The atmosphere was exceptionally gloomy that day when everything came to a final halt with the demise of the Death Lord, Argrouth.
It would be a tale to remember, how the Hero of Light never let his people down and always strived for the best for humanity, bringing an end to the never-lasting battle with the final victory flag hoisting on the human side.
Despite the demon lord's demise, along with every general upon whom his pride once rested, a crowd still gathered at the edge of the battlefield. Their numbers varied in age and gender, yet they were united by a singular expression—scowls etched deep into their faces, eyes ablaze with fury.
All their rage converged on a lone figure, a human, lying on the ground, barely clinging to life. Above him stood the Light Hero, poised to deliver the final blow and put an end to the traitorous monster once and for all.
Whether it was an elderly woman or a teenage youth, everyone had currently murderous intent flaring high toward this certain person whom everyone long ago exiled from their side and regarded as a demon.
The heavy downpour was not able to wash away the amount of blood flowing out of the traitor's body which was cut and bruised all around. His black long hair sprawled over his face, hiding his once handsome features but now a mess of wounds and injuries.
Shards of broken glass, squashed fruits, and splattered eggs littered the man's body, a stark testament to the humiliation he endured even as death crept upon him.
Every piece of debris, every cruel stain, echoed the hatred that filled the hearts of all who looked upon him. It was not enough that he was dying; they wanted him disgraced until his very last breath.
Whether present or not, everyone shared a single prayer: for the traitor to be cast into the deepest abyss of hell, to face Satan's wrath for the horrors he had wrought—and for the fate that would have befallen them all, had the Light Hero not intervened.
"Why did you do this, Clarsen?"
The Light Hero, wearing a shining golden armor that complimented his blond platinum hair, spoke in a chilly tone, with his legendary sword placed on the chest of the traitor or, as the hero spoke his name—Clarsen Hungston.
No matter what Clarsen might say, the Light Hero harbored no intention of granting forgiveness. This was not just a traitor who had broken his promises a hundred times over, but a man who had cast humanity into the depths of darkness with a smile on his face—as though it wasn't Clarsen who had once grown among the very people he sought to destroy.
The fallen man spat the contaminated blood from his mouth before he steadily lifted his face to not cause pain in his open and actively aching wounds but it was futile since eighteen of his bones and various ligaments were torn.
His mana was depleted and so was his fighting spirit. The right eye was swollen and tendons were pulled out to restrict his movements. Elbow dislocated and ankles crushed.
The major physical damage was done by the public who vent their anger on Clarsen before the Light Hero arrived but only intervened after Clarsen was brought down to his current state.
Not because the Hero was not capable of it, but rather because he wanted Clarsen to face what it feels like to get crushed by those whom the traitor regarded as insects in the past.
"D...oes...it...matters...Eric-"
**Splash**
Clarsen was not able to finish his words before the Light Hero named—Eric Dawnhec—swung his blade and ripped apart Clarsen's jaw, red pearly blood gushing out followed after.
The slash was clean enough that it seemed the hero just flicked his wrist but the technique behind it concluded with the distorted face Clarsen currently possessed.
His face was already a shattered mess, and now he seemed halfway to decomposing, with the inner muscles of his mouth and a full set of teeth exposed on one side of Clarsen's face.
"Don't you dare take my name? You have long lost that privilege to regard me so casually, Clarsen."
Every single person was aware of the fact that once Clarsen and the hero shared a very close relationship and swore to bring salvation together one day. But down the path, things changed, and Clarsen, who once hailed as the Supreme Battlegod, changed his path and took the side of those who once Clarsen vowed to destroy.
"Look at those faces Clarsen. What do you find in them? Those people whose responsibility we should have shared are now looking at you with hatred and disgust."
The raven-haired doesn't have to look away to consider what kind of reactions the crowd has since he has faced their wrath just some moments ago. He was certain that if looks could have killed someone then Clarsen would have died countless times over. Every single person, he believes, carries hostility toward him and Clarsen has given justifiable reasons for it.
"Not to talk about Grace..."
A pang of guilt washed over Clarsen as he heard that name before his eyes absentmindedly roamed over the crowd and settled on a particular red-haired beauty who was looking at him with a straight blank face.
Grace Rahna Williams.
The person whom Clarsen owed a lifetime of apology and the person whom he had betrayed the most amongst each person counted. The girl who had innocently fallen in love with him, Clarsen, used that emotion to bring her family to their demise and left the girl as an orphan, all alone.
She trusted him, and due to her status as Clarsen's to-be bride, when he became a traitor, Grace had to face scorn and humiliation from the general masses as well. If not for Eric, then Grace might have been sentenced to be beheaded a long time ago.
She took it all without a complaint even though there was nothing she did wrong other than the fact that she fell for the wrong man. That was her curse which tormented Grace for a longer period than what a person could tolerate. But fortunately, today, her curse will be removed, and she can live a normal life ahead.
Clarsen felt his eyes dampening before he snatched his gaze back at his executioner. Failing to utter his words, Clarsen ran his movable finger on the muddy ground to spell out the wish he desperately wanted to be fulfilled.
Eric narrowed his gaze with his guard at the spot, as the blond saw the words written,
'Take care of Grace... '
Eric gritted his teeth and swallowed back the minuscule empathy he had for the man he once called his brethren. Eric was unsure whether the consideration for his fiance was an act or Clarsen was genuinely concerned about her. Was the horror of death really making this man remorseful about what he lost?
Regardless, Eric must fulfill his duty, and he would never waver from his resolve to bring this chaos to its ultimate end.
"Don't worry, Clarsen. Without you, Grace can finally live the rest of her life in peace. And I would ensure that, so now, please die for me."
The last expression Eric saw on his one friend's face was a look of satisfaction and resignation. Clarsen seemed anything, but fearful of death since, in his cloudy gaze, all Eric could gaze at was an eternity of rest.
There were many things Eric wanted to say and ask this man. Many things to complain about, hundreds of questions that had been playing at the back of Hero's mind for a long time. But there is no time remaining for that.
Placing the tip of his sword on Clarsen's chest, the apostle of light looked coldly at the dying man before he muttered out the last of words Clarsen would hear in this life.
"Goodbye, old friend."
*******
A/N:- Thanks for reading.