NOVEL NEXT 116- The Poison
Volume 03, Chapter 116
The Poison
Guzman stands atop a rooftop, the wind tugging at the long hem of his coat as he gazes out over Eñeforte Town.
The town is bathed in the warm glow of late afternoon light, alive with chatter and laughter. Families stroll the cobbled streets, children skip along with wooden toys, vendors haggle with smiles, it is a scene of peace.
A sharp contrast to what he has planned.
He pulls out his Commlink and taps the name: Colleen Dupont.
"Is it done?" Guzman asks, his voice calm but firm.
"Oui, Monsieur. The dispersal units are set. We are ready on your command," Colleen replies in her crisp, professional tone.
"Good. Launch the attack… in fifteen minutes."
"Roger, Monsieur."
Guzman ends the call and lowers the Commlink. He stares down at the town again.
And he hesitates.
That flicker of hesitation, something he has not felt in years, gnaws at him.
'Why now?' he wonders bitterly. 'After everything I've done?'
He has ordered executions. Burned down homes. Flattened infrastructure. He followed Belard's orders because Belard paid generously, and La Peste Noire runs on Camillums. It is the mafia his uncle built, and it was his duty to preserve its power.
But now… as he watches a child laugh and run into their mother's arms, that duty feels like a noose tightening around his soul.
His grip on the Commlink tightens.
"Guzman!"
He turns calmly.
Belard, dressed in his usual expensive coat, rushes toward him, breathless, sweat trickling down his face.
"Monsieur Belard," Guzman greets, his voice smooth. "You finally arrived."
"What's the meaning of this?!" Belard demands, panting.
Guzman raises an eyebrow. "You'll need to be more specific."
"The poison!" Belard barks, his voice shaking. "Why would you order an attack on Eñeforte?! This town is one of my best investments! The debt system I placed here practically prints Camillums!"
Belard's voice cracks. "These fools are easy to control. You think poisoning them serves the Umbrascourge? It only ruins my profits!"
Guzman tilts his head. "Interesting. And how, may I ask… did you find out?"
Belard's expression falters.
"Let me guess," Guzman says. "You got word from your mole inside La Peste Noire?"
Belard goes pale. "Guzman, don't misunderstand. It was just—"
"Just what?" Guzman interrupts, stepping forward. "Surveillance? Insurance? A leash on me?"
Belard falls silent.
"I knew," Guzman continues, his voice growing colder. "I always had a feeling. The way you always seemed one step ahead. Knowing where I was. What I was planning. I let it slide, let her rise in the ranks, just to see where it would lead."
Belard begins stepping backward.
Guzman advances slowly. "I watched her. At first, she acted loyally. Reliable. But the cracks showed. Background inconsistencies. Too clean. Too perfect. And then… your name appeared in her encrypted Commlink logs."
Belard bumps into the metal railing behind him.
"She wasn't just gathering information," Guzman continues, now only a few steps away. "She was insurance. A pressure point. A message: obey Belard… or be exposed to the VHAC."
"I—" Belard stammers, trying to summon his old arrogance—but his voice betrays him.
"Clever, really," Guzman admits. "Threatening to tell Esmé Jules about our operations. Using her to control us from within."
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
He stops just a foot away from Belard now.
"But that ends tonight," Guzman says. "This town will fall. And so will you."
Belard's eyes blaze with a cocktail of fear and fury. "You… traitor! After everything I gave you! All the Camillums!"
Guzman's expression darkens. "You bought my silence. But not my loyalty. Not anymore."
Belard's voice rises in desperation. "If you do this, the VHAC will come down on you. On La Peste Noire. You're digging your own grave!"
Guzman leans in close. "Better to die free," he whispers, "than to live under a leash."
Belard takes a breath to speak, but Guzman raises his hand.
The sky begins to darken. The fifteen-minute timer is nearing its end.
"Goodbye, Belard."
Guzman's hand shoots out like a viper, gripping Belard's throat mercilessly.
"Guh—Guzman—!" Belard wheezes, his eyes bulging as he claws at Guzman's wrist.
"Soul Rot," Guzman whispers coldly.
A faint, sickly-green light pulses from his fingertips.
And then, Belard begins to wither.
His fat form starts deflating, his flesh shrivels like a punctured wineskin. His once-rosy skin turns ashen, then gray, then blackened, as though burned from the inside out.
Veins surface like dark rivers beneath parchment-thin skin, his cheeks cave inward, and his body slumps like a deflated wheel of meat and bones, grotesquely folding into itself.
His mouth opens in a silent scream as his final breath escapes him.
-Thud!
Guzman releases his grip, letting the crumpled corpse collapse onto the rooftop like discarded trash.
He looks down at the husk that was once Belard.
"Thank you for the Camillums you've provided us," he says coldly, brushing dust from his coat. "But I won't thank you for the mole you implanted."
From inside his coat, Guzman pulls out an object wrapped in black velvet.
