Chapter 52: Wrath

  Justinian stared with wide-open eyes at the wounded Belisara, lying a short distance away.

  All the misfortunes that had befallen him on that terrible night almost a year ago were her doing.

  The work of a woman whom both he and his family had considered a great hero.

  The Eternally Beautiful Queen Diana, who had defeated the devil and kept him in her dungeons... had set her own city on fire when the power of the cursed blood ceased to grant her beauty.

  He still felt the contempt with which, in the memories, she had looked down on the wooden districts of her devoted people.

  The indifference with which she sent the palace guard to their deaths forcing their way through the magical fire.

  The joy of keeping her citizens, whom she compared to insects, under her boot.

  He didn't notice when he took a step forward and gripped the terrified Belisara by the throat.

  He did it hard enough that she couldn't draw a breath.

  'Sister Teresa and Zonik died because of a monster like this?'

  In the eyes of the she-devil, who was silently begging for mercy, he saw only the enemy who had taken everything from him.

  Someone who, from the very beginning, had worn the mask of a benefactor and friend.

  His grip began to tighten.

  The air around him began to warp, emanating the powerful energy of his foundation, built in the recent ritual.

  The moonlight dust present everywhere slowly levitated upwards, as if answering the call of his power.

  'No punishment will be too great for someone like this...'

  He didn't notice the moment his eyes began to fill with darkness.

  A blackness that slowly began to change the structure of his energy, stronger and stronger.

  His thoughts, until now clear and focused on one thing, began to cry out for release.

  His power was discovering a new dimension, and a fundamental change was occurring within the man himself.

  He felt he had to make her regret everything she had done.

  That only making her existence nothing but pain would settle the score.

  Closing his eyes, he released Belisara's throat from his hand.

  She began to curl up on the ground, desperately gasping for breath.

  He knew she would try to escape immediately, but he didn't care.

  She wouldn't be able to, even if she weren't wounded.

  She had to wait for his judgment, and he was in no hurry.

  The anger he felt only grew. The air around him no longer warped; instead, it unfurled thin, then ever-thicker, swirling streams of darkness.

  Unlike the attempt with Twardowski, this anger had no intention of taking control of him. This anger promised him exactly what he desired.

  The vengeance he had sought since that terrible evening in the Kingdom of Peace.

  The certainty that Greedius would know his pain.

  Justinian knew this was what the world needed. A symbol for every oppressor, showing they could not live in peace.

  When he opened his eyes a moment later, they were no longer the same.

  The moonlight dust began to rise faster and faster.

  And from him, an energy radiated out, paralyzing everything living with fear.

  A few dozen meters away, Septima watched the scene of reckoning.

  She felt the incredible power of the demonic virtue of wrath, which had stolen into the man's heart.

  Exactly as she had predicted.

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  'The more perfect the foundation, the greater the power after converting to one of the virtues.'

  There was no disappointment in her eyes. Only a delicate mockery and... jealousy.

  This was the power she sought. Even the method of achieving it—using great emotion right after the ritual—was exactly what she herself had planned to do.

  'It's almost like he's challenging me.'

  Smiling slightly and shaking her head at the perfection of the cursed system, she looked around for a place to begin the fight.

  The thought of a quick attack to finish the unaware opponent crossed her mind. She quickly discarded it.

  'Still, a surprise attack is too great an insult for me.'

  It was then she furrowed her brows, sensing a new power rapidly approaching her. A devil with a fairly solid foundation landed near Septima.

  He had voluminous hair, an arrogant gaze, and unnatural, orange skin.

  Glancing at Justinian a few dozen meters away, he shook his head.

  "That kid... they say he has talent. A good foundation. Very good. But mine? Mine is magnificent. The best."

  Septima dismissed his monologue with a glance in another direction. Instead of conversing with the prince, she tried to estimate what level the young man's devilish virtue of wrath would reach according to her standards.

  Watching as the rays of darkness coiling from Justinian infected everything in the vicinity, and the gathered power continued to swell, her gaze soon became serious.

  'How could that distant dimension produce such powerful talents?'

  The other she was referring to was, of course, Felix, who had earlier fought her to a draw.

  This situation, however, only irritated her more.

  'Nothing can ever go according to plan...'

  She felt the Orange Prince next to her begin to calculate the possibilities of attacking the man who was transitioning to the cultivation path of the virtue of wrath.

