Noel's breath was still uneven, each inhale shaky, each exhale heavy. His mind raced with fragmented thoughts, guilt clawing at him like a beast refusing to let go. The weight of realization—the knowledge that he had unknowingly fed his own son poison—was crushing. His hands trembled, clenched so tightly that his nails dug into his palms.
But then—
"Stand up, Father."
The voice was firm, steady. It cut through the haze of his turmoil like a blade through mist.
Noel looked up. His vision blurred by unshed tears, his throat raw from the silent sobs that had wracked his chest. His eyes, bloodshot and swollen, met Kazel's.
And there he was—standing tall, unwavering, unshaken.
His son's gaze was sharp, his posture composed, as if this revelation had not fazed him in the slightest. There was no trace of anger, no sorrow, no self-pity. Only cold, calculated determination.
But what unsettled Noel the most… was Kazel's smile.
It was not the smile of a young man who had just uncovered a betrayal.
It was the smile of a commander who had already mapped out his enemy's demise.
"They will pay with everything they have for trying to kill me."
His voice was calm, yet it carried a weight that sent a shiver down Noel's spine. It was not a declaration of rage, nor a cry for vengeance—it was a sentence. A verdict already decided.
Then came the words that struck even deeper.
"And I need you. No… the Immortal Sect needs its patriarch."
Noel clenched his fists. He could feel his heartbeat pounding against his ribs, not from despair this time—but from something else. A fire, reigniting within him. His son's words were not just an appeal to his duty, but a reminder.
He was not just a father grieving over his mistakes.
He was the patriarch of the Immortal Sect.
And the Immortal Sect did not bow.
With a deep inhale, Noel forced his weakened legs to move, rising to his feet. His body still trembled, but his resolve had steadied.
He met Kazel's gaze once more, his voice hoarse but firm.
"W... what are you planning, my son?"
Kazel crossed his arms, his smirk sharp.
"A grand stage is being set up in a few months."
Noel's eyes widened. "Scale Dalgona?!"
Kazel gave a nod.
"How are we going to kill Weh?" Noel asked. His voice was steadier now, the fire in his heart reigniting.
Kazel's smirk deepened. "Not just Weh, but that old crook of a physician as well."
His finger pointed at the pouch still trembling in Noel's hands.
Noel gritted his teeth. "Old Fu!"
Betrayal burned in his chest like a blade twisting deeper. That old goat. Someone he trusted and dear.
"Exactly." Kazel's eyes gleamed with anticipation. "There is more to be done. But, Father—"
He took a step forward, his voice lowering. "Can you kill their elders… in a one-man army situation?"
Noel's breath hitched. The words struck a chord.
He looked at his son, the same son that not long ago was weak, sickly, destined to die young.
Now, he stood tall, his presence exuding command.
Noel swallowed hard. "That's… I can try."
"You are the patriarch of the Immortal Sect," Kazel said, his voice carrying weight. "You can hold them off. I will fight Weh."
Noel's jaw tightened. "Are you sure?"
Kazel's lips curled into a grin—ruthless, assured.
"His death is mine, Father."
His tone left no room for argument. It was a statement, a promise.
"You will grant me this privilege, right?"
Noel exhaled sharply before clenching his fists.
He wanted to object, to tell his son that Weh was not just a man, but a league of his own.
But then—he saw it.
The fire in Kazel's eyes.
The unshakable will of a warrior born for the battlefield.
"I… of course."
Noel's voice was hoarse, but steady. His fingers dug into his palms.
But then, he hesitated.
"But, Kazel… he is powerful. At least on par with me."
Kazel raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
Noel nodded, his face darkening.
"But the dangerous part about him… is his Spirit Beast."
Noel exhaled, his gaze hardening.
"Elaborate, Father," Kazel urged, his tone unwavering.
Noel crossed his arms. "An uncommon-ranked beast… Black Viper."
Kazel's eyes narrowed slightly. "What does it do?"
Noel's expression darkened. "It boasts great reflexes, and each attack against your skin numbs you." His voice was heavy with caution. "I don't know about the third ability, though."
Kazel tilted his head, considering the information before flashing a sharp grin. "Then all I need to do… is not to get hit, right?"
His words were casual, almost playful—yet they carried absolute confidence.
Noel opened his mouth to protest, but—he stopped.
He wanted to tell his son that it wasn't that simple. That Weh wasn't just strong, but cunning. That a battle against him was not just about dodging.
And yet, for some reason…
A small inkling.
A tiny spark of belief.
It lingered in the back of his mind—unshakable.
If anyone could do it…
It was Kazel.
"Then what now?" Noel asked, his voice steady, but his knuckles were turning white from how tightly he clenched his fists. His anger had simmered down, but the storm in his eyes had not faded.
Kazel met his father's gaze, his smirk laced with confidence. "We bait one of them to come."
Noel narrowed his eyes. "Who?"
"The old goat," Kazel said without hesitation. "I'll be his last patient."
A dark chuckle escaped Noel. "Hah. I think I know how." His fingers flexed as if itching for battle. "They'll pay for this."
As he turned toward the horizon, he noticed the sun sinking behind the mountain range, painting the sky in hues of orange and deep purple. A quiet sigh left him. The night was creeping in, and so was the weight of what they were about to set in motion.
"Let's go home," Noel finally said. "And not a word to your mother."
Kazel let out a small laugh. "That's why I told you instead of her, Father."
Noel turned to his son, a rare warmth flashing in his fierce eyes. His hand reached out, ruffling Kazel's hair with the same playfulness he had when Kazel was a boy. "Atta boy."
Kazel swatted his father's hand away, rolling his eyes, but the corner of his lips curled up.
As they walked side by side down the stone path, the air between them felt heavier than before. Tonight, they returned home as father and son. Soon, they would become something else entirely—executioners, architects of vengeance.