Count’s Youngest Son is a Warlock-Chapter 270: The Fifth Story (2)
T/N: The words in italics are Lucion’s.
Despite his lingering doubts, one thing remains certain—Veronia had been the one orchestrating the world’s repetition.
The black figure also knew the identity of the Hand of the Void’s boss.
And all the stories he had shared so far—those were things only Lucion Cronia, who had lived through them, could possibly know.
Then, the black figure removed his mask.
‘That’s right.’
He smiled—a smile identical to Lucion’s own.
Thud.
The mask hit the ground with a hollow echo.
‘Well done, Lucion.’
At the black figure’s praise, Lucion flinched, unable to believe what he was hearing.
‘Why are you so surprised?’
The black figure grinned again.
‘Oh, you’re weak to compliments, aren’t you?’
Lucion felt a deep discomfort. Staring at a face that was a perfect mirror of his own unsettled him.
Yet the black figure paid no mind and began circling around him.
‘I grew up surrounded by ghosts hurling accusations at me, people whispering that I was insane. Love? I could barely protect myself—where would I have found time to feel something like that?’
Tap.
‘Father grew weary of shielding me. Brother avoided me. Sister ran away. And Mother…’
The black figure trailed off, swallowing his words.
Tap.
‘Being in this awkward state, belonging neither here nor there… Bearing the name Cronia yet unable to truly be Cronia. What I longed for was that name—and power.’
Lucion could no longer stay silent.
‘What are you doing right now?’
‘Introducing myself.’
The black figure smirked.
‘You and I are both Lucion Cronia, yet we are different. So, I should properly introduce myself, don’t you think?’
He resumed his steps.
The once-lighthearted rhythm of his footsteps grew heavier.
‘I rejected Russell. To be shunned as a monster my whole life, only to become a warlock in the end? That’s crazy. It was a crazy fate.’
Tap.
‘Because of that, I barely learned any black magic. How could Ratta have ever appeared when I rejected the darkness? A divine beast, a guardian of the darkness, is born from the desire to protect oneself… but I failed even the most basic requirement.’
Lucion’s eyes narrowed as realization dawned on him.
‘You’re… me from the previous world.’
‘Correct.’
The black figure chuckled, flipping back the strands of hair that grazed his shoulders.
‘I must have been a useful reference for you to avoid death.’
His voice took on a bitter edge.
‘A fool who lost Russell, fell into corruption, and was stupid enough to be used by Veronia until the very end—before dying.’
‘But how do you know all of this? Is it the power of the black orb?’
‘No.’ The black figure shook his head.
‘I’m just a fragment of ego that came along with the black magic created by Russell and the darkness combined.’
The black figure raised his finger, tracing circles in the air.
‘I may be dead, but my soul hasn’t perished. Or rather… it is mine, yet at the same time, it isn’t.’
‘What?’
‘It belongs to the great King of Darkness, yet at the same time, it is Lucion Cronia. You. Or rather… Lee Haram.’
‘So… all of that is me?’
‘That’s right. I stood at the boundary between life and death, and through that gap, I saw everything—past, present, and future.’
The black figure’s swirling finger came to a stop, now pointing at his own temple.
‘Although I am merely a fragment of ego, I have enough power to steal yours. That’s why I warned you not to linger here for too long—I coveted your body.’
Lucion scoffed.
‘Am I supposed to applaud you for being so considerate, despite your ability to take over my body?’
‘At first, I considered it. Why wouldn’t I? Isn’t that what everyone thinks? If I could return to the past, I could undo all my failures.’
‘And?’
‘Don’t be so stiff. I don’t intend to take your body anymore.’
‘Why? Don’t you crave it? You must.’
Lucion’s lips curled slightly.
‘After all, you are me. And the world keeps repeating. This world—created by Veronia—is an unnatural place, designed to ensure that the vessel always dies. More than anything… I don’t believe I could do any better than you.’
At the black figure’s bittersweet smile, Lucion felt his shoulders relax slightly.
‘I’m glad.’
The black figure slowly turned away from Lucion, walking away.
It was truly a relief.
Lucion knew.
Because he was him.
‘Relief? For what?’
Lucion asked bluntly.
‘You made it this far, didn’t you?’
