Killed Me? Now I Have Your Power

"Your eyes are unfocused, once again," Anthropologist said, making Vaela blink several times in a row before her blue eyes finally settled on him.

They were inside the dungeon, sitting on simple chairs placed side by side with a rocky table between them, watching as Abomination, Ruined, and Spider trained the children's bodies and awareness.

Abomination was laughing, taking pleasure in tormenting the pitiful children who only bit their lips in frustration. While some, disturbingly, laughed along with her. The crimson-haired girl, whom Vaela had named Crimson, was the loudest. She seemed to get along with Abomination rather well.

Ruined was strict, his sky-blue eyes unwavering as he drilled his group in coordination and discipline, forcing them to reinforce their grip and flexibility. He did not laugh, nor did the children under him. The black-skinned, bald man and the silver-haired woman — Bald and Silver as they were now called — trained beside him, their faces stoic and unyielding like their mentor's.

Spider's method, however, was interesting. He used his silk to weave invisible obstacles throughout the space around them, telling the children to approach him without touching a single thread.

A difficult task, to say the least, but one the pale boy, who now bore the name White, seemed to enjoy greatly. His grin widened as he effortlessly avoided each strand.

Their training continued, and their talent was evident. Some among them clearly showed great promise.

"What do you mean?" Vaela finally asked, her eyes narrowing slightly.

Anthropologist smiled faintly, his gaze fixed ahead as he held his steaming tea in his right hand. He didn't answer immediately, as if searching for the right words, but eventually he spoke.

"You know," he began, "I have a small story to tell you. If you would give me the honor of your ears, of course."

Vaela's lips curved into a thin smile behind her bloodied mask. "I would be a fool not to listen to the one my dear named Anthropologist."

He chuckled softly. "A fine name, I must admit. I should thank Harvester for it." He paused briefly, then his tone shifted, turning more solemn.

"High in the distant past," he said, "in an empire blessed by the Celeste, a young heir was born."

"He was talented, his golden eyes were near-perfect mirrors of the sun above, and he had the ambition to become that very sun for his people. He had a kind heart, too, known for giving chocolate bars to every child he met when he was young." He chuckled faintly.

Vaela's attention sharpened. She sat a little straighter.

"Doubtless, he had what it took to be emperor. But here lies the problem, Oracle… the young heir was not alone. He had an older brother — equally gifted, as all of their bloodline were blessed by the Celeste — yet with eyes burning even brighter than his."

"And there lay the difficulty. Two suns had been born. But there could never be two suns in the same sky, in the same horizon… so one had to fall."

"Their father, unable to choose without igniting chaos among his people, decided not to bear the weight of choice. Instead, he gave them both the same authority…to do whatever it took to become emperor."

Anthropologist's smile dimmed. "A cowardly move, if you ask me. But one I understand."

"Did they kill each other?" Vaela asked, intrigued.

Anthropologist shook his head. "Not quite. The older brother had every advantage… more mature, more seasoned, and better positioned to inherit the crown. He had already forged alliances and built influence while the younger heir was still eating chocolate."

"Hearing this, you might assume he became emperor, right?"

Vaela nodded simply.

"He would have," Anthropologist said, "if the younger brother hadn't possessed an edge. A nasty one, at that."

He paused, letting Vaela absorb the weight of the words.

"An edge?" Vaela echoed. "What kind?"

Anthropologist smiled strangely. "A little bit similar to you," he said. "The ability to see beyond the present. Beyond what we are allowed to perceive."

Vaela's eyes widened in understanding, then narrowed, but Anthropologist wasn't finished yet.

"And yet, it was different from you. You can see the future — sometimes random, sometimes sought — but knowing the future doesn't necessarily mean knowing the correct path, does it?"

"That's the difference between you two. The young heir had a guiding star that could give him the path… the one path to become Emperor. A path that would never fail if followed."

"But you know, Oracle," he smiled faintly, "no power comes without price."

He turned his head toward Vaela, and he could see the understanding dawning upon her. "In the same way you lose a piece of your sight every time you use your Seer's ability, that star lost its very life each time it guided the young heir to the throne."

Vaela's body trembled, her eyes instantly turning cold. "How do you know?"

He chuckled. "I have lived a long time, child. I know well why Seers are rare," he said. "All of them end up in various ways I would rather not mention. And one of the first signs is always the same…they start losing their sight."

