Chương 81: Book 2 Chapter 3 - Edward King

Edward shot to his feet, thrashing against the cross hold pinning his arms. One of the Holy Knights answered by clamping a gauntleted hand over the crown of his skull and driving him back down. His cheek struck the wooden floor with a crack that rattled up through his jaw.

"Honey, what's going on!" Edward's wife cried out.

"They just took us from our home!" He fought the hold again, straining against its hollow fingers that refused to give an inch. The knight sank lower, pressing a knee into his back and pinning him flat against the floorboards.

"I have brought Edward's family here as examples," Mikael announced, letting the words hang before he continued, "of what sort of man he truly is. Of his real character." He paused again, savoring it.

"Edward has seized his wife's mind. He has forced her to love him." A gasp rippled through the crowd, one voice tumbling into the next.

"How could someone do such a thing?"

"That's monstrous."

"You don't think he's inside our heads too, do you?" a man near the front asked, clasping both palms against his temples. Edward strained to answer, to shout the truth until his lungs gave out, and only a thin, broken groan escaped him.

"No! I refuse to believe that's true! Edward would never… right?" his wife pleaded. Mikael pressed a hand to his chest, tilting his head with practiced pity.

"Poor soul. Every word out of your mouth, every choice you've made since the day you met this fiend, has been his doing. He has held your soul on a string and made you dance."

"There is only one mercy left to offer." He reached a hand toward her.

"Let me free you."

"Liar! I know my own mind! Every word I've ever said has been mine, and none of what you're—" Her voice cracked, transforming into a wet, strangled rasp. The skin along her throat darkened to a bruised gray, veins rising beneath it like roots. Rot crept upward, past her jaw, over her lips, until they cracked and blackened. Her fingertips went next. The decay ate down through each knuckle, curling her hands into withered claws.

Then her calves buckled beneath her, the flesh corrupting her from the inside out, and she dropped to her knees. Within seconds, the rot had claimed everything. Every trace of healthy color was gone, and what remained of her folded silently to the floor. Edward screamed. He threw himself against the knight's hold with everything he had, but the grip didn't loosen. All that came out was a raw, tearing shriek, his throat scraping itself from defying the silence Mikael's word had forced on him.

"Mom!" Edward's daughter twisted free of the escort gripping her arm and sprinted to her mother's side. She dropped to one knee, hands closing around her mother's shoulders, and pulled her close. The decay found her too. It climbed her wrists, raced up to her elbows, and swallowed the rest of her the same way it had swallowed her mother. She crumpled with a soft thud, flakes of ash-gray skin drifting into the air like embers. The robed men stepped back, wary of whatever sickness might spread to them.

Mikael tilted his head toward the girl's crumpled body.

"Valiant, for the child to follow her mother." He lifted his palm into a chop and drew it slowly overhead. The crowd let out soft cries at the sight, flinching from the morbid display of Mikael's powers. Edward thrashed against the hold, sneering up at Mikael, but the knight only bore down harder, planting a greave flat between his shoulder blades.

"This was the only way. The only way to set them free from the Psion's clutches." Mikael waved a casual hand, as though brushing off a fly.

"Now, with the evidence provided to us today, I, Mikael, leader of the Astarchs, endorse the execution of Edward King." He let the name settle over the crowd before continuing.

"Capital punishment is outlawed in the country of Biri. But the law holds one exception: if one thousand citizens, unbiased toward the accused, agree to the sentence, the restriction lifts. Everyone in favor, raise your hand, so I may take the count!" Mikael raised his own arm first. The crowd remained silent, still reeling from what they'd just watched. Then one man rose from his chair, hand lifted high.

He wore a red silk robe, the crest of the white tiger, vermillion bird, black tortoise, and azure dragon stitched boldly across the chest.

"I, the guild master of the Gisaeng House, am in favor." Mikael's smirk found Yoong. The men seated near Yoong shot to their feet at once, correcting the disrespect of having lingered too long in their chairs while he stood.

"Yes. I, the guild master of the Night Hand, am in favor." Yoong turned to him and offered a wide, satisfied smile. The Night Hand's guild master answered with a polite dip of his head. Then the ripple began.