‘If it weren’t for my teacher, I wouldn’t have come this far.’
‘Lucion, whether someone pushed you forward or not, you are the one who walked this path. A path no other Lucion has taken.’
‘Should I be happy about that?’
‘Of course. Be proud. The moment to end this wretched world has finally come.’
‘Not yet…’
‘I know. It’s still too early to determine the outcome. But you’ve already accomplished what I wanted to do but could never.’
His voice wavered slightly.
‘I wanted to clear misunderstandings with my family, wanted to save my teacher, and I… wanted to be happy like you.’
The black figure turned back around, his expression fragile—on the verge of tears.
But he didn’t cry.
‘I’m glad you didn’t push your teacher away.’
Instead, he smiled softly.
‘I’m truly… happy that you’re different from me.’
Lucion understood.
He realized something then—his past self had never called Russell
Teacher
.
A strange feeling washed over him.
Looking at the black figure—his own face smiling back at him—he felt a pang of sorrow.
‘I hope you don’t become me.’
The regret in the black figure’s voice was unmistakable.
‘I have no intention of doing that.’
‘Good. That’s enough.’
The black figure let out a small chuckle.
There was no need for excessive words between them.
Even though things had changed from a certain point, Lucion was still himself.
‘The servant of darkness can never be darkness. When darkness disappears, so too does the light.’
The black figure’s voice suddenly dropped, signaling the start of the fifth story.
‘You expected this, didn’t you, Lucion?’
The black figure stepped forward, closing the distance between them.
‘Your teacher hasn’t disappeared.’
With a gentle push, the black figure urged Lucion forward.
‘Go quickly. He’s waiting for you.’
This time, it felt different.
It was unlike before—being suddenly pushed backward shifted Lucion’s perspective of the black figure.
‘If… if you ever get the chance, please pass on my words—tell Teacher that I’m sorry, and tell my brother that I’m grateful.’
His bitter voice reached Lucion’s ears.
At last, the black figure—no, his past self—shed tears.
* * *
The sight of corruption, reminiscent of the Sea of Death, resembled a world on the brink of destruction.
“Veronia,” he said. “I am one who exists for this world. You know that, don’t you?”
Veronia’s face paled with shock. Resentment flickered in his eyes.
“Are you saying… you’re abandoning us after all?”
“I do know.”
He raised his hand and lightly tapped Veronia’s shoulder.
“I know that the light is killing you, that corruption is consuming you. I will not abandon you—so let go of your sorrow.”
“Then… what were you doing while we were being consumed, turning into monsters?” Veronia brushed his hand away, his voice trembling.
Veronia’s grief was unmistakable. Even at a glance, it was clear he was barely holding himself together.
He stepped forward, lifting a hand to gesture at the waves of corruption surging like an unstoppable tide.
“My children have been betrayed. Can you not hear their cries of sorrow?” (V)
His power spread across the world for the sake of all that had perished.
That power took on a will of its own, soon becoming what was known as darkness.
But to be betrayed by those blessed by the light—that was true sorrow.
“The sorrow that has seeped into this world is so vast, it threatens to consume even me. And it will continue to spread, tainting even more of the darkness. But soon…it won’t be long now. The power to wash away that sorrow will soon be complete.”
He smiled at Veronia.
Yet Veronia’s grief only deepened, his expression twisting in pain.
“That means… you could have saved us much sooner.”
“Veronia.”
“Why are we always, always left behind? We are your creations. Unlike them, you even gave us a name—Ravien—didn’t you?”
“If you do not stop this sorrow, you will die too. And everyone else will perish with you. My mission is to maintain balance. The balance between light and darkness. To me, everyone is equal.”
“Equality…?”
Veronia’s lips trembled slightly.
“Not for me.”
“Veronia.”
“What is most precious to me is Ravien.”
Veronia took a step closer, clutching his cloak.
A faint scent of sorrow emanated from him, the same sorrow that had spread beyond.
“Do not let yourself be consumed by reckless anger.”
He felt pity for Veronia.
As the first Ravien, he had spent an eternity alone.
He understood all too well how precious Ravien was to him.
“Veronia, just hold on a little longer.”
He moved closer to Veronia again
“Soon—”
Thunk.
