Killed Me? Now I Have Your Power Chapter 463: Servant

Kaden's brow furrowed at once. His scarlet eyes flickered like fading coals, pushing to their utmost as he strained to peer deeper into the gaze looming over him.

It took mere moments for Kaden to sense the anomaly. Just as swiftly, he bared his teeth and hurled his furious declaration, its roar reverberating through the warped Warren:

"A clone." He rasped, his tone laced with a conviction he desperately wished to deny.

Forbidden let out a chuckle, his gaze flicking to the upside-down crimson heavens, barely concealing the wonder seeping past his veil of detachment.

"Why, naturally, Kaden Warborn." He replied, his voice softening from its divine timbre to a milder, more subdued cadence. "Merely a clone. Crafted specially for you. Aren't you honored? Such a privilege is granted to scarcely anyone."

"You like clones, don’t you?" Kaden sneered, though his voice weakened further, and Rea's burden in his arms caused them to quiver like limbs about to break.

Every blink seemed potentially final. And in what felt like his last, the eyes honed by death and through death that Kaden fixed upon caught a glimpse that chilled him to the core.

For the first time in ages, the frailty of his mortal form struck him anew. A frailty that corroded resolve and spirit in equal measure.

He compressed his lips into a pale slash. The impulse to swear and crumple surged within, yet he banished it, forging ahead with all the boldness he could muster.

"Is this your true nature?" He demanded. "A coward skulking behind legions of clones and plotting from afar? What do you fear? Don't you embody the essence of a rat?"

"A rat? Spare that label for Her. And if you're aiming to goad me," Forbidden chuckled, "cease. It's pathetic. I've endured far too long to be shaken by a boy of fifteen."

"You aren’t denying it."

"That would suggest debate. You debate equals." Forbidden responded calmly. "You must understand that, boy. Pawn or not, you're an exceptional one."

Kaden’s eyes narrowed.

"Just as you ignore the squeaks of ants underfoot," Forbidden went on, "the mutterings of inferiors are mere static to me. Annoying, at most."

"The wheel always turns, Forbidden." Kaden stated, the words emerging oddly, as if voicing themselves unbidden.

Still, he pressed forward despite the disquiet churning in his belly.

"That's the rhythm of existence, I've learned. One moment you're at the peak amid eternal summer. The next, you're plunged low, where even your love's smile bites like winter's frost."

"Attempting poetry?" Forbidden murmured derisively.

"No. Merely sharing an insight. I hear gods crave verse."

"Over time, we pursue what yet quickens the pulse, indeed."

"Then let this resonate." Kaden declared. "A wheel never lingers in place. Yours is already descending."

"Then I'll end you before Providence meddles." Forbidden drawled lazily. "Though I suspect it's unnecessary. Your hours are ticking away."

A harsh reality, Kaden reflected, terror coiling through his chest.

Yet he flashed a grin toward the celestial eyes. "Do you see me, Forbidden? Death eludes me. Today I languish at the wheel's nadir, but dread the day I ascend to its crest."

"Fear?" Forbidden repeated. "Fear is no stranger to me, child. Nor grief, agony, or the relentless thirst for revenge that devours a soul whole."

He halted, then hissed coldly: "Now you inquire why, child. Indulge the ritual, shall you?"

Kaden’s face remained impassive. "Why bother? I can't shoulder every tale from those I meet."

"Prudent." Forbidden reverted to his silky timbre. "Certain narratives aren't for hearing. Some shatter you as if you'd endured them firsthand."

With that, Kaden voiced the query that had clawed at him from the outset. "You aren’t surprised, are you?"

A thick, somber quiet draped over them like a pall, then burst apart under Forbidden’s blunt delivery.

"One truth etches deep after countless years of existence and scheming, child." He explained. "The crux of any scheme lies in preparing for its derailment."

Kaden’s eyes widened faintly.

"Precisely." Forbidden’s tone brimmed with mirth. "No shock awaits what you've foreseen. And—!"

Reditha materialized in his grip. Kaden lunged forward in his posture, unleashing a flurry of slashes in one breath, expending his final reserves of vigor.

Scarlet blade arcs burst forth and rent the skies, carving gashes like hemorrhages on vast expanses of skin.

Blanche manifested simultaneously, charging at Forbidden's eyes with pristine white flames streaming behind her.

Her phoenix shape radiated blinding splendor, akin to a mobile, shrieking sun conjured solely from Kaden’s determination.

Forbidden's Eyes dimmed briefly from the paired, rapid assaults. In that brief lapse, they missed Kaden dropping feebly to one knee, his stare locked on Nameless's transformation.

The entity's form was fracturing gradually. From the shattered husk, a new form emerged — reminiscent of a moon casting off eclipse for rebirth. Like a serpent discarding worn hide for evolution.

The spectacle blended sanctity and insanity in equal portions.

Nameless underwent rebirth, fueled by the purpose, resolve, soul force, blood, and flames Kaden had infused during the onslaught.

The emerging creation remained unknown even to Kaden. Nor did he have moments to behold its culmination.

Thus, he seized the respite from Blanche and Reditha, redirecting his focus to the one yearning for identity.

With purpose, he opened his mouth, only to feel the realm crush upon it. His eyes bulged. Veins throbbed across his brow and neck like serpents stirring under flesh.

On reflex, he sought to halt it, perceiving an essential essence being extracted by the utterance.

Far too late.

Pulse pounding wildly, sweat and blood veiling his vision, Kaden heard his lips pronounce Nameless's name:

"Servant." He proclaimed, the whole Warren quaking as if thunderstruck. "Your name is Servant."

Nameless — henceforth Servant — erupted in a searing, achromatic radiance.

Overhead, Forbidden’s voice thundered through the Warren, but Kaden’s consciousness plunged into depths too profound to register it.

A voice. A murmur rising from his core.

’The place. Picture the place within your mind.’

Though cryptic and partial, Kaden’s thoughts zeroed on the Dungeon of the Whimpering Saintess unerringly.

Instantly, an invisible grip ensnared his form, yanking him away like a tide's maw.

In a flash, Kaden and his allies evaporated from the Warren, fulfilling its sole escape clause.

Behind lingered a Warren unrecognizable to itself. A realm scarred by the fury of its destined heir.

Forbidden's laughter had ceased. His eyes fixed upon the peculiar entity now ascending gradually.

The being perched atop the reversed crimson vault and directed its sight at Forbidden.

Alchemist observed, then laughed, as his clone disintegrated under the mere pressure of Servant’s look.

—End of Chapter 463—