"I, the guild master of the Dark Veil, am in favor."

"I, the guild master of the Umbral Fang, am in favor." More followed, each name falling after the last like dominoes tipping in sequence, ten guild masters allied to Yoong rising within moments of one another. That was all it took. The ripple became a wave, rolling through the crowd as the names of the infamous Kaiser guilds, feared throughout the criminal underworld, passed from mouth to mouth. Within seconds, every hand in the park was raised.

"Excellent." Satisfaction settled into Mikael's smile. He lifted his arm high overhead, cupping his hands as though gripping a hilt that wasn't there yet. A shimmering outline of a sword formed in his grip, then hardened into physical steel. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. The handle was engraved in gleaming gold, and the crossguard flared into two golden wings before narrowing into a blade of steel.

The sword pulsed with a bright, holy light, and thin wisps of mist trailed from beneath it, curling on both sides of Mikael's shoulders. Mikael flinched at the sudden bloom of mist. His divine sword never emitted mist before. His arm wouldn't budge.

"Mikael, it's been a while since the ban on capital punishment was written into law," a voice called out behind him, deep and rumbling. Mikael snapped his head around, following the sound.

"Unhand my arm, or I'll make you, Gozen," Mikael said, jaw tight. Gozen let go and lifted both hands in an easy shrug.

"You're allowed to run this world like a tyrant because the people watching don't have the power to challenge you. But what happens when our Kaisers find out you're framing one of their own to justify an execution, hmm?" Mikael turned around to face the man fully.

"I wouldn't be doing this if I feared a handful of Kaisers rising against me. That'll never happen. They care more about lining their pockets and growing their strength on expeditions than they do about anything that happens in this nation."

"You'd be surprised, Bishop." The air itself dropped to an uncomfortable humidity. The clear blue sky dimmed, swallowed by a slow-creeping haze, and the ground below fared no better. Smoke bled up from the floor, wisps rising and churning until the space below vanished into a thick, white fog. It reached no higher than that, though. The raised stage remained untouched, not a single thread of mist reaching its boards.

"What is this insolence?!" Mikael roared. Frightened murmurs swelled through the audience as the fog pressed in around them, thickening with every passing second. Gozen raised a finger toward Mikael, a silent request to wait. Mikael's eyes narrowed at the gesture. A few seconds passed before Gozen finally swept a hand toward the fog below, as if inviting Mikael to look for himself.

The Mistveil closed his fist, and a beat later the haze split down the middle, rolling outward in twin waves and clearing the sky with it. The instant the fog lifted, as though it had never been there at all, the murmurs of the crowd broke into full cries. Five hundred new arrivals stood where the fog had been, circling the audience on every side. Each of them wore gear that a standard Awakened would have to spend several lifetimes saving for and still never afford a single piece of.

The sight alone was enough to widen every eye in the crowd, but it was the newcomers' presence that sent chills down their spines. It wasn't because they were flaring their auras to announce their dominance. It was the opposite. Every one of them had subdued their passive aura leak to a mute.

"What do you think you're doing?" Mikael sneered at Gozen.

"Have you forgotten your place? Need I remind you?"

"You said you wouldn't be afraid of a couple of Kaisers revolting against you." Gozen crossed his arms.

"How does five hundred sound?" He tilted his head.

"Now, how about we consider canceling this execution?" From below, Althea sank into a low crouch and launched herself into the air, clearing the rows of chairs in a single leap. She landed on the stage hard enough to crack the floorboards beneath her shoes, then set a hand on Gozen's shoulder.

"Yeah, Mikael," Althea said.

"Let's reconsider this whole execution thing, huh? You wouldn't believe how much trouble, and how many favors, Gozen now owes getting all these Kaisers here at once. You can do that much for an honorary Astarch member, can't you?" Mikael grumbled low in his throat, and something in him finally cracked. He threw both hands high overhead. A beat later, spotlights of golden light came flashing down across the stage and the platform flanking it.

