Path of the Extra Chapter 413: "Wake up..."

The faint sound of maniacal laughter—akin to a man succumbing to his own madness—pulled Azriel’s focus outward. He scanned his surroundings with caution, but no one was visible.

Rubbing his temples, Azriel emitted a weary sigh, half-expecting his face to crease from the sheer frequency of the action.

"A trial constructed to shatter me... I knew Pollux intended to break me, but even everyone else?"

Then, the laughter echoed once more.

Azriel’s head snapped around as he re-examined the colosseum. A queasy feeling churned in his stomach. He clenched his jaw and gritted his teeth.

His gaze then settled upon something in the distance.

At the heart of the desolate colosseum, a long table was present.

And seated at its far end was an individual.

Before the thought had fully formed, Azriel was already advancing toward him. His eyes narrowed as he observed the figure’s approach.

It was a man.

With both elbows resting upon the table, the man propped his chin with his intertwined fingers. He returned Azriel’s gaze with a placid smile. As Azriel drew nearer, the young man’s features became more distinct. He possessed a gentle handsomeness, characterized by soft brown curls and luminous blue eyes.

Upon reaching the table's opposite end, Azriel noted the pristine white cloth draped over it and the profusion of exquisite food spread across its surface.

"Please, have a seat."

The young man inclined his head towards the chair adjacent to Azriel's.

Without much deliberation, Azriel took the seat, positioning himself directly across from the man.

"You truly are extraordinary," the young man commented. "The historical records indicate no one has managed to unlock that gate for the past millennium."

Crossing one leg over the other, Azriel leaned back, resting his arms on the chair’s supports. He cast a glance at the opulent spread before him, then returned his gaze to the young man.

"Do you know who I am?" the man inquired softly, his smile as radiant as the sun.

Azriel mirrored his smile.

It was a smile, yet barely so. There was an unnerving quality to it.

"A deceased hamster."

"..."

"..."

"Pardon me...?"

The man’s smile evaporated, replaced by utter bewilderment. His expression was so profoundly confused that Azriel nearly reiterated his statement, just to confirm he had comprehended it correctly.

"Your name brings to mind a hamster I once possessed."

"A hamster...?" the man questioned skeptically.

Azriel gave a nod.

"Indeed. My younger sister once kept a hamster. Its name was Dorian. It met its end within a month, having drowned in its own feed."

Suddenly, Azriel heard that laugh again.

This time, it emanated from behind him.

So it wasn't the prince.

Still seated, Azriel craned his neck to look over his shoulder, scanning the area behind him and then the colosseum. He perceived no one.

"So you do recognize me..." the prince of House Aureliath remarked, his tone still deferential as he observed Azriel scanning the surroundings.

"Are you... seeking something?"

"Hm?"

Azriel turned his attention back to him, his expression still distant and slightly dazed.

Concurrently, a faint murmur brushed past his ears—whether whispers or merely the wind, he could not discern.

"Your jest was rather amusing, though. Rest assured," the prince stated with a subtle, restrained smile.

"Someone I hold dear once christened a pet turtle after me, as well. I suppose my name is one that people frequently bestow upon animals."

A forced chuckle escaped the prince’s lips.

Azriel noticed it instantly.

His eyes narrowed.

The prince appeared unusually eager to gain his favor.

"I must also offer my apologies," he continued. "Dame Selene likely caused considerable trouble, but I have indeed admonished her for her transgressions. Kindly overlook her errors."

As he spoke, he gestured towards the chair to his right.

Only that particular chair remained unoccupied.

For reasons unknown, the sight of it left Azriel momentarily stunned.

That peculiar dazed sensation had not yet receded, nor had the strange heaviness that permeated his chest.

The prince, growing noticeably uneasy, pursed his lips several times before speaking again.

"We have much to deliberate upon... I offer my apologies once more, but you proved... elusive to contact. Thus, I seized the opportunity presented."

The instant Azriel processed these words, the laughter erupted anew from some distant point behind him.

However, Azriel maintained his focus on the prince, compelling himself to disregard the insane, distant laughter—the kind that felt so profoundly aberrant it sent a sickening twist through his very being.

"There are also... certain cherished individuals of mine," the prince articulated carefully, selecting each word as if fearful of misstatement, "whom you have elected not to return."

Azriel merely regarded him with an unblinking stare.

His countenance was entirely inscrutable.

"Lia is your sister," Azriel stated abruptly.

The prince’s eyes widened.

He pressed his lips together.

"I comprehend it now," Azriel proceeded.

"Leonardo. A thief of exceptional talent. Talented enough to pilfer one of the Thirteen Teeth directly from the king, within his own stronghold... and in the end, he met his demise within this very colosseum."

Azriel's unsettling composure seemed to prickle the prince. Lightly, Azriel tapped his fingers against the armrest, a rhythm that sounded almost musical.

Another peal of laughter echoed from behind him.

