The Beginning After The End novel Chapter 225

Chapter 225

Chapter 225: Shared Affliction

SYLVIE

I should’ve stopped him from coming the moment he reached back out to me. The panic that leaked onto him couldn’t be taken back but I should’ve kept him from seeing it.

The moment I saw Arthur approaching, his eyes begging me to be wrong before his gaze fell onto a sight that no one—man or child—should have to experience, my gut clenched and I felt tears threaten to take over. Seeing the horrified expression of my bond before he let out a breath and began chuckling in wide-eyed denial at what he was seeing, I wanted to disappear.

I wanted to be anywhere but here. I would’ve rather faced another horde of deranged mana beasts by myself than endure the sight of my lifelong bond staring hopelessly at his own father’s bloody corpse.

Arthur staggered forward. He pushed everyone aside and knelt over his father’s unmoving body, and for a moment, it seemed like all was silent.

Beasts and soldiers alike seemed to have sensed the heavy veil that descended onto the entire area, but none could feel my bond’s state of turmoil as much as I could.

It hurt.

It was excruciating... it was unbearable.

I didn’t know my heart could hurt this much. I clutched my chest and sank to the ground, unable to endure the self-destructive state of his emotions.

Tears streamed down my cheeks and blurred my vision. I couldn’t breathe as the torrent of emotions continued to surge out of my bond and into me. Rage that blazed like a forest fire, grief that flooded and drowned everything in its path, a gnawing guilt that trembled the very earth, and regret that destroyed and knocked aside years and years of hard work and development like a hurricane.

I could feel these emotions, that felt like natural disasters wreaking havoc inside my heart, tearing away at Arthur’s very sanity.

Yet, on the surface, Arthur was as silent and still as a statue.

I crawled towards him, gasping for air in between my sobs as my heart wrenched in my chest. It was only then, when I embraced his back—his broad, lonely back—that the thin wall that he had built around himself finally crumbled.

With a guttural, primeval howl that tore through me like shards of glass, my bond broke down in tears.

The very earth seemed to lament for my bond as his sobs and wails filled the air. The ambient mana all around us shook and surged at times to match his anger, while at times undulated rhythmically, sympathizing with his despair as Arthur mourned, clutching his father’s unmoving body.

I continued to cling to my bond’s back as the fiery claws continued to grip and twist my insides. I tried to do more, anything more to help, but I couldn’t. The lump in my throat blocked any words of consolation I could possibly say, so I did what no one else could do; I empathized through the connection I shared with my bond.

This prodigy, that had become a lance, a general, a white core mage, was but a boy that had lost his father right now.

The world continued to move on, even as Arthur and I remained stuck in this time of grieving and loss. The battle that had gone on for two nights had come to an end.

We had won, but not unscathed. The Wall loomed over us as if it were a king, pleased with its own health despite the sacrifices that had been made for it.

It wasn’t Arthur’s anger that made my insides boil like this...it was my own.

Time trickled on until the sun had set. It was only then, that Arthur rose to his feet.

Whether his emotions had been expended or locked away, I didn’t know, but his state of mind mirrored the frozen tomb that he conjured and encased his father’s body in.

Nearby stood Durden, dejected. He had remained silent throughout Arthur’s mourning, never showing any signs of pain or discomfort despite the blood leaking from the bandages hurriedly applied over his face and residual limb.

“Durden. Please take my father’s body to my mother and sister.” My bond’s voice was icy and hollow. He rose to his feet and walked towards the Wall like a reaper of death out on his hunt.

CAPTAIN ALBANTH KELRIS

“Following through with my original plan has led us to victory with minimal losses to the Wall and the underground passages,” Senior Captain Trodius boasted, a rare smile on his usually-stoic face. “Your obedience will not go unnoticed, Captain Albanth, Captain Jesmiya. Well done.”

Jesmiya bowed, receiving the applause of the other unit leaders present in the large meeting tent.

I glanced down at the picture in my hand—worn, ripped, and crinkled around the edges. It was a picture I had found in the chestplate of one of my soldiers before cremating him.

“Captain Albanth?”

Looking up, I saw the senior captain with his brow raised. Beside him were soldiers and nobles that had invested in the Wall, all sharing the same puzzled expression.

“My apologies,” I respond quickly, shoving the picture in my pocket before inclining my head and silently accepting the commendation with gritted teeth.

Coming here after cremating several dozens of my men, many of whom I had shared drinks, meals, and laughs with, it felt wrong to accept any form of praise.

“While a proper celebration is in order, we are at war and there is much to clean up,” Trodius said. “Continue your good work. I will have someone send a small gift to the fallen soldiers’ immediate families.”

“As expected of the head of the Flamesworth House. Your leadership is impeccable,” a portly man standing to the senior captain’s left beamed. “It was the right decision to invest in this fortress.”

Meanwhile, Jesmiya and I exchanged a quick glance, both of us obviously hung up on Senior Captain Trodius’ use of the phrase, ‘clean up’. Surely he wasn’t referring to cremating and burying our allies as ‘cleaning up’, right?

After the other soldiers had trickled off, Jesmiya and I turned to leave when the senior captain called my name.

“Captain Albanth, I’ll need a moment of your time,” he said, waiting for Jesmiya to leave.

After all but the senior captain and three nobles—based on their gaudy and spotless attire—were left, Trodius gestured toward an empty seat.