The Transcendent Godslayer-Chapter 88: Wrong

A deafening silence descended upon the world.

Though no one had spoken in some time, this silence was different.

Even nature held its breath. The sounds of the winds stilled, and even the distant lightning ceased its rumble, as if the very elements feared provoking the wrath simmering in the hearts of those present... Or more like the Saints were now existing in a world of their own, these disturbances practically became nonexistent.

It was already cruel that she had died, but to die in such a humiliating way...

Drip. Drip.

Drops of blood fell from Hamada’s clenched fist, splattering softly against the floor.

A Saint’s blood.

His body trembled imperceptibly... just enough that only those of equal standing could notice. It was a tremor of restraint, of a soul barely keeping itself from roaring in fury.

Yet, ironically, his eyes had dimmed. The fire in them extinguished.

Beside him, Callista stirred.

She gently pried apart his rigid, protective arms and rose to her feet. Her once-fair features were now marred by an icy coldness so dense, the air itself seemed to freeze in her presence.

From across the room, a sigh echoed faintly.

One of the Crimson Saints—the one whose eyes were pools of living blood, and made other Saints cower like chickens turned and left without a word.

Callista turned to where he had stood moments before. Her gaze darkened, and her voice came out low and cutting.

"It seems the Crimson family is not as strong as I presumed."

Her words dropped like a hammer in the ward.

The eyes of the Crimson Saints immediately turned cold.

It was bold... borderline suicidal, to utter such a thing in front of four Saints from the Crimson line. They would understand if she felt that way, but to call them incompetent to their face?

However, Callista stood unmoved. Her chill intensified, hanging in the air like frost. It even looked like she was ready to battle it out.

Then, Hamada slowly rose from his crouched position.

"Stop. It’s okay," he said softly, reaching for her arm.

She slapped his hand away with a sharp crack of skin meeting skin, and turned to him with fury and disgust in her eyes.

The blow stung more in silence than it would have in sound.

Still, Hamada didn’t flinch.

He stared at her quietly, his expression unreadable.

It was easy to understand now, why—even though she was mother to his daughter, she did not stay in Ash, choosing instead to live far across the sea in her own continent.

His face didn’t shift.

It was easy to realize that something like this was not happening for the first time, and likely wouldn’t be the last.

Before the tension could grow thick, Azarel stepped forward.

Though he was younger than only Sixtus and Selene among the Crimson Saints present, his presence was solid, weighty.

"That power... even all of Illishna wouldn’t be able to stand against it," he said coolly. "So I wonder; how exactly do you want a single family from Xenith to do so?"

Despite his indifferent tone, Azarel’s words had a sting to them.

He weaponized the common prejudice of the other races—using their condescension to mock himself and the Crimsons, just to prove a point.

How could a family eyed unsightly by the world, hailing from the so-called weak Human Domain of Xenith, possibly fight what even Illishna—the proud realm of elves and fae, would crumble before?

Callista’s eyes turned glacial.

But Azarel only smiled.

"I’m not sure what’s funny," Hamada said stiffly, noticing the smile.

Callista shot him a withering look, disgust welling up in her chest.

It was insane that he was still trying to stand for her. Couldn’t he see she loathed him? Recalling just how vulnerable she had just been in his arms, she felt the urge that made her want to peel her skin off.

But Hamada didn’t care about what she was thinking, not like he even knew what went on in her mind. He had only spoken because he disliked Azarel’s subtle games, even now. His daughter’s remains were lying desecrated on the ground.

"My apologies," Azarel realizing his wrongs, said with a solemn expression.

Whatever response Hamada had prepared wilted in his chest. And he crouched down, picking the scattered and bloody remains with his hands.

Something in Callista’s heart turned uglier. Seeing his distant and clouded expression, she seemed to loose her head to black clouds.

’To put on a false front for a woman... and then fold from just one word? I’ve never met a man so pathetic. Even if all men are equally so pathetic.’

With that final bitter thought, Callista turned and left, her destination known only to herself.

Once again, silence reigned among the Saints.

They watched wordlessly as Hamada, slow and deliberate, knelt beside Lyra’s remains. Piece by piece, he gathered her body, gentle and methodical, until he had reassembled it into a whole again.

Then, lifting her into his arms, he stood.

He stared down at her face for a long moment. His head bent, hair casting shadows across his expression, shielding it from their sight.

At last, he raised his head.

And without a word, he stretched the body out toward them.

Azarel stepped forward and received the corpse with solemn care.

"Thank you," he said quietly.

Hamada let out a long, heavy breath.

"What do we do now?" he asked.

The expressions of the Crimson Saints darkened at once.

Even Hamada could only offer a dry, bitter smile.

They had nothing. No leads. No trace.

After Lyra was torn apart, the green-flamed figure had lingered for only a mere second. And while two vast Wills clashed in the sky and the world itself stilled in awe... or fear, he vanished.

No spatial ripple, no energy trail... Like he had never existed at all.

As their grim expressions settled, Hamada seemed to consider something.

"Is this what happened before?" he asked.

The Saints’ faces turned uglier still.

And suddenly, the mystery behind Kallen’s disappearance made far more sense to Hamada.

A boy... Not just any boy, the heir to the Crimson throne, vanishing under the noses of multiple Saints with not a single clue... it had always felt... wrong!

This content is taken from (f)reewe(b)novel.𝗰𝗼𝐦