The prince's complexion grew even paler.

"What rings far truer," Azriel stated, "is that you—the prince of this very kingdom—are none other than Leonardo."

He let the statement hang in the air.

"And that your entire persona was a fabrication."

His fingers continued their soft, rhythmic tapping.

"To get near the neglected prince marked for death in this colosseum. To bestow upon him the Tooth. To orchestrate your own fabricated demise as the renowned thief. And to facilitate his escape... so that the current sovereign would remain oblivious to the collusion between his own two sons."

For a brief interval, Dorian remained silent.

Azriel offered no reply, and the two figures simply regarded each other in hushed stillness.

Then, finally, a sorrowful smile graced Dorian's lips.

"Precisely so... Leonardo. That is the name my late mother bestowed upon me. And the persona, Leonardo, was the guise I crafted using my [Unique Skill] to approach my brother without raising the king's suspicions, even as His Majesty believed the Tooth had already been recovered. It was also through this fabricated identity that I could remain close to my younger sister."

No trace of surprise flickered across Azriel's features as Dorian continued his confession.

"But the appointed time has now arrived. I require my brother's presence at my side, and the Teeth are essential. My desire is also to be reunited with my dear sister... this time, as my true self."

"You intend to assassinate your own king," Azriel observed with stark directness.

At this declaration, the kingdom's prince bowed his head, his fists clenching with palpable tension.

"That wicked individual... is unworthy to reign. He is responsible for my parents' deaths. He remained utterly ignorant of my younger sister's existence. He is consumed by his own obsessions—driven by both love and hatred."

Raising his gaze to meet Azriel's, Dorian drew a deep breath, exhaled it slowly, and then lowered his eyes, a shadow of shame crossing his face.

"I offer my apologies for my earlier outburst."

"For a prince, you seem remarkably quick to apologize to a terrorist," Azriel commented placidly.

The prince met his gaze and offered a knowing, subtle smile.

Then, another burst of laughter erupted from an unseen location behind them, and the smile vanished instantly from Dorian's countenance.

"I am aware," he whispered. "I know you were the one present within the Forest of Eternity. I know of Mio... and I am aware of... of that wolf..."

Should his intention have been to elicit a reaction from Azriel, it proved unsuccessful.

At least, not on the surface.

Azriel's eyes remained locked onto the prince, though not for the reason Dorian assumed. A different, more profound intensity emanated from his stare.

"I comprehend that your true nature differs vastly from public perception," Dorian pressed on. "I—I recognize the immense power you truly wield. And I am truly sorry. Genuinely."

Abruptly, the prince's breathing grew more rapid. He looked at Azriel with a visible panic, as if an unseen dread gripped him. His face had turned ashen, and even his eyes darted with apprehension.

"But I found myself with no alternative. I—I require your assistance. I am aware that you were responsible for Grandmaster Maxime's demise, Lady Mio's end, and perhaps even the dispatch of that formidable wolf... possibly even that other entity as well. Yet, I must eliminate the king... and subsequently, I need to betray and execute the Supreme Leader... to ascend as the new sovereign."

He swallowed with visible effort.

"A superior sovereign."

"..."

His entire body began to tremble uncontrollably, as if under an immense, crushing weight of fear.

"I command twenty puppets, each possessing the might of a master. I command sixteen true masters under my directorship, excluding myself. The entirety of the revolutionary army is at my disposal. Furthermore, the Sun's Shadows stand with me—one notable member being Duchess Selene, currently present under the guise of Dame Selene. And even with all this, I recognize it may not suffice..."

His voice trembled, losing its firmness.

"Those two brothers are formidable adversaries. That is why I seek the aid of the Inverse Creed, and more specifically... I need your help—"

"You are me."

Azriel interrupted him, his voice cutting through Dorian's plea.

Instantly, the resonant laughter returned.

It emanated from somewhere behind them, then abruptly ceased.

"...What?"

The prince appeared on the verge of succumbing to the strain on his nerves, his expression one of sheer revulsion.

Azriel, in contrast, remained as placid as a frozen lake.

"You are me."

"What... what precisely do you mean by that...?"

"You are me. Not merely similar to me. Not someone who merely resembles me." Azriel's voice remained low, imbued with unwavering steadiness. "Simply me, originating from a different existence. Within this reality... I embody you."

A profound expression, a blend of intense fascination and dawning comprehension, illuminated Azriel's eyes.

"How can such a thing be possible...?"

"I... I cannot grasp the meaning of your words..."

"I am you... and you are me..."

"..."

"My soul resides within you."

"...!"

Dorian violently shoved his chair backward, staggering to his feet, thereby amplifying the distance between them.

"We... share the same soul...?" Azriel tilted his head, a look of utter confusion mixed with deep unease on his face.

The laughter erupted once more, but this time it did not cease.

It persisted. It intensified.

"Ugh..."