  She didn't care, but today was supposed to be the day of her triumph. She had to obtain the power she craved to survive. To make the darkness even a little more bearable.

  It was then that Justinian took a step forward.

  Images from Queen Diana's past still echoed in his mind.

  Terrible, shattering his entire worldview, full of the rot of institutions and authorities.

  'And Sister Teresa toiled for this?'

  He felt something strange was happening to him, that his foundation was changing diametrically. But what did it matter?

  He had to deliver justice. But in this dirty world, was justice even achievable?

  As his power and anger grew, his mind suggested newer and newer ways to resolve the matter of Belisara.

  His spiritual heart swelled with darkness with each one. So many options for brutally inflicting the pain she herself had caused.

  'But there is something more.'

  The boy felt that after the 'soulsearch,' her soul had become unstable. He had the feeling that just a light push was needed, and it would break into a thousand pieces, making the rest of her life one long, terrible stretch of suffering.

  The darkness in his eyes thickened, and the power of the demonic virtue of wrath formed a tendril of energy meant to deliver that push.

  This way, Belisara's suffering would be the greatest, providing the most pleasure.

  'Hmm?'

  Justinian narrowed his eyes.

  'Since when does my vengeance have anything to do with pleasure?'

  A grimace appeared on his face, and the moonlight dust floating nearby and the expanding darkness froze. The gloom, which until recently had completely covered his eyes, began to fade.

  'I'm fighting for things to have at least a shadow of righteousness. Not to feel better with myself.'

  Belisara, completely paralyzed by the power emanating from him, once again had hope in her eyes.

  As the energy, until now pushed outward by the young man, began to return to him, the former queen of the Kingdom of Peace attempted to escape!

  A repulsive smile appeared on her lips as, ignoring her wounds, she leaped into the air.

  She was about to laugh out loud before she noticed that the trajectory of her flight was rather... odd.

  The world was spinning very fast, showing first the ground, then the sky, where something was flying away.

  The moment she realized with horror that it was her headless body was the last in her life.

  Justinian watched as the severed head fell to the surface. In his hand, he held the Borowiak family saber, which he had previously won from Aldona's father.

  The weapon, ever since his fight with the Orange Prince in Ukuun, had been completely devoid of energy and had never formed a soul, despite his exhaustive training.

  Now, however, it emanated a delicate light, as red as the murderess's blood dripping from its blade.

  The young man felt a strange bond form in his mind with the saber. As if it required him to name it.

  He thought for a moment and sighed.

  "From today, you will be called Imperfection."

  He then sheathed the weapon at his belt and, after glancing toward Septima and the Orange Prince standing nearby... he shot up into the atmosphere.

  He was heading toward Earth, toward the devil responsible for his suffering to the same degree as Belisara.

  Septima, observing the scene, couldn't believe what she was seeing.

  In this absurd situation, where the man's power had grown almost manifold, amplified by the system of the King of Names and Symbols, he had decided to reject it.

  And after rejecting it... he still cut off that pathetic creature's head.

  'Where is the logic in that?'

  The question forced itself to her lips, far more than she would like to admit.

  What's more, she discovered with astonishment that her heart was beating at an accelerated rhythm. She couldn't even remember the last time something like this had happened in her gloomy, darkness-filled world.

  A little irritated by the strange phenomenon, she noticed that the Orange Prince, who was standing nearby, was preparing to chase Justinian.

  When he felt her gaze on him, he shook his head in disappointment.

  "He had a golden opportunity with that 'Virtue of Wrath.' He could have been somebody. Great power. Not like mine, of course, but great. And what did he do? He gave up! He just cracked. What a loser."

  The she-devil, torn from her earlier thoughts, mused for a moment, and a shadow of a decision flashed in her eyes.

  Clearly ignoring her, the prince continued his monologue.

  "Or maybe he just heard I was here? Saw my reputation and crumbled. A lot of people crumble when they hear I'm coming. Weak!"

  He was just about to leap into the air and set off in pursuit of Justinian when, emanating immense power, Septima appeared right in front of him!

  Her gaze alone radiated a power no weaker than the young man's when he was being consumed by the virtue of wrath earlier.

  "I've heard rumors that you've been placing symbols of my mountain on your banners."

  The prince furrowed his brows, clearly surprised by the she-devil's sudden reaction. He saw that she was emanating a power that was no joke, so he assumed a fighting stance.

  Before he could answer, Septima lunged to attack.