"I have watched you," he murmured. "I have seen how your eyes have become unfocused lately. You are using your ability too often."

"So what?" Vaela retorted, glaring at Anthropologist. "It doesn't matter if I lose my sight, as long as I can help my dear. There are many ways to see without seeing."

Anthropologist nodded slowly. "Why the sacrifice?" he asked. "Because if you think losing your eyesight is a simple matter…" He shook his head. "Then you are deeply mistaken."

"I love him," Vaela said coldly. "I love him, and that's why it doesn't matter. I'm not a child, Anthropologist. I've lived long enough to know it won't be easy to be eyeless, but I will not stay here useless just because of the downside of my power."

She looked deep into his eyes. "I won't," she repeated.

"Your family loved you too," Anthropologist countered. "Why didn't you show the same devotion?"

Vaela's face twisted into a feral scowl. "Love?" she growled like a beast, her neon eyes flaring. "They didn't love me! They only saw me as a tool for their goals, not caring about me!"

"That was the love they could give you," Anthropologist said calmly, unbothered by her rage. "They loved you as a tool, yes. But it was love, wasn't it?"

Vaela clenched her fists until her knuckles turned white.

"They loved you in the way a man loves his favorite carriage, for the journey it can take him on. That was the kind of love they could give, and they gave it to you. So why didn't you choose to be, like a carriage, and drive them where they wished to go without complaint?"

"That's not…" Vaela started, her anger flaring unreasonably. "That's not the love I wanted," she said at last.

"I didn't want to be loved as a tool. I wanted to be loved for who I am, as a person who can give more than information, more than a possible path toward the future."

"And that's why I chose Harvester. Because—!"

"He gave you the love you think you deserved," Anthropologist finished, smiling faintly, nodding in acknowledgment. "True." He smiled again. "We accept the love we think we deserve, Oracle."

Vaela tilted her head, eyes still narrowed in anger. "What's the correlation between this and the story you were telling?"

He smiled a strange, unsettling smile. "Everything, Oracle. Everything."

"The same way you accept the eventual fate of blindness for the man who gave you the love you think you deserve…it's the same way the star chose to burn brightly until it faded away, guiding the one who gave it the love it believed it deserved."

Vaela frowned, still not fully understanding. "Then the young heir became Emperor?"

"He did become Emperor," Anthropologist nodded. Then, "But don't you know…?"

"A sword can kill you once, but guilt kills you again and again."

Vaela's eyes widened. "He died?"

Anthropologist cackled, a sound like stones cascading across the ground. "No, Oracle. No. Death is mercy. He became much worse."

He stared deep into her blue eyes, raising his free hand and pointing with a crooked finger his head. His voice turned smooth, deliberate.

"He became mad. He became something completely different after losing his guiding star. He became crueler, unreasonable, devoid of goodwill, but also stronger beyond understanding. At his time of reigns, the sun no longer shone golden, but deep crimson. He became…"

He paused, turning his head slowly toward a distant direction..

"…the Mad Sun Emperor."

…the direction of the Celestial Empire.

…

Fokay — Asterion

"Still angry at my decision?" Mahina asked, wearing her white nightgown laced with blue, looking at Luminary calmly seated on the bed, his back against the frame, reading a golden book with bored eyes.

Clearly, he was not enjoying it.

Mahina couldn't help but smile inwardly at her husband. He always liked to do things he absolutely hated, like fishing, or even reading. He was not made for those, he was too hot-headed and impatient to enjoy tranquil hobbies.

But he still did them every day, even though he hated every second of it.

She liked that about him.

Without taking his eyes off the book, Luminary calmly responded to his wife, "Do I look angry to you?"

"Yes." Mahina's answer was swift. "You've been reading for two hours. And you never go past thirty minutes unless you're angry."

"Maybe I've come to enjoy reading," he said, not bothering to look up. "Now do me proud and be silent. I am reading."

"Are you not going to question my actions lately?" she asked again, ignoring his order entirely.

Luminary would have snapped at anyone else for this, but Mahina was his wife. He was used to it.

"You always act in the shadows, Mahina," he said. "You love to scheme and manipulate things to get what you want. I know that about you, and I've accepted it."

Here, he slowly raised his golden eyes and met Mahina's blue ones.

"But you have never done something that would endanger this empire and because of that, I don't bother myself wondering."