A sharp, searing pain tore through him just as he reached out to free Veronia from the sorrow clinging to him.
“Nothing comes before Ravien for me!”
Veronia’s desperate voice echoed as he staggered back.
Looking down, he saw it—Veronia’s arm, pierced through his abdomen.
His power did not react.
Because Veronia had been created in his image, his power had not recognized the attack as a threat.
“Even you!”
Veronia shouted fiercely, then quickly stepped away.
“…Ah.”
As he watched blood pour from the wound, Veronia turned his head away, his hands trembling violently.
“Agh…!”
Staring at the blood on his hands, Veronia collapsed to the ground before crawling toward him.
“…My king. My… king. I… I…”
Observing Veronia’s panicked state, he slowly sat down.
A faint smile surfaced on his lips.
More than the pain, he was simply worried about Veronia.
“It’s okay… I’m fine.”
Clutching his abdomen, he turned his gaze toward the window.
“Look. The black rain that will cleanse this sorrow will soon fall. And once it does, corruption will vanish from this world.”
The completion of his power was imminent.
“Then, let’s travel the world together again.”
Veronia’s tear-filled eyes met his.
“Then… will my children return?”
“The dead cannot return, Veronia. No one can.”
He extended a bloodless hand toward Veronia.
A violet darkness radiated from him, reaching toward the grief-stricken Ravien.
“I—I heard it.”
Veronia’s expression suddenly calmed, though the scent of sorrow only deepened.
“They say that even if the divine beast of light dies, it will return. And that the king who governs death can bring back the dead.”
“Breaking the balance is forbidden to all—”
Grab.
In an instant, Veronia’s fingers wrapped around his throat.
“Then I’ll do it. And since you have no guardian right now, this is the perfect time!”
Black veins spread across Veronia’s eyes.
“If the king cannot do it, then I will take your power for myself.”
“Ver…onia. Don’t… give in to anger… or hate.”
The violet darkness burned Veronia, yet his grip only tightened.
He could have reached out and ended Veronia in that moment—but he didn’t.
He couldn’t.
Veronia was like a child to him.
He only felt pity for him.
“As the first Ravien, I was always told I resemble you the most. That means I can do it too, right?”
Veronia chuckled.
“I can be king too, can’t I?”
Thwack.
Before the flames consumed him further, Veronia reached forward—without hesitation—and seized his heart.
“I know many things about you. Your power is contained right here, too.”
Thump. Thump.
His heart pulsed in Veronia’s grasp.
“Ah, just in time, there’s a price to be paid.”
Veronia’s eyes gleamed as he looked up at the black clouds and the corruption that covered the sky.
“Your crown is mine now.”
Crunch!
Veronia pulled out his heart and sank his teeth into it.
Blood trickled from his lips.
“Pitiful child.”
He rose to his feet.
Without a heart.
“H-How?”
He raised a finger and etched a blood mark on Veronia’s forehead.
“Aaaaargh!”
Veronia dropped the heart, clutching his head in agony.
“Poor thing… To be abandoned by the unseen, the untouchable—the very world itself.”
The world responded.
It opened its doors.
To cast out the one who had disrupted its balance.
“Veronia, I loved you. That is why I cannot bring myself to kill you.”
“Damn it! Damn it…!”
“I had intended to pass my crown to you. You are the only one who can contain my power.”
“Then give it to me! Right now!”
Veronia fought against the force dragging him away, his fingers clutching desperately at his tattered cloak. The fabric tore and fluttered into the void.
Black tears streamed from Veronia’s eyes. At the same time, corruption began to rise towards the sky.
He could feel his power transferring to Veronia.
“Veronia. You poor child.”
“Shut up!”
“You will be blinded by your own arrogance.”
“I said shut up!”
“All will forsake you. And within that solitude, you will seek forgiveness.”
His will was etched onto Veronia like a curse.
Deeply.
Irrevocably.
He pushed Veronia.
“AAAH!”
His cloak was torn off, and the door closed with Veronia’s scream.
And then—
He, or rather, that person, turned to look at Lucion.
Their eyes met.
“I’m sorry, little one.”
In an instant, the world shattered.
And Lucion stood before the King of Darkness.
Chapter 270: The Fifth Story (2)
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