Samuel's POV
As I stepped through the grand doors of Roselle's mansion, I already felt the finality in my stride. This would be the last time I'd stand under the same roof as her—not as an ally, not even as a guest.
The next time fate would draw us together, swords would be raised, not glasses. We both knew it. And perhaps… that's why she had that bottle of our favorite aged scotch already waiting on the table.
She stood by the window, dressed in obsidian black, the sunlight glinting off her long dark coat like polished steel. Her presence still commanded every inch of the room, just as it had the first time we met. Cold. Calculating. Ruthless. And yet, in her silence, there was something… almost human.
I walked in, slowly, my boots echoing across the marble.
"You knew I'd come," I said, voice calm but firm.
She didn't turn. "Of course. You're predictable that way, Samuel." Then she finally looked back, eyes sharp. "But this time… you're not here to bargain or threaten, are you?"
I nodded slightly. "No. Just a visit. A thank you."
She raised a brow. "Thank you?" She poured two glasses, pushed one toward me across the glass table. "I never imagined hearing that from the so-called Harbinger of Destruction."
I picked up the glass, took a slow sip, and let it burn its way down.
"I said I'd make her life a living hell," I murmured. "And you helped. You gave me the leverage, the power plays, the stage… all of it. And Abigail Bardot—well, she got what she deserved."
Roselle gave a ghost of a smirk. "No need to flatter me. I didn't help you out of friendship or loyalty. That woman offended my pride. And her pet, Joshua, dared to step on my assistant. They earned my wrath."
"I know," I said with a nod, eyes dark. "Still. You did what others didn't dare. You reminded the world that just because someone shines in the public eye doesn't mean they're untouchable behind the scenes."
As we stood in the momentary silence, a buzz echoed through the room. Her assistant, Kaisel, entered—expression grim, holding a tablet in his hand.
"News just came in," he said. "It's official. Abigail Bardot.. Her Fate was worst than Death."
Roselle didn't even blink.
"What Happened?" I asked, already knowing what was coming.
"Her body's being thrown to the street dogs," Kaisel said plainly, "as a statement to the people about what happens to those who sell secrets to foreign syndicates and exploit power."
"Brutal." I sipped again. "Fitting."
Roselle set her glass down, not a trace of regret on her face. "She committed treason. Sold classified technologies. Ruined countless lives. And… the whole world still thought she was a saint." She looked at me. "You shattered that illusion, Samuel. You gave them the truth they deserved."
I stood there for a moment, staring into my drink.
"I suppose that's it, then," I said softly. "The final chapter in the story of Abigail Bardot."
"She was your past," Roselle replied, stepping closer. "And now… it's time to walk toward the future. A bloodier one."
I nodded.
"There's something coming," I added. "A battle even Owen himself can't predict. And once I leave for that side, we won't be allies anymore."
She looked at me for a beat too long. "I know. I've known since the beginning. You and I were never destined to walk the same path for long."
I set the glass down gently.
"Roselle," I said, voice lowered, sincere, "if things were different—"
"They're not," she cut in. "And they never will be. Just… do what you do best. Burn everything in your way."
A pause.
"Goodbye, Roselle."
She didn't say goodbye.
She just turned back to the window, glass in hand.
And as I walked out of that mansion, I felt something final click into place. The Human World chapter was ending. I had wreaked havoc, brought justice, and settled old debts.
Now, all that remained… was war.
And as I stepped outside, the System's cold, mechanical voice echoed in my mind:
----
[Quest Complete: Human World Vendetta]
[Notoriety Increased]
[Alignment Shift: Chaos – 80%]
[Warning: Your actions may have altered the Main Storyline irrevocably.]
----
I smiled.
"Good," I muttered. "Let's make it worse."