Path of the Extra - Chapter 111

Chapter 111: An Act of Mercy [6]
Azriel’s lips twitched as he glared at Solomon, his annoyance barely masked.

Sure, he looked like hell, but Solomon wasn’t faring much better.

No visible wounds, but the dried blood smeared across his face told enough about his condition.

Without a word, Solomon threw Zoran in front of Azriel, Celestina, and Vergil, as if discarding trash.

A groan escaped Zoran’s lips, his face twisting in discomfort.

Celestina and Vergil paled, realizing with horror that Zoran was still alive.

They stepped back, unsure, while Azriel remained rooted in place, eyes locked on Solomon.

“You didn’t kill him?”

Azriel’s voice was flat, almost indifferent.

Solomon shrugged.

“I beat him without needing to. Seemed only fair to let you finish him off after everything.”

Azriel’s brow furrowed as he looked down at Zoran, who, despite having no eyes, seemed to stare back.

A strange, unsettling calm lingered between them.

Solomon’s tone softened as he glanced at Celestina and Vergil, who were looking between him and Azriel, clearly confused.

“Perhaps the two of you should leave,” Solomon suggested, his voice gentler than before.

“Wait somewhere else for a bit.”

They hesitated, exchanging glances. After a brief, silent agreement, they both shook their heads.

“We’re staying,” they said in unison, voices firm.

Solomon raised an eyebrow, surprise flashing across his face before he smiled.

“Well, well, little birds finally leaving the nest.”

Azriel ignored them, his gaze still fixed on Zoran as he crouched, struggling to maintain his balance with only one hand.

Losing his right hand had left him off-kilter, but he managed.

“I’m sorry, Zoran. You promised me a painless death, but I couldn’t return the favor…”

Zoran’s dry laugh cut him off.

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?”

Azriel blinked, caught off guard.

He wasn’t trying to be funny.

He genuinely felt a shred of guilt, seeing the pitiful state Zoran had been reduced to, but that was all. Azriel knew exactly what kind of person Zoran was—a monster, like the rest of them.

The guilt was fleeting.

He turned to Solomon.

“Do you have his ring?”

Solomon nodded and produced a white ring, holding it between his fingers like a trophy.

Azriel glanced back at Zoran, hesitation creeping in.

‘Should I ask him this now?’

With Celestina and Vergil here, it wasn’t exactly the right time to discuss what he was about to reveal. Almost no one knew about it—not even Celestina.

‘Then again… what does it matter anymore?’

The future was gone, destroyed by his own hand. The proof lay before him, bleeding out on the ground.

Zoran, the once-proud Heptarch, reduced to this.

“Solomon said you lost because of your own foolishness. If I had to guess, you drank the blood of a Voidwalker and lost in a battle of [Soul Domain], right?”

Celestina and Vergil looked visibly puzzled, while Solomon shook his head, chuckling softly at their confusion.

Voidwalker.

They wouldn’t know what that meant.

Zoran’s lips twitched into a faint smile at Azriel’s words.

“Do you have more of that blood in your ring?”

Zoran scoffed, though it sounded more like a raspy breath.

“Of course not. You know how rare Voidwalker blood is. The Supreme Archon made sure we only ever had a single vial at a time.”

Azriel bit his lip, frustration gnawing at him. If only there was more of that blood—it would’ve been invaluable.

He looked down at Zoran, his heart hardening.

There wasn’t much more to ask.

Zoran wouldn’t answer any other questions; the man wouldn’t flinch even under torture. The only option left was to end him.

There was no prison on earth that could contain a saint-ranked human.

His limbs would regenerate. His eyes would heal.

Keeping him alive was pointless, and Zoran would never reveal anything about Neo Genesis.

Azriel inhaled sharply.

“I’ll give you one chance, Zoran. Work with me.”

The room fell into stunned silence.

Everyone—Celestina, Vergil, even Solomon—stared at him in disbelief.

Azriel continued, his voice unwavering.

“You have knowledge that surpasses almost anyone. You’re strong, and humanity needs strength like yours. Killing you does more harm than good. I’m not asking you to work for me, but with me. We can create a future where we don’t have to give up.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Celestina and Vergil looked at Azriel, their breaths held, too stunned to speak.

Solomon’s face was unreadable, but his gaze lingered on Zoran.

Zoran’s twisted smile vanished, replaced by a mask of fury.

“I will never work with you,” he snarled, his voice dripping with venom.

Azriel’s heart sank.

“I was nothing before he came,” Zoran continued, voice trembling with rage.

“I was filth, barely surviving on the outskirts until he found me—until he saved me. The Supreme Archon gave me purpose. Hope. I owe everything to him.”

If Zoran had eyes, he would’ve been glaring daggers at Azriel.

If he had hands, he would’ve strangled him. If he had feet, he would’ve crushed him.

“You might’ve won today, but make no mistake—you haven’t won the war. You were just lucky. You’ve played with fire, Azriel Crimson, and you have no idea how to extinguish it.”

Zoran’s voice was low, bitter, each word like a curse.

Azriel said nothing, his lips pressed into a thin line.

“You’ve started something you aren’t ready for,” Zoran spat. “You think you’re clever, but you’re not. If you were, you would’ve waited until you were strong enough to handle this on your own. Now, you’re going to suffer and die—miserably.”

The silence that followed was unbearable. Azriel and Zoran locked eyes—what was left of them, at least.

Azriel turned to Solomon.

“Take his head.”

He felt Celestina and Vergil’s shocked gazes, but he didn’t flinch.

He didn’t have the strength to kill a saint.

Not now.

And he wouldn’t ask the two behind him to do it.

But they’d chosen to stay.

They had the chance to leave and didn’t take it.

Zoran’s lips parted, and a wild, maniacal laughter echoed through the tunnels, reverberating off the walls like the sound of something unhinged.

Azriel’s expression darkened.

“Take his head. We’ll display it before the entire capital. Let them see how Neo Genesis made their first public debut in Asia—let them witness how pathetic their leaders are, how worthless the Supreme Archon is, and how weak these so-called ‘saviors’ of humanity truly are.”

Each word dripped with malice, but Zoran’s laughter only grew louder, more unrestrained.

‘I wanted to boost my reputation… what better way than to have his head under my name?’

He had already let slip to the two behind him that both he and the academy knew all about Neo Genesis—and that he’d been given a mission.

This would catapult his standing.

A single, decisive achievement as a prince that would elevate him to the level of the other children of the great clans… perhaps even higher.

Solomon’s eyes met Azriel’s, and for a moment, they simply stared at each other in mutual understanding.

Then, Solomon stepped forward, crouching beside Zoran, his hand gripping the man’s neck.

“I should’ve ripped your tongue out too.”

Zoran’s laughter only grew louder, echoing through the darkened tunnels.

Blood leaked from his closed eyelids—whether tears from laughter or pain, Azriel couldn’t tell.

Solomon’s grip tightened around Zoran’s neck.

He began to tear it apart, blood spraying as Celestina and Vergil winced, turning their faces away.

Even as his head was being ripped from his body, Zoran kept laughing.

No screams.

Only laughter—wild, twisted, and mocking.

Perhaps the laughter was his scream.

Azriel never looked away.

He watched as Solomon tore Zoran’s head from his shoulders.

When it was done, the laughter ceased.

A silence far more painful than Zoran’s laughter filled the place.

Solomon tossed the decapitated head toward Azriel, and it rolled to a stop at his feet.

Azriel stared at the bloodied, lifeless head.

Zoran’s lips were still curled into a smile.

In the end, Zoran died smiling.