strange discomfort rippling through his chest.

After venting his rage, the flood of emotions that had consumed him began to wane, leaving behind a hollow, unsettling silence.

A scholar at heart, he knew emotions were fleeting, but this... This was different.

His face, however, gave away nothing. The usual calm, composed, and unreadable expression returned as if the storm had never happened.

Then, he turned to Azarel.

His brother just stood there with his same sagely appearance, saying nothing, but he felt his silence spoke volumes.

Ariel sighed.

Even though they were brothers, what he had just done: thrashing Azarel’s son like a ragdoll, was undeniably disrespectful.

And yet, Azarel had allowed it.

Because he understood.

Azarel had always been the one to make sacrifices between them, always been the one to carry burdens that no one else wanted to bear, always been the one to make the hard choices.

And Ariel felt that maybe he had abused that. But he wasn’t sure. He wasn’t even sure why he was even feeling this way.

These thoughts... these emotions... these were not things for Saints.

Saints were meant to be above such things. They were meant to be unshackled, detached, beyond the limitations of mortal sentiment.

He exhaled slowly, feeling an unfamiliar weight settle in his chest.

"...I’m sorry."

His voice was barely above a whisper, but somehow Azarel who was far away heard it and just nodded.

He made sure Luiz however, did not.

Because if Luiz heard it, that would be admission of his fault. It was the same as saying he was wrong. It would allow Luiz to break free from his guilt and rage.

But right now Luiz needed those emotions.

Cold logic and rationality could carry a man far, but sometimes, raw emotion was needed for a burst drive beyond limits that reason could not push you to.

Perhaps Luiz would resent him for this later, Ariel didn’t care.

Even if the messenger was hated, as long as the message was received, it could still be counted as victory... Right?

After all, wasn’t that exactly what Luiz had done to Kallen?

Hadn’t Luiz played the role of the cold and distant father?

Hadn’t he hardened his son for the sake of protection?

Maybe what Ariel had done was a lesser crime. Or maybe it was far worse.

At the very least, Luiz was still his nephew.

Even if he hated Ariel for this, it wouldn’t compare to the pain of a son who felt abandoned by his father.

Ariel sighed again.

Then, without another word, he vanished.