Clutching his head with one hand, Azriel was assaulted by a maddening ringing that was quickly consumed by that lunatic laughter.

It felt as though Azriel had heard those very words not long ago.

Then, without any prior indication, he felt the delicate sensation of two slender hands resting upon his shoulders from behind.

Their touch was ethereally soft, almost spectral, lingering for the briefest instant before gliding downwards in a slow, unhurried caress along his arms. Every brush of her fingers seemed to awaken something restless beneath his skin. Then, with a tenderness that felt both perilous and divine, those silken arms encircled his chest, drawing Azriel into an embrace so gentle it nearly overwhelmed him.

His eyelids fluttered closed.

A rich, intoxicating warmth unfurled within him, loosening every knot of tension in his body. It didn't simply touch Azriel—it enveloped him, soothying, possessive, and achingly intimate. And before Azriel could resist, he found his body leaning back into her hold, surrendering to the exquisite comfort of her touch.

Her.

Who was she?

What... was he doing?

The questions drifted through his mind like mist, distant and insubstantial, because in that moment, she felt less like a person and more like a fevered apparition—something tender, something dangerous, something... that should not exist.

Then, he felt the faint, devastating graze of her lips against the edge of his right ear.

As if under a spell, the maddening laughter momentarily receded.

A tremor coursed through Azriel.

His breath hitched, then escaped in a ragged hush, and his ear twitched at the delicate contact. His pulse quickened now for an entirely different reason than fear—something darker, softer, far more ruinous. Heat spread through him in quiet waves as her lips lingered there, brushing his skin with a maddening slowness that felt almost reverent.

When she finally spoke, her voice emerged beside his ear in a low, velvet murmur—gentle, sensual, and unearthly in its beauty, like the whisper of a goddess in the dead of night.

she breathed.

"!!"

Azriel’s eyes snapped open to their widest extent.

"Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha—"

The laughter returned.

Azriel's breathing became ragged, too rapid for him to control.

"Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha—"

"Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahah—"

Feeling utterly disconnected from his surroundings, Azriel could only stare around him amidst the ceaseless laughter.

And there was something else.

Something entirely new.

Something horrifying.

Azriel was seated upon a throne fashioned from ice.

His feet rested upon the back of a familiar knight clad in white armor.

Only now, that armor was in ruins—shattered and drenched in blood—revealing the brown, matted hair of Dame Selene and the gaping wound across her face as she lay dead.

Azriel looked down at his own right hand.

In it, he held a liver, wet and slick within his palm.

"Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha—"

His gaze snapped around the colosseum.

Bodies.

Bodies everywhere.

Knights lay strewn across the deserted arena, their limbs torn asunder, their blood splattered across stone and pillars. Some corpses had been flung with such force it appeared as though an inhuman entity had hurled them. Some remains were stuck to the walls. Others were lodged high above, near the barely visible ceiling, while slow droplets of blood dripped from the darkness overhead.

His mouth hung slightly ajar.

He felt something warm trickle down from his upper lip. Slowly, he raised his free hand and touched his face.

Blood.

Blood dripped from his hair.

From his face.

From his robes.

The liver slipped from his fingers, landing on Dame Selene’s leg, where an eyeball already rested. The two struck together before the liver dropped to the ground with a sickening squelch, and the eyeball bounced once before rolling away.

There was no table. No chairs.

Instead, standing before him were Prince Dorian and another white knight, both appearing half-dead and drenched in blood.

The knight had lost an arm, the shoulder shredded into something gruesome and barely recognizable, blood still pouring from the wound. Dorian had one hand pressed over his right eye, his face pale beneath the blood smeared across it, terror etched into every line of his features.

At least they were alive.

But it did not appear to be mercy that had spared them.

They gazed at Azriel with utter, devastating fear.

"M-monster..." the prince whispered in a cracked voice.

"Sir Évrard... w-we need to escape before this monster kills us..."

Azriel looked at them.

Instantly, both Azriel and the prince froze, their bodies becoming rigid as sheer terror washed over their features.

"Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha—"

"Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha—"

"Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha—"

"Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha—"

Why… Why, Azriel pondered, did such overwhelming ecstasy surge through his very being, even amidst the carnage surrounding him? The putrid smell of blood and the warm, grotesque sight of spilled entrails filling the colosseum seemed to have no effect.

He recognized that sensation.

That dizzying, intoxicating, utterly pleasurable euphoria.

Though it had been a considerable time, he knew it.

He knew it far too intimately.

Desperately wanting to reject it, Azriel attempted to speak, but the relentless laughter tore through his efforts.

He clenched his teeth.

The prince flinched instinctively.

And then, Azriel mirrored the prince's reaction, flinching as well.

Meeting the prince's gaze, Azriel saw his own reflection staring back.

"Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahah—"

It was then that Azriel understood the origin of that overwhelming laughter.

…It was originating from himself.