[BL] Accidentally Becoming the Healer of the Deranged Archduke

Serena's once-white eyes had turned a murky yellow.

Yet unlike the Death Walkers, who snarled and drooled with ravenous hunger, she remained composed.

If not for the spider-like web of veins crawling up her neck, she might have looked the same as ever.

But those marks—those veins—reminded Xion of his own chest.

Almost instantly, the pieces clicked together in his mind.

The devil's heart.

Back then, Darius had said he left that black stone on the bedside table, yet later they found it buried in the deep corner of the lowest drawer.

And before that day, Serena had come to visit him.

Xion had been blind then—blind not only in sight, but consumed by his own broken world—so lost he hadn't even noticed her breath.

If not for the system, he wouldn't have realized she was there at all.

When he had called her, she hadn't replied. She didn't ask about his health. Not even her usual jokes about Noxian being a brat without someone to look after him.

The Devil's Heart had begun to change after that.

The black stone had become something far worse. It had evolved into a true heart filled with nothing but malice.

However, Serena had fallen deeper into its curse than he ever had.

"Aunt?" His voice almost cracked as he called her.

What came back was not love, not warmth. Only cold indifference greeted him.

Amused, Silas chortled. A booming, jagged sound that broke into shards, each one digging deeper into Xion's chest.

With his bloodstained arm, Silas dragged Serena closer, resting his hand around her shoulders as if she were an old companion.

Xion's fists clenched. He wanted nothing more than to burn that arm to ash. Maybe burn everything around him.

"She's mine now," Silas said, grinning. "She was so eager to meet her darling again. Father Michael told her she could bring that old man back. All she had to do was…"

He left the words unfinished, but the truth writhed on Serena's skin.

Those purple veins, pulsing with venom, were enough.

They had fed her the same poison they once forced into Xion. Perhaps it was more out of spite to make him miserable than to hurt Serena.

"Little angel, we meet again," Michael said.

His smile was bright, his caramel skin glowing with a radiance that bordered on divine. His white hair was as neat as ever.

Maybe he shone brighter than the sun struggling to hide behind dark clouds.

"But you failed me," he went on, his voice smooth, gentle, cruel. "Angels shouldn't kill. They're meant to be kind—obedient. They should only listen to their masters. Do you know what bad angels get?"

"Is that why you did it?" Xion asked. His voice was hollow and dry, stripped of any emotion that used to make his head dizzy.

Even to his own ears it sounded dead.

Because he truly didn't care about the blood soaking his hands anymore.

"You're trying to punish me by hurting them."

It was not even a question anymore. The truth was in plain sight.

"Just a little reunion gift," Michael replied softly, "for the lands that dared to betray the goddess, and for the servant who should be serving her, not the devil Archduke. I am but her humble servant."

His smile remained unshaken, radiant.

But his eyes—those damned silver-grey eyes—were swirling with darkness.

Others might not see it. But Xion had lived with Michael. He knew the signs.

This wasn't anger anymore. It was pure, unbridled rage.

"You know what?" Xion tilted his head slightly.

His long hair brushed his dry, peeling cheeks. His entire face had an unnatural flush due to the severe cold, and yet his eyes somehow looked bright all of a sudden.

"You bastards just made it easy for me. I don't need to find each of you jerks out separately and waste my time."

Silas looked at him with wide eyes, as if not expecting him to say anything like that. Or maybe he was more perplexed why Xion didn't even ask about Serena.

"Xion! How dare you speak like that!"

Xion's lips twitched, and a smirk crept up on his face. "I dare, ah. Why don't I dare? Who are you, Michael? Nothing but a lump of flesh strewn together with the blood of innocents. You fucking stink."

Michael's jaw clenched, his fake smile vanished, replaced by a deep scowl.

Michael treated himself as a god and as a pure vessel. So, what was the best way to mess with him than to do the opposite?

Xion would have cursed more if Michael hadn't waved his hand.

The already tired army looked as if they had chugged down the bottles of adrenaline.

They rushed forward, not even caring about the changing color of their eyes.

Yes, Xion thought with a morbid smile. To Michael and Silas, these people aren't worth saving.

They would kill them all after the battle.

Xion nodded at Berry from the corner of his eye, motioning him to take care of his side before rushing forward.

He pulled out a sword.

It was thin, much lighter than the knight's weapons.

In a second, it was covered with white mana until even the metallic tip wasn't visible.

The clash began in a blur of steel and mana.

Silas's blade whistled through the air before it fell mercilessly on the horse.

Despite jumping out on time, Xion nearly tumbled.

He twisted on his heel to dodge another attack, his body screaming in protest, his legs barely holding him upright.

The edge of the dagger missed him by a hair, carving sparks as it kissed the ground.

When he looked up, he saw the owner of the dagger.

Michael's hand was still raised. "Give up, Xion. This isn't what you are supposed to!"

Xion rolled his eyes. "Fuck off," he cursed, slashing at almost crazy Silas.

Silas was quick to dodge. Although he had become somewhat unstable on his feet, his instincts kept him just out of Xion's reach.

Michael's silver-grey eyes narrowed, and a surge of divine mana tore through him.

Serena's lifeless eyes flickered as Michael threw a mana ball at the black-haired healer.

The blast thundered past Xion's ear, searing the space where his head had been.

The heat prickled his skin. An inch closer and it would have caved in his skull. However, the people behind him weren't so lucky.

Michael did not miss by accident.

"Come to me, Xion," he said, not even calling him 'little angel' anymore.

In his eyes, Xion didn't deserve that title anymore.

"Surrender, and I will let these pitiful mortals live. I will even cure the infected. You know I can."

The words were sugar on a poisoned blade.

Xion's lips peeled back in a snarl. "You morbid motherfucker."

Michael's rage simmered to the surface like never before.

His radiant face darkened, and madness flickered in his eyes.

He raised his hand again.

When Xion dropped low to dodge, Silas' sword screamed past his chest.

He rolled, forcing his body to move faster than his trembling bones wanted. The second mana strike split the earth where he had been standing, soil erupting in a violent spray.

But he couldn't avoid them all.

A sharp pain tore through his shoulder. He hissed, whipping his head around.

"She got you, bastard." Silas grinned, watching with dreadful amusement.

Serena had moved like a phantom, her dagger buried deep in his shoulder.

Blood ran hot down his arm, dripping onto her pale, veined hand.

Yet instead of rage, Xion smiled. A broken, bitter smile. "Hello, Mother. It's nice to see you again."

Her yellowed eyes flickered, her lips quirking up for just a moment before dimming entirely.

She could have easily plunged it into his chest, rendering him immobilized. But she didn't.

That last bit of clarity had vanished, leaving a shell of Serena.

A mere puppet.

With a grunt, Xion seized the hilt of the dagger.

He ripped it free in one brutal pull, ignoring the fire in his shoulder.

Mana surged into the steel, white threads wrapping it in a silvery storm.

"Take it back!"

He flung it with all his strength at Michael. The dagger cut the air like lightning, faster than any human weapon had the right to be.

Michael didn't dodge fast enough. The blade carved across his cheek, crimson welling against his glowing skin.

The holy man's expression finally cracked. He stared at his fingertips, now smeared with crimson from his cheek.

"Wow, he got you, too! Not me—"

Before Silas could finish, a sword had pushed through his back, just shy of his heart. "No, because you are mine to hunt."

A violent surge of mana settled down, a wave so raw it split the air.

The ground heaved, walls groaned, and soldiers—friend and foe alike—were flung aside, leaving a deep pit in the ground.

Xion looked at the Archduke and his special team of the Grand Order.

They had teleported right into the middle of the battlefield.