Path of the Extra Chapter 419: Are You Afraid?

"Well... this is astounding."

These were the very words that escaped Azriel’s mouth as he observed Dorian, who was currently hunched on the floor before him.

Dorian had raised his hands—or, more accurately, what was left of them. There were no hands remaining at his wrists, only mangled flesh. Skin and bone were caught between his teeth, and when Azriel glanced downwards, he noticed a thumb beneath his footwear, partially submerged in a pool of pure black blood.

It was almost comical, Azriel mused, how little he felt.

No disgust.

No horror.

Nothing at all as he watched the prince weep there in pathetic misery, dark veins visibly spreading across his face and entire body like fractures in poisoned marble.

"Soul corruption, huh..."

Indeed, one of the most dreadful fates that could possibly befall any living creature.

That said, Azriel appeared utterly incapable of showing any concern.

He simply walked towards Dorian with calm, deliberate steps. Each footfall resonated through the corridor, and with every one, Dorian flinched.

Flinched.

And flinched once more.

Azriel halted in front of him and peered down with a look of curiosity. He then bent slightly and pinched Dorian’s blood-slicked chin between his own blood-stained fingers.

"Are you still in there?" he inquired. "Or has your mind already been corrupted as well?"

Dorian’s teeth chattered uncontrollably as he gazed up at Azriel in sheer terror.

"I suppose your mind hasn’t rotted away yet."

Even so, he would inevitably perish quite soon. The sheer quantity of blood he had lost, coupled with the grotesque self-mutilation he had inflicted, had already sealed his fate.

One eye lost.

No hands.

He appeared utterly hideous.

Azriel crouched down until they were on the same level, meeting Dorian’s solitary remaining eye.

"Yeah..." he murmured. "You truly possess my soul."

Unbeknownst to Azriel, his crimson eyes were now emanating a fearsome radiance, further terrifying the prince.

Azriel was only aware that Dorian held the same soul as his own, though he couldn't truly perceive it. Or perhaps he could, and his mind was simply refusing to acknowledge what lay before him.

It was akin to how the brain ignores the presence of one's own nose while still acknowledging its existence. The same phenomenon was unfolding at this moment. Azriel was looking directly at Dorian’s soul. He knew it belonged to him. He knew it was there. He was likely staring straight into it.

And yet, he could not truly perceive it.

"Hey, Dorian," Azriel called out softly, without a hint of malice in his tone.

Dorian looked towards him and emitted a low, broken moan.

This time, with a sliver of desperation woven into his voice, Azriel asked,

"What did you see...?"

Dorian’s body trembled even more intensely. Then, at long last, his lips parted by the slightest margin, and he whispered in a shaky, fractured voice,

"You... I saw you... the... the real... you... and... hands... so... so many hands..." His face contorted in absolute terror. "No—no, please!"

He flinched violently and hurled himself backward.

"D-don’t touch me! I-I’m sorry! S-sorry! I’m sorry! P-please! Please, I’m sorry! S-sorry! Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!"

Tilting his head, Azriel observed him intently.

Blood streamed from Dorian’s mouth, his nostrils, his remaining eye, and from the vacant socket where the other had once been.

All of it was black.

It was rather unsightly.

"Hands..." Azriel repeated the word softly.

Still crouched, he interlaced his fingers behind his neck and bowed his head for a moment, closing his eyes.

"Pheww..."

A long breath escaped him.

Then Azriel felt his jaw tighten as he fought to disregard the prince’s incessant apologies.

"I feel... so strange," he murmured. "I’m conscious. I’m in control of my body. And yet... it feels as though I’m not myself." His voice grew quieter, more distant. "Why am I acting like this? Am I truly conscious? Am I really in control? What exactly is happening to me...?"

He looked back at Dorian.

The prince had still not ceased his babbling apologies.

"Did you see a woman back in the arena?" Azriel inquired.

"She... was embracing me..."

He felt an undeniable urge to find her again.

To feel her touch once more.

But Dorian was utterly useless.

A sigh escaped Azriel’s lips as he materialized his Desert Eagle and raised it, aiming the firearm at Dorian, who seemed scarcely aware of the death now looming over him.

"If you are me, then... is Lia truly Jasmine? But she is my elder sister, not my younger one. Am I overlooking something?"

He grimaced faintly.

"Ugh. This is absurd. Just as I would expect from the gods, if they truly intend to break me."

He frowned deepening.

"Why am I not more disturbed by this? Has my mind already fractured?"

His gaze remained fixed on Dorian.

"Hm? Do you know the answer, Dorian? Or should I call you Leonardo? Perhaps Leo? Hm? Hey?"

He paused for a moment, then exhaled slowly.

"Ah, screw it."

Azriel pulled the trigger.

The white projectile pierced Dorian’s skull with surgical precision, ending the Sun Kingdom prince’s life instantaneously. His form crumpled to the stone floor.

A wave of disappointment washed over Azriel as he observed the lifeless body.

"Everything is set up to break me," Azriel mused, stroking his chin as he looked down. "Not to kill me."

His gaze sharpened.

"The Forest of Eternity... the World of Eternity... this entire scenario..." He paused. "There is a key that I hold. Pollux has been trying to break me, as if that were the solution to... something."

"Not bad."

"..!"

Azriel's head snapped up immediately.

A familiar face materialized before him.

Lia.

