The World Is Mine For The Taking

I headed to where I had locked up the traitor.

The walls were an unbroken white, spotless, with not even a hint of dirt anywhere. As I moved through the area, I noticed women bustling about, hard at work. Production had ramped up significantly, and it was clear this place was the heart of where the Leonamon's wealth flowed in—money earned from all the buyers of our goods. Amon had reported earlier that our profits had reached a staggering amount, something no one in this world could likely match. I'd instructed her to donate a significant portion to poor villages and orphanages, which she had promptly executed without question.

Before heading to the cage where the traitor was held, I stopped by another room. Someone was inside, and just as I approached, Natasha stepped out.

"Mr. Leon…" she greeted, her tone carrying a mix of exhaustion and hesitation.

"How's the person inside?" I asked.

She looked down, clearly unsure. "I can't say for certain. Her vitals are stable, and there's nothing physically wrong that I can find. But… she won't wake up. This isn't like Zeruel's mother, though. It feels different."

The person in question was Duke Merca's daughter. We'd been lucky to save her life using Marie's Soul Manipulation. Unfortunately, Marie had admitted that her ability couldn't fully repair the damage. She'd done everything she could to retrieve the girl's soul and tether it back to her body—it had helped that she hadn't been dead for more than a day. Still, something must've shaken her so deeply that she hadn't regained consciousness yet.

Inside the room, Duke Merca sat beside his daughter, holding her hand tightly as she lay on the bed. Her face was calm, peaceful even, like she was simply taking a nap. When I entered, he glanced up at me, his expression a mess of emotions.

"I'm really grateful for everything you've done, Mr. Faust," he said softly.

"You don't need to thank me," I replied. "We were fortunate to save her in time."

He turned back to his daughter, gripping her hand tighter, his voice thick with guilt. "Yes… but this is all my fault. It should've been me, not her."

I sighed, knowing this wasn't the first time he'd spiraled into self-blame. "I've told you before—you didn't stab that knife into her chest. Sesillian made you do it. He was controlling your mind."

"But that doesn't make me any less guilty," he shot back, his voice breaking. "I was the one holding the knife. I was the one who plunged it into her chest. And at that moment… I didn't even feel anything. It wasn't until a few seconds later that the guilt hit me like a fucking tidal wave. It tore through me, so intense that I wanted to scream. The pain doesn't go away. It's unbearable, knowing I did that to my own daughter. How do you live with knowing you tried to kill the person you love most in this world? Controlled or not, it was still me. It was still my hands."

The weight of what had happened was crushing him. The daughter he cherished more than anything had almost died by his own actions. Even though Sesillian's manipulation was the true culprit, Merca had been conscious, fully aware of what was happening, which only deepened his torment.

"She was supposed to start as a cadet at the academy next year," he murmured, his gaze fixed on her peaceful face. "She was so excited about it. But now… now I don't even know if she'll wake up in time for that to happen."

I stepped closer and placed a hand on his shoulder, meeting his tear-filled eyes. "You don't have to worry," I said firmly. "I'll do whatever it takes to save your daughter. I promise you that."

***

After that, I went to my original destination. The cage where the traitor, who had been feeding information to the enemy, was locked away. The room itself was unremarkable, like any other within the headquarters—plain walls and minimal furnishing.

I opened the heavy door, its creak echoing in the silence, and there she was—the traitor, her limbs spread and restrained by power-dampening chains crafted from Dryad vines. Those vines weren't just for show because they siphoned the nutrients from her body bit by bit, leaving her visibly weaker with every passing hour. Her skin was pale, glistening with sweat, her chest rising and falling as she struggled for breath, her exhaustion palpable.

And yet, despite it all, she had the audacity to greet me with that same wicked smirk.

"I hadn't expected a visit from you at this late hour, Leon," she said.

"Hello, Marie," I replied. "How are you holding up after being suspended in this position for days?"

She let out a long, exaggerated sigh, her chains clinking faintly as she shifted. "It tires me, truth be told," she admitted, emphasizing her words with a heaving breath as if to drive her point home.

"The Duke's daughter is alive because of you," I told her. "Perhaps that's why I've been lenient. You're still of use to me."

"Oh, how sweet of you to say, dear boy," she said with a soft, knowing chuckle.

"You seem a little more subdued than usual," I remarked, stepping closer. "Is it because you've been caught?"

She tilted her head slightly, her smirk unwavering. "Well, considering I've been dabbling in the suspicious of late, I suppose it was only a matter of time before my movements caught your eye."

Her actions within the Leonamon had always been deliberate, each step hinting at something deeper. Not only had she been passing information to our enemies, but she'd been meticulously observing everything that happened within the company.

"I can't help but wonder," I said, narrowing my eyes at her, "why you made every move so blatantly suspicious. It's as if you wanted to be caught."

She didn't answer with words, only that damn smile, her silence saying more than words ever could.

"Tell me, Marie," I pressed, "what's your goal? What is the person you've been aiding trying to achieve? And what does he want from Sesillian?"

Her smirk softened, but her eyes gleamed with something akin to nostalgia. "We seek a way back home," she said, her voice distant, almost wistful.

Her words sent an icy chill coursing down my spine. I understood the longing to return, but my reasons were darker. I didn't want to go back out of sentiment or nostalgia—I needed to go back to settle scores, to exact vengeance on those who had wronged my sister in my past life.

I studied her carefully. "This 'home' you speak of," I said slowly. "It's not here, is it? It's not in this world."

She chuckled softly. "So, you've pieced it together, have you, child?"

"Of course," I said. "The clues were all there. The ritual Sesillian used to summon that dragon—it wasn't just some summoning spell. It was designed to force two worlds to collide, wasn't it?"

She inclined her head slightly. "Indeed. That young man's ritual was an attempt to tear through the veil of time and space, creating a rift large enough for that dragon to enter this world. However…" Her lips curved into a sly smile. "The ritual was flawed. It is an entry, yes—but only that. It opens a way in, not a way out."

"So, it's nothing more than a one-way ticket, then?"

Marie's smile grew sharper. "Precisely, my dear boy. An entrance with no exit—a gate that swallows but never releases."

There was no way in hell I'd stoop to Sesillian's level just to make it back to Earth, my old world. The idea alone disgusted me. Honestly, it was a relief to learn there wasn't any way for me to use his method to return. I didn't want that on my conscience.

"You've given me a lot of information," I said, narrowing my eyes. "Why?"

Her lips curled into a wry smile. "Let's just say I'm tired of this endless game of chess," she replied. "I've been at it too long, and I'm far too old for it now."

She looked young, sure, but I knew the truth—she was already over a hundred years old. Even someone like her had limits, it seemed.

"Can I ask what your world was like? What's its name?"

Her mischievous smirk deepened as she answered, "It's nothing more than a desolate wasteland," she said. "A place that only came alive because of a being we saw as a god. That god saved my grandniece, pulled her out of hell, and raised her like his own daughter. He gave us hope and ripped us free from the suffering of that world."

A god, huh?

I turned to leave, the conversation already serving its purpose. This was just a confirmation—Marie wasn't from this world, but neither was she from Earth. Her world was something entirely different, something alien. This conversation had given me what I came for, so I'd leave it at that. For now.

As I reached the door, her voice followed me. "You're playing god yourself, young Leon," she said, a hint of warning in her tone. "Be careful. Play too hard, and you might end up hurting yourself."

That was the last thing she said before I walked out.