Chapter 401
Its content was brief and direct.
He demanded that Ilux retract his words and withdraw the biting remark about "childish love."
The demand was not a negotiation.
It was an ultimatum delivered with a vibration of power that made the very foundation of Ilux's mind tremble.
And the threat was clear.
If Ilux refused to do so, if he allowed those insulting words to linger, then he would face the consequences.
The "consequences" were not explained, yet they radiated as something far worse than the earlier disturbances of elements or distortions of perception.
This was a threat born from the core of Xavier's wounded and furious soul—a promise of retaliation that would be more fundamental, more painful, and more destructive to the fragile bond that still remained between them.
The atmosphere that had briefly softened into a heartbreaking plea now froze once again into a confrontation filled with hatred, where the price of a single sarcastic remark might be the final civil war within one body.
'From the very beginning I have done nothing but criticize your way of thinking—a way that, whether you like it or not, is currently far too childish for someone once praised as King Xavier XVII. And if criticism alone already counts as an insult to you, then the problem does not lie in my words… but in yourself.'
Ilux's gaze at the dark ceiling did not shift in the slightest.
His response was not a fiery act of defiance, but a cold determination that settled deep within the recesses of his consciousness.
He refused to submit to the anger-filled ultimatum.
Every syllable of his criticism stood firm, unwilling to retreat back into the darkness of unspoken thought.
To him, a truth once spoken—even if bitter and cutting—was a monument that must remain standing.
If Xavier felt anger and offense, then let that become a burden he must carry alone.
Ilux felt no obligation to calm a storm of emotions that he himself had not conjured from nothingness.
There was a strange, paradoxical relief in accepting the consequences.
Let the anger come.
Let the consequences strike.
All of it was more honorable than pretending to retract an observation that was clear and precise.
The silence enveloping the room now changed in nature.
It was no longer a quiet waiting, but a deliberate stillness—a transparent wall separating two consciousnesses inside one skull.
Ilux could feel the waves of Xavier's fury churning around him, like the pressure of the deep ocean trying to crush a submarine.
Yet inside the cockpit of his own awareness, there was a peculiar calm.
He had spoken the truth as he saw it.
That behind the legend and authority lay a childish panic willing to sacrifice logic for the sake of a single name.
That was not an insult.
It was a diagnosis.
And a doctor does not apologize for naming a disease.
"Conflict of two sides."
Within the inner space that should have remained private, a battle erupted with a ferocity that surpassed an ordinary quarrel.
Their dispute was no longer merely a difference of opinion, but a collision between two realms of consciousness that negated each other.
Though no sound escaped Ilux's sealed lips, the room itself became a silent witness to the internal chaos leaking outward.
The atmosphere thickened with invisible pressure, as though the walls and the air strained under the psychic storm raging inside the head of its occupant.
The dim moonlight suddenly behaved anomalously.
It pulsed like the failing heart of a giant, sometimes dimming until it nearly vanished into total darkness, then suddenly flaring with painful intensity that bleached the vision.
The shadows of objects around the room no longer remained still.
They crawled, stretched, and wrestled with one another like living creatures locked in combat, forming distorted and terrifying silhouettes.
The books on the shelves trembled on their own, their pages opening and closing in chaotic rhythm like the wings of a dying butterfly.
The air grew heavy and moved in cold little spirals that brushed against Ilux's skin, raising goosebumps along his neck.
The elements that had long obeyed Ilux's perception now began to rebel.
Without his command, the moisture particles in the air condensed into fine grains of ice that spun wildly, scratching every surface with a sharp rustling sound.
The earth and wood of the floor and furniture groaned, as if their fundamental materials were being stretched and compressed beyond their limits of tolerance.
"Take back your words now, Ilux. This is an order, not a request. You have no position to lecture me on how I think."
Fhoooh!
"Have you even looked at who you are? The very beginning of your life was tragic and ridiculous. You were nothing but an orphan who could not even protect himself. You even allowed yourself to be bullied—by a woman who laughed happily while turning your life into cheap mockery. And now you dare speak of authority? Of reason?"
The psychic blow no longer came in the form of elemental disturbances or distorted perceptions.
It came deeper and sharper, piercing directly into the most fragile and hidden memories.
Once his anger found its outlet, Xavier no longer held back.
His attack turned into a rain of insults and mockery designed specifically to wound, targeting the weakest point of Ilux's identity.
His lonely childhood in the orphanage.
The echo of Xavier's voice resonated through the corridors of Ilux's memories, not as a scream but as a degrading whisper seeping into every gap of his consciousness.
He mocked those formative years, portraying them as a ridiculous and helpless fragment of life.
With cold and sarcastic words, Xavier painted the image of a young Ilux who was easily deceived—someone who could be toyed with and bullied effortlessly by "a cheerful little girl," a degrading reference to the young Erietta.
Every sweet memory of friendship, every sincere moment of togetherness, was twisted into proof of weakness—into a story of how the soul of a future heir to legend had grown under shadows and dependence upon others.
Each syllable of mockery was like acid dripping onto an old wound.
It was as if Xavier had opened Ilux's treasure chest of memories only to throw its contents into the mud, trampling the purity of the childhood that had shaped him.
This was no longer a debate about logic or danger.
It was a vicious ad hominem assault, an attempt to shatter Ilux's dignity by exposing roots considered fragile and shameful.
Xavier, in desperation that had turned cruel, sought to prove that Ilux—with his ordinary and vulnerable background—had no right to criticize or judge a great Hero King.
"And do not hide all of that behind the excuse of bad fate. Your carelessness was not a one-time incident, Ilux. It is a habit. A pattern that continues to follow you wherever you go."
Haaah!
"Because of your carelessness, one of your teammates lost his life—not because he was weak, but because you were careless. Because of that same carelessness, your head was nearly pierced by a sword when you stormed the headquarters of the Dark Legion.
One breath too late, and you would have died there.
And even when facing Hashri, you still managed to make an almost ridiculous mistake—accidentally strengthening the antithesis of your own five elemental powers."
Fhuuuh!
"That is not luck. That is not destiny. That is proof that every step you take is always followed by risks that you create yourself."
Xavier's assault sharpened further, transforming from personal mockery into direct accusations that attacked Ilux's competence and essence as a warrior.
The voice inside his head was no longer merely belittling him, but acting as a merciless judge, presenting a long list of failures that he refused to call misfortune—labeling them instead as "carelessness" ingrained into habit.
Every incident, every wound, every life lost was unearthed and arranged into a single narrative of fatal character flaws.
To be continued…