Sparks of golden energy flickered inside each beam, swelling steadily until silhouettes took shape. They wore the same armor as the knights who had pinned Edward to the floor, spears already gripped and ready. One after another they answered Mikael's call, until five hundred Holy Knights lined the stage and the platform beside it, an even match for the Kaisers below.

"Do you think you'll get what you want by threatening me?" Mikael said.

"I'll cut down at least half your reinforcements before I fall!" The Kaisers scattered through the crowd dropped into fighting stances, bracing for a battle that might break loose any second. Gozen leaned in closer, his voice dropping softly.

"I don't deny it. You'd probably take them all out with your friends' help." He tapped his knuckles against the empty armor of the seven-foot-tall knights lining the stage.

"But I think we can settle this without spilling any blood." Gozen leading the negotiation. Pulling a stunt like this in front of everyone, left a bitter taste in Mikael's mouth. To be undermined. Manipulated in another man's hands. It was the same feeling he felt when Edward was still a member of the Astarchs. The reason he had to be removed in the first place. Then, he quickly caught himself in the fury. To wage a war here, in Quantis Park, in the city's heart was pure foolishness.

He was certain he could cut down the Kaiser's standing before him, though it would cost him his life to do it. But what of the guild members loyal to each of them? Every Kaiser in the crowd could call in reinforcements of their own, more than enough to tip the scales of any battle, and possibly get out unscathed while he met his demise. And he knew for certain that Yoong and his alliance wouldn't dare risk their lives to save his.

Mikael's anger slowly loosened on his face as he bitterly weighed the deal Gozen had laid out. Gozen caught the shift and pressed even further. He leaned in and lowered his voice, making sure no one else could hear.

"We can meet at a middle ground I think we'd both be satisfied with. It's impossible for you to end things here and set Edward free, but executing him in front of all these people isn't the right call either. That leaves us only one option."

"You're suggesting incarceration," Mikael said, catching on. Gozen gave him a brief nod. Mikael hummed in thought, his gaze snapping toward what remained of Edward's wife and daughter.

"I suppose that'll work. I've already accomplished what I came here to do." All the Holy Knights, their armor hollow, flashed with golden light, swallowing the stage in a brilliant glow. The light faded, and the knights faded with it, leaving only a scatter of golden particles drifting through the air like snow. The Kaisers eased out of their fighting stances, and the tension bled out of the crowd below. Gozen turned to Edward.

He hadn't moved from where the Holy Knights had left him, cheek still pressed flat against the wooden floorboards, hair disheveled and damp with sweat. His gaze was locked on the ruined remains of his wife and daughter, still lying where they had fallen at the edge of the stage.

"I… I couldn't get here in time. I couldn't save them." Gozen's voice cracked with anguish, his head bowing low. Edward didn't register any of it. His eyes had gone milky white, hollow, staring blankly at the stairs, and nothing else reached him. At thirteen, Edward became an orphan when his mother killed his father and attempted to kill him as well.

He managed to escape the apartment and reach the street below to call the police, but while he was still on the phone with the authorities, his mother jumped from the roof of their building and landed just a few feet in front of him. At the orphanage he went through extensive therapy, and in time, a scab eventually formed over the trauma. Not only that, his therapist ended up adopting him. It was the biggest turning point of his life. From then on, he knew he wanted to study psychology.

Wanted to heal others the way his adoptive parent had healed him, and maybe understand what could drive a mother to commit an act like that. Eventually, he became a therapist, and later a professor, hoping to pass along even a fraction of what he'd learned to the next generation. Then he was enlisted into the Natural Selection. But he treated it as an opportunity. If he were going to be stuck in this world for the rest of his life, he would make it count. Strength meant authority.

And authority meant he could shape people's lives in ways he never could have back on Earth. He could rebuild this egregious system from the ground up and change society using the power he'd gained. Or so he'd thought. That same power was what every Awakened in this world thirsted for, and they'd do whatever it took to reach the top.

They lost pieces of themselves along the way: turning a blind eye to an innocent man in his darkest hour, watching a mother and daughter wither away without protest, all to satisfy the people above them for one more shot at that strength. Fine.