The child Lia, whom he had entrusted to Nol's care.

She stood directly above her elder brother's corpse, completely unfazed, a wicked grin plastered on her face.

Azriel blinked, his perception struggling to catch up.

Then, almost involuntarily, the corners of his mouth began to lift.

"Pollux."

Rising to his feet, Azriel's smile broadened. He failed to notice the subtle darkening of the child's expression—the body Pollux had commandeered.

Azriel advanced a step towards Pollux.

Pollux retreated one step.

He flinched.

Azriel recoiled as well.

For a fleeting, chilling moment, a shared realization dawned upon them. Pollux's smile evaporated instantly.

An unsettling silence descended, thick with unspoken tension. They remained frozen, their gazes locked.

"Pollux..." Azriel broke the quiet first.

Then, his voice softer, he inquired,

"...Are you afraid?"

Pollux let out a scoff, yet in Lia's delicate frame, the sound was surprisingly endearing.

"Nonsense. I am the Great Divine Star Spirit Emperor. Fear is an unknown concept to me."

"Perhaps," Azriel conceded. "But then... why are you inhabiting this child's body?"

A new thought surfaced in his mind.

Before Pollux could respond, Azriel posed another question.

"Have you truly been Lia all this time?"

Pollux's smile returned, widening with newfound amusement.

"I found it more entertaining to remain in your proximity, concealed from your awareness."

"I see."

Azriel casually scratched his neck.

He then asked, "Did you lay a hand on Nol?"

Pollux shook his small head.

"He had already departed. He instructed me to remain within his [Unique Skill]."

A chuckle escaped him, sounding oddly charming in the child's voice.

"He is rather fortunate. Another moment, and I would have ended him." Pollux tilted his head. "Are you aware of who you keep so close to your side?"

Azriel regarded him silently.

For a beat, Pollux simply stared back. Then, his expression shifted, growing serious. Though he attempted to mask it, Azriel sensed it—a subtle undercurrent of fear.

Pollux then uttered a name Azriel had never heard him use before.

"Are you... Azriel?"

"Yes... I am...?"

Once more, their eyes met.

A full minute elapsed.

It felt akin to a tense staring contest.

Finally, Pollux turned and began to walk, his small hands clasped behind his back. Azriel kept pace beside him, maintaining a calm facade.

"I have your sister," Pollux announced.

"...I had suspected as much."

Pollux let out a laugh.

"Initially, I couldn't quite believe it. Back in the Forest of Eternity, I assumed you were merely feigning concern for your family." His smile turned sharp. "Then I realized you had actually suppressed your memories. And I began to wonder... perhaps, deep down, the true you wouldn't care for them at all."

Pollux cast a sideways glance at him.

"But I was mistaken, wasn't I? The real you... cares about them very deeply."

"I haven't the faintest idea what you're referring to, Pollux."

Another laugh, this one more pronounced.

"Of course not. But that will change very soon."

Azriel observed Pollux. The cruel smile remained fixed on his face as he looked up.

"I gave you a warning, didn't I?" Pollux stated. "I mentioned I might lose patience if that key wasn't delivered soon."

"I cannot provide what I do not possess, nor do I know its nature."

"...Nor do I."

"Hah!"

A short, sharp laugh escaped Azriel.

So, Pollux himself was unaware of the key's identity, yet he was demanding it from Azriel, who was equally clueless?

The situation was utterly preposterous.

Abruptly, they halted.

A trapdoor lay before them, descending into what Azriel presumed to be a dungeon.

Pollux unlatched the hatch and disappeared below.

Azriel followed without hesitation, landing moments later in a chamber shrouded in absolute darkness.

A second later, silver flames erupted.

A torch flickered to life, bathing the room in a dim glow.

Azriel's eyes widened slightly.

There they were.

The two princesses he had been seeking all along.

Celestina was pinned against the cold wall, her head bowed in defeat. Chains bound her wrists high above, and a blindfold obscured her vision. Azriel observed the dried blood smudged across her robes and face, yet no visible wounds were apparent.

Jasmine lay silently beside her.

In stark contrast to Celestina, Jasmine bore no injuries. She was unbound, unrestrained.

She simply rested there, serene.

Unmoving.

Unconscious.

Asleep.

"I have not yet claimed Celestina," Pollux declared.

"But Jasmine?"

His grin stretched wider.

"Should I choose, I could reduce her mind to mere dust with a single thought."

"..."

"There remains but one path for you if you desire her to awaken once more."

Azriel's gaze shifted towards Pollux.

A potent force began to stir within him.

His hands, with agonizing slowness, started to tremble.

Pollux's lips curved into a smile of pure, wicked glee.

"You resolutely refused to yield, no matter the torment I inflicted. So then... consider this? You possess a peculiar skill. A gift bestowed upon you by your revered goddess. I speak of [Soul’s Crucible]."

The atmosphere within the chamber grew palpably colder.

"Surrender it to me," Pollux commanded.

"And in exchange, your cherished sister will be returned to you."

"Heh..."

Ah...

There it was.

At last, Azriel recognized a familiar sensation.

Something that was unequivocally his own.

He felt no confusion. No strangeness pervaded him. There was no internal conflict, no unsettling void, no alien emotion twisting within his core.

In that precise instant, Azriel felt only one dominant emotion.

Rage.

He was consumed by fury...

Profoundly...

Utterly...

Enraged.