"Not that you would know even if you wanted to," Mahina interjected with a cold, joking smile.

Luminary smiled back. "Maybe," he said. "But I could certainly burn this whole gorydamn place until I light up your schemes for all the world to see. Don't you think?"

"Or do you think you can stop me, Mahina?"

"I certainly can't," she answered. "You've become the Sun for a reason. You have the bearing and the arrogance of one. And that's why you must also be aware…"

"…Sora is not made for the throne." Her voice turned firm. "She might have the pride, but not the drive or the hunger to bear the weight of the empire on her shoulders. I know my daughter."

"And you think I don't know mine?" Luminary said. "She's lacking, indeed. And true, Sirius is the one. He has the eyes, the arrogance, the confidence, and he inherited your slyness. Yes, he's perfect for the throne."

He paused, his tone softening. "And I would have gladly given him my place, but you know…"

"He is Moon Inheritor," Mahina finished.

Luminary shrugged. "He is. And do I need to tell you why only the Sun must rule? Please, don't make me, I'm busy reading."

"You know all of this, and yet you married me?" Mahina said, chuckling. "You knew this could become an issue. So why did you go against your parents' wishes to marry a Moon and then cause our children to fight each other?"

"Why else?" Luminary chuckled. "Is there anything besides love that could make a man do the most stupid thing ever?"

Mahina suppressed a smile.

"Even though I'm sly, as you love to say?"

"Especially because you are sly."

Mahina sighed wistfully at his words, then slowly closed her eyes.

"Will you interfere?" she asked at last.

"I won't," Luminary said. "I will only guide my daughter initially. And I know she'll find the drive if she truly wishes to achieve her dream. I'll make sure that becoming Empress will be the only path left for her to fulfill it. But if, even after all of this, my son wins…"

He paused.

"If a Moon rules over the Empire, then so be it. He will rule because the people chose him, and they will bear the consequences of that choice. I, Luminary Sun Asterion, will have done my duty."

"I have kept this Empire above countless powers in this world. I have made it a force no one dares to provoke with you, my sly wife, as my shadow."

"I cannot reign forever. And I have no desire to carry the burden until I die. So let them fight, as long as they don't kill each other like my ancestors, then I will have done my duty as both Emperor and father."

He fell silent and resumed his reading, immediately frowning at the flood of words before him. He groaned inwardly, but continued anyway.

Mahina smiled at him.

Her husband always amazed her. He was so close to her, yet so impossibly bright.

He was like the Sun…arrogant and unbothered. Calm and warm to all, as long as you didn't draw too close.

But it was also because he was the Sun that he knew when to rise, when to set, and when to let others take his place.

Luminary… oh, Luminary.

'Your father knew why he named you that,' Mahina thought, then said aloud, smiling faintly, "Maybe the Mad Sun Emperor should have taken a few lessons from you."

Luminary grinned. "He wishes." He turned a page lazily. "Why did you send the boy there?"

Mahina shrugged. "His high Will."

"You know he can die there, right? The Madness of the Mad Sun Emperor isn't something made for a boy, even one with that high a Will."

"He won't die, as long as he doesn't approach the core of the realm," Mahina said. "And he won't, not if he truly wishes to save his brother from punishment."

Luminary paused, lowering the book slightly. "Do you have any hand in the matter of the artifact being stolen?"

Mahina smiled. "You know your wife, Luminary. You know me."

He grinned.

"Oh, I do," he said. "And that's exactly why I know you want something from the Madhouse. Something I might not know. Something you think that boy can help you retrieve, for some reason."

Mahina's smile faltered for the briefest heartbeat, then returned. "A wild guess."

"Oh, that we'll see," he said curtly.

Mahina didn't answer. She remained silent for a few seconds, then simply turned off the light, plunging the room into thick darkness before lying comfortably on the bed.

"What are you doing?" Luminary demanded.

"It's time to sleep."

"I was reading."

"Stop pretending and come to bed."

"Are you ordering me?"

"No," she said softly. "I'm asking you nicely, husband, come and keep your wife warm."

Luminary clicked his tongue in mock reluctance. "You're lucky I like to do my duties flawlessly. Even the ones of a husband."

In the darkness, Mahina rolled her eyes.

"Of course, husband. Of course. Now come."

And he did, all while making sure to remind Mahina that it wasn't because he wanted to.

It was only duty.

Only his burden as a husband.

—End of Chapter 294—