He unwraps it carefully, revealing a plague mask, long, pointed like a raven's beak, made of burnished obsidian steel with engraved glyphs etched along the curves. The eye sockets glow faintly red beneath the glass lenses, and the edges bear stitched leather bindings.
He slips it on, the leather tightening to his face with a whispering hiss.
A quiet exhale escapes the beak.
Then, he pulls out his Commlink.
[ 00:04:02 ]
Four minutes left.
He stares at the countdown. The town below still bustles—children laugh, merchants shout, couples stroll under the dying light.
Guzman tilts his head.
"Four minutes until silence," he murmurs behind the mask. His voice is different now—muffled, warped, inhuman.
He turns to face the town once more, a phantom in a bird's visage, ready to turn joy into rot.
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Célestin sits in the train car, the landscape of the outskirts rushing past the window in a blur of green and gray. His grip tightens around his Commlink, thumb frantically tapping as he tries again to reach Celine.
"The number you have dialed is currently unavailable."
"Tch…!" he hisses.
He slams his fist against his thigh, frustration boiling over.
Across from him sits Jun, the man he dragged out of the red-light district of Aurelior not even an hour ago. Jun shifts nervously in his seat, watching Célestin with wary curiosity. Despite the abruptness of their encounter, something about the boy makes Jun trust him.
"Is… there anything I can do to help, Célestin?" Jun asks cautiously.
Célestin looks up, the weight of his thoughts pressing hard against his expression.
"Your attribute is Wind, right?" he says. "I need you to manipulate the poison gas spreading across Eñeforte, compress it into a small, concentrated sphere. I'll contain it after that."
Jun's face pales. "Wh-What?! That's— I'm not that good with my Wind magic! I don't have enough Mana for that—I'm barely a [E-] Rank!"
Célestin's gaze softens, just slightly. "You won't do it alone. I'll be guiding your Mana and reinforcing the structure. You just need to follow my instructions and stay focused."
Jun looks unsure… but nods. "O-Okay… I'll try."
Célestin gives a firm nod, then turns back to his Commlink, scrolling through his contacts. He taps André's name.
"The number you have dialed is currently unavailable."
His jaw clenches. "Not him too…"
He scrolls again, Maurice.
The call connects. Relief flickers across Célestin's face.
"Finally—"
"Hello, this is Maurice. I'm unavailable. Please call later."
The line cuts.
Célestin lets out a sharp breath through his nose, fingers twitching with restraint. "You've got to be kidding me…"
One last name.
He scrolls down and taps Dominic.
The call rings.
No answer.
Again.
Nothing.
"Damn it!" he barks, the sound echoing in the quiet train car.
Jun flinches.
Célestin leans forward, elbows on his knees, hands tangled in his hair. Everyone—gone. No contact. No backup. No time.
If they do not act soon, Eñeforte will become a graveyard.
And he and Jun might be the only line of defense left.
════ ⋆★⋆ ════
Celine stands in the kitchen, humming softly as she slices the last of the apples. The scent of sugar, cinnamon, and butter fills the air. She arranges the thin slices into a ceramic dish with practiced grace, her smile serene.
"Dominic would love this apple pie…" she murmurs fondly. "Even before he became so gluttonous a few months ago, apple pie was always his favorite."
She chuckles to herself and gently picks up the plate of apples.
But just as she turns toward the counter—
—WHOOSH!
Her eyes widen. Through the window, a rolling wave of thick, violet smoke surges across the horizon—unnatural, heavy, and fast.
"What the—?"
She drops the plate. It shatters on the floor.
She bolts out of the kitchen, her slippers sliding beneath her as she sprints toward the living room.
"My Commlink—!" she gasps.
But as she turns the corner—
She freezes.
The entire living room is already engulfed in thick, poisonous smoke.
A vile stench invades her nose, burning metal and rotting herbs. Her body reacts instantly.
"No—!" she gasps, stumbling back. Her legs strike the edge of the sofa, and she falls, landing hard on her side.
The smoke pours in through the vents and under the doorframe, swallowing the air around her.
Her lungs spasm.
She chokes violently. Her hand claws at her throat. It feels like she is breathing in acid.
"Ngh—khh...!"
Her vision blurs. The room tilts. Everything begins to spin.
She drags herself along the floor, fingers trembling as she reaches toward the nearby coffee table where her Commlink lies.
Her fingertips graze it—
Then slip.
Cough! Cough! Cough!
Blood hits the floor in small droplets.
Her eyes, already filled with tears, begin to glaze over.
The scent of apple and cinnamon clings faintly to her clothes, a cruel reminder of warmth in the suffocating storm of poison.
She clutches her chest.
"Dom...inic…" she rasps, her voice barely audible. "You'd better eat that pie when I finish it…" Her lips curve into a smile… then tremble. "…don't… die before I get to scold you again…"
Then everything fades to black.